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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..4215cfd --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #66749 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/66749) diff --git a/old/66749-0.txt b/old/66749-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 859d463..0000000 --- a/old/66749-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,18355 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Fortunes of Perkin Warbeck:, by Mary -Wollstonecraft Shelley - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: The Fortunes of Perkin Warbeck: - a romance - -Author: Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley - -Release Date: November 16, 2021 [eBook #66749] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -Produced by: Laura Natal Rodrigues - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FORTUNES OF PERKIN -WARBECK: *** - -THE - -FORTUNES - -OF - -PERKIN WARBECK. - - - -A Romance. - - - - - -BY THE AUTHOR OF - -"FRANKENSTEIN." - - - - - - J'ai veu filz d'Angleterre, Richard d'Yore nommé, - Que l'on disoit en terre, estinct et consommé, - Endurer grant souffrance; et par nobles exploitz, - Vivre en bonne esperance, d'estre Roy des Angloys. - - _Old French Chronicle._ - - - - -LONDON: - -G. ROUTLEDGE & CO. FARRINGDON STREET; - -NEW YORK: 18, BEEKMAN STREET. - -1857 - - - - -CONTENTS -Chapters -Preface -Chapter I--THE FLIGHT FROM BOSWORTH FIELD -Chapter II--THE CONFERENCE -Chapter III--ELIZABETH OF YORK -Chapter IV--LADY BRAMPTON -Chapter V--THE INTERVIEW -Chapter VI--LAMBERT SIMNEL -Chapter VII--THE BATTLE OF NEWARK -Chapter VIII--THE DISCOVERY -Chapter IX--THE DECOY -Chapter X--THE ESCAPE -Chapter XI--THE EXILES -Chapter XII--THE CHALLENGE -Chapter XIII--TEMPTATION -Chapter XIV--THE TRAITOR PUNISHED -Chapter XV--THE LANDING AT CORK -Chapter XVI--NEW FRIENDS -Chapter XVII--THE FRENCH COURT -Chapter XVIII--THE TOKEN -Chapter XIX--CLIFFORD'S RESOLVE -Chapter XX--THE CONSPIRACY -Chapter XXI--TREASON -Chapter XXII--HERMAN DE FARO -Chapter XXIII--THE TRAITOR UNMASKED -Chapter XXIV--THE TOWER -Chapter XXV--THE RESCUE -Chapter XXVI--THE EARL OF SURREY -Chapter XXVII--THE LANDING AT HYTHE -Chapter XXVIII--THE PARTING -Chapter XXIX--WELCOME TO SCOTLAND -Chapter XXX--THE COURT OF SCOTLAND -Chapter XXXI--THE MARRIAGE -Chapter XXXII--THE MARCH TOWARDS ENGLAND -Chapter XXXIII--THE ASSASSIN -Chapter XXXIV--DISAPPOINTMENT -Chapter XXXV--THE RETREAT -Chapter XXXVI--TIDINGS FROM IRELAND -Chapter XXXVII--TREACHERY -Chapter XXXVIII--DEPRESSION -Chapter XXXIX--SIEGE OF WATERFORD -Chapter XL--AN ESCAPE -Chapter XLI--ARRIVAL IN ENGLAND -Chapter XLII--RECEPTION IN CORNWALL -Chapter XLIII--MISGIVINGS -Chapter XLIV--A CHALLENGE -Chapter XLV--ARRIVAL AT TAUNTON -Chapter XLVI--A PRISONER -Chapter XLVII--A DILEMMA -Chapter XLVIII--CAPTURE OF KATHERINE -Chapter XLIX--RICHARD SURRENDERS -Chapter L--A PROCESSION -Chapter LI--AN ESCAPE -Chapter LII--TREASON -Chapter LIII--DEATH OF CLIFFORD -Chapter LIV--IMPRISONMENT IN THE TOWER -Chapter LV--ATTEMPT TO ESCAPE -Chapter LVI--THE TRIAL -Chapter LVII--THE PRISON OF LUDGATE -Chapter LVIII--CONCLUSION - - - - -PREFACE - - -The story of Perkin Warbeck was first suggested to me as a subject for -historical detail. On studying it, I became aware of the romance which -his story contains, while, at the same time, I felt that it would be -impossible for any narration, that should be confined to the -incorporation of facts related by our old Chroniclers, to do it justice. - -It is not singular that I should entertain a belief that Perkin was, in -reality, the lost duke of York. For, in spite of Hume, and the later -historians who have followed in his path, no person who has at all -studied the subject but arrives at the same conclusion. Records exist in -the Tower, some well known, others with which those who have access to -those interesting papers are alone acquainted, which put the question -almost beyond a doubt. - -This is not the place for a discussion of the question. The principal -thing that I should wish to be impressed on my reader's mind is, that -whether my hero was or was not an impostor, he was believed to be the -true man by his contemporaries. The partial pages of Bacon, of Hall, and -Holinshed, and others of that date, are replete with proofs of this -fact. There are some curious letters, written by Sir John Ramsay, laird -of Balmayne, calling himself Lord Bothwell, addressed to Henry the -Seventh himself, which, though written by a spy and hireling of that -monarch, tend to confirm my belief, and even demonstrate that in his -eagerness to get rid of a formidable competitor, Henry did not hesitate -to urge midnight assassination. These letters are printed in the -Appendix to Pinkerton's "History of Scotland." The verses which form the -motto to these volumes, are part of a rhythmical chronicle, written by -two subjects of Burgundy, who lived in those days; it is entitled, -"Recollection des Merveilles, advenues en nostre temps, commencée par -très élégant orateur, Messire Georges Chastellan, et continuée par -Maistre Jean Molinet." - -In addition to the unwilling suffrage of his enemies, we may adduce the -acts of his friends and allies. Human nature in its leading features is -the same in all ages. James the Fourth of Scotland was a man of great -talent and discernment: he was proud; attached, as a Scot, to the -prejudices of birth; of punctilious honour. No one can believe that he -would have bestowed his near kinswoman, nor have induced the earl of -Huntley to give his daughter in marriage to one who did not bear evident -signs of being of royal blood. - -The various adventures of this unfortunate prince in many countries, and -his alliance with a beautiful and high-born woman, who proved a -faithful, loving wife to him, take away the sting from the ignominy -which might attach itself to his fate; and make him, we venture to -believe, in spite of the contumely later historians have chosen, in the -most arbitrary way, to heap upon him, a fitting object of interest--a -hero to ennoble the pages of a humble tale. - - - - -CHAPTER I - -THE FLIGHT FROM BOSWORTH FIELD - - - He seemed breathless, heartless, faint and wan, - And all his armour sprinkled was with blood, - And soil'd with dirty gore, that no man can - Discern the hue thereof. He never stood, - But bent his hasty course towards the idle flood. - - SPENSER. - - -After a long series of civil dissension--after many battles, whose -issue involved the fate of thousands--after the destruction of nearly -all the English nobility in the contest between the two Roses, the -decisive battle of Bosworth Field was fought on the 22nd of August, -1415, whose result was to entwine, as it was called, the white and red -symbols of rivalship, and to restore peace to this unhappy country. - -The day had been sunny and warm: as the evening closed in, a west wind -rose, bringing along troops of fleecy clouds, golden at sunset, and then -dun and grey, veiling with pervious network the many stars. Three -horsemen at this hour passed through the open country between Hinckley -and Welford in Leicestershire. It was broad day when they descended from -the elevation on which the former stands, and the villagers crowded to -gaze upon the fugitives, and to guess, from the ensigns they bore, to -which party they belonged, while the warders from the near castle -hastened out to stop them, thus to curry favour with the conqueror; a -design wholly baffled. The good steeds of the knights, for such their -golden spurs attested them to be, bore them fast and far along the Roman -road, which still exists in those parts to shame our modern builders. It -was dusk when, turning from the direct route to avoid entering Welford, -they reached a ford of the Avon. Hitherto silence had prevailed with the -party--for until now their anxiety to fly had solely occupied their -thoughts. Their appearance spoke of war, nay, of slaughter. Their cloaks -were stained and torn; their armour was disjointed, and parts of it were -wanting; yet these losses were so arbitrary, that it was plain that the -pieces had been hacked from their fastenings. The helm of the foremost -was deprived of its crest; another wore the bonnet of a common soldier, -which ill accorded with the rest of his accoutrements; while the third, -bareheaded, his hair fallings on his shoulders, lank and matted from -heat and exercise, gave more visible tokens of the haste of flight. As -the night grew darker, one of them, and then another, seemed willing to -relax somewhat in their endeavours: one alone continued, with -unmitigated energy, to keep his horse at the same pace they had all -maintained during the broad light of day. - -When they reached the ford, the silence was broken by the hindmost -horseman; he spoke in a petulant voice, saying:--"Another half mile at -this pace, and poor Flœur-de-Luce founders; if you will not slacken -your speed, here we part, my friends. God save you till we meet again!" - -"Evil betide the hour that separates us, brother!" said the second -fugitive, reining in; "our cause, our peril, our fate shall be the same. -You, my good lord, will consult your own safety." The third cavalier had -already entered the stream: he made a dead halt while his friends spoke, -and then replied:--"Let us name some rendezvous where, if we escape, we -may again meet. I go on an errand of life and death: my success is -doubtful, my danger certain. If I succeed in evading it, where shall I -rejoin you?" - -"Though the event of this day has been fatal to the king," answered the -other, "our fortunes are not decided. I propose taking refuge in some -sanctuary, till we perceive how far the earl of Richmond is inclined to -mercy." - -"I knew the earl when a mere youth, Sir Humphrey Stafford," said the -foremost rider, "and heard more of him when I visited Brittany, at the -time of King Louis's death, two years ago. When mercy knocks at his -heart, suspicion and avarice give her a rough reception. We must fly -beyond sea, unless we can make further stand. More of this when we meet -again. Where shall that be?" - -"I have many friends near Colchester," replied the elder Stafford, "and -St. Mary boasts an asylum there which a crowned head would not dare -violate. Thence, if all else fail, we can pass with ease to the Low -Countries." - -"In sanctuary at Colchester--I will not fail you. God bless and -preserve you the while!" - -The noble, as he said these words, put spurs to his horse, and without -looking back, crossed the stream, and turning on the skirts of a copse, -was soon out of sight of his companions. He rode all night, cheering his -steed with hand and voice; looking angrily at the early dawning east, -which soon cast from her cloudless brow the dimness of night. Yet the -morning air was grateful to his heated cheeks. It was a perfect summer's -morn. The wheat, golden from ripeness, swayed gracefully to the light -breeze; the slender oats shook their small bells in the air with -ceaseless motion; the birds, twittering, alighted from the full-leaved -trees, scattering dew-drops from the branches. With the earliest dawn, -the cavalier entered a forest, traversing its depths with the hesitation -of one unacquainted with the country, and looked frequently at the sky, -to be directed by the position of the glowing east. A path more worn -than the one he had hitherto followed now presented itself, leading into -the heart of the wood. He hesitated for a few seconds, and then, with a -word of cheer to his horse, pursued his way into the embowering thicket. -After a short space the path narrowed, the meeting branches of the trees -impeded him, and the sudden angle it made from the course he wished to -follow, served to perplex him still farther; but as he vented his -impatience by hearty Catholic exclamations, a little tinkling bell spoke -of a chapel near, and of the early rising of the priest to perform the -matin service at its altar. The horse of the fugitive, a noble -war-steed, had long flagged; and hunger gnawed at the rider's own -heart, for he had not tasted food since the morning of the previous day. -These sounds, therefore, heard in so fearless a seclusion, bore with -them pleasant tidings of refreshment and repose. He crossed himself in -thankfulness; then throwing himself from his horse (and such change was -soothing to his stiffened limbs), he led him through the opening glade -to where a humble chapel and a near adjoining hut stood in the bosom of -the thicket, emblems of peace and security. - -The cavalier tied his horse to a tree, and entered the chapel. A -venerable priest was reading the matin service; one old woman composed -his congregation, and she was diligently employed telling her beads. The -bright rays of the newly-risen sun streamed through the eastern window, -casting the chequered shadow of its lattice work on the opposite wall. -The chapel was small and rustic; but it was kept exquisitely clean: the -sacred appurtenances of the altar also were richer than was usual, and -each shrine was decked with clusters of flowers, chiefly composed of -white roses. No high praise, indeed, was due to the rude picture of the -Virgin of the Annunciation, or of the Announcing Angel, a representation -of whom formed the altar-piece; but in barbaric England, in those days, -piety stood in place of taste, and that which represented Our Lady -received honour, however unworthy it might be of the inspiress of -Raphael or Correggio. The cavalier took his disornamented casque from -his head, placed it on the ground, and knelt reverentially on the bare -earth. He had lately escaped from battle and slaughter, and he surely -thought that he had especial motive for thanksgiving; so that if his -lips uttered a mere soldier's "Ave," still it had the merit of fervour -and sincerity. - -Had he been less occupied by his own feelings, he might have remarked -the many glances the priest cast on him, who dishonoured his learning -and piety by frequent mistakes of language, as his thoughts wandered -from his breviary, to observe with deep attention his unexpected -visitor. At length the service ended: the old dame rose from her knees, -and satisfied her curiosity, which she had excited by many a look -askance, by a full and long gaze on the cavalier. His hewn armour, torn -cloak, and, unseemly for the sacred spot, the dread stains on his -garments and hands, were all minutely scanned. Nor did his personal -appearance escape remark. His stature was tall, his person well knit, -showing him to be a man of about thirty years of age. His features were -finely moulded, his grey eyes full of fire, his step had the dignity of -rank, and his look expressed chivalrous courage and frankness. The good -woman had not been long engaged in surveying the stranger, when her -pastor beckoned her to retire, and himself advanced, replying to the -soldier's salute with a benedicite, and then hastily inquiring if he -came from the field. - -"Even so, father," said the cavalier; "I come from the field of the -bloody harvest. Has any intelligence of it travelled hither so speedily? -If so, I must have wandered from the right road, and am not so far on my -journey as I hoped." - -"I have only heard that a battle was expected," said the priest, "and -your appearance tells me that it is over. The fortunes, nay, perhaps the -life of a dear friend are involved in its issue, and I fear that it is -adverse--for you fly from pursuit, and methinks, though stained with -dust and blood, that emblem on your breast is the White Rose." - -The warrior looked on the old man, whose dignity and language were at -variance with his lowly destination; he looked partly in wonder, and -partly to assure himself of his questioner's sincerity. "You are weary, -Sir Knight," added the monk, whose experienced eyes had glanced to the -golden spurs of his visitant; "come to my hermitage, there to partake of -such refreshment as I can bestow. When your repast is ended, I will, by -confidence on my part, merit yours." - -This invitation was that of worldly courtesy, rather than the rustic -welcome of a recluse monk. The cavalier thanked him cordially, adding, -that he must first provide food and water for his horse, and that -afterwards he would gratefully accept his host's invitation. The old man -entered with the spirit of a soldier into his guest's anxiety for his -steed, and assisted in purveying to its wants, ingratiating himself -meanwhile with its master, by discovering and praising scientifically -its points of beauty. The poor animal showed tokens of over fatigue, yet -still he did not refuse his food, and the cavalier marked with joy that -his eye grew brighter and his knees firmer after feeding. - -They then entered the cottage, and the soldier's eye was attracted from -more sacred emblems by a sword which was suspended over a picture of the -Virgin:--"You belong to our Chivalry!" he exclaimed, while his -countenance lighted up with joyful recognition. - -"Now I belong to the holy order whose badge I wear," the monk replied, -pointing to his Benedictine dress. "In former days I followed a brave -leader to the field, and, in his service, incurred such guilt, as I now -try to expiate by fasting and prayer." - -The monk's features were convulsed by agitation as he spoke, then -crossing his arms on his breast, he was absorbed in thought for a few -moments, after which he raised his head and resumed the calm and even -serene look that characterized him. "Sir Knight," said he, motioning to -the table now spread for the repast, "I have but poor fare to offer, but -a soldier will not disdain its meagreness. My wine I may praise, as -being the produce of a generous vintage; I have kept it sealed, to open -it on occasions like the present, and rejoice that your strength will be -recruited by it." - -Bread, fruits, cheese, and a flagon of the wine, which merited the -giver's eulogium, composed the fugitive's breakfast, whose fatigue -required cordial and repose. As he was occupied by his repast, his host -eyed him with evident agitation, eager yet fearful to question him on -the subject of the battle. At length he again asked, "You come from the -field on which the forces of the king and of the earl of Richmond met?" - -"I do." - -"You fought for the White Rose, and you fly?" - -"I fought for the White Rose till it was struck to the ground. The king -has fallen with his chief nobility around him. Few Yorkists remain to -mourn the success of the Lancastrians." - -Deep grief clouded the old man's countenance, but accustomed to subdue -his feelings, as one on whom, being stricken by an overwhelming misery, -all subsequent disasters fall blunted, he continued with greater -calmness: "Pardon me, noble gentleman, if I appear to ask an indiscreet -question. You are of lordly bearing, and probably filled a place near -the royal person. Did you hear, on the night before last, aught of the -arrival of a stranger youth at the king's tent?" - -The knight eyed the old man with a quick glance, asking, in his turn, -"Are you, then, the foster-father of King Richard's son?" - -"Did you see my boy?" cried the priest. "Did his father acknowledge -him?--Where is he now?--Did he enter the ranks to fight and fall for -his parent?" - -"On the night of which you speak," said the stranger, evading the -immediate question, "the king placed his son's hand in mine, as I vowed -to protect and guard him if ill befell our party, as it has befallen." - -"Surely some presentiment of evil haunted the king's mind." - -"I do believe it; for his manner was solemn and affecting. He bade the -youth remember that he was a Plantagenet, and spoke proudly of the -lineage from which he sprung. The young esquire listened intently, -looking at his father with such an ingenuous and thoughtful expression, -that he won my heart to love him." - -"Now bless thee, Sir Knight, whoever thou art, for this praise of my -poor Edmund. I pray you, hasten to tell me what more passed." - -The cavalier continued his account; but his manner was serious, as if -the conclusion of his tale would afflict his auditor. He related how, on -quitting the royal tent, he had led Edmund Plantagenet to his own, -there to converse with him awhile, the better to learn whether his -bearing and speech showed promise of future merit. King Richard had -enjoined his son to return to his seclusion early on the following -morning; but as soon as he entered his conductor's tent, he knelt to him -and asked a boon, while tears gathered in his eyes, and his voice was -broken by the fervour of his desire. The noble was moved by his -entreaties, and promised to grant his request, if it did not militate -against his honour and allegiance. "It is for honour that I speak," said -Plantagenet; "I am older in years than in seeming, for already I number -twenty summers; and, spite of my boyish look, I am familiar with martial -exercises, and the glorious promise of war. Let me draw my sword for my -father to-morrow--let me, at your side, prove myself a worthy -descendant of the conquerors of France! Who will fight for King Richard -with greater courage, fidelity, and devotion, than his acknowledged and -duteous son?" The cavalier yielded to his noble yearnings. Clothed in -armour he entered the ranks, and hovered a protecting angel near his -parent during the bloody contest. And now, as his venerable guardian -watched with trembling eagerness the countenance of his guest while he -told his tale, and the stranger, with bitter regret, was about to relate -that he had seen Plantagenet felled to the ground by a battle-axe, quick -steps, and then a knocking, was heard at the cottage door. The stranger -started on his feet, and put his hand upon his sword; but a bright smile -illuminated the monk's face, as the very youth of whom they spoke, -Edmund Plantagenet, rushed into the apartment. His soiled garments and -heated brow spoke of travel and fatigue, while his countenance wore an -expression of wildness and even of horror. He started when he saw the -stranger, but quickly recognized him as his new friend. "Thank God!" he -cried, "that you, my dear lord, have not fallen into the hands of, the -sacrilegious usurper! It is my father's spirit that has saved you for -his son's sake, that I may not be utterly abandoned and an orphan." - -With milder accost he bent his knee to his holy guardian, and then -turned to answer the cavalier's questions of how he had escaped death -from the blow he had received, and what new events had occurred since he -had quitted the field early on the preceding day?--while the monk chid -him for his disobedience to his father's commands, in having mingled -with the fray. The eyes of Plantagenet flashed fire at this -reproach.--"Could I know that my father's crown and life," he exclaimed -impetuously, "depended on the combat, and not bring to his aid my weak -arm? God of Heaven! had there been five hundred true as I, we might all -have fallen round him: but never, never, should I have seen the sight -which last night I saw--nor heard the sounds I last night heard!" - -The youth covered his face with his hands, and the boiling tears -trickled between his fingers. "Tell me," cried the noble, "what has -happened?--and swiftly tell me, for I loiter here too long." - -Almost suffocated by emotion, Plantagenet related, that when he -recovered from the trance into which the fearful blow he had received -had thrown him, the earl's camp-followers were busy among the slain: and -that he had seen the body of King Richard--of his father--thrown -half-naked across a mule, thus to be borne to be exposed to the public -gaze and mockery in Leicester, where, but the day before, he had ridden -with the royal crown on his head, the acknowledged sovereign of England. -And that crown, base, ill-bartered bauble, having been found in the tent -by Lord Stanley, he had brought and placed on Richmond's head, while the -soldiers, with one acclaim, hailed him Henry the Seventh, King of -England. - -The last words more than the others, for the death of his royal master -was already known to him, moved the knight:--"Is this the end of our -hopes?" he cried. "Am I then too late? Farewell, my friends! -Plantagenet, I shall never forget my oath to the king; I shall become, I -fear, an outcast and a soldier of fortune, even if I escape worse fate; -but claim when you will, and it shall be yours, whatever protection I -can afford you." - -"Yield, then. Lord Lovel," said the youth, "to my first request. You are -in peril, let me share it; permit me to accompany you. If you refuse, my -plan is already formed; I repair to the earl of Lincoln, whom King -Richard named his successor, and offer myself as a soldier in his -attempt to discrown the usurping Henry, and to raise again the White -Rose to its rightful supremacy." - -"To the earl of Lincoln--the successor of Richard--to him you would -repair? It is well--come with me now, and I will present you to that -nobleman. If your foster-father consents, bid adieu to this seclusion -for a time, and accompany me to London, to new contests--to the combat -of right against might--to success and honour, or to defeat and death!" - -The sun had risen high when, having taken leave of the venerable monk, -who would not oppose his pupil's gallant spirit of enterprise, Lord -Lovel and young Plantagenet threaded the forest paths, which, by a safer -and a shorter route than the highway, took them on their road to London. -For a time they led their horses with difficulty through the entangled -thicket, when at last reaching the open road, they mounted, and Lord -Lovel, who was desirous of estimating the abilities and disposition of -his companion, entered into conversation with him. They first conversed -on the sad changes which were the work of the eventful day of battle; -afterwards the cavalier led Edmund to speak of himself, his early life, -his acquirements, and his hopes. - -When Plantagenet was but ten years old his mother died, and her last -request to the father of her boy, founded on a deep knowledge of the -world, was, that her son might be educated far from the court, nor be -drawn from the occupations and happier scenes of private life, to become -a hanger-on of princes and nobles. There was a man, a gentleman and a -knight, who had been a partizan of the White Rose, and who had fought -and bled for it in various battles between the duke of York and Henry -the Sixth. In one of these, the misery of the times, and horrible -consequences of civil dissension, caused him unwittingly to lift his -armed hand against his twin brother, nor did he discover the mistake -till, with his dying voice, that brother called on him to assist him -against his slayer. A life of seclusion, penance, and prayer, alone -blunted his sense of remorse, and quitting the world, he retired to a -monastery, where after due noviciate he took vows, and then shrinking -from commerce with his kind, followed by visions that spoke for ever to -him of his unnatural crime, he retreated to the forest of -Leicestershire, to dwell alone with his grief and his repentance. - -His retreat was known to many of his friends, and chance had brought the -duke of Gloucester at one time to visit him; when the ancient warrior -rejoiced with enthusiasm at the exaltation of the party to which he was -attached. The death of the mother of Edmund had the effect of softening -the duke's heart, of making for a short interval worldly cares and -objects distasteful to him, and of filling him with a desire of -seclusion and peace. If he was unable to enjoy these himself, he -resolved that at least his child should not be drawn by him into the -thorny path of rivalship and ambition. His mother's last injunction -strengthened this feeling; and the duke, visiting again the hermit of -the wood, induced him to take charge of Edmund, and bringing him up in -ignorance of his real parentage, to bestow such education on him as -would enable him to fill with reputation an honourable, if not a -distinguished station in society. This order of things was not changed -by Richard's exaltation to the crown. On the contrary, the dangers he -incurred from his usurpation made him yet more anxious to secure a -peaceful existence for his offspring. When, however, his legitimate son, -whom he had created prince of Wales, died, paternal affection awoke -strong in his heart, and he could not resist his desire of seeing -Edmund: a memorable visit for the priest-bred nursling of the forest! It -gave him a link with society, with which before he had felt no -connexion: his imagination and curiosity were highly excited. His -revered friend, yielding to his eager demands, was easily enticed to -recur to the passed scenes of an eventful life. The commencement of the -wars of the two Roses, and their dreadful results, furnished -inexhaustible topics of discourse. Plantagenet listened with breathless -interest, although it was not till the eve of the battle of Bosworth, -that he knew how indissolubly his own fortunes were linked with those of -the house of York. - -The events of the few last days had given him a new existence. For the -first time, feeling was the parent of action; and a foregoing event -drove him on to the one subsequent. He was excited to meditate on a -thousand schemes, while the unknown future inspired him with an awe that -thrilled his young heart with mingled pain and pleasure. He uttered his -sentiments with the ingenuousness of one who had never been accustomed -to converse with any but a friend; and as he spoke, his dark and -thoughtful eyes beamed with a tempered fire, that showed him capable of -deep enthusiasm, though utter want of knowledge of the world must make -him rather a follower than a leader. - -They rode on meanwhile, the noble cavalier and gentle squire indulging -in short repose. The intense fatigue Edmund at first endured, seemed to -be subdued by the necessity of its continuance, nor did it prevent him -from conversing with Lord Lovel. He was anxious thoroughly to understand -the immediate grounds of the earl of Richmond's invasion, and to -ascertain the relative position of the remaining chiefs of the White -Rose: "Where," he asked, "are Edward the Fourth's children?" - -"The elder of these," Lord Lovel replied, "the Lady Elizabeth, is, by -direction of her uncle, at Sheriff Hutton, in Yorkshire." - -"And where are the princes? Edward, who was proclaimed king, and his -younger brother?" - -"They were long imprisoned in the Tower. Young Edward died there more -than a year ago." - -"And the Duke of York?" - -"He is supposed to have died also: they were both sickly boys." - -Lord Lovel said these words in a grave voice, and suspicion would have -been instilled into any but the unsuspecting Edmund, of some covert -meaning. After a short pause, he continued:--"the question of the -succession stands thus. Your father, the duke of Gloucester, threw the -stigma of illegitimacy on King Edward's children, and thus took from -them their right of inheriting the crown. The attainder of the duke of -Clarence was considered reason sufficient why his children should be -excluded from the throne, and their uncle, in consequence, became, by -right of birth, king of England: his son he created prince of Wales. We -submitted; for a child like Edward the Fifth could scarcely be supported -against an experienced warrior, a man of talent, a sage and just king, -but at the expense of much blood. The wounds inflicted by the opposing -houses of York and Lancaster were yet, as the late successful rebellion -proves, unhealed; and had the Yorkists contended among themselves, they -would yet sooner have lost the supremacy they so hardly acquired: -Richard therefore received our oaths of allegiance. When his son died, -the question of who was the heir to the crown became agitated; and the -king at first declared the earl of Warwick, the son of the duke of -Clarence, to be his successor. It was a dangerous step--and the -imprudent friends of the young earl made it more so--to name him to -succeed, who, if he were permitted at any time to wear the crown, might -claim precedence of him who possessed it. Poor Warwick paid the penalty -of youth and presumption: he is now a prisoner at Sheriff Hutton; and -John de la Poole, earl of Lincoln, son of Richard's sister, and by the -removal of the children of his elder brothers, his heir by law was -nominated to succeed his uncle. I am now proceeding to him. I am -ignorant of the conduct he will pursue; whether he will make head -against this Lancastrian king, or----. Lincoln is a noble cavalier; a -man whom bright honour clothes; he is brave, generous, and good. I shall -guide myself by his counsels and resolves; and you, it appears, will -follow my example." - -After a pause, Lord Lovel continued: "After the death or disappearance -of his princely nephews, the king, wishing to confirm his title, was -ready to take the stigma thrown on their birth from his brother's -daughters, and to marry his niece, the Lady Elizabeth. Her mother at -first resisted, but the prospect of seeing her children restored to -their rights, and herself to her lost dignity, overcame her objections, -and the princess yielded a willing consent. Meanwhile, the Yorkists, who -joined the earl of Richmond, extorted from him a vow that he would make -King Edward's daughter his queen; and even the Lancastrians, thinking -thus to secure a king of their own, are eager for this union: yet the -earl hates us all so cordially that he was hardly brought to consent. -Should he, now that he has declared himself king, evade his promise, the -children of Elizabeth Woodville will suffer the stain of illegitimacy; -but if the marriage has place, and this unhappy race is restored to -their honours and rights, our self-named sovereign may find that his own -hands have dug the pit into which he will fall." - -A long silence succeeded to these explanations. The last expression used -by Lovel inspired Edmund with wonder and curiosity; but the noble -pressing his horse to a swifter pace, did not hear his observations, or -hearing them, replied only by saying, "Three hours' good riding will -bring us to London. Courage, Plantagenet! slacken not your speed, my -good boy; soft ease will follow this hard labour." - -The young moon in its first quarter was near its setting when they -arrived at London. They approached from Edgware: without entering the -town, they skirted its northern extremity, till Lord Lovel, checking his -horse, remarked to his companion, that he judged it fitting to delay -approaching the residence of the earl of Lincoln, until the setting of -the moon and subsequent darkness secured them from observation. - - - - -CHAPTER II - -THE CONFERENCE - - - Yes, my good Lord, - It doth contain a king: King Richard lies - Within the limits of yon lime and stone. - - SHAKSPEARE. - - -The earl of Lincoln, declared by Richard the Third, heir to the crown, -did not join the royal forces, nor appear at the battle of Bosworth. -This distinguished prince was a man of singular abilities and strength -of mind, which chivalrous generosity adorned with a lustre superior even -to that which he derived from his high rank. Lord Lovel was possessed of -knightly courage, untarnished honour, and gentlemanly accomplishment. To -these military and graceful qualities Lincoln added the wisdom of a -statesman and the moral energy resulting from inflexible principle. He -felt himself responsible to mankind and to all posterity for his -actions. He was brave--that was a virtue of the times; but he was just, -in a comprehensive sense of the word, and that exalted him above them. -His manly features did not so much wear the stamp of beauty, though, -like all the offspring of the House of York, he was handsome, as of the -best quality of man, a perception of right, and resolution to achieve -that right. - -Lord Lincoln disapproved decidedly of the usurpation of his uncle, -Richard the Third, over the children of Edward the Fourth. He allowed -that the evidence was strong in favour of that king's former marriage, -and their consequent illegitimacy; but he said, that Elizabeth Woodville -had so long been held queen of England, and her children heirs to the -crown, that it was impossible to eradicate the belief of the English -people, that their allegiance was due to him who had been proclaimed -even by his uncle, Edward the Fifth. Even if they were put aside, the -attainder passed against the duke of Clarence was an insufficient reason -to deprive his son of his lawful inheritance. He saw England wasted, and -her nobility extirpated by civil contest; and he perceived the seeds of -future strife in the assumption of the crown by the duke of Gloucester. -When the son of Richard the Third died, and the earl of Warwick was -named his successor, the superior right of the nephew before the -reigning uncle became so eminent a subject of discussion, that the king -was obliged to recall his declaration, and to confine the young prince -in a castle in Yorkshire. The earl of Lincoln, then seven and twenty -years of age, was next named. He remonstrated with his uncle privately; -but fear of dividing the House of York against itself, and a disdain to -make common cause with the dowager queen's relations, made him outwardly -submit; but his plan was formed, and secretly all his efforts tended -towards the restoring the children of Edward to their paternal rights. - -The boys were sickly. Edward the Fifth, irritated by the extinction of -the hopes which the intrigues of his mother had kept alive in his -breast, wasted by imprisonment in the Tower, and brooking with untamed -pride the change from a regal to a private station, pined and died. -Richard, duke of York, was between ten and eleven; a sprightly, -ingenuous boy, whose lively spirit wore out his frame, and this, added -to confinement and attention to his dying brother, brought him also near -the grave. It was on the death of Edward, that the earl of Lincoln -visited the Tower, and saw young Richard. The accounts given by the -attendants of his more than a child's devotion to his brother, his -replies full of sportive fancy, his beauty, though his cheek was faded -and his person grown thin, moved the generous noble to deep compassion. -He ventured, under the strong influence of this feeling, to remonstrate -warmly with his royal uncle, reproaching him with needless cruelty, and -telling him how in fact, though not in appearance, he was the murderer of -his nephews, and would be so held by all mankind. Richard's ambition was -satisfied by the success of his measures to obtain the crown; but his -fears were awake. The duke of Buckingham was in arms against him--the -queen and her surviving relatives were perpetually employed in exciting -discontents in the kingdom. Richard feared that if they obtained the -person of his nephew, he would be turned into an engine for his -overthrow; while to obtain possession of him was the constant aim of -their endeavours. He earnestly desired to reconcile himself to the -queen, and to draw her from the sanctuary in which she had immured -herself--she refused all his offers, unless her son was first placed in -her hands. - -His head, ripe with state plots, now conceived a scheme. He consented -that Lincoln should take the duke of York under his charge, if he would -first engage to keep his removal from the Tower, and even his existence, -a secret from his enemies. Lincoln made the required promise; the young -prince was conveyed to a country seat belonging to the earl, and -Richard, in furtherance of his plan, caused a rumour to go abroad that -he also was dead. No one knew with whom this report originated. When, to -assure themselves, various nobles visited the Tower, the boy was no -longer there. The queen gave credit to the tale. At this moment, Richard -set on foot a negotiation of marriage with the eldest daughter of Edward -the Fourth, the Lady Elizabeth. The partizans of the earl of Richmond -sought to ensure the success of his enterprise by the same means: and -while little Richard grew in health and happiness in his country -retreat, his own nearest and most attached relatives were giving away -his inheritance--his uncle unwittingly laid the foundation-stone of the -reputation of cruelty and murder ever after affixed to him; and his -mother, endeavouring to exalt her daughter, and to restore herself to -her lost station in the kingdom, sealed the fatal decree that first -deprived her son of his rights, and afterwards of his life. - -On the evening that Lord Lovel and Edmund Plantagenet entered London, -the earl of Lincoln remained waiting intelligence from the field, in a -palace he inhabited not far from Tottenham Court, a secluded habitation, -surrounded by a garden and a high wall. This was an irksome situation -for a warrior; but though his uncle loved, he distrusted him: his -projected marriage with the Lady Elizabeth would probably cause him -again to be father of an heir to the crown, and knowing that Lincoln -possessed, in the young duke of York, a dangerous rival, he refused to -allow him to take up arms against Richmond. Lord Lincoln was alone, -pacing his large and vaulted hall in deep and anxious meditation. He, -who with conscience for his rule, takes, or endeavours to take, the -reins of fate into his own hands, must experience frequent misgivings; -and often feel that he wheels near the edge of a giddy precipice, down -which the tameless steeds he strives to govern may, in an instant, hurl -him and all dependent upon his guidance. The simple feeling of -compassion, arising from the seeing childhood lose its buoyancy in undue -confinement, had first led the princely noble to take charge of his -young cousin. Afterwards, when he beheld the boy grow in health and -years, developing the while extraordinary quickness of intellect, and a -sweet, ingenuous disposition, he began to reflect on the station he -held, his rights and his injuries; and then the design was originated on -which he was now called to act. - -If Richard gained the day, all would stand as before. Should he be -defeated--and that second sense, that feeling of coming events, which -is one of the commonest, though the least acknowledged of the secret -laws of our nature, whispered the yet unrevealed truth to him--who then -would assume England's diadem, and how could he secure it for its -rightful owner, the only surviving son of Edward the Fourth? All these -reflections coursed themselves through his brain, while, with the zeal -of a partizan, and the fervour of one wedded to the justice of his -cause, he revolved every probable change of time and fortune. - -At this moment a courier was announced: he brought tidings from the -field. As is usual on the eve of a great event, they were dubious and -contradictory. The armies faced each other, and the battle was -impending. The doubts entertained on both sides, as to the part that -Lord Stanley would take, gave still a greater uncertainty to the -anticipations of each. - -Soon after the arrival of this man, the loud ringing at the outer gate -was renewed; and the trampling of horses, as they entered the court, -announced a more numerous company. There was something in the movements -of his domestics that intimated to the earl that his visitor was of -superior rank. Could it be the king, who had fled; conquered, and a -fugitive? Could such terms be applied to the high-hearted Richard? The -doors of the hall were thrown open, and the question answered by the -entrance of his visitant: it was a woman; and her name, "Lady Brampton!" -in a tone of wonder, burst from the noble's lips. - -"Even I, my good lord," said the lady; "allow me your private ear; I -bring intelligence from Leicestershire. All is lost," she continued, -when the closing of the door assured her of privacy; "all is lost, and -all is gained--Richard is slain. My emissaries brought swift -intelligence of this event to me at Northampton, and I have hastened -with it hither, that without loss of time you may act." - -There was a quickness and a decision in the lady's manner, that checked -rather than encouraged her auditor. She continued: "Vesper hour has long -passed--it matters not--London yet is ours. Command instantly that -Richard the Fourth be proclaimed king of England." - -Lord Lincoln started at these words. The death of his uncle and -benefactor could not be received by him like the loss of a move at -chess; a piece lost, that required the bringing up of other pieces to -support a weak place. "The king is slain," were words that rang in his -ears: drowning every other that the lady uttered with rapidity and -agitation. "We will speak of that anon," he replied; and going to the -high window of his hall, he threw it open, as if the air oppressed him. -The wind sighed in melancholy murmurs among the branches of the elms and -limes in the garden: the stars were bright, and the setting moon was -leaving the earth to their dim illumination. "Yesternight," thought -Lincoln, "he was among us, a part of our conversation, our acts, our -lives; now his glazed eyes behold not these stars. The past is his: with -the present and the future he has no participation." - -Lady Brampton's impatience did not permit the earl long to indulge in -that commune with nature, which we eagerly seek when grief and death -throws us back on the weakness of our human state, and we feel that we -ourselves, our best laid projects and loftiest hopes, are but the -playthings of destiny. "Wherefore," cried the lady, "does De la Poole -linger? Does he hesitate to do his cousin justice? Does he desire to -follow in the steps of his usurping predecessor? Wherefore this delay?" - -"To strike the surer," replied Lincoln. "May not I ask, wherefore this -impatience?" - -Even as he spoke, steps were heard near the apartment; and while the -eyes of both were turned with inquietude on the expected intruder, Lord -Lovel entered: there was no triumph, no eager anticipation on his -brow--he was languid from ill success and fatigue. Lincoln met him with -the pleasure of one who sees his friend escaped from certain death. He -was overjoyed to be assured of his existence; he was glad to have his -assistance on the present emergency. "We know," he said, "all the evil -tidings you bring us; we are now deliberating on the conduct we are to -pursue: your presence will facilitate our measures. Tell me what other -friends survive to aid us. The duke of Norfolk, the Staffords, Sir -Robert Brakenbury, where are they?" - -Lovel had seen the duke fall, the Staffords had accompanied his flight; -uncertainty still hung over the fate of many others. This detail of the -death of many of their common friends, subdued the impetuosity of the -lady, till an account of how Richard himself had fought and been slain -recalled her to their former topic of discussion; and, again, she said, -"It is strange that you do not perceive the dangers of delay. Why is not -the king proclaimed?" - -"Do you not know," asked Lord Lovel, "that the king is proclaimed?" - -Lady Brampton clasped her hands, exclaiming, "Then Richard the Fourth -will wear his father's crown!" - -"Henry the Seventh," said Lovel, "possesses and wears the English crown. -Lord Stanley placed the diadem on the head of the earl of Richmond, and -his soldiers, with one acclaim, acknowledged him as their sovereign." - -"This is mere trifling," said the lady; "the base-born offspring -Lancaster may dare aspire so high, but one act of ours dethrones him. -The Yorkists are numerous, and will defend their king: London is yet -ours." - -"Yes," replied Lincoln, "it is in our power to deluge the streets of -London with blood, to bring massacre among its citizens, and worse -disaster on its wives and maidens. I would not buy an eternal crown for -myself--I will not strive to place that of England on my kinsman's -head--at this cost. We have had over-much of war: I have seen too many -of the noble, young, and gallant, fall by the sword. Brute force has had -its day; now let us try what policy can do." - -The council these friends held together was long and anxious. The lady -still insisted on sudden and resolute measures. Lord Lovel, a soldier in -all his nature, looked forward to the calling together the Yorkists from -every part of the kingdom. The earl, with a statesman's experience, saw -more of obstacle to their purpose in the elevation of Henry the Seventh -than either of his companions would allow; the extreme youth of the duke -of York, the oblivion into which he had sunk, and the stain on his -birth, which was yet unremoved, would disincline the people to hazard -life and fortune in his cause. Henry had taken oath to marry his sister, -the Lady Elizabeth, and when thus the progeny of Edward the Fourth were -freed from the slur under which they now laboured, the whole country -would be alive to the claims of his only son. It was necessary now to -place him in safety, and far away from the suspicious eyes of his -usurping enemy. That morning Lord Lincoln had brought him up from his -rural retreat to the metropolis, and sheltered him for a few hours under -safe but strange guardianship. He was left at the house of a Flemish -money-lender well known at court. It was agreed that Lord Lovel should -take him thence, and make him the companion of his journey to -Colchester, where they should remain watching the turn of events, and -secretly preparing the insurrection which would place him on the throne. -Lady Brampton was obliged to proceed immediately northwards to join her -husband; the north was entirely Yorkist, and her influence would -materially assist the cause. The earl remained in London; he would sound -the inclinations of the nobility, and even coming in contact with the -new king, watch over danger and power at its fountain-head. One more -question was discussed: Whether the queen, Elizabeth Woodville, should -be made acquainted with the existence of her son. All three, from -various reasons, decided in the negative. A personal enmity existed -between the widow of Edward the Fourth and Lady Brampton: her party was -detested by the two nobles. It would be more popular with the nation, -they thought, if her kinsmen, whose upstart pretensions were the object -of the derision and scorn of the old aristocracy, had no part in -bestowing the crown on the heir of the House of York. Time wore away -during these deliberations; it was past midnight before the friends -separated. Lord Lovel presented his young friend, Edmund Plantagenet, to -the earl, and recommended him to his protection. Refreshment was also -necessary after Lovel's fatiguing journey; but he was so intent on -accomplishing his purpose, that he wasted but a few minutes in this -manner, and then being provided with a fresh horse from Lincoln's -stables, he left the palace to proceed first to the present abode of -Richard of York, and afterwards, accompanied by him, on his road to -Essex. - -Lord Lovel threaded his way through the dark narrow streets of London -towards Lothbury. The habitation of the money-lender was well known to -him, but it was not easily entered at past midnight. A promised bribe to -the apprentice who hailed him from the lofty garret-window, and his -signet-ring sent in to his master, at length procured admission into the -bedchamber of Mynheer Jahn Warbeck. The old man sat up in his bed, his -red cotton night-cap on his head, his spectacles, with which he had -examined the ring, on his nose; his chamber was narrow and dilapidated, -his bed of ill condition. "Who would suppose," thought Lovel, "that this -man holds half England in pawn?" - -When Warbeck heard that the errand of Lovel was to take from him his -princely charge, he rose hastily, wrapping a robe round him, and opened -a small wainscoat door leading into a little low room, whence he drew -the half-sleeping and wondering boy. There was a rush taper in the room, -and daylight began to peep through the crevices of the shutters, giving -melancholy distinctness to the dirty and dismantled chamber. One ray -fell directly on the red night-cap and spectacles of old Jahn, whose -parchment face was filled with wrinkles, yet they were lines of care, -not of evil, and there was even benevolence in his close mouth; for the -good humour and vivacity of the boy had won on him. Besides, he had -himself a son, for whom he destined all his wealth, of the same age as -the little fellow whose plump roseate hand he held in his own brown -shrivelled palm. The boy came in, rubbing his large blue eyes, the -disordered ringlets of his fair hair shading a face replete with -vivacity and intelligence. Mynheer Jahn was somewhat loth to part with -the little prince, but the latter clapped his hands in ecstasy when he -heard that Lord Lovel had come to take him away. - -"I pray you tell me, Sir Knight," said old Warbeck, "whether -intelligence hath arrived of the victory of our gracious sovereign, and -the defeat of the Welsh rebels." - -Richard became grave at these words; he fixed his, eyes inquiringly on -the noble: "Dear Lord Lovel," he cried, "for I remember you well, my -very good lord, when you came to the Tower and found me and Robert -Clifford playing at bowls--tell me, how you have fought, and whether -you have won." - -"Mine are evil tidings," said Lord Lovel; "all is lost. We were -vanquished, and your royal uncle slain." - -Warbeck's countenance changed at these words; he lamented the king; he -lamented the defeat of the party which he had aided by various advances -of money, and his regrets at once expressed sorrow for the death of -some, and dread from the confiscation of the property of others. -Meanwhile, Richard of York was full of some thought that swelled his -little breast; taking Lovel's hand, he asked again, "My uncle, Richard -the Third, is dead?" - -"Even so," was the reply; "he died nobly on the field of battle." - -The child drew himself up, and his eyes flashed as he said -proudly,--"Then I am king of England." - -"Who taught your grace that lesson?" asked Lovel. - -"My liege--my brother Edward. Often and often in the long winter -nights, and when he was sick in bed, he told me how, after he had been -proclaimed king, he had been dethroned; but that when our uncle died he -should be king again; and that if it pleased God to remove him, I should -stand in his place; and I should restore my mother's honour, and this he -made me swear." - -"Bless the boy!" cried Warbeck, "he speaks most sagely; may the saints -incline my lord, the earl of Lincoln, to do his royal cousin justice!" - -"Your grace," said Lovel, "shall hear more of this as we proceed on our -journey. Mynheer Jahn, the earl bade me apply to you; you are to repair -to him before noon; meanwhile, fill this long empty purse with gold -coins. He will be my guarantee." - -"Lend me the money," cried the little duke, "I will repay you. We will -repay you, when we have our crown." - -This was an inducement not to be resisted. Warbeck counted out the gold; -the boy with light steps tripped down the creaking old staircase, and -when Lovel had mounted, taking his hand, he sprung in the saddle before -him. The fresh morning air was grateful to both, after the close -chambers of the Fleming. The noble put his horse to a quick trot, and -leaving London by a different road from that by which he had entered, -took his way through Romford and Chelmsford to Colchester. - -The news of the earl of Richmond's victory and assumption of the crown -reached London that night. The citizens heard it on their awakening. The -market people from the west related it to those who came in from the -east; but it had not hitherto travelled in that direction. Lovel knew -that the storm was behind him, but he outrode it; on the evening of the -second day he was safe in sanctuary at Colchester. His young charge was -lodged at a farm-house belonging to a tenant of Sir Humphrey Stafford. -They all awaited impatiently for the time when the earl of Lincoln would -put a period to their confinement, by informing them that the hour was -arrived when they might again take arms against the upstart Lancastrian -king. - - - - -CHAPTER III - -ELIZABETH OF YORK - - - Small joy have I have being England's queen. - - SHAKSPEARE. - - -Henry the Seventh was a man of strong sense and sound understanding. He -was prudent, resolute, and valiant; on the other hand, he was totally -devoid of generosity, and was actuated all his life by base and bad -passions. At first the ruling feeling of his heart was hatred of the -House of York--nor did he wholly give himself up to the avarice that -blotted his latter years, till the extinction of that unhappy family -satisfied his revenge, so that for want of fuel the flame died away. -Most of his relatives and friends had perished in the field or on the -scaffold by the hands of the Yorkists--his own existence had been in -jeopardy during their exaltation; and the continuance of his reign, and -even of his life, depended on their utter overthrow. Henry had a mind -commensurate to the execution of his plans: he had a talent for seizing, -as if instinctively, on all the bearings of a question before him; and a -ready perception of the means by which he might obviate difficulties and -multiply facilities, was the most prominent part of his character. He -never aimed at too much, and felt instantaneously when he had arrived at -the enough. More of cruelty would have roused England against him; less -would have given greater hopes to the partizans of his secreted rival. -He had that exact portion of callousness of heart which enabled him to -extricate himself in the admirable manner he did from all his -embarrassments. - -It is impossible to say what his exact views were, when he landed in -England, an I made head against Richard the Third. His right of -succession, even through the House of Lancaster, was ill-founded, and -probably he would scarcely have dared to decorate his brows with the -royal circlet but for the happy boldness of Stanley, and the enthusiasm -felt by his soldiers in the hour of victory, which had bestowed it on -him. Once a king, as it was impossible, without risk of life, to sink to -a private station, he did not hesitate, but bent every energy of his -mind to the contriving the means to seat himself firmly on his -newly-acquired throne. - -The illegitimacy of Edward the Fourth's children had removed them from -the succession. But though no doubt was entertained as to the fact of -Edward having married Lady Eleanor Butler, yet Henry had the taint of -illegitimacy on his own race; and, moreover, Elizabeth Woodville having -so long filled the station of queen of England, the public voice went in -her favour, and the majority of the English people looked upon the tale -which deprived her children of their rights, as a contrivance of their -usurping uncle. What then was to become of them? Edward the Fifth was -dead: of this fact there was no doubt. It had been rumoured that the -duke of York had not long survived his brother. To ascertain the truth -of this report, Henry dispatched one of his most staunch adherents to -the Tower. The boy was not there; but a mystery hung over his fate which -did not quite assure the new king of his death. Henry feared that he was -in the hands of the Yorkists, and this dread gave fresh vigour to his -distrust and abhorrence of the partizans of the White Rose. He formed a -scheme to defeat their projects; he caused it to be disseminated that -both the princes had been found dead--murdered--in the Tower. - -The competitors for the crown, whose claims ranked next, were the -daughters of Edward the Fourth. Henry immediately saw the necessity of -agreeing to the treaty entered into by the countess of Richmond, for his -marriage with the eldest of these princesses. He hated to owe his title -to the crown to any part of the House of York; he resolved, if possible, -to delay and break the marriage; but his own friends were urgent with -him to comply, and prudence dictated the measure; he therefore promised -to adopt it--thus effectually to silence the murmurs of the party of -the White Rose. - -But if the young duke of York reappeared meanwhile, it would be -necessary not to repeal the Act of Parliament that cast a stigma on his -birth. If the children of Elizabeth Woodville and Edward the Fourth were -debarred from the crown, the earl of Warwick was the next heir. He was -confined, by Richard the Third, at Sheriff Hutton, in Yorkshire. He was -the especial object of Henry's fear, and now he commanded him to be -brought from his northern prison to the Tower of London, to be kept a -close prisoner in that melancholy and ill-fated place. There was one -other rival, the earl of Lincoln, named by Richard to succeed him; but -his pretensions came so far behind the others, and he enjoyed so high a -reputation for sagacity and virtue, that Henry believed it best to let -him alone for the present, only surrounding him with spies; and -resolved, on the first note of danger, to destroy him. - -Fortune smiled on the new sovereign. The disappearance of the two -children from the Tower caused the Yorkists to settle their affections -on the young Elizabeth. She was at Sheriff Hutton, waiting impatiently -for her union with her uncle; now she received commands to proceed to -London, as the affianced bride of that uncle's conqueror. Already the -common talk ran on the entwining of the two Roses; and all the adherents -of her family, who could gain access, recommended their cause to her, -and entreated her, in the first days of power, not to forget her -father's friends, but to incline the heart of her husband to an -impartial love for the long rival houses of Lancaster and York. - -Two parties arrived on the same day at Sheriff Hutton, on the different -missions of conducting the Lady Elizabeth and the earl of Warwick to -London. On the morning of their departure they met in the garden of -their abode to take leave of each other. Elizabeth was nineteen years -old, Warwick was the exact age of her brother, Edward the Fifth; he was -now sixteen. - -"We are about to travel the same road with far different expectations," -said Warwick. "I go to be a prisoner; you, fair cousin, to ascend a -throne." - -There was a despondency in the youth's manner that deeply affected this -princess. "Dear Edward," she replied, clasping his hand; "we have been -fellow-prisoners long, and sympathy has lightened the burthen of our -chains. Can I forget our walks in this beauteous park, and the love and -confidence we have felt for each other? My dearest boy, when I am queen, -Esther will claim a boon from Ahasuerus, and Warwick shall be the chief -noble in my train." - -She looked at him with a brilliant smile; her heart glowed with sisterly -affection. She might well entertain high anticipations of future power; -she was in the pride of youth and beauty; the light spirit of expected -triumph lighted up her lovely face. She was about to become the bride of -a conqueror, yet one whose laurels would droop without her propping; she -was to be queen of her native land, the pearly clasp to unite the silken -bond with which peace now bound long discordant England. She was unable -to communicate this spirit of hope to her desponding friend; he gazed on -her beauty with admiration and deep grief, asking, with tearful eyes, -"Shall we ever meet again?" - -"Yes! in London, in the court of Henry, we shall again be -companions--friends." - -"I go to the Tower, not to the court," replied Warwick, "and when those -gloomy gates close on me, I shall pray that my head may soon repose on -the cold stone that pillows my cousin Edward. I shall sleep uneasily -till then." - -"Fie, cousin!" said Elizabeth; "such thoughts ill beseem the nearest -kinsman of the future queen of England. You will remain but a short time -in the Tower; but if you nurse thoughts like these, you will pine there -as you did before I shared your prison here, and the roses with which my -care has painted your cheeks, will again fade." - -"Wan and colourless will my cheek be ere your bright eyes look on it -again. Is it not sufficient grief that I part from you, beloved friend!" - -A gush at once of sorrow, of affection, of long suppressed love, -overpowered the youth. "I shall think of you," he added, "in my -prison-house; and while I know that you regret my fate, I cannot be -wholly a wretch. Do you not love me? And will you not, as a proof, give -me one of these golden hairs, to soothe poor Warwick's misery? One -only," he said, taking from braided locks the small gift he demanded, "I -will not diminish the rich beauty of your tresses, yet they will not -look lovelier, pressed by the jewelled diadem of England, than under the -green chaplet I crowned you with a few months past, my Queen of May!" - -And thus, the eyes of each glistening with tears, they parted. For a -moment Warwick looked as if he wished to press his cousin to his heart; -and she, who loved him as a sister, would have yielded to his embrace: -but before his arms enfolded her, he started back, bent one knee, -pressed her hand to his lips, his eyes, his brow, and bending his head -for an instant towards the ground, sprang up, and rushed down the avenue -towards the gate at which his guard awaited him. Elizabeth stood -motionless, watching him till out of sight. The sun sparkled brightly on -a tuft of wild flowers at her feet. The glittering light caught her eye. -"It is noon," she thought; "the morning dew is dry; it is Warwick's -tears that gem these leaves." She gathered the flowers, and, first -kissing them, placed them in her bosom; with slow steps, and a sorrowing -heart, she re-entered the castle. - -The progress of the Lady Elizabeth from Sheriff Hutton to London was -attended by every circumstance that could sustain her hopes. She was -received with acclamation and enthusiasm in every town through which she -passed. She indeed looked forward with girlish vanity to the prospect of -sharing the throne with Henry. She had long been taught the royal -lesson, that with princes, the inclinations are not to bear any part in -a disposal of the hand. Her imagination fed on the good she would do for -others, when raised to the regal dignity; the hope of liberating -Warwick, and of fulfilling her mother's wishes in conferring benefits on -various partizans of the White Rose, filled her bosom with the purest -joy; youth, beauty, and the expectation of happiness, caused the measure -of her content to overflow. With a fluttering heart she entered London: -small preparation had been made to receive her, and she was immediately -conducted to her mother's abode at the Tower Royal, in the parish of -Walbrook. The first check her hopes received arose from the clouded brow -of the queen, as she embraced her daughter, and welcomed her arrival. -Many fears in truth occupied the thoughts of the illustrious widow. She -could not forget her sons; and the mystery that hung over the fate of -the younger pressed heavily upon her. It was now the eighteenth of -October, and the preparations for the coronation of Henry were in great -forwardness; Parliament had recognized his title without any allusion to -the union with the heiress of the House of York. She had endeavoured to -fathom his purposes, and to understand his character. She knew that he -entertained a settled hatred for the White Rose, and that his chief -pride lay in establishing himself on the throne, independent of the -claim he might acquire by his marriage with the Lady Elizabeth. The -common people murmured, the Yorkists were discontented,--the neighbour -stage before they should break out into open rebellion. Thus dark clouds -interposed before the sun of peace, which had been said to have risen on -the event of the battle of Bosworth Field. - -Henry the Seventh was crowned on the thirtieth of October. The queen -looked on this ceremony as the downfall of her hopes. Housed by this -fear, she entered into a sea of intrigue, in which, after all, she had -no certain aim, except that of re-animating the zeal of the Yorkists, -and of exciting such discontent in the public mind, on the postponement -of her daughter's marriage, as to force Henry to consent to an immediate -union. The gentle Elizabeth had meanwhile submitted patiently to her -destiny. She dismissed regality from her thoughts, and devoted herself -to her mother; recreating herself in the society of her sisters, and now -and then contemplating the faded leaves she had brought from Sheriff -Hutton, and lamenting the fate of Warwick. She had learned to fear and -almost to hate Henry; and, but for the sake of her suffering party, to -rejoice that he had apparently relinquished his intention of marrying -her. - -The dissatisfaction manifested by the English people forced Henry to -comply with the universal wish entertained of seeing the daughter of -Edward the Fourth on the throne; yet it was not until the beginning of -January that the princess received intimation to prepare for her -nuptials. This prospect, which had before elated, now visited her -coldly; for, without the hope of influencing her husband, the state of a -queen appeared mere bondage. In her heart she wished to reject her -uncourteous bridegroom; and once she had ventured to express this desire -to her mother, who, filled with affright, laid aside her intrigues, -devoting herself to cultivate a more rational disposition in her -daughter. Henry paid the doomed girl one visit, and saw little in her -except a bashful child; while his keener observation was directed -towards the dowager queen. She, with smooth brow and winning smiles, did -the honours of reception to her future son-in-law--to her bitter foe. -The cold courtesy of Henry chilled her; and a strong desire lurked under -her glossy mien, to reproach the usurper with his weak title, to set up -her daughter's claim in opposition to his, and to defy him to the field. -As soon as Henry departed, her suppressed emotions found vent in tears. -Elizabeth was astonished: she knelt before her, caressed her, and asked -if all were not well now, since the plighted troth had passed between -her and the king. - -"Has it passed?" murmured the queen; "and is your hapless fate decided? -Why did I not join you at Sheriff Hutton? Why did I not place your hand -in that of your noble cousin? Ah, Warwick! could I even now inspire you -with my energy, you would be free in arms; and England to a man would -rise in the cause of Edward the Sixth, and my sweet Elizabeth!" - -The colour in the princess's cheeks varied during the utterance of this -speech; first they flushed deep red, but the pale hue of resolution -succeeded quickly to the agitation of doubt. "Mother," she said, "I was -your child; plastic clay in your hands; had you said these words two -hours ago, Warwick might have been liberated--I perhaps happy. But you -have given me away; this ring is the symbol of my servitude; I belong to -Henry. Say no word, I beseech you, that can interfere with my duty to -him. Permit me to retire." - -On the eighteenth of January her nuptials were celebrated. - -The forbidding manners of Henry threw a chill over the marriage -festival. He considered that he had been driven to this step by his -enemies; and that the chief among these, influenced by her mother, was -Elizabeth herself. The poor girl never raised her eyes from the moment -she had encountered at the altar the stern and unkind glance of the -king. Her steps were unassured, her voice faltering; the name of wife -was to her synonymous with that of slave, while her sense of duty -prevented every outward demonstration of the despair that occupied her -heart. - -Her mother's indignation was deeper, although not less veiled. She could -silence, but not quell, the rage that arose in her breast from her -disappointment; and there were many present who shared her sentiments. -As far as he had been able, Henry had visited the Yorkists with the -heaviest penalties. An act of attainder had been passed against the duke -of Norfolk, Lord Lovel, the Staffords, and all indeed of note who had -appeared against him. Those with whom he could not proceed to -extremities, he wholly discountenanced. The Red Rose flourished bright -and free--one single white blossom, doomed to untimely blight, being -entwined with the gaudier flowers. - - - - -CHAPTER IV - -LADY BRAMPTON - - - My noble queen, let former grudges pass, - And henceforth I am thy true servitor. - - SHAKSPEARE. - - -Meanwhile the Yorkists were impatient for action. The existence of -Prince Richard was a secret to all save Lincoln and Lovel--even the -Staffords were kept in ignorance; their purpose, therefore, was merely -to put down the Lancastrians, and to raise their own party, with Warwick -or Lincoln at their head; they cared not which, so that they got a king -who would, in his turn, uproot the Red Rose. Lincoln would consent to no -decisive step; but from the day of his cousin's marriage, all his -emissaries and friends were on foot to cause insurrectionary movements -in the kingdom, rousing in the old Yorkists their ancient party spirit, -and inspiring the young with hopes of future aggrandizement and victory. - -As the spring advanced, Henry sent the young queen, with her mother and -sisters, and the countess of Richmond, to hold her court at Winchester, -while he resolved on a progress through the northern counties of -England, the most affected towards the House of York, to endeavour, by -the royal presence, to awaken affection towards the reigning sovereign. -He passed the festival of Easter at Lincoln, and there he heard that -Lord Lovel and the two Staffords had escaped from sanctuary. The sound -of insurrection is fearful to a newly-anointed king; but as no -explanation was given to their movements, and no name of import mingled -in the tale, he felt less perturbation at this intelligence. As he -proceeded on his journey, the affair took a more serious aspect. The -Staffords advanced to besiege Worcester; and Lovel, with an increasing -army of three or four thousand men, was in the neighbourhood of York. - -Sir Edward Brampton joined the forces of Lord Lovel, and he and Lady -Brampton again met. The history of this lady was singular. Ten years -before the time of which we write, being then eighteen, she married, and -attended the court of Edward the Fourth. She had talent and vivacity; -her dark laughing eyes, the animation of her countenance, her gay and -_naïve_ manners, attracted her sovereign; and she was soon distinguished -as one whose advancement, if so it might be called, to the highest -influence over him, depended on her own choice between honour and such -preferment. She did not hesitate; but her rejection won Edward as much -as her beauty. A kind of friendship, kept up under the chivalrous -phraseology of the day, was established between them, that gave, -perhaps, more umbrage to the queen than a less avowed connection would -have done. All was open; and if the good humour of her young rival never -permitted her to assume haughtiness, there was something even more -revolting in her girlish assumptions of power and consequence. The queen -hated and affected to despise Lady Brampton; Lady Brampton felt that she -injured the wife of Edward the Fourth. At first she had earnestly sought -to gain her favour, but when rebuffed, she resorted to the weapons of -youth, beauty, and wit, and set at defiance the darkened brow of -Elizabeth. Ten years had passed since then. - -Edward the Fourth died, and under Richard the Third Lady Brampton -returned to her natural place in society; nay, the vivacity of speech -with which she defended the rights of his nephews, made him absolutely -discountenance her. In her days of pride she had refused every mark of -favour from Edward, thus to place their avowed friendship far above the -petty intrigues of the courtiers. It might have been thought that the -queen and her rival would now, on the grounds of affection for Edward's -children, have leagued together; but, on the contrary, the mother -expressed contempt and indignation at the presumption of Lady Brampton -in assuming a personal interest in her children, and that lady too well -remembered how often her manner and speech must have offended the queen -to make any vain attempt at reconciliation. The earl of Lincoln and Lady -Brampton had always been friends; her liveliness amused him, her -integrity and real goodness of heart won his esteem. Her passionate love -for the princes in the Tower had caused him, when he withdrew thence the -young Richard, whose ill-health demanded constant feminine attentions, -to confide him to her charge; thus she alone became possessed of the -secret of his existence, and now with Lord Lovel she debated how best -his interests could be furthered. - -Lord Lincoln feared by rash measures to endanger the safety of his -nephew. He desired to place him on the throne, but he preferred bringing -him up in freedom and obscurity to any ill-judged attempt that might -throw him into his enemy's hands, and make him prisoner for life. His -plans were all laid upon this principle; he commanded Lord Lovel, who -submitted wholly to him, not to breathe the name of the son of Edward -till he had gained a decided advantage over the reigning sovereign. If -victorious, he might set up the royal standard and proclaim Richard the -Fourth, while the earl, still in London, would call together all the -Yorkists, and, in the absence of the king, seize, in his nephew's name, -upon the capital of the kingdom. If Lord Lovel's attempt proved -unsuccessful, it was decided that the prince should escape immediately -to the Continent, there to remain till some new insurrection was -organized; for, though cautious, he was resolute, and he had determined -never to relinquish his purpose, but to excite rebellion and discontent -against Henry till the rightful heir possessed his own. - -These plans were in contradiction to Lady Brampton's views, but she was -obliged to submit. Her quick woman's wit discovered her another danger. -The absolute silence observed concerning the young prince, then only -eleven years of age, might in the end cast a doubt over the justice of -his pretensions, and she told Lord Lovel, that if, after a failure, -Richard quitted England, he must first be seen and acknowledged by his -mother. She resolved, therefore, on immediately going to Winchester to -prepare Elizabeth for the reception of her son; and Lord Lovel, who -agreed in the wisdom of this proposal, promised, at all hazards, that -ere leaving the kingdom the duke of York should cross the country to -that town, whence, by Southampton, he might escape to France. While, -therefore. Lord Lovel increased his army, and marched in high hopes -towards York, Lady Brampton proceeded southward, meditating the safest -and best manner of introducing herself to the queen. - -There was a man, Richard Simon, or Symond, who afterwards figured in the -chronicles, that had long been secretly concerned in the course of -events. He was the son of a tenant of Sir John Gray, and had been the -playmate of the Lady Elizabeth Gray's elder children. His love of books, -his sedentary habits, and quick wit on matters of learning, led those -interested in his fate to consider him fitted for the church, and -therefore, he took priest's orders. But his mind, though not attuned to -action in its noblest sense, was not one that could remain at rest. He -loved power; he was sagacious, astute, and intriguing: when the Lady -Gray became queen, he being still too young for high promotion, -preferred an unnoticed but influential situation near her person to more -lucrative employ, which would remove him from the pleasures and dignity -of the court. When Edward died, he devoted himself to the service of his -royal patroness, and hardly escaped being imprisoned for life by -Richard, when the latter was most exasperated against the -queen dowager's relations. From that time Richard Simon found full -occupation for his plotting head, in endeavouring to bring about the -overthrow of the usurping Gloucester, and to raise the hopes of Henry -the Seventh, who requited ill his active zeal: and now again he busied -himself in exalting the queen's party. He looked the man he was--a -prier into secrets--one who conducted the drama of life by back-stairs -and tell-tale valets: his small grey eyes were quick to discern the -meaning of each smile or frown; his young brow was already wrinkled -through care and thought; craft lurked in the corners of his lips; and -his whispering voice betokened habitual caution. He continued to hover -near the queen; now despatched to sound some Yorkist, now closeted to -discuss some expression of the king's, in which to find a secret -meaning. Repose was the thing he hated: and for ever with some plan on -foot, some web to weave or unravel, he was seen with brows a little -elevated by self-conceit, with a courtly bend of the body, and -insinuating address, now assuring a Lancastrian of the perfect -satisfaction of the queen, now whispering to a Yorkist a tale of slights -and injuries practised by King Henry against his consort and her -friends. All the communication that had taken place between Elizabeth -Woodville and the earl of Lincoln had been carried on through this man, -though each knew not that he communicated to the other what either said. -But Lincoln respected his undeviating fidelity towards his patroness, -and valued his talents. It was to this man that Lady Brampton addressed -herself on her arrival at Winchester, to procure for her a private -audience with the queen. Her dark hints respecting the insurrection of -Lovel and the Staffords excited his curiosity, yet he experienced more -difficulty than he expected in bringing the royal dowager to consent to -receive her rival. When our days of prosperity are fled we cling fondly -to all that reminds us of their brightness, and turn with augmented -distaste from every thing that marred their splendour. Elizabeth loved to -remember herself as the chosen bride of Edward, and any circumstance -that spoke of his inconstancy, or detracted from the entireness of her -influence over him, then inspired her with indignation, now with -abhorrence. It required all Simon's dexterity to allay her anger, and -excite her curiosity, sufficiently to induce her to admit her rival to -her presence. - -It was at the hour of vespers that the priest introduced Lady Brampton -into the queen's cabinet. Elizabeth was assured that she had secrets of -importance to communicate, and she designed by affability to win her to -a full disclosure of them. Yet her heart and manner grew cold as she -entered the closet where the lady and her guide already were, and -bending her head slightly, she said, "The Lady Brampton desired an -audience with me--I grant it." - -With all her vivacity and consciousness of the importance of her -disclosures, the lady felt herself awed and chilled; and the memory of -Edward came across her, who had before shielded her from such -unkindness, and filled her eyes with tears. A long pause ensued; the -queen looked as in expectation, and Richard Simon, who had retired to an -embrasure of a window, was about to come forward, when Lady Brampton, -conquering her emotion, said, "Your grace is the happy mother of the -queen of England, and the hope of an heir, which you now entertain, may -make my intelligence distasteful." - -"Say on," replied Elizabeth, haughtily; "I listen to your words." - -The lady felt much inclined not to say another word, but assuming almost -equal coldness of manner, she continued, "Would your grace prefer that -your fair daughter should still bear the sceptre, or that Richard the -Fourth should wrest it from the husband's grasp?" - -Now indeed the queen started, and cried impetuously, "I charge you, -trifle with me no longer! Explain your words; who would supplant my -child?" - -"Her brother," Lady Brampton replied; and seeing the queen lost in a -mixture of amazement and terror, she added, "The Duke of York still -lives: he is now, I trust, at the head of forces sufficient to enforce -his rights. In a few days England will acknowledge him as sovereign." - -In reply to these words, spoken with rapidity, as if they were pregnant -with supreme delight to their auditress, the queen with an angry look, -said, "I shall league with no plotters to establish an impostor." - -"Beware," said Lady Brampton, indignantly; "let your majesty bethink -yourself before you consign your son to misery and an early grave. Will -his mother be his chief enemy?" - -"Who vouches for him?" - -"Himself! He is the very Edward who once was yours: his young features -are but the miniature mirror of his royal father; his princely grace, -his wit, his courage, are all derived from him." - -"I must see the boy," said the queen, "to end at once this silly masque. -How do you pretend that he escaped form the Tower?" - -The independence and sensibility of Lady Brampton's disposition would -not permit her to answer a question asked thus ironically. Had she -looked at the queen, she might have seen, by her change of countenance, -that it was nearly all put on by the jealous instinct that would not -permit her to acknowledge herself under so great an obligation to her -rival. Lady Brampton turned to Simon, saying, "I am ready to depart, Sir -Priest; I see her grace sorrows that the same cold bed does not entomb -Richard of York and Edward the Fifth. Poor prince! My Lord of Lincoln -counselled well, and I was to blame in not acting on his advice." - -"Stay," cried Elizabeth, "speak again. Is the earl of Lincoln a party to -this tale?" - -"Your majesty insults me," said the lady; "I came here to please a -mother's ear by assurances of her son's safety, and to conduct the -tempest-tost fortunes of this ill-starred boy into the safe harbour of -maternal love. I came with a full heart and an ardent desire to serve -you; no other motive could have led me hither. You receive me with -disdain; you dismiss me with contumely. I fear that so much you hate me, -that, for my sake, your heart is steeled against your princely son. But -as you already know so much as to make it necessary that you should know -all, I will hasten to London, and intreat the noble De la Poole to -communicate with you, and to avert a mother's enmity from her child. I -take my leave." - -She was about to depart; but Simon, who knew that a feud between the -prince's partizans must ruin his cause, entreated her to remain; and -then addressing the queen, tried to soothe her, for she was pacing the -rushes of her chamber in excessive agitation. "Peace, good friend," said -she, "I will speak to Lincoln; I will ask him why I, who was deemed by -his honoured uncle fit partaker of his councils, am kept by him in -ignorance of the alleged existence of this poor boy? Even now he might -be sitting on the throne, had I been consulted: instead of this, to what -has this distrust brought him? He is a crownless king, a fugitive -prince, branded as an impostor; a seal is put on his fate, which nothing -probably will ever remove. I, even I, have called my son, if such he be, -a counterfeit!" - -Maternal tenderness touched to the quick the royal lady's heart, and she -wept. Lady Brampton was all impulse and goodness of disposition: she -felt that Elizabeth had wronged her, but in a moment she forgave the -offence; she advanced, and kneeling at her feet, touched her hand -gently, as she said, "Let not your grace judge too harshly of our -proceedings. We poor faulty human beings, hurried hither and thither by -passion, are for ever jostling against and hurting each other, where -more perfect natures would coalesce, and thus succeed where we fail. -Forgive, forget the past; it cannot now be changed. Forgive the earl, -who, long bound by an oath to his uncle Gloucester, could only save your -son's life by feigning his death. Forgive the humblest of your servants, -even myself, who acted under his commands, and who now, in disobedience -to them, attempts to bring the royal exile to his mother's arms. Would -that my humility could appease your displeasure, and that you would -acknowledge me your faithful follower. My life should be at the disposal -of you and the princely York." - -Lady Brampton, full of vivacity, energy, and even of imperiousness, had -so much grace in her manner and sweetness in her voice, when she laid -these keen weapons aside to assume those of gentleness and love, that -she was irresistible. The queen, at once softened, stretched out her -hand, which the lady pressed respectfully to her lips; then, as friends -bent on one design, they conversed unreservedly together. Lady Brampton -entered into long details concerning the past history of the duke of -York, and the schemes then on foot for his advancement. This was not -their sole interview; they met again and again, and mutual affection -confirming the link which the fate of Richard caused to exist between -them, the queen named the Lady Brampton one of her ladies, and -henceforth they lived together under the same roof. - - - - -CHAPTER V - -THE INTERVIEW - - - - England, farewell! thou, who hast been my cradle, - Shalt never be my dungeon or my grave. - - SHELLEY. - - -The historical account of Lord Lovel's insurrection is contained in a -few words. While the two Staffords besieged Worcester, this nobleman -advanced against Henry in York. The duke of Bedford was sent against -him, who published a general pardon, for all the rebels who should -submit. The soldiers of Lord Lovel had no powerful watch-word to insure -their union; the existence of Edward the Fourth's son was a profound -secret; they were therefore easily induced to abandon an almost nameless -cause; and in three weeks Lord Lovel found himself with only one hundred -adherents, or rather personal friends, who at his earnest entreaty -disbanded, while he, chiefly bent on saving the life of his princely -charge, felt greater security in being left singly with him. - -He had promised to traverse England, and to conduct him to Winchester; -but the hot pursuit on foot forced him to delay this journey. Meanwhile -a present refuge was to be sought. He had a stanch friend in a zealous -Yorkist, Sir Thomas Broughton, who resided in Lancashire, to whose -residence he directed his steps. Still, even during this short journey, -great precaution was necessary. Lord Lovel and his charge travelled -disguised, avoiding highroads and great towns. On the second evening, -when the red aspect of the setting sun threatened an inclement night, -they took shelter in a lone cot, on one of the wild moors of that -county. - -A long habit of personal attendance had instilled into Lovel's mind a -parental affection for the little prince. They had journeyed far that -day, and Richard was overpowered by fatigue; his friend strewed for him -a bed of leaves--he stretched himself on it, and quickly fell into a -sound sleep, while the noble kept up the fire he had lighted, and paced -the hut, revolving in his mind a thousand schemes. It was a chill -February evening; and, as night came on, a thick sleet beat against the -windows, while the wind, sweeping over the wide health, howled round the -miserable shepherd's cot. Some time passed thus, and fear in Lovel's -mind gave place to the sense of security, inspired by the desolation of -the spot and the inclemency of the elements. He needed rest, and as soon -as he had thrown himself on the ground, drowsiness overpowered him--the -wind sang a wild lullaby to both the sleepers. - -Though still lost to the outer world, a change passed over Lovel's -countenance--again his features relaxed into sleep, and again expressed -disquietude. The tramp of horses' feet was around the hut--voices -mingled alien sounds with the raging blast;--at last a loud knocking at -the door caused the noble at once to start on his feet wide awake. -Richard still slept on. Lord Lovel cautiously withdrew into the shadow -behind the door, listening intently to divine the motives of these -unwelcome intruders. He felt assured that they were emissaries of Henry, -who had traced him hither; he endeavoured to form in his mind some plan -of conduct to save the duke, whom he was about to awaken and put on his -guard, when a woman's voice struck upon his ear. The knocking at the -door was changed into a violent beating, the rude hinges gave way, and -it swung back. The fugitive's heart beat quick; it was a moment full of -fate; such a one as, when passed, we seem to have concentrated a life -into its small space. The man that entered calmed his fears; low in -stature, broadly built, a cloak lined with furs added to his bulk, and a -Flemish hat completed his peaceable appearance; though he was too much -muffled to show his face. Glancing at Lovel a look which was, doubtless, -intended to convey reproach, he muttered some words in a foreign -guttural language, and went back to his companions. Two women now -entered, both enveloped in furs. One stepped lightly on, and drew the -bench, which had lately pillowed the head of Lovel, closer to the fire, -while the other, bending under the burthen in her arms, approached -slower, and sitting down on the seat prepared for her, threw back her -cloak, and discovered that she bore in her arms a sleeping child, about -six years of age. The first, meanwhile, disencumbered herself of her -rich furs, and then leaning over the child, kissed its little hands, and -regarded its sleeping form with mingled anxiety and tenderness, speaking -to the other in a foreign dialect, evidently about the risk the poor -babe had run from exposure to the weather. Lovel remained a mute -spectator; he resolved not to come forward till he should see who their -male attendants were. After a brief interval the first intruder again -entered; he threw off his cloak, and looking round with keen eyes, the -fugitive discovered the well-known features of a friend. His heart now -relieved, his countenance lighted up, and he stepped forward, saying: -"Mynheer Jahn Warbeck, God be with you! you travel on a stormy night." - -"And you, Lord Lovel," replied the money-lender, angrily, "are -sufficiently discourteous to wanderers at suck a season. Why even vipers -are harmless during a storm." - -"But fair weather returns, and they again find their sting. I might bare -my own breast, but--" he pointed to the bed of leaves, on which, in -spite of the tumult, young Richard still slept. - -Warbeck started: but before he could reply, one of his companions turned -to speak to him, and a conversation ensued, begun in Dutch, and -continued in French, concerning the circumstances which had divided them -from their attendants, and their fatiguing wanderings during the storm. -A small saddlebag was produced by Warbeck, containing a few provisions. -A bed for the sleeping child was formed, and the travellers sat round -the fire, enjoying their simple fare. From time to time the fair blue -eyes of the younger lady, who was evidently the mistress, and the other -an attendant, turned to look on the chivalric form and manly beauty of -Lovel; a few smiling observations escaped her in her native language, -which Warbeck answered drily and succinctly. The bench on which the lady -sat was soon sacrificed for firing--the cloaks of the party were dried, -and the women, wrapt in them, sought repose on the bare ground, which -was the sole flooring of the hut, the younger drawing to her bosom the -sleeping child. Lovel and Warbeck kept silence, till the deep breathing -of their companions showed that they slept: then, in reply to the -Fleming's questions, Lovel related the history of the last months, and -at the conclusion frankly asked his advice and assistance in -accomplishing his design of conveying the duke of York to Winchester. -Warbeck looked thoughtful on this demand, and after a pause said, "I -cannot say wherefore this unfortunate prince excites so strong an -interest in me; for in truth my heart yearns towards him as if he were -akin to me. Is it because he bore for a time my poor boy's name?" - -Warbeck paused; his hard features were strongly marked by grief--"I and -my sister," he continued, "crossed the country to visit my Peterkin, who -was ill--who is lost to me now for ever." - -A pause again ensued: the young soldier respected too much the father's -grief to interrupt it. At length the Fleming said, "Lord Lovel, I -will--I trust I can--save Duke Richard's life. My sister is -kind-hearted; and the silence you have observed concerning the very -existence of King Edward's son makes the task more easy. Madeline is -about to return to her own country; she was to have taken my Peterkin -with her. Let the prince again assume that name: it shall be my care to -escort him in this character to Winchester; and at Portsmouth they may -embark, while you follow your own plans, and take refuge with the -friends you mention in these parts." - -As Warbeck spoke, Lovel motioned to him to observe his sister, who, -unable to sleep, was observing them with attention. "Madeline does not -understand our English," said her brother; "but it were well that she -joined our counsels, which may continue in French. I have your leave, my -lord, to disclose your secret to her? Fear her not: she would die rather -than injure one hair of that poor child's head." - -On Warbeck's invitation, the lady rose; and he, taking her hand, led her -to the low couch of the duke of York. Sleep and gentle dreams spread an -irradiation of beauty over him: his glowing cheek, his eyes hardly -closed, the masses of rich auburn hair that clustered on a brow of -infantine smoothness and candour, the little hand and arm, which, thrown -above his head, gave an air of helplessness to his attitude, combined to -form a picture of childish grace and sweetness, which no woman, and that -woman a mother, could look on without emotions of tenderness. "What an -angelic child," said the fair sister of Warbeck, as she stooped to kiss -his rosy cheek; "what a noble-looking boy. Who is he?" - -"One proscribed," said the cavalier; "one whom he who reigns over -England would consign to a dungeon. Were he to fall into the hands of -his enemies, they might not, indeed, dare not cut him off violently; but -they would consume and crush him, by denying him all that contributes to -health and life." - -"Can this sweet boy have enemies?" cried the lady: "Ah! if he have, has -he not friends also to guard him from them?" - -"With our lives!" he replied, emphatically; "but that is a small -sacrifice and a useless one; for, to preserve him we must preserve -ourselves. My life,--such acts deserve no record,--I have, and will -again and again expose for him; but the will to save him is not enough -without the power; and that power you possess, lady, to a far, far -greater extent than I." - -"The will I have most certainly," said the fair one, regarding the boy -with anxious tenderness. "Command me, sire chevalier; my power, small as -I must believe it to be, and my will, shall unite to preserve this sweet -child." - -Warbeck disclosed briefly to his sister the secret of young Richard's -birth, and detailed his plan for his safe journey to Winchester; nay, -and after that, for his crossing the sea, and continuing to personate, -in Flanders, the nephew of Madeline, if so his royal mother deemed -fitting, till the moment should arrive, when the schemes of his -partizans being crowned with success, he could be restored to his -country and his birthright. The fair Fleming joyfully assented to this -proposition, and entered cordially into the details. Lovel was profuse -of thanks: so suddenly and so easily to be relieved from his worst -fears, appeared like the special interposition of some guardian saint. -His heart overflowed with gratitude; and his glistening eyes gave token -of greater thanks than even his emphatic words. Madeline felt all the -excitement of being actively employed in a deed of benevolence: her calm -features were animated with an angelic expression. The discussion of -details demanding the coolest prudence and most vigilant observation, -long occupied them: and the lady brought a woman's tact and keen -penetration to arrange the crude designs of her brother. All was -rendered smooth; every obstacle foreseen and obviated; every pass of -danger reconnoitered and provided for. When, at last, their plans were -perfected, the lady again returned to her hard couch to seek repose: for -some time the cavalier and the Fleming kept watch, till they also, in -such comfortless posture as they might, stretched on the bare ground, -yielded to drowsiness; and grey morning found all the dwellers in the -sheep-cot sunk in profound sleep. Fear, charity, hope, and love, might -colour their dreams; but quiet slumber possessed them all, driving care -and thought from the heart and brain, to steep both in oblivion of all -ill. - -When Madeline awoke in the morning, the first sight that met her eyes -was the lovely boy she had promised to protect, playing with her -dark-eyed girl, who displayed all the ecstasy of childish glee with her -new playmate. Madeline was a blonde Fleming, with light blue eyes and -flaxen ringlets--she was about five-and-twenty years of age; an -expression of angelic goodness animated her features, bestowing on them -an appearance of loveliness, which of themselves they did not possess. -It could hardly be guessed, that Richard's playmate was the daughter of -the fair-haired Fleming: but the husband of Warbeck's sister was a -Spaniard, and the child resembled her father in everything except the -soft mouth and sweet smile, which was all her mother's: her large full -dark eyes gave to her infantine face a look of sensibility far beyond -her years. The little girl ran to her mother when she awoke; and -Madeline caressed both her and the prince with the greatest tenderness. -They stood at the door of the cottage; the early sun shone brightly on -the hoar frost that covered the moor; the keen air was bracing, though -cold; the morning was cheerful, such as inspires hope and animation, a -lively wit to understand, and a roused courage to meet difficulties. - -Madeline turned from the glittering scene to look on her young -charge--his eyes were fixed on her face. "How beautiful and good you -look," said the boy. - -"I am glad that you think me good," replied the lady, smiling; "you will -have less fear in trusting yourself with me: your noble friend has -confided your grace to my care, if, indeed, you will condescend to live -with me, and be as a son to me. I have just lost a little nephew whom I -fondly loved; will you supply his place, and take his name?" - -"Fair cousin," said the prince, caressing his kind friend as he spoke, -"I will wait on you, and serve you as no nephew ever served. What name -did your lost kinsman bear? Quickly tell me, that I may know my own, and -hereafter call myself by it." - -"Perkin Warbeck," said Madeline. - -"Now you mock me," cried Richard: "that has long been my name; but I -knew not that it gave me a claim to so pretty a relation." - -"This courtly language," replied the lady, "betrays your grace's -princeliness. What will our Flemish boors say, when I present the -nursling of royalty as mine? You will shame our homely breeding, Duke -Richard." - -"I beseech you, fair mistress," said Lovel, who now joined them, "to -forget, even in private, such high-sounding titles. It is dangerous to -play at majesty, unaided by ten thousand armed asserters of our right. -Remember this noble child only as your loving nephew, Perkin Warbeck: -he, who well knows the misery of regal claims unallied to regal -authority, will shelter himself gladly and gratefully under the shadow -of your lowly bower." - -And now, as the wintry sun rose higher, the travellers prepared for -their departure. Warbeck first left them to find and to dismiss his -domestics, who would have been aware of the deception practised in the -person of Richard. He returned in a few hours for his sister. The duke -and Lord Lovel then separated. The intervening time had been employed by -the noble in schooling the boy as to his future behaviour, in recounting -to him his plans and hopes, and in instructing him how to conduct -himself with his mother, if indeed he saw her; for Lovel was ignorant -how Lady Brampton had succeeded at Winchester, and how far it would be -possible to bring about an interview between the queen and her son. At -length Warbeck returned; the travellers mounted, and Lord Lovel, -watching from the cottage door, beheld with melancholy regret the prince -depart: the long habit of intercourse, the uncertain future, his high -pretensions, and his present state, had filled the cavalier with moody -thoughts, unlike his usual sanguine anticipations, and energetic -resolves. "This is womanly," at last he thought, as the reflection that -he was alone, and had, perhaps, seen his beloved charge for the last -time, filled his eyes with unwonted tears. "To horse! To my -friends!--There to plan, scheme, devise--and then again to the field!" - -Days and weeks passed, replete with doubt and anxiety to the queen and -her enthusiastic friend at Winchester. Each day, many, many times, Lady -Brampton visited the cathedral to observe whether the silver heart was -suspended near the altar, which she had agreed with Lord Lovel should be -the sign of the duke's arrival. The part Elizabeth Woodville had to play -meanwhile was difficult and painful--she lived in constant intercourse -with the countess of Richmond; the wishes and thoughts of all around -were occupied by the hope of an heir to the crown, which the young queen -would soon bestow on England. The birth of a son, it was prognosticated, -would win her husband's affection, and all idea of future disturbance, -of further risings and disloyalty, through the existence of this joint -offspring of the two Roses, would be for ever at an end. While these -hopes and expectations formed, it was supposed, the most flattering and -agreeable subject of congratulation for the dowager queen, she remained -sleepless and watchful, under the anticipation of seeing her fugitive -son, the outcast and discrowned claimant of all that was to become the -birthright of the unborn child. - -At length the unwearied cares of Lady Brampton were rewarded; a small -silver heart, bearing the initials of Richard, duke of York, was -suspended near the shrine; and as she turned to look who placed it -there, the soft voice of Madeline uttered the word of recognition agreed -upon; joy filled Lady Brampton's heart, as the brief answers to her -hurried questions assured her of Richard's safety. The same evening she -visited, in disguise, the abode of Warbeck, and embraced, in a transport -of delight, the princely boy, in whose fate she interested herself with -all the fervour of her warm heart. She now learnt the design Lord Lovel -had of placing Richard in safety under Madeline's care in Flanders, -until his friends had prepared for him a triumphant return to England. -She concerted with her new friends the best mode of introducing Richard -into his mother's presence; and it was agreed that, early on the -following morning, Madeline and the duke should seek one of the small -chapels of the cathedral of Winchester, and that Elizabeth should there -meet her son. With an overflowing heart, Lady Brampton returned to -communicate this intelligence to the royal widow, and to pass with her -the intervening hours in oft-renewed conjectures and anticipations -concerning the duke of York. - -To modern and Protestant England, a cathedral or a church may appear a -strange place for private assignations and concealed meetings. It was -otherwise in the days of our ancestors, when, through similarity of -religion, our manners bore a greater resemblance than they now do to -those of foreign countries. The churches stood always open, ready to -receive the penitent, who sought the stillness of the holy asylum the -more entirely to concentrate his thoughts in prayer. As rank did not -exempt its possessors from sin nor sorrow, neither did it from acts of -penitence, nor from those visitations of anguish, when the sacred temple -was sought, as bringing the votarist into more immediate communication -with the Deity. The queen dowager excited, therefore, no suspicion, -when, with her rosary formed of the blessed wood of Lebanon encased in -gold in her hand, with Lady Brampton for her sole attendant, she sought -at five in the morning the dark aisle of the cathedral of Winchester, -there to perform her religious duties. Two figures already knelt near -the altar of the chapel designated as the place of meeting; Elizabeth's -breath came thick, her knees bent under her, she leaned against a -buttress, while a fair-haired boy turned at the sound. He first looked -timidly on her, and then, encouraged by the smile that visited her -quivering lips, he sprung forward, and kneeling at her feet, buried his -face in her dress, sobbing, while, bending over him, her own tears fell -on his glossy hair. Lady Brampton and Madeline retired up the aisle, -leaving the mother and child alone. - -"Look up, my Richard," cried the unfortunate widow; "look up, son of -King Edward,--my noble, my outcast boy! Thou art much grown--much -altered since I last saw thee. Thou art more like thy blessed father -than thy infancy promised." She parted his curls on his brow, and looked -on him with the very soul of maternal tenderness. "Ah! were I a -cottager," she continued, "though bereft of my husband, I should collect -my young ones round me, and forget sorrow. I should toil for them, and -they would learn to toil for me. How sweet the food my industry procured -for them, how hallowed that winch their maturer strength would bestow on -me! I am the mother of princes. Vain boast! I am childless!" - -The queen, lost in thought, scarcely heard the gentle voice of her son -who replied by expressions of endearment, nor felt his caresses; but -collecting her ideas, she called to mind how brief the interview must -be, and how she was losing many precious moments in vain exclamations -and regrets. Recovering that calm majesty which usually characterized -her, she said: "Richard, arise! our minutes are counted, and each must -be freighted with the warning and wisdom of years. Thou art young, my -son! but Lady Brampton tells me that thy understanding is even -premature; thy experience indeed must be small, but I will try to adapt -my admonitions to that experience. Should you fail to understand me, do -not on that account despise my lessons, but treasure them up till thy -increased years reveal their meaning to thee. We may never meet again; -for once separated, ten thousand swords, and twice ten thousand dangers -divide us perhaps for ever. I feel even now that it is given to me to -bless thee for the last time, and I would fain to the last be the cause -of good to thee. I have lived, ah! how long; and suffered, methinks, -beyond human suffering; let the words I now utter live in thy soul for -ever; my soul is in them! Will not my son respect the sacred yearnings -of his mother's heart?" - -Touched, penetrated by this exordium, the tearful boy promised attention -and obedience. Elizabeth sat on a low tomb, Richard knelt before her; -one kiss she imprinted on his young brow, while endeavouring to still -the beating of her heart, and to command the trembling of her voice. She -was silent for a few moments. Richard looked up to her with mingled love -and awe; wisdom seemed to beam from her eyes, and the agitation that -quivered on her lips gave solemnity to the tone with which she addressed -her young auditor. - -She spoke of his early prospects, his long imprisonment, and late -fortunes. She descanted on the character of Henry Tudor, describing him -as wise and crafty, and to be feared. She dwelt on the character of the -earl of Lincoln and other chiefs of the house of York, and mentioned how -uneasily they bore the downfall of their party. No pains, no artifice, -no risk, she said, would be spared by any one of them to elevate an -offspring of the White Rose, and to annihilate the pretensions and power -of Lancaster. "Still a boy, unmeet for such contest, noble blood will be -shed for you, my son," she continued; "and while you are secluded by -those who love you from danger, many lives will be spent for your sake. -We shall hazard all for you; and all may prove too little for success. -We may fail, and you be thrown upon your own guidance, your unformed -judgment, and childish indiscretion. Alas! what will then be your fate? -Your kinsmen and partizans slain--your mother broken-hearted, it may -be, dead!--spies will on every side environ you, nets will be spread to -ensnare you, daggers sharpened for your destruction. You must oppose -prudence to craft, nor, until your young hand can wield a man's weapon, -dare attempt aught against Henry's power. Never forget that you are a -king's son, yet suffer not unquiet ambition to haunt you. Sleep in -peace, my love, while others wake for you. The time may come when -victory will be granted to our arms. Then we shall meet again, not as -now, like skulking guilt, but in the open sight of day I shall present -my son to his loyal subjects. Now we part, my Richard--again you are -lost to me, save in the recollection of this last farewell." - -Her own words fell like a mournful augury on her ear. With a look of -agonized affection she opened her arms, and then enclosed in their -circle the stripling form of her son. She pressed him passionately to -her heart, covering him with her kisses, while the poor boy besought her -not to weep; yet, infected by her sorrow, tears streamed from his eyes, -and his little heart swelled with insupportable emotion. It was at once -a sight of pity and of fear to behold his mother's grief. - -Lady Brampton and Madeline now drew near, and this effusion of sorrow -passed away. The queen collected herself, and rising, taking Richard's -hand in hers, with dignity and grace she led him up to the fair Fleming, -saying "A widowed mother commits to your protection her beloved child. -If heaven favour our right, we may soon claim him, to fill the exalted -station to which he is heir. If disaster and death follow our attempts, -be kind to my orphan son, protect him from the treachery of his enemies; -preserve, I beseech you, his young life!" - -Madeline replied in a tone that showed how deeply she sympathized in the -queen's sorrows, while she fervently promised never to desert her -charge. "Now depart," said Elizabeth; "leave me, Richard, while I have -yet courage to say adieu!" - -Elizabeth stood watching, while the forms of the prince and his -protectress disappeared down the dark aisle. They reached the door; it -swung back on its hinges, and the sound, made as it closed again, -reverberated through the arched cathedral. The unfortunate mother did -not speak; leaning on her friend's arm she quitted the church by another -entrance. They returned to the palace in silence; and when again they -conversed, it was concerning their hopes of the future, the schemes to -be devised; nor did the aching heart of Elizabeth relieve itself in -tears and complaints, till the intelligence, received some weeks -afterwards of the safe arrival of the travellers in France, took the -most bitter sting from her fears, and allowed her again to breathe -freely. - - - - -CHAPTER VI - -LAMBERT SIMNEL - - - Such when as Archimago him did view, - He weened well to work some uncouth wile; - Eftsoon untwisting: his deceitful clew, - He 'gan to weave a web of cunning guile. - - SPENSER. - - -The birth of Arthur, prince of Wales, which took place in the month of -September of this same year, served to confirm Henry Tudor on the -throne, and almost to obliterate the memory of a second and resisting -party in the kingdom. That party indeed was overthrown, its chiefs -scattered, its hopes few. Most of the principal Yorkists had taken -refuge in the court of the duchess of Burgundy; the earl of Lincoln only -ventured to remain, preserving the appearance of the greatest privacy, -while his secret hours were entirely occupied by planning a rising in -the kingdom, whose success would establish his cousin Richard duke of -York, the fugitive Perkin Warbeck, on the throne. The chief obstacle -that presented itself was the difficulty of exciting the English to any -act of rebellion against the king, without bringing forward the young -prince as the principal actor on the scene. The confirmed friendship -between the queen and Lady Brampton had produced a greater degree of -intercourse between the former and the earl; but their joint counsels -had yet failed to originate a plan of action; when chance, or rather the -unforeseen results of former events, determined their course of action, -and brought to a crisis sooner than they expected the wavering purposes -of each. - -Richard Simon had quitted Winchester to fulfil his duties as priest in -the town of Oxford. No man was better fitted than Simon to act a -prominent part in a state-plot. He was brave; but the priestly garb -having wrested the sword from his hand, circumstances had converted that -active courage, which might have signalized him in the field, to a -spirit of restless intrigue; to boldness in encountering difficulties, -and address in surmounting them. To form plans, to concoct the various -parts of a scheme, wedging one into the other; to raise a whirlwind -around him, and to know, or to fancy that he knew, the direction the -ravager would take, and what would be destroyed and what saved in its -course, had been from youth the atmosphere in which he lived. Now absent -from the queen, he was yet on the alert to further her views, and he -looked forward to the exaltation of her son to the throne as the -foundation-stone of his own fortunes. In what way could this be brought -about? After infinite deliberation with himself, Simon conceived the -idea of bringing forward an impostor, who, taking the name of Richard of -York, whose survival, though unattested, was a current belief in the -kingdom, might rouse England in his cause. If unsuccessful, the safety -of the rightful prince was not endangered; if triumphant, this -counterfeit would doff his mark at once, and the real York come forward -in his place. - -In the true spirit of intrigue, in which Simon was an adept, he resolved -to mature his plans and commence his operations before he communicated -them to any. He looked round for a likely actor for his new part, and -chance brought him in contact with Lambert Simnel, a baker's son at -Oxford. There was something in his fair complexion and regular soft -features that was akin to York; his figure was slight, his untaught -manners replete with innate grace; he was clever; and his beauty having -made him a sort of favourite, he had grown indolent and assuming. His -father died about this time, and he was left a penniless orphan. Simon -came forward to protect him, and cautiously to point out the road to -fortune without labour. The youth proved an apt scholar. To hear speak -of princes, crowns, and kingdoms as objects in which he was to have an -interest and a share, dazzled his young eyes. He learnt speedily every -lesson the priest taught him, and adopted so readily the new language -inculcated, that Simon became more and more enamoured of his scheme, and -sanguine as to its results. The next care of Simon was to confirm, in -the partizans of the House of York, the suspicion they already -entertained of the existence of its noblest scion; he despatched -anonymous letters to the chief nobles, and it became whispered through -the country, though none knew the origin of the tale, that the surviving -son of Edward the Fourth was about to appear to claim the crown. The -peaceful sighed to think that the White and Red Roses would again be -watered by the best blood of England. The warlike and ambitious, the -partizans of York, who had languished in obscurity, walked more erect; -they regarded their disused armour with complacency, for war and tumult -was then the favourite pastime of high-born men. - -It was at this period that, through the intervention of Lady Brampton, -Sir Thomas Broughton, a most zealous Yorkist and chief friend of Lord -Lovel, was introduced to the dowager queen's presence, then residing in -London. He came full of important intelligence. He had been roused from -his usual repose by one of Simon's anonymous letters, which hinted at -the existence of the duke of York, and counselled a drawing together of -such forces as would be willing to support him; Lord Lovel was with him, -and at the name of Richard at once prepared for action. He was busied in -raising adherents in the south, sending Sir Thomas to London, that he -might there receive the commands of the prince's mother. Scarcely had he -entered the metropolis, when in one of its narrowest alleys he was -accosted by Richard Simon, who had earnestly besought him to obtain an -audience for Simon himself from the queen; acknowledging that he was the -author of the reports and commotions, and that he had important secrets -to disclose. - -All this inspired the queen with the deepest disquietude. She readily -arranged with Sir Thomas the desired interview, which, at Simon's -request, was to take place that very night, and agreed that he should -enter the palace by a private door. Lady Brampton giving him admittance. -Broughton departed; and Elizabeth, disturbed and agitated, counted the -hours impatiently which must intervene before the riddle was explained. - -Even this interval was full of wonder. A report was circulated, which -soon reached the palace, that the earl of Warwick, in endeavouring to -escape from the Tower in a boat, had fallen into the river, and was -drowned before assistance could be afforded. Such was the current tale; -but many suspected that the king was privy to a more guilty termination -of his unhappy prisoner, of whose death none entertained a doubt. This -circumstance added to the queen's impatience--life was bound up in the -event of the next few hours. - -The time arrived--all was quiet in the palace (the queen inhabited -Tower Royal); and the royal dowager and her friend prepared for their -visitor. At the signal given, the door was opened; but Simon came not -alone; the earl of Lincoln, Lord Lovel, Sir Thomas Broughton, and an -unknown youth--it was Edmund Plantagenet--entered. The tale of the -imposture of Lambert Simnel was disclosed, and with it a change of plan, -the result of the death of Warwick. Simnel's age and appearance accorded -better with this prince than with his younger cousin. It were easy to -spread abroad that the report of his death was a fiction contrived by -the king; that he had escaped, in fact, and was in arms. If a more -sinister fate had befallen him, guilt would impose silence on his -murderer; if the attempt failed, no evil would occur; if successful, he -would give instant place to the superior claims of the duke of York. - -Lincoln unfolded these schemes with sagacity and deliberation, and the -queen eagerly adopted his ideas as he disclosed them. It was also the -earl's suggestion that Simnel should first appear in Ireland. The duke -of Clarence had been lieutenant there, and was much beloved throughout -the island. Through neglect and forgetfulness all the counsellors and -officers appointed by Clarence had been unremoved by the new government, -and might easily be induced to favour his persecuted son. The duchess of -Burgundy was also to be applied to; and counsel was held as to who -should be informed of the truth--who deceived in this hazardous -attempt. Night wore away, while still the conspirators were in -deliberation; they separated at last, each full of hope--each teeming -with gallant resolution. Henceforth the false smile or ill-concealed -frown of their enemy was indifferent to them; their good swords were -their sure allies; the very victory gained by Henry at Bosworth raised -their expectations; one other battle might give them again all that then -they lost. - - - - -CHAPTER VII - -THE BATTLE OF NEWARK - - - Within these ten days take a monastery; - A most strict house; a house where none may whisper, - Where no more light is known but what may make you - Believe there is a day; where no hope dwells, - Nor comfort but in tears. - - BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER. - - -With the consciousness of this plot weighing on her mind, Elizabeth -Woodville continued her usual routine of life, and made a part of the -court of Henry the Seventh. She had long been accustomed to pass from -one evil to the other, and to find that when one cause for unhappiness -died away, it gave instant place to another. She felt, with all the -poignancy of a mother's disappointed pride, the situation of her -daughter. Neglect was the lightest term that could be applied to the -systematized and cold-hearted tyranny of Henry towards his wife. For not -only he treated her like an unfavoured child, whose duty it was to obey -without a murmur, and to endeavour to please, though sure of being -repulsed. At the same time that he refused to raise her above this state -of degradation, he reproached her with the faults of maturity, and -stung her womanly feelings with studied barbarity. He taunted her with -her attachment, to her family and its partizans; spoke with triumph of -its overthrow; and detailed with malignant pleasure every severe -enactment passed by himself against the vanquished Yorkists. Then, -again, he accused her of participating in her parent's intrigues; and -though proud of the son she had given him, as the heir of his crown, he -divided, as much as possible, the infant from the mother, under the -avowed though ridiculous pretence of preventing her from inculcating -principles of rebellion towards his liege and father. - -This last blow sunk deep. She had hitherto borne his harshness meekly, -sustained by the hope of overcoming his flinty nature by softness and -yielding. She had anticipated that the fresh enmity conceived against -her on the event of Lord Lovel's rebellion would be entirely allayed by -her pretty Arthur, whose birth was solemnized by many rejoicings. But -when she found this last hope fail, every expectation of good died away -with it. Among other acts of duty, she had for a long time pursued a -system of self-denial, deeming it a breach of duty to complain of her -husband, even to her mother. But this mother, acquainted with the -secrets of the human heart, and desirous of detaching her entirely from -her husband, exerted all the influence that one experienced and firm can -exercise over the young and vacillating: she brought her to lament her -situation, and to complain of each fresh token of the king's disregard. -The barrier of self-restraint once broken through, the sympathy and -remonstrances of her parent emboldened her to such a change of conduct -towards Henry, as at first excited his surprise, then his contempt. The -many rumours afloat concerning the existence of the duke of York served -also to rouse his angry mood. If at first he appeared somewhat -complaisant towards his mother-in-law, it was from an endeavour to put -her off her guard, and to attract or surprise her confidence on the -point which lay nearest his heart; but when he found that his attacks -were vain, his undisguised arrogance and her ill-concealed resentment -produced scenes, disgraceful in themselves, and agonizing to the wife -and daughter who was their witness. - -At this moment, when suspicion was abroad--the Lancastrians fearful, -the Yorkists erect with renewed hopes--like the bursting of a -thunderstorm came the intelligence of the appearance of the earl of -Warwick in Dublin, his enthusiastic reception there, the rising of the -people in his favour, and the menaces held out by him of his intention -to wrench the sceptre of England from the hand of him who held it. - -Henry alone heard these momentous tidings with contempt. The earl of -Kildare, lord-lieutenant of the kingdom, had received the pretender with -princely honours; yet the very circumstance of a false son of Clarence -being supported by the Yorkists was the occasion of satisfaction to him; -his only fear arose from the probable mystery covered by these designs. -He was angry at the disloyalty manifested; but it was in a distant -province, and so came not home to him. There appeared no falling off, no -disturbance among his English subjects. Still caution and policy were -the weapons he best loved to wield; and he despatched several spies to -Ireland, to endeavour to fathom the extent and nature of the rebellion. -The chief among them was his own secretary, Frion, a Frenchman--a -crafty and experienced implement. He succeeded in bringing back -irrefragable proof that the dowager queen mingled deeply in the plot. - -Henry hated Elizabeth Woodville. He considered that it was principally -through her restless scheming that he had been forced to marry the -portionless (her detested claim to his crown her only dower) daughter of -York, instead of forming an union with a foreign princess; perhaps Mary -of Burgundy, or Anne of Britanny, either of whom would have brought gold -to his coffers, or extensive domains to his empire. He hated her, -because he deeply suspected that she was privy to the existence of a -formidable rival to his state. He _knew_ that the young duke of York had -not died in the Tower. In every way she was his enemy; besides that -linked to her ruin was the sweet idea of confiscation, one ever -entertained with delight by the money-loving king. - -He assembled a council in his palace at Shene, which stood near where -Richmond now stands. The chiefs of the English nobility were his -counsellors. The duke of Buckingham, son of him who first favoured, and -then rose against Richard the Third. The lords Dawbeny and Broke, who -had been raised to the peerage for their services in the same cause. -Lord and Sir William Stanley, men to whom Henry principally owed his -crown. Others there were of high rank and note; but the king paid most -attention to two priests: John Morton, bishop of Ely, and Richard Fox, -bishop of Exeter, were his private advisors and friends, as well as -public counsellors. Morton had watched over his interests while in -exile; he first had excited the duke of Buckingham to revolt, and -hatched the plot which placed Richmond on the throne. - -The council held was long and solemn, and the results brought about more -by insinuation than open argument, were different from those expected by -most of the persons present. First it was resolved that a general pardon -should be proclaimed to the insurgents. No exceptions were to be made; -those persons then in the very act of setting up his adversary were -included; for as, by the second decree, that the real earl of Warwick -should be shown publicly in London, the deception would become manifest; -if indeed they were deceived, it was thought more politic to reclaim -them by clemency, than by severe measures to drive them to despair. - -The third and last enactment was levelled against the queen dowager. -Many of the council were astonished to hear it proposed, that she should -forfeit all her goods and lands, and be confined for life in a convent, -for having consented to the marriage of her daughter and Richard the -Third, while the ready acquiescence of the king and his chief advisers -made them perceive that this measure was no new resolve. These three -decrees passed, the council separated, and Henry returned to -Westminster, accompanied by Sir William Stanley. To him he spoke openly -of the treason of the queen: he even ventured to say, that he was sure -that some mystery lurked beneath; he commissioned Stanley, therefore, to -notify the order of council to her majesty; but at the same time to show -her, that disclosure, and reliance on the king, would obtain her pardon. -Sir William Stanley was a courtier in the best sense of the term; a man -of gentle manners; desirous of doing right, easily excited to -compassion, but ambitious and timid; one in truth than whom none could -be more dangerous; for his desire to please those immediately before -him, led him to assume every appearance of sincerity, and perpetually to -sacrifice the absent to the present. - -Elizabeth heard, with utter dismay, the sentence passed against -her;--courage was restored only when she found that her freedom could -be purchased by the confession of her son's existence, and place of -abode. She repelled Stanley's solicitations with disdain; answered his -entreaties with an appeal to his own feelings, of how far, if such a -secret existed, it were possible that she, a mother, should intrust it -to the false and cruel king. Stanley speedily found his whole battery of -persuasion exhausted; he withdrew in some wonder as to what the real -state of things might be, and full of the deepest compassion. She had -indeed scarcely veiled the truth to him; for, calling to mind the fate -of the wretched Margaret of Anjou, she asked him, whether, like her, she -should expose the young orphan York to the fate of the Lancastrian -Prince Edward. But Stanley shrunk from being privy to such disclosures, -and hastily withdrew. - -Henry had not exhausted all his hopes: glad as he was to wreak his -vengeance on the queen, and to secure her possessions to himself, he was -not so blind as not to see that the knowledge of her secret were a far -greater prize. His next implement was her eldest son, the marquess of -Dorset. Lord Dorset had been so active in his opposition to Richard the -Third, and had done such good service to his adversary, that Henry -overlooked his near kindred to the queen dowager, regarding him rather -as the representative of his father. Sir John Gray, who had fallen in -the cause of Lancaster. He became indeed a sort of favourite with the -king. Dorset was proud, self-sufficient, and extravagant, but his -manners were fascinating, his spirit buoyant, and Henry, who was -accustomed to find the storms of party lowering like winter over his -domestic circle, found relief only when Dorset was present. The present -occasion, however, called forth other feelings in the haughty noble; he -might be angry with his mother's plotting, but he was more indignant at -the severity exercised against her; and far from furthering Henry's -designs, he applauded her resistance, and so irritated the king, that it -ended by his sudden arrest, and being committed to the Tower. - -And now all hope was at an end for the unhappy lady. The various acts of -her tragic history were to close in the obscurity and poverty of a -convent-prison. Fearful that her despair would lead her to some deed -that might at least disturb the quiet and order he loved, Henry had -resolved that no delay should have place, but that on the very morrow -she should be conveyed to Bermondsey. She was to be torn from her -family--her five young daughters, with whom she resided. The heartless -tyrant was callous to every pang that he inflicted, or rejoiced that he -had the power to wound so deeply one whom he abhorred. Lady Brampton was -with her to the last; not to sustain and comfort her; the queen's -courage and firmness was far greater than that of her angry friend; she -pointed out the hope, that the cruelties exercised towards her might -animate the partisans of York to greater ardour; and tears forced -themselves into her eyes only when she pictured Richard, her victorious -sovereign and son, hastening to unbar her prison doors to restore her to -liberty and rank. The night was spent in such discourses between the -ladies. With early dawn came the fated hour, the guard, the necessity -for instant departure. She disdained to show regret before Henry's -emissaries; and with one word only to her friend--"I commit _him_ to your -guidance," she yielded to her fate; submitting to be torn from all she -loved, and, without an expressed murmur, entered the litter that bore -her singly to her living grave. - -The same sun that rose upon the melancholy progress of Elizabeth -Woodville towards Bermondsey, shone on a procession, more gaudy in -appearance, yet, if that were possible, more sad at heart. This was the -visit, ordered by the king, of the earl of Warwick to St. Paul's -Cathedral; thus to contradict to the eyes of all men the pretender in -Ireland. Warwick had spent a year in the Tower, in almost solitary -imprisonment. Hopeless of freedom, worn in health, dejected from the -overthrow of all the wild schemes he had nourished at Sheriff Hutton, -linked with the love he bore his cousin, the Lady Elizabeth, now queen -of England, he could hardly be recognized as the same youth who had been -her companion during her residence there. He was pale; he had been -wholly neglectful of his person; carking sorrow had traced lines on his -young brow. At first he had contemplated resisting the order of being -led out as a show to further his enemies' cause: one futile and vague -hope, which could only have sprung up in a lover's heart, made him -concede this point. Perhaps the court--the queen would be there. - -He met several noble friends, commanded by Henry to attend him; for it -was the king's policy to surround him with Yorkists, so to prove that he -was no counterfeit. Alas! - - - "These cloudy princes, and heart-sorrowing peers," - - -assembled like shadows in the dim abyss, mourning the splendour of the -day for ever set. They entered the cathedral, which stood a heavy Gothic -pile, on a grassy mound, removed from all minor edifices. There was a -vast assemblage of ladies and knights; all looked compassionately on -this son of poor murdered Clarence, the luckless flower, brought to -bloom for an hour, and then to be cast into perpetual darkness. The -solemn religious rites, the pealing organ, the grandeur of the church, -and chequered painted light thrown from the windows, for a moment filled -with almost childish delight the earl's young heart; that this scene, -adapted to his rank, should be so single and so transient, filled his -soul with bitterness. Once or twice he thought to appeal to his noble -friends, to call on them to resist the tyrant--Elizabeth's husband. His -heart chilled at the idea; his natural timidity resumed its sway, and he -was led back to the prison-fortress, despairing, but unresisting. - -Yet, at this hour, events were in progress which filled many hearts with -hope of such change as he would gladly hail. On the news of the queen's -arrest. Lord Lincoln had departed with all speed to Flanders, to his -aunt, the duchess of Burgundy, to solicit her aid to attack and overcome -the enemy of their vanquished family. The Lady Margaret, sister of -Edward the Fourth of England, and wife of Charles the Rash of Burgundy, -was a woman distinguished by her wisdom and her goodness. When Charles -fell before Nancy, and his more than princely domains descended into the -hands of his only child, a daughter--and the false Louis the Eleventh -of France, on one hand, and the turbulent Flemings on the other, -coalesced to rend in pieces, and to prey upon, the orphan's -inheritance--her mother-in-law, the Lady Margaret, was her sage and -intrepid counsellor; and when this young lady died, leaving two infant -children as co-heirs, the dowager duchess entirely loved, and tenderly -brought them up, attending to their affairs with maternal solicitude, -and governing the countries subject to them with wisdom and justice. -This lady was warmly attached to her family: to her the earl of Lincoln -and Lord Lovel resorted, revealing the state of things--how her nephew, -young Richard, was concealed in poor disguise in French Flanders, and -how they had consented to Richard Simon's plots, and hoped that their -result would be to restore her brother's son to the throne of their -native land. - -The duchess of Burgundy possessed a proud and high spirit. The abasement -in which her niece, the Lady Elizabeth, was held by the earl of -Richmond; she, the real giver of his crown, not having herself been -crowned; the rigour exercised towards the Yorkist chiefs, many of whom -had been her defenders and friends in time of flight and defeat; the -calumnies heaped on the various members of her royal house; made a -prospect of displanting Henry, and of revenge, grateful to her. She -acceded to the earl's request, gave him an aid of two thousand Germans, -led by Martin Swartz, a man of family and note in Germany, providing -them with vessels to take them to Ireland, and blessing their expedition -with her best and earnest wishes. - -On their arrival in Dublin, a gay and brilliant scene was acted, which -raised the enthusiasm of the Irish, and spread a glory round the -impostor they supported. The exhibition of the real earl of Warwick had -produced no effect in Ireland; Thomas Geraldine, earl of Kildare, -asserted that Henry had brought forward a counterfeit, and Lambert -Simnel lost no credit among them. He was proclaimed king of England; he -was crowned by the bishop of Meath with a diadem taken from an image of -the Blessed Virgin; a parliament was convoked in his name, and every -measure taken to insure his power in Ireland, and to gather together -forces wherewith to invade the sister island. - -The English lords felt far more anxiety than their allies in the result -of this insurrection. Although it had been disregarded by the Irish, the -effect produced in England by the visit of Warwick to St. Paul's was -such as Henry had anticipated, and the counterfeit in Ireland found few -supporters among the Yorkists. Still it was necessary to end as they had -begun: to acknowledge the imposture, so to bring forward the young son -of Edward, would have been to all appearance too barefaced a cheat. -Lovel, as a gallant soldier, was ready to spend his blood in any -enterprise that promised to advance the White Rose; but he, as well as -the earl of Lincoln, mingling sad memories of the past with careful -forethought, looked forward to the result of Richard Simon's contrivance -with well-founded dread. Still they entertained no thought of retreat, -but mustered their forces, and counselled with their associates for the -furtherance of the cause. On the 4th of June, Lambert Simnel, under the -name of Edward the Sixth, with his, so called, cousin De la Poole, Lord -Lovel, and their constant attendant young Edmund Plantagenet, the Lords -Thomas and Maurice Geraldine, with their force of savage scarce-armed -Irish, and Martin Swartz, with his German auxiliaries, landed at the -pile of Foudray, in Lancashire, where they were soon after joined by Sir -Thomas Broughton, who brought some few English to fight and die for this -unhappy conspiracy. - -Henry was prepared for their arrival: to gain grace in his subjects' -eyes, he first made a pilgrimage to Our Lady of Walsingham, and then, -proceeding to the midland counties, held council to know whether it were -best to encounter his foes out of hand, or to let them drag on; so to -weary them by delay. A number of nobles and their followers joined the -king, and it was agreed among them to press forward, before the enemy -should gather force in England. Henry had a further view in this: he -could not tell how far the secret of their plot, which he felt assured -was the design to advance the young son of Edward, was divulged among -the Yorkists, and how far believed; as yet the enterprise bore no ill -guise for him, having at its head a manifest impostor; so he hastened -onward to crush it utterly, before it assumed a more fearful -form. The earl of Lincoln, eager to try the fortune of battle, -advanced also on his side, and the rival armies drew nigh each other at -Newark-upon-Trent. The king pitched his tents three miles beyond the -town; and on the same night the earl encamped at Stoke, but a few miles -distant. And now, after a reign of two years, as he had forced King -Richard to fight for his crown against him, an adventurer and an invader -in his realm, did Henry Tudor find himself in his adversary's position, -about to risk life and kingdom on one cast of the die against troops as -ill-assorted but as desperate and brave as his had been. Henry felt in -his heart's core the thrilling pang, which a conviction that all is in -the hands of fortune must ever impart to a human being who is her slave. -He felt that his crown was but an usurpation, that his anointed and -sacred head claimed no reverence from these enemies; he was degraded in -his own eyes from being a sceptred king upheld by the laws, to a wild -adventurer, his good sword his right; a fierce but disciplined anger -filled his heart; his brows were bent, his voice was attuned to -harshness, his thoughts were conversant with overthrow and death. The -hour was come; he was impatient for its passing, and he led forth his -troops, all well-appointed English soldiery, in such hope as the sight -of a noble army might well inspire, in such dread as was the natural -offspring of the many chances and changes that had occurred to the -sovereigns of England during the late struggles. - -The earl of Lincoln cherished still mightier fears; yet there was more -of calm and dignity in his meditations than in the impatient misgivings -of Henry. His heart sickened at the idea of battle and bloodshed: he -felt himself responsible for the lives of all: and, while this nerved -his heart to courage, it took rest from his eyes, and planted sorrow -deep in his manly breast. The morrow! oh, the morrow! hours full of -fate! whose looks forward and sees in the morrow the crown or ruin of -the hopes of many, may well pray the swift-pacing hours to lag, and -night to remain for ever as a spell to stop the birth of time. - -But the morrow came; a day of slaughter and captivity for the Yorkist -party. The battle was hard fought; the German auxiliaries were veteran -soldiers, who spared neither blows nor blood; their leader, Martin -Swartz, for valour, for strength, and for agility of body, was inferior -to none among the warlike captains of those times. The Irish, though -half-naked and ill-armed, fought with desperate bravery. In vain; the -valour of Henry's soldiers was equal, their discipline and numbers -superior. First the noble Lincoln fell, and his comrades were -slaughtered around him, avenging his death. The Lords Geraldine, Swartz, -and Sir Thomas Broughton, were found among the slain; Lord Lovel was -never heard of more; the young Edmund Plantagenet, struck in the side by -a dart, lay for dead upon the ground. Richard Simon and his -false-seeming pupil were among the prisoners. - -Such was the event of the last attempt of the Yorkists to raise the -bruised White Rose to its old supremacy. All of high rank and power that -owned this symbol were gone; Lincoln, the best column of its fortunes, -was destroyed; nothing remained, save the orphan prince, the royal -exile, a boy of thirteen years of age, brought up as the child of a -Flemish money-lender. To hide himself in safe obscurity was his only -wisdom, till time should give strength to his arm, sagacity to his -plans, and power to his acts; happy if he could find any concealment -sufficiently obscure, to baffle the discernment of Henry, and to save -him from the arts of those whom he would employ to discover and seize on -him. - -Henry again felt himself secure on his throne: he deeply lamented the -death of Lincoln, as he had hoped to learn from him the secret of the -conspiracy. He found in Lambert Simnel the mere tool of others, and in -contempt made him a scullion in his kitchen, so to throw derision on the -attempt which had been made to exalt him. He dealt otherwise with -Richard Simon. In the secrecy of his prison, every art was practised to -induce him to make a full confession. Simon played a dastardly and a -double part, half revealing, half disguising the truth. Henry became -assured that his rival, the duke of York, survived, and he was led in -some sort to guess at the place of his abode. He had promised liberty to -Simon when the young prince should be in his hands; meanwhile he was -imprisoned in the monastery in which he was fated to close his -existence. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - -THE DISCOVERY - - - - Our king he kept a false stewarde, - Sir Aldingar they him call; - A falser stewarde than he was one, - Served not in bower nor hall. - - OLD BALLAD. - - -Whoever writes concerning the actions of the men of the olden time, must -sadden the reader by details of war, descriptions of fields of battle, -narrations of torture, imprisonment, and death. But here also we find -records of high virtues and exalted deeds. It is at first sight strange -that men whose trade was murder, who habitually wore offensive weapons, -whose chief happiness was derived from the glory they acquired by -inflicting misery on others, should be among those who live in our -memories as examples of what is most graceful and excellent in human -nature. Too great security destroys the spirit of manhood, while the -habit of hazardous enterprise strengthens and exalts it. It was not -because they destroyed others, that the warriors of old were famous for -honour, courage, and fidelity; but because, from some motive springing -from the unselfish part of our nature, they exposed themselves to danger -and to death. - -It was at times such as these that friendship formed the chief solace of -man's life. The thought of his lady-love supported the knight during his -wanderings, and rewarded him on his return; but the society of his -brothers in arms shortened the weary hours, and made peril pleasure. -Death, the severer of hearts and destroyer of hope, is, in its actual -visitation, the great evil of life--the ineffaceable blot, the -tarnisher of the imagination's brightest hues; but if he never came, but -only hovered, the anticipation of his advent might be looked upon as the -refiner of our nature. To go out under the shadow of his dark banner, -hand in hand, to encounter a thousand times his grim likeness; to travel -on through unknown ways, during starless nights, through forests beset -with enemies, over mountains, whose defiles hid him but to assure his -aim; to meet him arrayed in his full panoply on the field of battle; to -separate in danger; to meet on the verge of annihilation; and still, -through every change, to reap joy, because every peril was mutual, every -emotion shared, was a school for heroic friendship that does not now -exist. In those times, also, man was closer linked with nature than now; -and the sublimity of her creations exalted his imagination, and elevated -his enthusiasm--dark woods, wild mountains, and the ocean's vast -expanse, form a stage on which, when we act our parts, we feel that -mightier natures than our own witness the scenes we present, and our -hearts are subdued by awe to resignation. - -Edmund Plantagenet, the forest-bred son of Richard the Third, the late -companion of the illustrious Lincoln and gallant Lovel, lay long -insensible on the field of battle, surrounded by the dead--he awoke -from his swoon to the consciousness that they lay strewed around him -dead, whom he had worshipped as heroes, loved as friends. Life became a -thankless boon; willingly would he have closed his eyes, and bid his -soul also go on her journey to the unknown land, to which almost all -those to whom he had been linked during his past existence had preceded -him. He was rescued by a charitable friar from this sad state--his -wound was dressed--life, and with it liberty, restored to him. After -some reflection, the first use he resolved to make of these gifts was to -visit the young duke of York at Tournay. - -Edmund's mind, without being enterprising, was full of latent energy, -and contemplative enthusiasm. The love of virtue reigned paramount in -it; nor could he conceive happiness unallied to some pursuit, whose -origin was duty, whose aim was the good of others. His father, his -ambition and his downfall, were perpetual subjects for reflection; to -atone for the first and redeem the last, in the person of his nephew, -became, in his idea, the only fitting end of his life. Fostering this -sentiment, he speedily formed the determination of attaching himself to -the exiled duke of York: first, to devote himself to the preserving and -educating him during childhood--and secondly, to fight and die for him, -when the time was ripe to assert his rights. - -During his hazardous journey to Flanders, Edmund was supported by that -glowing sensation which borrows the hues and sometimes the name of -happiness; it was an ecstatic mood that soared above the meaner cares of -life, and exalted him by the grandeur of his own ideas. Self-devotion -is, while it can keep true to itself, the best source of human -enjoyment: there is small alloy when we wholly banish our own wretched -clinging individuality, in our entire sacrifice at the worshipped -shrine. Edmund became aware of the value of his own life, as he planned -how in future he should be the guardian and protector of his unfriended, -peril-encircled orphan cousin. A religious sentiment of filial love also -influenced him; for thus he could in some sort repair the wrongs -committed by his father. There was much in Edmund's temperament that -might have rendered him a mere dreamer. The baser ends of common men -possessed no attractions for him; but a lofty purpose developed the best -points of his character. - -It was early dawn, when, a month after the battle of Stoke, Plantagenet, -in pursuance of his design, arrived at the cottage of Madeline de Faro, -where, under the lowly name of Perkin Warbeck, dwelt the noble scion of -the house of York. It was a lovely spot--trees embowered the cot, roses -bloomed in the garden, and jessamine and woodbine were twined round the -porch. The morning breeze and rising sun filled the atmosphere with -sweets. Already the cottagers were enjoying its fragrance, and Edmund, -as he alighted, beheld the object of his journey--the fair-haired -stripling prince and his protectress Madeline. Edmund was -one-and-twenty, but his brow was more bent, his eye more thoughtful, his -cheek more pale and sunk than befitted his age; it was only when he -smiled that frankness displayed solemnity, and those who conversed with -him were ever eager to call forth those smiles, which, like sunbeams -that chase the shadows on a green hill-side, made darkness light. -Confidence readily springs up between the open-hearted and good; and -Edmund and the inhabitants of the cottage found no impediment to entire -reliance on each other. Madeline was overjoyed that her young charge -should find manly guardianship in his cousin, and mentioned how often -her fears had been awakened on his account, and how suspicions had got -abroad concerning him among the citizens of Tournay. - -Madeline, the sister of the Fleming, John Warbeck, was married to a -Spaniard in the service of Portugal. In those days, just previous to the -discovery of America by Columbus, while that illustrious man was -offering his unesteemed services at Lisbon, the Portuguese were full of -the spirit of enterprise and maritime adventure. Each year new vessels -were sent southward along the unexplored shores of Africa, to discover -beyond the torrid zone a route to India. Hernan de Faro was a -mariner--it was during one of his voyages to Holland that he had seen -and married Madeline, and he left her in her native country, while he -pursued his fortunes down the Golden Coast as far as the Cape of Good -Hope. He had been absent longer than she had anticipated, and each day -might bring the wanderer back, when he purposed taking her with him to -his native Spain. What, then, must become of Richard? Plantagenet saw at -once the necessity of visiting the court of Burgundy, and of placing her -nephew at the disposition of the Duchess Margaret. - -The young prince was now fourteen--he had shot up in height beyond his -years, beautiful in his boyhood, and of greater promise for the future. -His clear blue laughing eyes--his clustering auburn hair--his cheeks, -whose rosy hue contrasted with the milk-white of his brow--his tall and -slender but agile person, would have introduced him to notice among a -crowd of strangers. - -His very youthful voice was attuned to sweetness. If Edmund found the -Lady Margaret lukewarm, he need only lead the noble boy into her -presence to interest her in his favour. Richard heard with tearful eyes -of the imprisonment of his mother, and the slaughter of his kinsmen and -friends. His heart for the moment desired vengeance; he would himself -seek his aunt of Burgundy, and aided by her, attack the usurper. With -difficulty he permitted his cousin to depart alone; but he was obliged -to yield, and Plantagenet set out for Brussels, promising a speedy -return. - -About a week after Edmund's departure, another visitor arrived at the -cottage of the exile. A violent storm had overtaken Duke Richard and his -constant companion, Madeline's daughter, in one of their wanderings in -the fields near Tournay. As they stood for shelter under a half-ruined -building, a traveller came to share the asylum. He was a Frenchman--a -Provençal by his accent; for he immediately entered into conversation -with them. As he is a man spoken of in the Chronicles, he shall receive -his name at once; this apparently chance-traveller was Frion, Stephen -Frion, King Henry's secretary. He had been employed to search out the -young prince by such tokens as Richard Simon had given, and chance had -caused him to fall in with Edmund, whom he had before remarked in -attendance on the earl of Lincoln. Easily guessing that Edmund's journey -might have connection with his own, he tracked him to Tournay, and then -by some untoward chance lost sight of him. The indefatigable spy had -spent the last week in a particular survey of every spot round the town -and in the neighbouring cities, to discover his lost clue. Overtaken by -a storm on his return from Lisle, he suddenly found himself under a shed -with a youth whose appearance at once excited his strongest curiosity. - -What Frion loved beyond all other things was power and craft. He had -been a subject of the poetical King René of Provence; but, despatched -on some occasion to Louis the Eleventh, he entered into the service of -that monarch, whose subtlety and faithlessness were a school of wisdom -to this man. On one subject did he love to dwell--the contrast between -Charles of Burgundy and Louis of France; the first commencing his reign -by combating and vanquishing the latter, and dying miserably at last by -a traitor's hand, his armies cut to pieces, his domains the unresisting -prey of his rival; while Louis, by serpent ways, by words--not -deeds--gained every point, won every follower, and established his rule -at last over the greater part of the wide territories of the fallen -duke. In a minor way Frion aimed at imitating Louis; but he was -naturally more fiery and rash. He had visited Italy also, and studied -there the wiles and cruelties of the Italian lords; crossing back to -Marseilles, he had been seized by corsairs and carried to Africa:--here -he put in practice some of his lessons, and contrived to make himself a -favourite with his Mahometan master, who afterwards crossed to Spain to -serve under the Moorish king of Granada. Frion was quickly distinguished -for his sagacity in the divided counsels of this distracted kingdom, and -became the trusty adviser of him called Boabdil el Chico. When this -unfortunate sovereign was taken prisoner by the Spaniards, Frion was a -chief mediator between them and the Sultana Ayza. At the court of -Ferdinand and Isabella he met several Frenchmen, who awakened in his -heart a keen desire to revisit his native country. He took advantage of -an embassy thither from the court of Spain, to fulfil his wishes, but -arrived at Plessis only in time to witness Louis' death. Two years -afterwards he was found in the train of the earl of Richmond--the -future secretary, spy, and favourite of Henry the Seventh--now -travelling by his order to find, seize, or destroy, the last blossom of -the uprooted White Rose. - -Frion was rather handsome in appearance, with bright black eyes and dark -hair, a complexion embrowned by the sun, a look of gaiety--unless when -controlled by the will of a superior, he was always laughing--a quiet -kind of sarcastic laugh; he looked not the man Cæsar would have feared, -except that his person was rather inclined to leanness; but he was -active and well versed in martial exercises, though better in clerkly -accomplishments. His early youth had been chiefly employed in copying -poetry for King René--he wrote beautifully, and his small white hands -were the objects of his own very great admiration. Such was his outward -look; he had stores of science and knowledge within, which he seldom -displayed, or, when necessary, let appear with all the modesty of one -who deemed such acquirements were of little worth--useful sometimes, -but fitter for a servitor than his lord. No words could describe his -wiliness, his power of being all things to all men, his flattery, his -knowledge of human nature, his unparalleled artifice, which, if it could -be described, would not have been the perfect thing it was: it was not -silken, it was not glossy, but it wound its way unerringly. Could it -fail--the rage and vengeance to follow were as certain as dire, for, -next to love of power, vanity ruled this man; all he did was right and -good, other pursuits contemptible and useless. - -Such was the serpent-spirited man who contrived to partake Richard's -shelter; he eyed him keenly, he addressed him, and the prince replied to -his questions about an asylum for the night, by a courteous invitation -to his home. "The boy speaks not like a cotter: his eye beams with -nobleness. What a freak of nature, to make one in appearance a king's -son, the plodding offspring of a rude Fleming!" As these thoughts passed -through Frion's mind, the truth came not across him; and he even -hesitated for a moment whether he should not, now the storm had passed, -pursue his way: but his garments were wet, the ways miry, night at hand. -At a second thought he accepted the invitation, and leading his horse, -he accompanied the youthful pair to their cottage home. - -Madeline, unsuspicious of one obviously a Frenchman, received him -without fear, and after a fire had dried the visitor's dress, they sat -down to a frugal supper. Frion, according to his usual manner, strove to -please his hosts. His gay discourse, the laughable, yet interesting -accounts he gave of various adventures that had befallen him, made all -three--the fair Madeline the ardent princely boy, and the dark-eyed -daughter of de Faro--sit in chained attention. When he heard that -Madeline was united to a Spaniard, he spoke of Spain, of Granada and the -Moorish wars; Richard's eyes flashed, and the dark orbs of the girl -dilated with wonder and delight. - -At length he spoke of England, and his words implied that he had lately -come thence. "How fares the poor island?" asked the youth; "such stories -of its tyrant reach us here, that methinks its fields must be barren, -its people few." - -"Had you been my comrade, young master, through merry Kent," said Frion, -"you would speak in another strain. Plenty and comfort, thanks to King -Harry and the Red Rose, flourish there. The earth is rich in corn, the -green fields peopled with fat kine, such as delight yon islanders. 'Give -an Englishman beef and mustard,' says our French proverb, 'and he is -happy;' they will find dearth of neither, while the sage Henry lives, -and is victorious." - -"Yet we are told here," cried the youth, "that this Welsh earl, whom you -call king, grinds the poor people he has vanquished to the dust, making -them lament him they named Crookback, who, though an usurper, was a -munificent sovereign." - -These words from a Fleming or a Frenchman sounded strange to Frion; the -doubt, which he wondered had not before presented itself, now came -full-fledged, and changed at its birth to certainty; yet, as the angler -plays with the hooked fish, he replied, "I, a stranger in the land, saw -its fair broad fields, and thought their cultivators prosperous; I heard -that the king was victorious over his foes, and deemed his subjects -happy. Yet, I bethink me, murmurs were abroad, of taxes and impositions. -They spoke, with regret, of the White Rose, and scowled when they said -that Elizabeth of York was rather a handmaiden in her husband's palace, -than queen of fertile England." - -"Now, were I an English knight, with golden spurs," said the stripling, -"I would challenge to mortal combat that recreant Tudor, and force him -to raise fair Elizabeth to her fitting elevation: woe the while, all -England's good knights are slain, and the noble Lincoln, the last and -best of all, has perished!" - -"You speak unwisely and unknowingly, of things you wot not of," said -Madeline, alarmed at the meaning glance of Frion; "good nephew Perkin, -your eyes see not even the English white cliffs, much less can your mind -understand its dangerous policy." - -"Nay, dear mother," remarked her little daughter, "you have told me that -the noble earl and the good Lord Lovel had been kind guardians to my -cousin Peterkin: you chid him not when he wept their death, and you may -suffer him to reproach their foe." - -"I know nothing of these lords," said Frion, "whose names are a -stumbling-block to a Frenchman's tongue. But methinks it is well for us -that they aim at each other's hearts, and make booty of their own -provender, no longer desolating the gay fields of France with their iron -hoofs." - -And now, since that he had found him whom he sought, Frion talked again -of other matters, and, as before, his smooth and gay discourse gained -him pleased auditors. At length, the peaceful cottagers retired to rest, -and Frion sunk to sleep under their hospitable roof, after he had -thought of various plans by which he might possess himself of the -prince's person;--the readiest and safest way was to entice him to -accompany him alone some little space, no matter how short: he trusted -to his own skill to draw him still further and further on, till he -should be put on board the boat that would ferry him to his own revolted -England. - - - - -CHAPTER IX - -THE DECOY - - - Gilderoy was a bonnie boy, - Had roses tull his shoone; - His stockings were of silken soy, - With garters hanging doon. - - OLD BALLAD. - - -It was a simple scheme, yet with the simple simplicity succeeds best. A -new face and talk of distant lands had excited York beyond his wont. He -could not rest during the long night, while the image of his disastrous -fortunes haunted him like a ghost. "Were I the son of a falconer or -hind," he thought, "I could don my breastplate, seize my good cross-bow, -and away to the fight. Mewed up here with women, the very heart of a -Plantagenet will fail, and I shall play the girl at the sight of blood. -Wherefore tarries Sir Edmund, our gentle coz? If he be a true man, he -shall lead me to danger and glory, and England, ere she own her king, -shall be proud of her outcast child." - -To a mind thus tempered--heated like iron in a smith's forge--Frion, -on the morrow, played the crafty artisan, fashioning it to his will. He -and the prince rose early, and the secretary prepared for immediate -departure. As he hastily partook of a slight repast, he renewed the -conversation of the preceding night, and like the Sultaness Scheherezade -(perhaps he had heard of her device among the Moors), he got into the -midst of the quarrels of El Zagal and El Chico, the kings of Granada, at -the moment it was necessary for him to hasten away--"Good youth," said -he, "I play the idle prater, while mine errand waits for me--lead me to -the stable, and help me to saddle my nag; if you will serve me as a -guide to Lisle, you will do a good deed, and I will reward it by -finishing the strange history of the Moorish kings." - -The horse was quickly in order for departure. "I will but say good day -to ray kinswoman, and go with you," said Richard. - -"That were idle," replied the secretary, "the sun has hardly peeped out -from his eastern window, and dame Madeline and her dark-eyed daughter -sleep; we kept them waking yesternight; they will scarce have risen ere -you return." - -The duke suffered himself to be persuaded--with his hand on the neck of -the horse, he strode beside his tempter, listening to his cunning tales -of Moorish ferocity and Christian valour. The walls of Lisle at length -appeared--"Here we part," said the duke, who remembered the caution -given him, never to enter these border towns, where the English nobles -often resided for a space, and the appearance of the gallant stripling, -and his close resemblance to other members of the princely house of -York, might beget suspicion and danger. - -"Wherefore this haste, Sir Perkin?" said Frion; "cooped up under a -thatched roof from Lent to Shrovetide, methinks you should be glad to -stretch your chain. I remain brief space in yonder walls; leave me not -till I depart." - -"Who told you I was cooped up?" said the prince, hastily; "if I am -chained, the key of my fetters is in my own hand." - -"Put it swiftly in the wards then, and cast away the heavy iron; come on -with me, to where thou shalt ruffle bravely with satin-coated squires." - -Frion judged his prize already won, and almost threw aside his usual -caution. Richard liked not the expression his sharp black eye assumed, -nor the wrinkling of his brow; he began to wonder what there had been in -this man so to allure him into friendly converse; now that in a familiar -tone he invited him to continue his companion, his haughty spirit -revolted. "Good sir," said he, "I now have done a host's duty by you. I -saved you from a storm, restored you to your road--yonder path, shaded -by poplars, leads at once to the town's gate--farewell!" - -"I am but an unmeet comrade for you, gay gentleman," said Frion; "pardon -me if I have said aught unfitting the cottager of Tournay to hear. I now -go to the noble knight, the Sire de Beverem, and I would fain have shown -him what striplings these swamps breed; methought his gilt palace were -fitter dwelling than yonder hut for one, who, if his face lie not, -aspires to nobler acts than weeding a garden or opening a drain. Come, -my lord,--how tript my tongue? but your eye is so lordly that the word -came of itself--gentle youth, trust yourself with one, who loves to see -the fiery youngster amid his mates, the gallant boy looked on with love -and favour by the noble and valiant." - -Prudence whispered to Richard that this was dangerous sport; pride told -him that it were unfit, nameless, and ushered thus, to appear before the -high-born; but thoughtless youth urged him on, and even as Frion spoke, -at a quick pace they approached the town-gate. The Sire de Beverem too, -whom the wily Frenchman named, had been favoured by Edward the Fourth, -and was his guest in London--"Let the worst come, and it were well to -have made such a friend. I will bear myself gallantly," thought York, -"and win the good knight's smile; it may profit me hereafter. Now I -shall see how the world goes, and if any new device or fashion have -sprung up among our chivalry, that I may seem not quite untaught when I -lead the sons of my father's friends to the field. Be it as you please," -he said to his seducer, "before now my hand has grasped a foil, and I -will not shame your introduction." - -Frion went forward conning his part; he felt that his task was not so -easy as he had imagined: the boy was wild as a bird, and so gave in to -the lure; but, like a bird, he might away without warning, and speed -back to his nest ere his wings were well limed. It was many miles to the -coast: Frion's resolution had been hastily formed. The Lord Fitzwater, a -partisan of Henry, was then sojourning at Lisle. He had been to -Brussels, and on his return towards Calais a sickness had seized him, -which forced him to remain some weeks under the roof of the Sire de -Beverem; he was recovering now, and on the eve of his departure; without -confiding the whole secret to him, the papers and tokens Frion bore must -vouch that the king would thank any of his lieges who should aid him in -bringing by force or decoy a pretended son of the traitor earl of -Lincoln (for thus Frion resolved to name his victim) to the English -shores. - -Yet the decoyer had a difficult part to play; there was a quickness in -the prince's manner which made him fear that, if his intentions changed, -his acts would not lag behind; and though he did not betray suspicion, -he was so perfectly alive to everything said and done, that any -circumstance of doubt would not fail immediately to strike him. Although -they had hitherto discoursed in French, yet it was certain that his -native English had not been forgotten by him; nay, the appearance of the -Lord Fitzwater's attendants, their livery, their speech, must awaken the -prince's fears, and confound the wiles of his enemy. Frion pondered on -all these obstacles, as he rode gently through the narrow streets of -Lisle; at length they reached the abode of the French noble, and here -Frion halted; while the duke, beginning to be ill-satisfied with the -part he played, and his promised presentation by such a roan, almost -resolved to break from him here and to return; shame of appearing feeble -of purpose alone prevented him. At last, passing through the court-yard -up a dark and massy staircase, he found himself in a hall, where several -men at arms were assembled, some furbishing pieces of armour, others -engaged in talk, one or two stretched along the benches asleep: pride -awoke in the youth's breast, he had gone too far to retrace his steps, -and he resolved to bear himself gallantly towards the noble to whom he -was about to be presented: yet, pausing for a moment, "My memory," he -thought, "leads me far a-field, or some of these men bear English -badges, and their wearers seem grey-eyed Englishmen." Frion meanwhile, -selecting with quick tact one of the followers of the Sire de Beverem -who chanced to be among these men, requested an instant introduction to -Lord Fitzwater, using such golden arguments that the man, half afraid of -being called on to divide the spoil, motioned him quickly to follow, -and, passing through a suite of rooms, as he approached the last, he -said, "He is there, I will call his page." "It needs not," said Frion; -"await me here, Sir Perkin," and pushing forward, to the astonishment of -the attendant, entered unannounced to the baron's presence: Richard -thought he heard a "By St. Thomas!" uttered as the door closed hastily; -but some Englishman might be with the French noble, and though a -momentary wonder crossed him, no doubt of Frion's integrity was -awakened. - -"By Saint Thomas!" exclaimed Lord Fitzwater, as Frion almost burst into -his apartment, "what rude varlet is this? Are serfs so used to enter a -baron's chamber in France?" - -"Most noble sir," said Frion, "if in three words, or, if you refuse me -these, if in one eye-glance, I do not satisfy you, bid your men beat me -with staves from the door. I am here in King Henry's service." - -"God save him!" said the noble, "and you, sir knave, from the fate you -name, which will be yours undoubtedly, if you do not give me good reason -for your ill-mannered intrusion." - -Frion looked round. Except the baron there was no one in the room, save -a stripling of about sixteen years. The lad, though short in stature, -was handsome; yet there was a look that indicated the early development -of qualities, which, even in manhood, detract from beauty. He seemed -conversant in the world's least holy ways, vain, reckless, and selfish; -yet the coarser lines drawn by self-indulgence and youthful sensuality, -were redeemed in part by the merry twinkling of his eye, and the ready -laugh that played upon his lips. "My words are for your ears alone, my -lord," said Frion, "and be assured they touch your liege nearly." - -"Go, Robert," said Fitzwater, "but not further than the ante-chamber." - -"There is one there," said Frion, anxiously: "he must not quit it--he -must not escape, nor learn in whose hands he is." - -"Your riddles, sir, ill please me," replied the noble. - -"Look at this paper, my lord, and let it vouch for the heavy import of -my business." - -Lord Fitzwater recognized his royal master's signature, and with an -altered tone he said, "Leave us, Robert; tarry not in the ante-chamber, -but bear my greeting to my noble host, and ask him, when I may, at his -best leisure, pay my thanks to him and my kind lady. I depart to-morrow -at dawn; and mark, speak not to the stranger who waits without." - -The youth made obeisance, and departed. A piece of tapestry hung before -the door, which, together with the massy boards themselves, prevented -any sound from piercing to the other side; the lad was about to proceed -on his errand, when curiosity prompted him to look on the stranger, with -whom he was commanded not to parley. Richard stood in the embrasure of -one of the windows, but turned quickly as the folding-door shut with no -gentle sound; his candid brow, his bright blue eyes, his frank-hearted -smile, who that had ever seen could forget them? nor were the traits of -the other's countenance less marked, though less attractive. The words -burst at the same instant from either--"My Lord of York!" "Gentle Robin -Clifford." - -"My prison playfellow," cried the prince; "this for me is a dangerous -recognition. I pray you be wise, and--as you were ever--kind, and keep -my secret close." - -"Alas! my lord," said Robert, "you have opened your hand, and let the -winged fool fly unwittingly, if you think it has not been discovered by -yonder false loon. Know you where you are?" - -"Then I am betrayed! I see it, feel it. Farewell, Robin, my fleet legs -will outrun their slow pursuit." - -"Nay, an' that were possible," said Clifford; "but it is not; let me -better advise your highness; trust me you shall be free; but hark, they -come; I must not be found here. Show no suspicion; yield to your fate as -if you knew it not, and confide in me; my hand on it, this night you are -at liberty." - -Clifford quitted the apartment by the opposite door, while Frion entered -from the other, beckoning the duke to approach. He took him by the hand, -and led him to Lord Fitzwater, who started back when he saw him, and was -about to exclaim; but Frion, in French, addressing him as the Sire de -Beverem, entreated his kind favour for Perkin Warbeck, the gallant youth -before him. The baron evidently was ill-pleased at the part he had -consented to play; he said a few words with an ill grace, and bidding -Perkin welcome, promised him favour, and permission for the present to -remain in his abode. Richard saw through the flimsy disguise which the -Englishman threw over his native speech, though he did not know who his -receiver was; but, feeling that it was best to follow his young friend's -counsel, he replied, also in French, that, at his guide's invitation, he -had eagerly sought an interview with the renowned Sire de Beverem; that -the honour done him would be deeply engraven in his heart; that on some -future occasion he would gratefully avail himself of his offers; but, at -the present time, he had left his home without intimating any intention, -of a prolonged absence, and that he owed it to a kind kinswoman, not to -disquiet her by delaying his return. He prayed the noble to dismiss him -therefore, craving leave only to attend him some other day. - -"Be it so," said Fitzwater; "to-morrow at dawn you shall depart hence; -but you must not refuse my proffered hospitality. I shall introduce you -to my household as one who ere long will be admitted into it, and show -my friend. Sir Lalayne, who is now here, what gentle boors our Flanders -breeds." - -"I can return to-morrow, my good lord," Richard began; but the noble not -heeding him, added, "Stay till my return; I now go to hear mass," and -passed hastily from the chamber. - -The prince's first impulse was to reproach Frion's knavery, assert his -freedom, and, ere any measures had been taken to secure his person, to -quit his new prison. But he did not know how deep-laid the plot might -be; he was inclined to think that all was prepared for his reception and -safe custody, so that any open attempt to regain his liberty would be -resisted by force; while, through the assistance of his friend Clifford, -he might hope to escape, if, giving in to the stratagem, he took -occasion by the curb, and forced it to his purpose. "Are you mad," said -Frion, "my rustic, that you resist the proffers of a high and powerful -man of your native land?" - -Richard wondered, when he beheld Frion's sneer and crafty glance, how he -had not mistrusted him from the moment he beheld him; the double meaning -of his words, and the familiar tone in which they were uttered, grated -him like a personal insult. He repressed the angry reply rising to his -lips, and said, "It seems I must submit, yet I should be beholden to you -if you contrived an excuse, and lent me your horse, that I might ride -back and inform Dame Madeline. To-morrow I might return." - -Frion opposed this intention, and led the prince to a chamber at some -distance from any other, at the end of a corridor, saying, "that it had -been assigned to him;" and after a short conversation left him. Richard -heard the shooting of the bolt as the door closed; "Son of King Edward," -he thought, "thy folly disgraces thy parentage; thus at once to have run -into the gin. Yet I am of good cheer, and my heart tells me that I shall -relate the merry tale of my escape to Madeline and my sweet coz, and dry -this night the tears my disappearance has caused them to shed." It soon -appeared, by the long absence of his betrayer, that it was not intended -to continue the farce longer; but that, from the moment he had entered -that chamber, he was in treatment as well as in fact a prisoner. After -several weary hours had elapsed, his blithe spirit began to sink; he -reflected that Clifford had probably promised more than he could -perform; but courage awoke with the sense of danger; he resolved to be -true to himself, and to effect his escape singly, if he could gain no -assistance. "Men have ears and hearts," he thought, "and I can work on -these; or they may be neglectful while I am on the alert, and I can -profit by their carelessness. In all forms my fortune may take, I will -not fail to myself; and there is small danger in any change for a true -man. With my light spirit and resolved will, I could, I doubt not, -persuade an armed band to make way for me, or open prison bolts with -charming words, though my witchcraft be only that of gentle courtesy, -moulding with skilful hand the wax of soft humanity." Pacing the -apartment, he continued these meditations, imagining every circumstance -that might and would arise, and how he was to turn all to the best -advantage. He framed persuasive speeches, wily answers to ensnaring -questions, cautious movements, by which he might withdraw himself from -the hands of his enemies; and while he thus occupied himself, his eyes -gleamed, and his cheeks glowed, as if the moment of action had come, and -his life and liberty depended on instant deed. - -At two hours past noon the door was unclosed, and a servant entered -bearing food; impatient to begin his plans of escape, Richard was about -to speak to him, when, in the doorway, he beheld the slight, stunted -figure of Clifford, whose forefinger was pressed on his lips, and who, -after exchanging one glance with his friend, cast aside his stealthy -expression of countenance, entering with a half-swaggering look, and -saying, in French, "My lord, young sir, has sent me on a pleasant -embassage, even that of dining with your pageship, saying, two boys like -us were better and merrier together, than in the great hall with the -arrogant serving-men." Richard felt no great appetite; but taking the -tone from his friend, he thanked him, and they fell to on the viands. -"Now, kind Thomas," said Clifford, "of your bounty bring us a stoup of -wine; the day is rainy, and we cannot abroad; so ray gossip and I will -tell long stories over our bottle, and lay some plan of merry mischief -which you and your fellows may in good time rue." - -The domestic obeyed; nor till the wine was brought, the servant fairly -dismissed, and the door closed, did Clifford put aside the character he -had assumed of a stripling page, in a noble master's abode, entertaining -a stranger visitant of his own years. At length, when they were quite -alone, the merry boy put his hands to his sides and indulged in so gay a -peal of laughter, that the prince, who at first stared in wonder, at -last caught the infection, and laughed too, while tears from -superabundant glee streamed down their cheeks. Once, twice, and thrice -did Richard check himself, and turn seriously to inquire the cause of -this merriment; and Clifford strove to answer; but laughter bubbling up -choked his voice, and both again yielded in accord to the overpowering -fit. At last gasping, holding their sides, and by degrees commanding -their muscles, the duke said, "I would ask you, friend Robin, what this -means? But at the word, lo you! your very voice is lost. Now, prithee, -feel half as weary as I do of this folly, and you will be as grave as -tumbledown Dick. Do you remember the simpering fellow we made good sport -of in the Tower?" - -"You have broken the spell, my lord," said Clifford; "that word suffices -to make me as grave as Brakenbury himself, when he looked on your -brother's corpse. Ah dear, your highness, the name of the Tower is worse -than a raven's croak! God and St. Thomas preserve you from ever getting -the other side of its moat!" - -"Amen, Robin, with all my heart," said Richard; "a shudder runs through -my limbs down to my finger tips, making the skin on my head creep, when -I think there is any chance of my passing long years in those dreary -cells, with their narrow deep windows; the court-yards, which the sun -seldom visits; the massy dark walls, whose black stones seemed to frown -angrily if our childs' voices were ever heard in sport." - -"There your cousin, my lord of Warwick, pines out his melancholy days," -replied Clifford; "and that is your destined abode. My grandfather was -slain by Queen Margaret's side, and stained the Red Rose with a -blood-red dye, falling in its cause. Your father and his brothers did -many a Clifford much wrong, and woe and mourning possessed my house till -the line of Lancaster was restored. I cannot grieve, therefore, for the -exaltation of the earl of Richmond; yet I will not passively see my -playmate mewed up in a cage, nor put in danger of having his head laid -on that ungentle pillow in Tower Yard. The daughter of Warwick, our -Edward's affianced bride, your crookbacked uncle's wife, loved my pranks -and nurtured my youth; and by her good leave, many a mirthful hour I -spent in the dark place you name. May neither of us ever see it more!" - -"You will, then, assist my escape?" asked Richard. - -"As faithfully, gossip Dickon, as God his grace shall await me at the -last day! And now I will tell you a merry tale." - - - - -CHAPTER X - -THE ESCAPE - - - --It is thy merit - To make all mortal business ebb and flow - By roguery. - - HOMER'S HYMN TO MERCURY. - - - And then, with you, my friends, and the old man, - We'll load the hollow depth of our black ship, - And row with double strokes from this dread shore. - - THE CYCLOPS. - - -Notwithstanding the promise Clifford made of a merry tale, both he and -his auditor looked grave as he commenced. Richard expected, with some -anxiety, an explanation from his friend, and the other assumed the -self-consequence resulting from having achieved a victory. No two beings -ever displayed, in their way, a greater contrast than these youths. The -prince was many inches taller than his companion, and his slim make -promised increase of height. His brow was smooth as infancy, candid as -day; his bright blue eyes were lighted up with intelligence, yet there -was a liquid lustre in them that betokened tenderness; nor did his lips, -that nest of the heart's best feelings, belie his eyes. They were full, -a little curled, can we say in pride, or by what more gentle word can we -name a feeling of self-elevation and noble purpose, joined to -benevolence and sweetness? His oval cheeks were rounded by the dimpled -chin, and his golden hair clustered on a throat of marble whiteness, -which, as the white embroidered collar thrown back over the doublet, -permitted the outline to be seen, sustained his head as the Ionic flute -rears its graceful capital. Clifford was shorter, but firm set and more -manlike in form, his grey eyes were bright or dull as his soul spoke in -them; his brow slightly scowled, pending over, and even thus early, -lines were delved in it, hardly seen when he was in repose, but which, -as he spoke, showed deep and distorted; his smile was tinctured by a -sneer, his voice attracted no confidence, yet Richard now hung intently -on it as he spoke: - -"When I returned from doing my lord's bidding, I found him moving about -the room, more like a parched pea than a stately noble; for now he stood -still, and then shot off with a quick step, showing every sign of being -ill at ease. Now, boy as I am, for I can number but sixteen summers, my -lord more than loves me, he trusts me, and not without cause--for when -at hazard--but my story will be too long--enough that ere now I have -done him service. Had I not known the cause of his disquiet I should -have asked it, but, believing myself fully aware of what this all meant, -I went to my post, and busied myself in making some flies for angling, -seeming most intent upon my work. My lord stood over me, and twice or -thrice fetched a sigh, and then strode away, and came again, saying, "I -am a fool, a dolt--the king can mean no ill to this lad--and yet--" I -cannot tell you how long this indecision lasted, while I patiently -toiled at a fly of green and gold, bright as those which trouts love to -snap at in clear streams during May. At length he asked me, 'Robin, did -you mark the boy that stood in the ante-chamber?' 'Aye, my good lord!' -'And what thought you of him?' 'Thought, my lord?' I spoke inquiringly, -for it suddenly came across me that he did not know you, and it was not -for me to betray your secret. 'Aye,' he replied, 'thought? Does he -resemble any one you ever knew? Of what country do you divine him to -be?' 'These Flemings are sandy-haired,' I said, 'yet he does not look of -Flanders. Methinks he seems English born.' - -"'You are right,' said he, 'English he is confessedly. This Frion calls -him a natural son of De la Poole--of the late Earl of Lincoln. He says -that he has knowledge of a secret treasure concealed by his father -before this last rebellion, and the king wishes to get him into his -hands, thus to secure the gold. The tale is not unlikely, for the Tudor -ever loved the glitter--nay, the very dust of the precious metal,--and -the boy resembles strangely the House of York. Yet, I care not for the -task put upon me of kidnapping a child, and of betraying him into his -enemy's hands--perhaps of delivering him up a prisoner for life, for -the sake of---- Poor fellow! if he know aught of a concealed treasure, -in God's name, let him confess it while on this side the fatal channel -that now divides him from tyranny or death.' 'Let me deal with him,' I -said, 'let me throw out some toy, such as is this gold and green thread -to a silly fish, and learn the truth; if he discovers the hiding-place -of this so coveted coin, we may spare him the trouble of his enforced -journey.' 'I know not that,' answered my patron; 'Master Frion is -earnest for his safe keeping; and no one is nearer our liege's inner -wishes than this Provençal, who served him in exile, and who followed -him in his expedition thence; and yet there is a noble daring in the -boy, a mountain freshness in his cheek, a springy freedom in his gait, -that it were a thousand pities to fetter and limit within narrow prison -bounds.' Seeing that my lord was thus favourably inclined, I used all my -poor eloquence to urge him further, and at last brought him to consent -that I should converse with you; learn, if possible, your secret; inform -you of your danger, and advise you to escape. One only difficulty -remained: my lord had promised this master secretary that none should be -admitted to talk with you; but when the subtle fiend, the double-dealing -Frenchman entered, I told him with a long visage, that our noble host, -the Sire de Beverem, had heard that we were carrying off by force a -Fleming; and that, considering his hospitable mansion stained by the -act, he had commanded strict watch to be kept on the morrow, that if any -of the English suite were unwilling to go, or appeared in durance, he -should be rescued. It was advisable therefore, that you should be kept -in good-humour till fairly beyond the gates of Lisle; and this my -wisdomship offered to do, if admitted to parlance with you. You look -grave, sir prince, but had you seen Frion's sage look of hesitation, and -heard his many exhortations that I would by no means betray my knowledge -of who you really were; and how I, with a bow, careful as if my curls -were white from years, promised discretion, you would laugh as I did, -when, the mime over which I played before the servitor, I doffed my -page's seeming equality, and in duteous phrase to his highness of York, -offer my best services to liberate him." - -"That seems already done," said Richard; "usher me to the Lord -Fitzwater. I will declare myself to him; his compassion already -excited----" - -"Would then be cool as snow at Christmas. Wise young sir, Baron -Fitzwater wears the blushing Rose; and for him there is wormwood in the -name of York. Now, as a chance offshoot of the white thorn, he only sees -in you a harmless boy, whom it were sin to injure; but give yourself a -name whose very echo would bring St. Albans, Tewkesbury, Bosworth Field, -and a thousand scaffolds streaming with his kinsmen's blood before him, -and without remorse he would let Frion have his will of you. Even I, -Duke Richard, I am sprung from those who fell for Lancaster----" - -"Enough," replied the prince, haughtily. "I am content to stand alone, -to achieve my freedom singly, or to submit to my fate." - -"Not so, my noble, playmate," said the other. "I will not offer you my -knee, my oath, my sword, for my allegiance belongs to the anointed King -of England; but, I beseech you, suffer Robin Clifford to assist -high-born Plantagenet to escape from a prison or from death; permit him -to pay, if not the duty of a subject, yet that of a loving friend to the -former companion of his childish sports." - -Richard listened somewhat sullenly to these offers; he ill brooked the -thought that any of English parentage should, knowing who he was, refuse -to acknowledge him for his liege: but Clifford would not be refused; -while it was hardly worth while to contend with his light spirit, which -appeared incapable of a serious or profound idea. After a short -resistance, therefore, the duke entered willingly into a discussion of -the best means of effecting his escape in such a way, that he should -have several hours the start of Frion, and be distant from danger before -his seducer could discover that he was not still safe in his hands. - -In the midst of this discussion, Frion suddenly entered. The stake for -which he played was too momentous to trust it wholly to the stripling -page, and distrust of the wily boy entered also into his calculations; -he broke in, therefore, not only unannounced, but with such stealthy -quiet as showed that he meant to pounce on his victim unawares. The -youths sat, their stools drawn close; Clifford was leaning forward -earnestly propounding his schemes, and Richard listened, his whole soul -in his countenance. Frion was close upon them before he was perceived by -either, his eyes glimmering with their usual suspicious look. The -artless Richard started, and would with a conscious mien have drawn -back; but Clifford, more used to the wiles and watchfulness of others, -and his own double mode of action, continued to speak in the same tone -the same words, without moving a muscle. The prince wondered, and -regained his self-possession; not from entering into the deceit of his -companion, but from the haughty sentiment of his own dignity, which even -in danger refused to cower. - -Clifford had been saying--"I will hence to the sire: a word to him of -whose secretary this Provençal is, and insinuation that he is now on a -secret expedition to the Flemish towns, will awaken his curiosity; he -will send for him; fortunately the good knight speaks so slow that a -mass can be said while he is introducing the subject of his inquiries; -as each word expires, he pauses while a requiem might be sung for its -death; our antagonist will writhe and--" and a glance askance informed -the speaker that this man was at his side: he continued--"and strive -vainly to escape; the heavy weight will be too much for him, he must -submit. Such feints suit well us boys who have not strength nor skill -for more declared warfare. To-morrow's dawn I will practise with you in -the court of the castle ere you depart. But, indeed, my gossip, you must -promise to be at Calais on the sixteenth, when we shall see a combat of -good knights fit for royal princesses to look on. And now, fair sir, -farewell; here is your friend. The Sire de Beverem commanded my presence -at this hour. If I see you not again to-night, the saints have you in -their keeping!" - -When Clifford, with his pagelike vivacity, ran from the room singing a -gay romance, Frion felt himself embarrassed; and more so when Richard -said,--"My guest, it is hard, after giving you harbourage last night, -that I should be forced, whether I will or not, to tarry here, leaving -my kinswoman in dread and doubt. Make you my excuse to the chevalier, -and delay me no longer, I beseech you." - -Frion, without directly replying, said, "Anon I will speak of that; -meanwhile, I have news for you." And he entered into a long account of -an expected sedition in Flanders, and how the Sire de Beverem had -promised to enlist Perkin Warbeck in his particular troop, when with -courage and good fortune, he could not fail to rise. While he was -talking, one of the men-at-arms of the noble entered, and notified to -Frion that his lord desired an instant interview with him. The secretary -hastened to obey; he thought that good fortune itself provided this -excuse for him to escape from his victim, and resolved not again to -present himself before him. He was scarcely gone when Clifford returned. -"Now quick," he cried, "down the back staircase! My own steed stands -saddled for you; ride fast and far--but whither--whither do you intend -to go?" - -"In the first place, to Dame Madeline's cottage." - -"That were midsummer madness," cried Clifford; "Frion will never rest -till he ensnares his bird again; nay, though I trust he will not -discover your escape till to-morrow morning, that part of my scheme may -fail; and his papers from the king are such, that my lord could not -refuse to aid him, I pray you set space and cloudy mystery between you." - -"It shall be so. Probably I shall seek refuge at Brussels; but I must -see my gentle guardian and my sweet cousin, calm their fears, and bid -them farewell." - -They had descended a narrow winding staircase; Clifford unlocked a -postern, opening on a dark alley. A small light-limbed horse stood -without, held by a stout, almost gigantic fellow. "Here, Bryan," said -Clifford, "this is the smuggled article of which I spoke. Convey it in -safety to the gate; once without, the road is known. How now, sweeting! -you sit your steed as if you were used to this gear--in truth thou art -a false one--yet take care--fold your cloak thus. Not one kiss ere we -part?" He sportively snatched the prince's hand, and pressing it to his -lips, continued, "No weeping, lovely: my merry heart hates tears like -verjuice. The blessed Virgin protect you; I must in. Remember, in every -ill, Robert Clifford is your fast, your sworn friend. Look at her, -Bryan; one would swear by her bearing it were a beardless page, and not -a long-haired girl; remember, though gamesome, she is gentle, and -respect her on your life." - -Laughing at his own deceits, the guileful boy re-entered the mansion; -nor could Richard avoid smiling at the merry and ready subterfuges which -his friend had at command on every occasion. Brian demurely held the -rein, and hardly hazarded a look or covert joke, as, with a pace that -put the pony to a trot, he led the prince through the narrow streets to -the western gate. The youth breathed freely when, after having passed -the hollow sounding drawbridge, he saw the dark wall of the town behind -him, and before, the green plain. In his haste he scarcely bestowed a -benison on his guide; but snatching the rein from his hand, and with the -other throwing some money at his feet, and exclaiming, "Beware of -prating, as thou art willing to save thyself from the whipping-post!" he -impatiently struck his unarmed heel against the horse's sides, and -bounded swiftly forward. Bryan picked up the angels, and told them -slowly, as he said "I meant to have paid myself in other coin; but, by -St. Julian, she rides more like a trooper than a gentle dame--and her -speech--Master Robert has before now entrusted a damsel to my guidance, -but they ever spoke me lovingly, with 'fair Sir,' and 'sweet Bryan!' -Forsooth, Flemish girls ruffle more like pranksome pages than -soft-cheeked wenches." - -The thought of his conductor had passed as swiftly from the prince's -thoughts, as he made the ground fly from under his horse's hoof. He was -aware that he did neither the safest nor best thing in seeking, like a -hunted hare, the form from which he had been roused in the morning; but -the desire of calming Madeline's anxiety, and imprinting a farewell kiss -on the sweet lips of her daughter, prevented him from altering his first -purpose. The night was cloudy and very dark, but the road was known to -him, and he continued at full speed till a voice, calling aloud, -attracted his attention--the words could not be mistaken--his own -name, "Perkin Warbeck!" sounded through the night. His first thought -was, that he was pursued, but reflection told him that assuredly his -pursuers would not halloo to him, while any sent in search of him by -Madeline, might naturally so try to stop him as he rode so fast through -the dark. He checked his speed, therefore, and in a few moments a -cavalier, a stranger was at his side, mounted on a tall black horse; his -form seemed gigantic, and little else could be discerned; the stranger -spoke to him in French, with a foreign accent. He asked him, "Are you -not he they call Perkin Warbeck?" This address was sufficiently -startling; and the youth haughtily replied, "My name imports not to you, -while to me this interruption is unseasonable." - -"Enough; you go towards the cottage of Madeline de Faro: I follow your -highness thither." - -Richard grasped the small poniard which hung from his belt; yet how -could he, a child, contend with the tall and muscular form beside him? -"Whoever thou art," he cried, "and whoever I may be, follow me not; I am -no serf to be seized and carried back to his suzerain. Depart in God's -name, that the fingers of neither may receive an ill stain!" - -"Thou art a gallant boy!" cried the stranger, as placing his hand on the -youth's arm, his most gentle touch was felt as an iron vice pressing on -his flesh: "Pardon, my lord, the interference of one unknown to you, -though I will not call myself a stranger. I am Hernan de Faro, the -husband of Dame Madeline; now stay not your speed, while we hasten to -relieve her thousand fears. I am come in search of you." - -The heart of Richard warmed towards his new friend; he felt, that with -him on his side, he might defy Frion, Fitzwater, and all their -followers; for there was something in De Faro's mien, which spoke of a -thousand combats, and as many victories; his deep voice out-roared the -elements; his hand might arrest a wild horse in mad career. When they -arrived at the wicket entrance to the cot, he lifted the boy from the -saddle, as a child would handle a toy, and shouted aloud in his own -language, "Viva el Duque de Inglatierra y el Marinero, Hernan de Faro." - -The dangers Richard had run, and the delight she experienced in seeing -him, when again under her roof, stopped all Madeline's reproaches. "Is -he not worthy all my fears?" she said to her husband, who stood eyeing -the boy as he caressed his daughter. De Faro stretched out his hand, -saying, "Will you, Señor Don Ricardo, accept my services, and my vow to -protect you till the death, so help me the Blessed Virgin and the Holy -Trinity." - -De Faro was a mariner who had sailed in the service of the king of -Portugal, along the unsounded shores of Africa, and sought beyond the -equator a route to the spicy Indian land. His dark skin was burnt to a -nearly negro die; his black curled hair, his beard and moustachios of -the same dusky hue, half hid his face; his brow somewhat lowered over -eyes dark as night; but, when he smiled, his soft mouth and pearly -teeth, softened the harshness of his physiognomy, and he looked gentle -and kind. Every nerve, every muscle, had been worn and hardened by long -toilsome navigation; his strong limbs had withstood the tempest, his -hands held unmoved the cordage, which the whirlwind strove vainly to -tear from his grasp. He was a tower of a man; yet withal one, to whom -the timid and endangered would recur for refuge, secure of his -generosity and dauntless nature. He heard the story of Richard's -dangers; his plan was formed swiftly: he said, "If you choose, Sir -Prince, to await your foes here, I am ready, having put these girls in -safety, to barricade the doors, and with arquebus and sword to defend -you to the last: but there is a safer and better way for us all. I am -come to claim my Madeline and our child, and to carry them with me to my -native Spain. My vessel now rides off Ostend. I had meant to make -greater preparation, and to have laid up some weeks here before we went -on our home-bound voyage; but, as it is, let us depart to-night." - -The door suddenly opened as he spoke--Madeline shrieked--Richard -sprang upon his feet, while De Faro rose more slowly, placing himself -like a vast buttress of stone before the intruder. It was Clifford. - -"All is safe for the night," he cried; "your grace has a few hours the -start, and but a few; dally not here!" - -Again the discussion of whither he should fly was renewed, and the duke -spoke of Brussels--of his aunt. "Of poison and pit-falls," cried -Robert; "think you, boy as you are, and, under pardon, no conjuror, that -the king will not contrive your destruction?" - -Probably self-interested motives swayed Clifford; but he entered warmly -into De Faro's idea of hastening to the sea-coast, and of sailing direct -for Spain. "In a few years you will be a man--in a few years----" - -"Forgotten! Yes--I may go; but a few months shall mark my return. I go -on one condition; that you, Clifford, watch for the return of my cousin, -Sir Edmund, and direct him where to find me." - -"I will not fail. Sir Mariner, whither are you bound?" - -"To Malaga." - -And now, urged and quickened by Clifford, who promised to attend to all -that this sudden resolve left incomplete, the few arrangements for their -departure were made. Favoured by night, and the prince's perfect -knowledge of the country, they were speedily on their way to Ostend. -Clifford returned to Lisle, to mark and enjoy Frion's rage and -Fitzwater's confusion, when, on the morrow, the quarry was found to have -stolen from its lair. Without a moment's delay, the secretary followed, -he hoped, upon his track: he directed his steps to Brussels. A letter -meanwhile from Ostend, carefully worded, informed Clifford of the -arrival and embarkation of his friends; again he was reminded of -Plantagenet; nor had he long to wait before he fulfilled this last -commission. - -Edmund had found the Lady Margaret glad to receive tidings of her -nephew; eager to ensure his safety and careful bringing-up, but -dispirited by the late overthrow, and deeply grieved by the death of the -noble and beloved Lincoln: no attack could now be made; it would be -doubly dangerous to bring forward the young Richard at this juncture. -She commissioned Plantagenet to accompany him to Brussels that she might -see him; and then they could confer upon some fitting plan for the -privacy and security of his future life, until maturer age fitted him to -enter on his destined struggles. - -Edmund returned with brightened hopes to Tournay, to find the cottage -deserted, his friends gone. It may easily be imagined that this -unexpected blank was a source of terror, almost of despair to the -adventurer. He feared to ask questions, and when he did propound a few, -the answers only increased his perplexity and fears. It was not until -his third hopeless visit to the empty dwelling, that he met a stripling -page, who, with an expression of slyness in his face, spoke the -watch-word of the friends of York. Edmund gladly exchanged the -countersign, and then the boy asked him, whether he called himself -cousin to the fugitive duke of York, laughing the while at the -consternation his auditor exhibited at the utterance of this hidden and -sacred word: "You come to seek your prince," he continued, "and wonder -whither he may be flown, and what corner of the earth's wilderness -affords him an abode. He is now, by my calculations, tossing about in a -weather-beaten caravel, commanded by Hernan de Faro, in the Bay of -Biscay; in another month he may anchor in the port of Malaga; and the -dark-eyed girls of Andalusia will inform you in what nook of their sunny -land the fair-haired son of England dwells. The king is defeated, Master -Frion balked, and Lord Fitzwater gone on a bootless errand: the White -Rose flourishes free as those that bloom in our Kentish hedges." - -Without waiting for a reply, but with his finger on his lip to repel -further speech, the youth vaulted on his horse, and was out of sight in -a moment. Edmund doubted for some time whether he should act upon this -singular communication. He endeavoured to learn who his informant was, -and, at last, became assured that it was Robert Clifford, a young -esquire in Lord Fitzwater's train. He was the younger son of the Lord -Clifford who fell for Lancaster, at the battle of St. Alban's. By birth, -by breeding, he was of the Red Rose, yet it was evident that his -knowledge was perfect as to the existence of the duke of York; and the -return of Lord Fitzwater and King Henry's secretary to Lisle, -disappointed and foiled, served to inspire confidence in the information -he had bestowed. After much reflection, Plantagenet resolved to visit -Paris, where he knew that the brother of Madeline, old John Warbeck, -then sojourned; and, if he did not gain surer intelligence from him, to -proceed by way of Bordeaux to Spain. - - - - -CHAPTER XI - -THE EXILES - - - A day will come when York shall claim his own; - Then York be still awhile, till time do serve. - - SHAKSPEARE. - - -The further Edmund journeyed from the late abode of his lost cousin, the -more he felt displeased at the step he had taken; but on his arrival in -Paris his uncertainty ended. Warbeck had received intimation of the -hurried embarkation of his sister, and here also he found Lady Brampton, -whose husband had taken refuge in Paris after the battle of Stoke. Like -the queen dowager, the fate of Margaret of Anjou's son haunted this -lady, and she warmly espoused the idea of bringing the duke of York up -in safe obscurity, until his own judgment might lead him to choose -another line of action, or the opposing politics of Europe promised some -support to his cause. She agreed to repair herself to Brussels, to take -counsel with the duchess, to use all her influence and arts, and, as -soon as time was ripe, to proceed herself to Spain to announce it to the -prince. Meanwhile, Plantagenet, following his former purpose, would take -up his abode with Richard in Spain; teach him the science of arms, and -the more difficult lessons of courage, self-command, and prudent -conduct. In pursuance of this plan, Edmund lost no time in going to -Bordeaux, whence he embarked for Malaga, and following his friend's -steps, arrived shortly after him at the retreat De Faro had chosen among -the foldings of the mountains on the borders of Andalusia.[1] - -De Faro's was a singular history. In those days, that park of Andalusia -which comprised the kingdom of Granada, was the seat of perpetual wars, -and even when armies did not meet to deluge its fertile plains and -valleys with their blood, troops led by noble cavaliers and illustrious -commanders overran its districts in search of plunder and glory. During -one of these incursions, in the year 1452, some impulse of religion or -humanity made a Spanish soldier snatch from a couch in the country-house -of a noble wealthy Moor, already half consumed, an infant hardly a year -old; the band was already in full retreat, and, fortunately, this -incident took place on the very frontiers of Granada, or the benevolence -of the soldier would hardly have been proof against the trouble his -little charge occasioned him. Toiling up the mountains on their return -to the kingdom of Jaen, they entered the little town of Alcala-la-Real, -where, on the side of the mountainous road, rose the walls of a -monastery. "How better," thought the soldier, "save the soul of this boy -than by giving him to the monks?" It was not, perhaps, the present they -would most readily have selected, but compassion and piety forbade them -to refuse it: the little Moor became a Christian by the name of Hernan, -and was brought up within the sacred precincts of the convent. Though -the monks were able to make a zealous Catholic of their nursling, they -did not succeed so well in taming his fiery spirit, nor could they -induce him to devote himself to the inactive and mortifying life of a -priest. Yet he was generous and daring, and thus acquired their -affection; next to being a recluse vowed to God, the vocation of a -soldier for the faith, in the eyes of these holy men, was to be -selected. Hernan advancing in life, and shooting up into strong and -premature manhood, was recommended by the abbot to his cousin, the -illustrious Don Rodrigo Ponce de Leon, marquess of Cadiz. He fought -several times under his banners, and in the year 1471 entered with him -the kingdom of Granada, and was wounded at the taking of Cardela. In -this last action it was, that a sudden horror of taking up arms against -his countrymen sprung up in Hernan's breast. He quitted Spain in -consequence; and, visiting Lisbon, he was led to embrace a sea-faring -life, and entered the marine service of the king of Portugal; at one -time, visiting Holland, where he sought and won the hand of Madeline: -and afterwards, with Bartholomew Diaz, he made one of the crew that -discovered the Cape of Good Hope. He sailed with three vessels, one of -which lost company of the others, and its crew underwent various and -dreadful perils at sea, and from the blacks on land: after nine months -they again fell in with their companions, three sailors only remaining. -One of these was Hernan de Faro; his skill, valour, and fortitude, had -saved the vessel; he was exalted to its command, and now, in safer -voyage over seas more known, he had freighted it with the fugitives -from Tournay. - -During all his wanderings, even in the gay and rich Portugal, Hernan -turned with fond regret to his mountain home. To its rugged peaks, its -deep and silent dells; its torrents, its verdure, its straggling and -precipitous paths; its prospect over the rich and laughing Vega of -Granada. He had promised himself, after weary toils, a long repose in -this beloved spot; and hither he now led his wife, resolving to set up -his tent for ever in the land of his childhood, his happy childhood. It -was a strange place to choose, bordering on Granada, which at that time -was as lists in which Death and Havock sat umpires. But the situation of -Alcala-la-Real preserved it secure, notwithstanding its dangerous -neighbourhood. It was perched high upon the mountain, overlooking a -plain which had been for many years the scene of ruthless carnage and -devastation, being in itself an asylum for fugitives--a place of rest -for the victor--an eagle's nest, unassailable by the vultures of the -plain. - -Here, then, Plantagenet found his cousin; here, in lovely and romantic -Spain. Though defaced and torn by war, Andalusia presented an aspect of -rich and various beauty, intoxicating to one whose life had been spent -in the plains of England, or the dull flats of Flanders. The purple -vineyards; the olive plantations clothing the burning hill-side; the -groves of mulberry, cork, pomegranate, and citron, that diversified the -fertile vegas or plains; the sweet flowing rivers, with their banks -adorned by scarlet geranium or odoriferous myrtle, made this spot -Nature's own favoured garden--a paradise unequalled upon earth. On such -a scene did the mountain-home of the exiles look down. Alcala, too, had -beauties of her own. Ilex and pine woods clothed the defiles of the -rugged Sierra, which stretched far and wide, torn by winter torrents -into vast ravines; variegated by a thousand intersecting lines, formed -by the foldings of the hills; the clouds found a home on the lofty -summits; the wandering mists crept along the abrupt precipices; -alternate light and shadow, rich in purple and golden hues, arrayed each -rocky peak or verdant slope in radiance all their own. - -All this fair land had been under the dominion of the Moors. Now, town -by town, stronghold by stronghold, they had lost it; the riches of the -land belonged to the Christians, who still, by military conquest or -policy, pressed the realm of the Moorish sovereign into a narrower -compass; while, divided in itself, the unhappy kingdom fell piecemeal -into their hands. De Faro was a devout Catholic; but, with all his -intrepidity, more humanity than belonged to that age warmed his manly -heart. He remembered that he was a Moor: whenever he saw a Moslem -prisoner in chains, or a cavalgada of hapless women driven from their -native towns to slavery, the blood in his veins moved with instinctive -horror; and the idea that among them might pine and groan his parents, -his own relatives, burned like living coal in his breast. He had half -forgotten this when he came to Alcala, bringing his wife and child, and -resolved to set up here his home; but when, in the succeeding spring, -the Spanish army assembled on the frontiers of Murcia, and swept on -towards the south--when deeds of Moorish valour and Moorish suffering -reached Alcala--when the triumph of the Christians and their ravages -were repeated--the gallant mariner could endure no longer. "It is a -fruitless struggle," he said; "Granada must fall; and God, who searches -hearts, knows that his victory will be dear to me when the cross floats -from the towers of the Alhambra. But I cannot behold the dark, -blood-stained advances of the invader. I will go--go where man destroys -not his brother, where the wild winds and waves are the armies we -combat. In a year or two every sword will be sheathed; the peace of -conquest will reign over Andalusia. One other voyage, and I return." - -He went without fear, for Alcala appeared a safe retreat, and left his -family spectators of the war. What a school for Richard! Edmund rejoiced -that he would be accomplished in knightly exercise in the land of -chivalry; but he was not prepared for the warlike enthusiasm that sprung -up in his cousin's heart, and even in his own. It was the cause of God -that armed the gentlemen of Spain, that put daring into the politic -Ferdinand's heart, and inspired with martial ardour the magnanimous -Isabella. The veteran cavaliers had lost many relatives and companions -in arms, in various defeats under the rocky castles, or within the -pathless defiles of Andalusia; and holy zeal possessed them to avenge -their deaths, or to deliver those who pined in bondage. The younger -knights, under the eye of their sovereigns, emulated each other in -gallantry and glory. They painted war with pomp, and adorned it by their -virtues. - -Not many months before, the earl of Rivers, with a band of Englishmen, -aided at the siege of Loxa, and distinguished himself by his undaunted -bravery; his blunt but gay humour; his eager emulation with the Spanish -commanders. The duke of York heard, with a leaping heart, his mother's -brother's name. Had he still been there; but no, he had returned to fall -in affray in Britany, the victim of Tudor's heartless desertion--this -circumstance had given distinction and honour to the name of Englishmen; -nor did Edmund feel inclined to lower the national character by keeping -away from the scene of glory. What was to be done? York was a mere boy; -yet when Plantagenet spoke of serving under one of the illustrious -Catholic chieftains, York said, "I follow you; I will be your squire, -your page, your stirrup-boy; but I follow!" - -In 1489 the siege of Baza was formed. It was defended with desperate -valour by the Moors, while every noble Spaniard capable of bearing arms -assembled in Ferdinand's camp, which glittered in silks and gay -caparisons; yet the very luxury of the warriors was ennobled by their -valour. The sallies on the part of the besieged were furious; the -repulse they sustained, determined and successful. When closely hemmed -in, the Moors relaxed in their desperate efforts. The younger Christian -cavaliers used the leisure so afforded them to unite in making -incursions in the surrounding country, to cut off supplies, and to -surprise the foraging-parties of the enemy. Two youths became -conspicuous in these exploits; both proclaimed their English origin. One -bore a knight's golden spurs (Edmund had been knighted on the eve of the -battle of Stoke by the earl of Lincoln), and boasted of his royal, -though illegitimate, descent; the other, a beardless, fair-haired, -blooming boy, was nameless, save by the Christian appellation of -Ricardo, to which was added the further designation of El Muchacho, from -his extreme youth. It was a lovely yet an awful sight to behold this -pair. The elder, whose dark eyes and dun complexion gave him a greater -resemblance to his southern comrades, never lost sight of his young -friend; side by side, his shield before Richard's breast, they went to -the field. When Edmund would otherwise have pressed forward, he hung -back to guard his cousin; and when the boy was hurried forward in the -ardour of fight, still his kinsman's gaze was on him--his sword -protecting him in every aspect of danger. If the stripling were -attacked, Edmund's eyes flashed fire, and mortal vengeance fell upon his -foe. They became the discourse of the camp; and Plantagenet's modesty, -and Richard's docility in all, save avoiding peril, advanced them still -further in the favour of the grave, courteous Spaniards. "Art thou, -then, motherless?" Isabel asked; "if thou art not, thy gentle parent -must pass many wakeful nights for thee!" At length, in one skirmish, -both the youths got surrounded by the foe. Richard's young arm, wearied -by the very sword he bore, gave ineffectual blows. Forgetting that he -left himself unguarded, Edmund rushed between him and his assailant; -others came to their assistance; but Plantagenet was already struck to -the ground; and for many weeks York forgot even the glorious emulation -of arms, while watching over his best and dearest friend. Meanwhile Baza -surrendered; and the cousins returned to Alcala, to Madeline and her -fair child; and domestic peace succeeded to the storms of war. Richard -loved Madeline as his mother; her daughter was his sister, his angel -sister, whose tenderness and heroism of character commanded deep -affection. - -Monina de Faro was, even in childhood, a being to worship and to love. -There was a dreamy sweetness in her countenance, a mystery in the -profound sensibility of her nature, that fascinated beyond all compare. -Her characteristic was not so much the facility of being impressed, as -the excess of the emotion produced by every new idea or feeling. Was she -gay?--her large eyes laughed in their own brightness, her lovely -countenance became radiant with smiles, her thrilling voice was attuned -to lightest mirth, while the gladness that filled her heart overflowed -from her as light does from the sun, imparting to all around a share of -its own essence. Did sorrow oppress her?--dark night fell upon her -mind, clouding her face, oppressing her whole person, which staggered -and bent beneath the freight. Had she been susceptible of the stormier -passions, her subtle and yielding soul would have been their unresisting -victim--but though impetuous--wild--the slave of her own sensations, -her soft bosom could harbour no emotion unallied to goodness: and the -devouring appetite of her soul, was the desire of benefiting all around -her. Her countenance was the mirror of her mind. Its outline resembled -those we see in Spanish pictures, not being quite oval enough for a -northern beauty. It seemed widened at the forehead, to give space for -her large, long eyes, and the canopy of the darkly fringed and veined -lid: her hair was not black, but of a rich sunny chesnut, finer than -carded silk, and more glossy; her skin was delicate, somewhat pale, -except when emotion suffused it with a deep pink. In person, she was not -tall, but softly rounded; and her taper, rosy-tipped fingers, and little -feet, bespoke the delicate proportion that moulded her form to a beauty, -whose every motion awakened admiration and love. - -With these companions Richard passed the winter. The following spring -brought war still nearer to the English exiles--Baza had fallen; one of -the kings of Granada, surnamed El Zagal, the Valiant, had submitted to -the Spaniards: and now Ferdinand commanded his former ally, Boabdil el -Chico, to deliver up to him proud Granada, the loved city of the Moors. -Poor Boabdil, whose misfortunes had been prophesied at his birth, and -whose whole career had been such as to affix to him the surname of el -Zogoybi, or the Unfortunate, was roused from his state of opprobrious -vassalage by this demand, and followed up his refusal by an inroad into -the Christian country, near Jaen. Count de Tendilla, a veteran warrior -of high reputation and brilliant exploits, commanded this district. His -headquarters were in the impregnable fortress of Alcala-la-Real itself; -and when the cry came, that the Moors had passed his border, he resolved -to stoop from his eagle's eyrie, and to pounce upon the insolent foe, as -they returned from their incursion. He chose one hundred and fifty men, -and lay in ambush for them. Plantagenet was of the number, and our young -warrior also; though with sage entreaties Edmund, and with tears -Madeline, had besought him to stay. The count succeeded to his -wish--the Moors fell into his toils--few escaped slaughter or capture: -but while the Christian hero exulted in victory, a messenger, pale with -horror, spent with weariness, came to tell that a band of Moors had -taken advantage of his absence, to fall upon Alcala. Indignation and -fury possessed the noble captain; he left half his troop to protect his -spoil, and with the rest, all weary as they were, he hurried back to -Alcala, eager to fall upon the marauders before they should have secured -their prey in a neighbouring fortress. Edmund and Richard were among the -foremost; their rage could only be calmed by the swiftness with which -they returned to deliver or avenge their friends. The sun was sinking in -the west when they arrived at the foot of the Sierra. At first Tendilla -desired that his wearied troop should repose; but several stragglers -among the enemy, perceiving them, gave the alarm to their comrades, who, -laden with booty, were preparing to depart. Harassed as the Christians -were, they had no choice, while their position, on the lower ground, -rendered their attack very disadvantageous. But nothing could check -their fury: with loud cries and flashing weapons they fell upon the -enemy, who, burthened by their prey and wearied by their very outrages, -could ill resist men fighting to avenge their desolated hearths. Still, -so accustomed to war, so innately brave was every soldier on either -side, that the combat was long and sanguinary. Night, the swift-walking -darkness of the nights of the south, came suddenly upon the combatants: -the casques of one party, and the turbans of the other, were scarce -perceptible, to guide the scimitar, or to serve as an aim for the -arquebus. The discomfited Moors, leaving their booty, dispersed along -the defiles, and, forgetful of their prisoners, availed themselves of -the obscurity to make good their flight. Alcala was retaken; and through -the shadows of night, husbands and fathers called aloud on their wives -and children to tell them if they were safe, while many a sound of -woman's wail arose over the corpse of him who had died to save her. - -The troop, diminished in number, was drawn up the following morning in -the square of Alcala. "Where," asked the count, "are my two English -soldiers? I saw the elder leading five others across a steep -mountain-path, so as to fall on the enemy's rear; it was a sage measure, -and succeeded well. Ricardo I beheld contending with two bearded Moors, -who held in their fierce grasp a young and fainting girl. I sent Diego -to his rescue: Diego, they say, was slain: night prevented me from -knowing more: have both these strangers fallen? I would pay them a -Spaniard's thanks for their aid--a knight's praise for their -gallantry." - -Alas! both thanks and praise would have visited their ears coldly. They -had forgotten Tendilla, his troop, the very Christian cause, in the -overwhelming calamity that had befallen them. Assisted by Diego, who was -cut down in the conflict, Richard had delivered Monina; and, forcing his -way through the enemy, now already scattered, clambered with her in his -arms to their mountain abode: he was guided towards it by the glaring -light of the flames that destroyed it. Meanwhile, the fight still raged; -York placed Monina in safety, and returned to share its perils. - -The peace of desolation that came with the morning united the cousins; -and they sought the ruins of their home, and their miserable friend, -whose broken and harrowing tale recorded how Madeline had fallen a -victim to the savage cruelty of the enemy, as she strove to defend her -daughter from impending slavery. - -This was the result of Moorish wars--death and misery. Richard's young -heart had bounded to the sound of trump and clarion; and he returned to -hear the melancholy bell that tolled for death. Their very home was in -ruins; but it was long before, amidst deeper woe, they remembered to -lament the destruction of many papers and hoarded objects, the relics -and the testimonies of Richard's royal descent. - - -[Footnote 1: I had originally entered more at large on a description of -Andalusia, and the history of the conquest of Granada. The subsequent -publication of Mr. Washington Irving's very interesting work has -superseded the necessity of this deviation from the straight path of my -story. Events which, in their romantic detail, were before only to be -found in old Spanish folios, are now accessible to every English reader, -adorned by the elegance of style, and arranged with the exquisite taste, -which characterize the very delightful "Chronicle of the Conquest of -Granada."] - - - - -CHAPTER XII - -THE CHALLENGE - - - Ah! where are they who heard in former hours - The voice of song in these neglected bowers? - They are gone! - - MOORE. - - - The chain is loos'd, the sails are spread, - The living breath is fresh behind; - As with dews and sunrise fed, - Comes the laughing morning wind. - - SHELLEY. - - -This was a gloomy lesson for these young and affectionate beings; they -consoled one another, and wept as they consoled. At first Monina -despaired; her ceaseless laments and unassuaged grief appeared to -undermine her very life; but, when she marked the sorrow she -communicated, when she heard Richard exclaim, "Oh! for spring and -battle, when I may avenge Monina's grief, or die! Death is a thousand -times preferable to the sight of her woe!" and felt that the fate and -happiness of those about her depended on her fortitude: she forced -smiles back to her lips, and again her sweet eyes beamed, undimmed by -tears. - -Spring came at last, and with it busy preparation for the siege of -Granada; troop after troop defiled through Alcala, bearing the various -ensigns of the noble commanders; the Count Tendilla, leaving his -mountain nest, united himself to the regal camp before the devoted city; -Isabella joined her royal husband accompanied by her children. Where -women looked on the near face of war, even the timid were inspired to -bear arms. The reputation the English warrior youths had gained forbade -inglorious ease, even had they not aspired with their whole hearts for -renown; yet Plantagenet looked forward with reluctance to the leading -forth his brave, dear cousin to new dangers; divided between pride in -his valour, satisfaction at his thus being schooled to arms, and terror -from the perils to which he would be exposed in a war, on the side of -the enemy, of despair and fury--his thoughtful eyes rested on the young -prince's glowing cheek, his unsullied youth; if wound or fatal hurt -maimed his fair proportion, how should he reply to his widowed mother's -agony? If, snapt like a poor flowret, he fell upon the death-strewn -Vega, what tale should he report to the ardent Yorkists? None! At least -he should be pierced only through him, and Edmund's corse would rampart -his heart, even when he had died to save him. - -Thus they again appeared in the Spanish army, and were hailed as among -its ornaments. Whatever desperate enterprise kindled the young Spaniards -to heroic frenzy, found the English pair among their numbers. At the -beginning of the siege, the Moors, few in numbers, and often defeated, -cheated victory of its triumph by various challenges to single combat, -where many a Spaniard fell: their frays resembled, in the splendour of -their armour and their equipments, the stately ceremonial of the -tournaments, but they were deadly in the event. Ferdinand, sure of -victory, and reluctant to expose the noble youth of his kingdom to -needless peril, forbade these duels; and the Moors enraged, multiplied -their insults and their bravadoes, to draw their enemies to the field; -nor lost any opportunity of committing the defence of their beloved city -to the risk of battle, rather than the slow progress of famine. One -memorable engagement took place on occasion of the visit of Queen -Isabella to the hamlet of Zubia, there to obtain a nearer view of -beautiful Granada. The Moors seeing the Spanish troops in array before -their walls, came out to attack them; a battle was fought under the very -eyes of the queen, wherein it was the good fortune of Richard to make so -gallant a figure, that on the very spot the Count Tendilla conferred on -him the honour of knighthood. - -Proud was the young duke of York, and eager to paint his maiden shield -with worthy device; he was now nearly eighteen, boyish in aspect, yet -well-knit in person, and accustomed to the fatigue of arms. He no longer -burst on his foes, like an untrained dog, seeking only to slay: there -was forethought in his eye, and a most careful selection of worthy and -valorous opponents. Edmund still was to be found within a javelin's -throw of him; but he no longer feared his untaught rashness, as before -he had done. - -In July occurred the conflagration of the Christian camp. The day -following, Ferdinand led forth his troops to make a last ravage among -the gardens and orchards, the emerald girdle of Granada. During the -fray, it was the young duke's chance to throw his javelin so as to slay -on the spot a veteran Moor, whose turban having fallen off, exposed him -thus. His companion in arms, a tall fierce Moslem, rushed forward to -fell the insolent youth; others interposed. Still the Moor kept his eye -upon his boyish foe; a thousand times he threw his dart; twice or thrice -he rushed on him with uplifted scimitar: the battle racked among the -orchard-paths and flowery hedges of the thickly-planted gardens, and -ever some obstruction thwarted the infidel. Plantagenet had marked his -rage and his purpose; he watched him keenly, and the fierce Gomelez -boiled with impatient indignation, as some impediment for ever baffled -his design. His last effort was to fling an arrow, which stuck in the -ground quivering at Richard's feet: a label was affixed--"Dog and -infidel," thus was the cartel worded--"if thou hast courage, meet me at -dawn at the Fountain of Myrtles." - -The following morning, at the hour when Plantagenet was wont to see his -cousin, the prince was absent. Noon approached; the troops reposed after -the battle of the day before, or were employed in clearing the dark -ruins of the camp: some thoughtless project might occupy the duke: some -excursion to the other side of Granada. The shades of evening gathered -round the lofty towers, and dimmed the prospect of its Vega: still -Richard came not. Sad, anxious night drew near. Edmund roved through the -camp, questioning, seeking; at last, on the morrow he heard the report, -that the previous evening a cavalier had seen Almoradi Gomelez issue -from a little wood half a league from the city, and ride towards a -postern; that he was galloping up to him, when he saw the Moor totter in -his saddle, and at last fall from his horse; before succour could come, -he died. His last words only spoke of the Fountain of Myrtles; in agony -of spirit, for Gomelez had surely stricken to death his stripling foe, -ere he left the place of combat, Edmund hurried to the spot; the herbage -round the fountain was trampled and torn, as by horses' hoofs. It was -moistened, but not with water; a bank, thickly overgrown with geraniums, -bore the print of a man's form, but none was there. - -Monina had been left in Alcala-la-Real, a prey to fear, to gaze from the -steep summit on the plain, whereon, beyond her sight, was acted the real -drama of her life; to question the wounded, or the messengers that -visited Alcala, and to address prayers to the Virgin, were the sad -varieties! of her day. In the midst of this suspense, two unexpected -guests visited her abode--her father, and an Irish chieftain; a -Yorkist, who came to lead the duke from his Spanish abode, to where he -might combat for his lost crown. De Faro had not heard of the death of -Madeline; and with awe his child beheld the tears that bedewed his -rugged checks at this sad termination of his ocean-haunting vision. He -embraced his daughter--"Thou wilt not desert me; we will leave this -fated spot: and thou, Monina, will sail for ever with thy father on the -less barbarous sea." - -De Faro's companion was named Lord Barry. He was baron of Buttevant, in -the county of Cork, and allied to the Geraldines, chiefs of that soil. -He had fought at Stoke, and been attainted by Henry; so that he was -forced to wander a banished man. Eager to reinstate himself, every -Yorkist plot numbered him among its warmest partizans. He had for some -time resided either at Paris or at Brussels, where he often held counsel -with Lady Brampton. Weary of delay, he at last stole back to Ireland, to -see whether his noble kinsmen there would abet and rise in favour of the -duke of York. He came away, proud and delighted with his success; -promises of service for the White Rose had been showered on him--his -eloquence and enthusiasm conquered even Lady Brampton. War also seemed -impending between France and England; if that were once declared, every -objection would be obviated. At any rate, the times seemed so fair, that -she agreed with Lord Barry to visit the present home of the young -English prince; and, as if to further their designs. Sir Edward Brampton -was at that moment requested by the Archduke Maximilian to undertake a -private embassy to Lisbon. Thither they had sailed, and now, leaving -this lady in Portugal, Lord Barry had continued his voyage to Andalusia, -with the intention of returning again to Lisbon, accompanied by the -promise and hope of the house of York. He met De Faro in the port of -Malaga: the name was familiar to him. They journeyed together to -Alcala-la-Real. - -Lord Barry was all eagerness that the English prince should immediately -join Lady Brampton at Lisbon. It was agreed that they should proceed -thither in De Faro's caravel. The mariner abhorred the name of warfare -between Spaniard and Moor; and Madeline's death only added poignancy to -this sensation. He would not look on the siege of Granada. While the -Irish noble and Monina proceeded to the camp to prepare the cousins, he -returned to Malaga to bring round his vessel to the nearer port of -Almeria. Lord Barry and the fair Moor commenced their journey on the -morning of a most burning day; they wound down the steep declivities of -the Sierra, and entered upon the bright blooming plain. Noon with all -its heat approached. They rested under a grove of mulberries, reposing -by a brook, while Lord Barry's horse and Monina's mule were tied to the -nearest shrubs. Slight accidents are the wires and pullies on which the -machinery of our lives hang. Stung by flies, the noble horse grew -restive, broke his rein, and galloped away; through the thick shade his -master pursued, till tramp of feet and crackling of branches died on -Monina's ear. A quarter of an hour, half an hour passed, when on her -solitude came a Moorish voice, an exclamation in the name of Allah, and -the approach of several men whom already she painted as enemies. To take -to her mule, to ride swiftly through the grove, was the impulse of her -fear; and, when again silence gave her token of security, she found that -she had lost her way. It was only after many vain attempts that she -extricated herself from the wood, and then perceived that she had -wandered from the direct road to Granada, whose high towers were visible -at a distance. The burning July noon-day sun scorched her. Her mule -lagged in his pace. As a last effort, she sought a plantation of elms, -not far distant. The grateful murmur of flowing waters saluted her ears -as she approached. For a few minutes more she was exposed to the glaring -sunshine, and then entered the cool umbrage of the trees--the soft -twilight of woven leaves and branches; a fountain rose in the midst, and -she hastened to refresh herself by sprinkling herself with cool waters. -Thus occupied, she thought she was alone in this sequestered nook, when -a crash among the underwood startled her: the mule snorted aloud, and -from the brake issued a mare caparisoned with saddle and bridle. She had -lost her rider; yet her distended nostrils, the foam that flaked her -sides, the shiver that made her polished skin quiver, spoke of recent -contest or flight. She looked on her--could it be? She called her -"Daraxa," and the animal recognized her voice; while, in answer to the -dreadful surmises that awoke in her heart, a low groan was heard from -the near bank. Turning, she beheld the form of a man lying on the -herbage; not dead, for he groaned again, and then stirred, as if with -returning sense. Quick as lightning, she was at his side; she unlaced -his helmet, nor did she need to look at his pallid countenance to be -assured of what she already knew, that Richard of England lay there, but -for her help, expiring. She filled his helm with water, and sprinkling -it over him, he opened his eyes, and groaning again, strove to clasp his -head with his unnerved hand. With light fairy fingers she released him -from his coat of mail, and saw on his right sight side a mass of -congealed blood, which his faintness had made cease to flow from his -wound, bearing that it would bleed again as he revived, she bound it -with his scarf and her own veil, and then gave him water to drink; after -which he showed still more certain signs of recovery. - -It was wonder to him to find himself alive, when already he had believed -the bitterness of death to be passed; still greater wonder was it to -behold his own sweet Monina, like a spirit of good, hovering over to -recover him. He tried to raise himself, and she bent down to support -him, resting his head on her gentle heart; he felt its beating, and -blest her with a thousand soft thanks and endearing names. Though the -wound in his side was deep, yet now that the blood was staunched, it did -not seem dangerous. The immediate cause of his swoon was a stunning blow -on his head, which had beat in the iron of his helm, but inflicted no -further injury. It was long, however, before he could move; and the -evening shades had made it almost night, before he could sit his horse -and slowly quit the wood. Wishing to conduct him to where they might -find succour, Monina directed his steps to a village, east of the grove. -They had hardly ridden half a mile, when Richard felt dizzy; he faintly -called her to his side--she received him as he fell, and, supporting -him to a bank, called aloud in agony, in hopes that some wandering -soldier or peasant might be near to aid them. It happened to her wish; -several countrymen, who had been carrying fruit to the Christian camp, -passed them--she conjured them, in the Virgin's name, to assist a -soldier of the faith, a crusader in their cause. Such an appeal was -sacred in their ears; they contrived, with the poles and baskets in -which they had carried their fruit, covering them with a part of their -habiliments and the saddle-cloths of the animals, to form a sort of -litter, on which they placed Richard. Monina followed on foot, clasping -his hand; the men led the horses: and thus they proceeded up the -mountains to a village about two leagues from Granada, where every house -was open to them. The prince was permitted to repose in the habitation -of the Alcalde, and the deep sleep into which he soon fell was a dear -assurance to his friend's anxious heart, of the absence of danger, and a -promise of speedy recovery. - -Yet the night that began so well with the patient, wore a less -prosperous appearance towards the conclusion. Monina sat beside his -couch, and perceived with alarm symptoms of pain and fever. According to -the custom of the time, she had acquired some little skill in surgery; -this, when the wound came to be dressed, made her acquainted with its -irritated and dangerous appearance. As the heat of the day came on, the -prince's sufferings increased. In this little village there was neither -physician nor medicaments necessary for the emergency; and the place -itself, low-built, hedged in by mountains, and inhabited by peasants -only, was ill suited for the patient. She resolved that he should that -night be removed to a town on the eastern side of the mountains, -overlooking the plain bordering the sea. A litter was prepared; and she, -fatigued by her journey, and by long and painful solicitude, yet walked -beside it, listening to his low breathing, catching the smallest sound -he made in complaint or questioning. Before she quitted the village, she -employed a peasant to seek Plantagenet, and convey to him intelligence -of the actual state of his friends. - -After three days of fear and anxious care, the wound began to heal, and -Richard became convalescent. Who could tell, during the long hours that -composed those days and nights, the varying emotions that agitated poor -Monina? That he should die, was a thought in which, in its extent and -reality, she never indulged: but an awful fear of what of suffering the -coming hours might produce, never for a moment slept within her. She -spent long intervals of time kneeling by his couch--her soft fingers on -his pulse, counting the rapid vibration--her cool hand alone tempered -the burning of his brow; and often, supported by her, he slept, while -she remained in the same position, immovable. The very pain this -produced was a pleasure to her, since it was endured for him who was the -idol of her innocent and pure thoughts; she almost lamented when he no -longer needed her undivided attention: the hours she gave to repose came -like beggars following in a procession of crowned heads; they were no -longer exalted by being devoted to him. - -After the lapse of three anxious days he grew rapidly better, and at -evening-tide enjoyed at the open casement the thrilling sweetness of the -mountain air. How transporting and ineffable are the joys of -convalescence!--the calm of mind--the voluptuous langour--the -unrebuked abandonment to mere pleasurable sensation--the delight that -every natural object imparts, fill those hours with a dream-like, faint -ecstasy, more dear to memory than tumultuous joy. Monina sat near him, -and it was dangerous for their young hearts thus to be united and alone -in a fairy scene of beauty and seclusion. Monina's ardent spirit was -entranced by delight at his recovery: no thought of self mingled with -the single idea that he was saved--saved for youth, for happiness, and -for his long-lost rights. Darkness crept around them, the clumps of -chesnut trees grew more massy and indistinct--the fire-fly was alive -among the defiles of the hills--the bat wheeled round their humble -dwelling--the heavy-winged owl swept with huge flapping wings out of -the copse. "Are ye here?" were the first sounds that broke the silence; -it was the voice of Edmund. Monina sprung up, and glad to disburthen her -full heart, welcomed with an embrace this beloved friend. "Guardian -angel of our lives," he cried; "you are destined at all times to save -us!" Dear, soothing expressions, which then, formed the joy, long -afterwards the master-impulse of her fervent and devoted spirit. - -Each told their tale; the one of hazard and mischance, the other of -agonizing inquietude. For Richard, Edmund had feared; but when, wearied, -terrified, and in despair, Lord Barry had brought intelligence of -Monina's disappearance from the streamlet's side where he had left her, -and of a distant view he had caught of Moorish horsemen who took refuge -in Granada--heaven seemed at once to empty on him its direst curses, -and his fate was sealed with misery for ever. - -The peasant dispatched by Monina had delayed; not for three days did he -deliver her letter to Plantagenet, who still, trembling in recollection -of his past terror, and what might have been the ultimate event of the -prince's wound, departed on the moment for ----. - -And now farewell to Spain! to romantic Spain, to Moorish and Christian -combat, to the gay fields of the Vega, to the sunny mountains of -Andalusia! De Faro's caravel, true to its appointment, arrived at -Almeria. They embarked; their immediate destination was Lisbon; but -their thoughts were fixed on the promised termination of their -wanderings. Soon they would bend their course far away to the islands -of the turbid Northern sea, where nature veils herself in clouds, where -war assumes a sterner aspect, and the very virtues of the inhabitants -grow stubborn and harsh from the struggle they make to be enabled to -bear the physical ills of existence. - -Farewell to Spain! to boyhood's feats, to the light coursing of shadows -as he ran a race with the swift-footed hours. A kingdom calls for -Richard! the trials of life attend him, the hope of victory, the -fortitude of well-endured defeat. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII - -TEMPTATION - - - To England, if you will. - - SHAKSPEARE. - - -A thousand recollections and forgotten thoughts revived in Richard's -bosom when he saw his childhood's friend, the Lady Brampton. He was -reminded of his sufferings in the Tower, of his noble cousin Lincoln, of -her maternal tenderness, when under her care he quitted the gloomy -fortress, his brother Edward's tomb. His mother's last embrace again -thrilled through his frame, and Lovel's parting blessing; what sad -changes had chanced since last he saw her! Sad in all, but that he, then -a boy, had sprung up into the riper age of youthful prowess. - -Even with the banished prince we must recur to the state of affairs in -the north of Europe. The French king, Charles the Eighth, had directed -all his attempts to the subjugation of Britany, which was now under the -dominion of the youthful Anne, its orphan duchess. The English nation -espoused her cause, watched with jealousy and indignation the progress -of the French arms, and clamoured loudly for war in her support. Henry, -on the contrary, was obstinately bent upon peace, though he took -advantage of his subjects' appetite for war, to foist subsidies upon -them, which were no sooner collected than his armaments were disbanded, -and an ambassador, sent on a mission of peace, was substituted for the -herald ready apparelled for defiance. This could not last for ever. -French policy triumphed in the marriage of Charles the Eighth with Anne -of Britany; and that duchy became finally annexed to the crown of -France. England was roused to indignation; the king, forced to listen to -their murmurs, promised to invade the rival kingdom the following -spring; a benevolence was granted him; all his acts tended to the -formation of an expedition, which was the best hope of York. - -Lord Barry was urgent against delay, while the English partisans wished -that Richard's landing in Ireland, and Henry's in France, should be -consentaneous. Nay, they had deeper views. Ireland, since Simnel's -defeat, appeared but a forlorn hope, and they fostered the expectation -of being able to make England itself the scene of their first attempt, -so soon as its king should be fairly engaged in hostilities on the other -side of the Channel. The duke himself, eager as he was to begin his -career, warmly supported this project; communication with the North was -slow meanwhile, and months wore away--not fruitlessly. Richard gained -in every way by the delay; his knowledge of English affairs grew -clearer; his judgment formed; his strength, weakened by the events of -the summer, was restored during the repose and salubrious coolness of -the winter months. - -Accident furthered their designs; a visitor arrived from England, who -brought with him accounts so encouraging, that hope blossomed into -certainty in the hearts of the warm-hearted followers of York. But ere -we introduce this new and seemingly important personage, we must return -awhile to England, to speak of Henry's suspicions, his fears, his artful -policy. - -All that Frion had achieved through his abortive attempt, had been but -to ascertain the existence of the duke of York, and to spread still -wider the momentous secret; so that Henry, suspicious and irritated, -received him on his return with anger, resenting his failure as the -result of treachery. Frion had been dismissed; and now years passed -over, without the occurrence of any circumstances that spoke of the -orphan heir of the English crown. The king brooded over the secret, but -spoke of it to no one. The royal youth grew to his imagination, as in -reality he did, passing from boyhood to almost man's estate. Yet, when -Henry reflected on the undisturbed state he had enjoyed for years, on -the firmness with which he was seated on the throne, and the strong hold -he had acquired through the lapse of time on his subjects' minds, he -sometimes thought that even Richard's friends would advise him to -continue in an obscurity, which was, at least, void of danger. -Nevertheless, whenever there had been a question of attacking France, -the feeling that his rival was ready to come forward, and that, instead -of a war of invasion, he might have to fight for his own crown, -increased his unwillingness to enter on the contest. - -Now rumours were afloat--none knew whence they came, from France or -Ireland--of the existence of King Edward's younger son, and that he -would speedily appear to claim his succession. Henry, who was accustomed -to tamper with spies and informers, was yet the last to hear of a -circumstance so nearly affecting his interests. The name of Lady -Brampton at length reached him, as being abroad on a secret and -momentous expedition. This name had made a considerable figure in -Richard Simon's confessions; it was connected with Lincoln, Lovel, the -dowager queen, all whom the Tudor feared and hated. Yet he paused before -he acted; his smallest movement might rouse a torpid foe; he only -increased his vigilance; and, from past experience knowing that to be -the weak point, he dispatched emissaries to Ireland, to learn if any -commotion was threatened, any tale rife there, that required his -interference. As the time approached when it was expected that the -English prince would declare himself, the policy of his friends greatly -changed; and, far from maintaining their former mysterious silence, the -circumstance of his abode in Spain, and the expectation of his speedy -appearance in Ireland, made, during the winter of 1491-92, a principal -topic among such of the native nobility as the earl of Desmond had -interested in his cause. Henry's spies brought him tidings beyond his -fears; and he saw that the struggle was at hand, unless he could arrest -the progress of events. Meanwhile, he continued to defer his war with -France; he felt that would be the signal for his enemy's attack. - -As he reflected on these things, a scheme developed itself in his mind, -on which he resolved to act. The enemy was distant, obscure, almost -unknown; were it possible to seize upon his person where he then was, to -prevent his proposed journey to Ireland, to prepare for him an -unsuspected but secure prison--no cloud would remain to mar his -prospect; and, as to the boy himself, he could hope for nothing better -than his cousin Warwick's fate, unless he had preferred, to the -hazardous endeavour of dethroning his rival, a private and innocuous -life in the distant clime where chance had thrown him. This was to be -thought of no more: already he was preparing for the bound, but ere he -made it, he must be crushed for ever. - -In those times, when recent civil war had exasperated the minds of men -one against the other, it was no difficult thing for a Lancastrian king -to find an instrument willing and fitting to work injury against a -Yorkist. During Henry's exile in Brittany, he had become acquainted with -a man, who had resorted to him there for the sole purpose of exciting -him against Richard the Third! he had been a favourite page of Henry the -Sixth, he had waited on his son, Edward, prince of Wales, that noble -youth whose early years promised every talent and virtue; he had -idolized the heroic and unhappy Queen Margaret. Henry died a foul death -in the Tower; the gracious Edward was stabbed at Tewkesbury; the royal -Margaret had given place to the widow Woodville; while, through the -broad lands of England, the sons of York rioted in the full possession -of her wealth. Meiler Trangmar felt every success of theirs as a -poisoned arrow in his flesh--he hated them, as the mother may hate the -tiger whose tusks are red with the life-blood of her first-born--he -hated them, not with the measured aversion of a warlike foe, but the -dark frantic vehemence of a wild beast deprived of its young. He had -been the father of three sons; the first had died at Prince Edward's -feet, ere he was taken prisoner; another lost his head on the scaffold; -the third--the boy had been nurtured in hate, bred amid dire curses and -bitter imprecations, all levelled against Edward the Fourth and his -brothers--his mind had become distorted by the ill food that nurtured -it--he brooded over the crimes of these men, till he believed that he -should do a good deed in immolating them to the ghosts of the murdered -Lancastrians. He attempted the life of the king--was seized--tortured -to discover his accomplices: he was tortured, and the father heard his -cries beneath the dread instrument, to which death came as a sweet -release. Real madness for a time possessed the unhappy man, and when -reason returned, it was only the dawn of a tempestuous day, which rises -on the wrecks of a gallant fleet and its crew, strewn on the dashing -waves of a stormy sea. He dedicated himself to revenge; he had sought -Henry in Brittany; he had fought at Bosworth, and at Stoke. The success -of his cause, and the peace that followed, was at first a triumph, at -last almost a pain to him. He was haunted by memories which pursued him -like the hell-born Eumenides; often he uttered piercing shrieks, as the -scenes, so pregnant with horror, recurred too vividly to his mind. The -priests, to whom he had recourse as his soul's physicians, counselled -him the church's discipline; he assumed the Franciscan habit, but found -sackcloth and ashes no refuge from the greater torture of his mind. This -man, in various ways, had been recalled to Henry's mind, and now he -selected him to effect his purpose. - -To any other he would have feared to intrust the whole secret; but the -knowledge that the destined victim was the son and rightful heir of King -Edward, would add to his zealous endeavours to crush him. Besides that -Trangmar had a knowledge of the fact, from having been before employed -to extract in his priestly character this secret from a Yorkist, Sir -George Neville, who had been intrusted by Sir Thomas Broughton. Everything -yielded in this wretch's mind to his hatred of York; and he scrupled not -to hazard his soul, and betray the secrets of the confessional. Neville -fortunately was informed in time of the danger that menaced him, and had -fled; while Trangmar, thunderstruck by the magnitude of his discovery, -hastened to reveal it to the king. It were long to detail each act of -the crafty sovereign, and his scarcely human tool. By his order, the -friar introduced himself to the dowager queen, at Bermondsey, with a -plausible tale, to which she, in spite of her caution, was induced to -give ear, and intrusted a message by him, as he said that he was on his -way to Spain, to seek and exhort to action the dilatory prince. He then -departed. Henry had rather to restrain than urge his furious zeal. The -scheme projected was, that Richard should be entrapped on board a -vessel, and brought with secrecy and speed to England, where he might be -immured for life in some obscure castle in Wales. Trangmar promised that -either he would accomplish this, or that the boy should find a still -more secret prison, whence he could never emerge to disturb the reign of -Henry, or put in jeopardy the inheritance of his son. - -Such was the man who, in the month of April, 1492, following Lady -Brampton's steps, arrived at Lisbon, and found to his wish the prince -there also, and easy access afforded him to his most secret counsels. He -brought letters from the dowager queen, and some forged ones from other -partisans of York, inviting the prince, without application to any -foreign sovereigns, or aid from distant provinces, at once to repair to -England, and to set up his standard in the midst of his native land, -where, so these letters asserted, the earl of Surrey and many other -powerful lords anxiously awaited him. All this accorded too well with -the wishes of the little conclave not to insure assent; nay, more, when -Trangmar urged the inexpediency of the duke's being accompanied by such -notorious Yorkists as Plantagenet and Lady Brampton, it was suddenly -agreed that Richard should embark on board a merchantman, to sail with -the next fair wind for England, while his friends dispersed themselves -variously for his benefit. De Faro, in his caravel, was to convey Lord -Barry to Cork. Plantagenet resolved to visit the duchess of Burgundy, at -Brussels. Lady Brampton departed for the court of France, to engage the -king at once to admit young Richard's claim, and aid him to make it -good. "You, sweet, will bear me company;" and Monina, her whole -soul--and her eyes expressed that soul's devotion to Richard's -success--remembered, starting, that the result of these consultations -was to separate her from her childhood's companion, perhaps, for ever. -As if she had tottered on the brink of a precipice, she shuddered; but -all was well again. It was not to be divided from the prince, to remain -with Lady Brampton, to proceed to Paris with her; on his earliest -triumph to make a part of it, and to join his court in London. All these -words, king, victory, and court, wove a golden tissue before the ardent -girl's eyes; she had not yet - - - "Lifted the painted veil which men call life;" - - -as a child who chases the glories of the west, she knew not that night -was falling upon her, while still she fancied that she advanced towards -the ever-retreating splendour of the sky. - -Lady Brampton and Plantagenet trembled, as they committed their beloved -charge to other hands; they importuned Trangmar with their -injunctions--their entreaties, their thousand last words of care and -love--the friar heard, and smiled assent to all. Monina had need of all -her courage for the hour, which she knew not that she dreaded till it -came. He was going; the truth flashed suddenly upon her--he, from whom -since childhood she had scarcely been absent for a day. So blind had she -been to her own sensations, that it was not until he leaped into the -boat, and put off from shore, that she became aware of the overwhelming -tide of grief, disquiet, almost of despair, that inundated her heart. -Where was her gaiety, her light, ethereal spirit flown? Why lagged the -hours thus? Why did ceaseless reverie seem her only refuge from -intolerable wretchedness? - -She had one other solace; she was still with his friends, whose whole -thoughts were spent upon him; his name enriched their discourse; the -chances of his voyage occupied their attention. Little knew they the -strange and tragic drama that was acting on board the skiff that bore -afar the idol of their hopes. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV - -THE TRAITOR PUNISHED - - - This friar boasteth that he knoweth hell, - And God it wot that is but litel wonder; - Friars and fiends ben but litel asonder. - - CHAUCER. - - -Richard meanwhile sailed fearlessly, with treachery for his nearest -mate. Trangmar had at once exhibited audacity and prudence in the -arrangement of his plan. He had made no great preparation, nor confided -to any the real object of his intents. His only care had been, that the -duke should sail on board an English vessel; and chance had brought into -the Tagus one whose captain was inclined to the party of Lancaster. He -also contrived to have two hirelings of his own engaged on board as part -of the crew, who knew that it was their employer's design to carry to -England a prisoner for the king. He was besides provided with a warrant -from Henry, empowering him to seize on his rebel subject--the name a -blank, for the monk to fill up--alive or dead. The paper ran thus; so, -in case of struggle, to afford warranty for his darker purpose. - -Richard was now a prisoner. The vessel belonging to any country is a -portion of that country; and the deck of this merchantman was virtually -a part of the British soil. The prince, not heeding his position, was so -far from fearing his enemy's power, that he felt glad to find himself -among his countrymen. He looked on the weather-beaten countenances of -the honest sailors, and believed that he should find friends and -partisans in all. He spoke to Trangmar of his purpose of declaring -himself, and gaining them over; making this tiny offshoot of wide -England his first conquest. Trangmar had not anticipated this. He was -ignorant of the versatile and active spirit of the youth with whom he -had to deal; nor had he, by putting himself in imagination in the -prince's place, become aware how the project of acquiring his own was -his sleepless incentive to every action, and how he saw in every event a -stepping-stone in the prosecution of his enterprise. He started at the -proposal, and in his own heart said, "I must lose no time; that which I -thought to do next week, were better done to-morrow." With Richard he -argued against this measure: he showed how the captain was bound to the -present English government by his fortunes; how far more likely it was -that, instead of gaining him and his crew, he would be made a prisoner -by them, and delivered up to his enemy. Richard lent no great credence -to this, but he yielded to the authority of the elder and the priest. - -It was not in the power of his wily adversary to prevent him from -ingratiating himself in the hearts of all around him. Besides his -gentleness, his unaffected sympathy, and noble demeanour, his gay and -buoyant spirit was congenial to the reckless sailors, who, during the -dead calm that succeeded their first day's sail after quitting the -Tagus, were glad of amusement to diversify their monotonous lives. He -interceded with their captain when any fault was committed; he learned -their private histories, promised his assistance, and scattered money -among them. Sometimes he called them around him to teach him their art, -discoursing about the stars, the magnet, the signs of the weather; he -climbed the shrouds, handled the ropes, became an adept in their -nautical language. At other times he listened to tales of dreadful -shipwrecks and sailors' hardships, and recounted in turn De Faro's -adventures. This made them talk of the new African discoveries, and -descant on the wild chimeras or sage conclusions of Columbus, who at -last, it was said, was to be sent by the sovereigns of Spain in quest of -the western passage to India, over the slant and boundless Atlantic. All -this time, with flapping sails, they lay but a short distance off the -mouth of the Tagus; and Trangmar, impatient of delay, yet found it -prudent to postpone his nefarious purpose. - -After the calm had continued for nearly a week, signs of bad weather -manifested themselves; squalls assailed the ship, settling at last in a -gale, which grew into a tempest. Their little vessel was decked, yet -hardly able to resist the lashing waves of the Bay of Biscay. A leak, -which had shown itself even during the calm, increased frightfully; the -men were day and night employed at the pumps, exposed to the beating -rain, and to the waves, which perpetually washed the deck, drenching -their clothes and bedding; each hour the wind became more furious, dark -water-spouts dipping into the boiling sea, and churning it to fury, -swept past them, and the steep sides of the mountain-high billows were -ready at every moment to overwhelm them. Their tiny bark, which in these -days would scarcely receive a more dignified name than a skiff, was -borne as a leaf on the stream of the wind, its only safety consisting in -yielding to its violence. Often at the worst the men despaired. The -captain himself, frightened at the danger--and, strange inconsistency, -still more fearful of the ruin that must attend him if his vessel were -wrecked--lost all presence of mind. The prince displayed, meanwhile, -all his native energy; he commanded the men, and they obeyed him, -looking on him as a superior being; when, by following his orders, the -progress of the leak was checked, and the tossed bark laboured less -among the surges. "Sailors have short prayers," he said; "but if they -are sincere ones, the saints will not the less intercede for us before -God. Join me, my men, in a pious vow. I swear, by our Lady's precious -name, to walk barefoot to her nearest shrine the first land we touch, -and there to make a gift of incense and candles at her altar. This, if -we escape; if not, here is Father Meiler, a holy Franciscan, to give us -short shrift; so that, like devout Catholics, we may recommend our souls -to the mercy of Jesus. And now to the pump, the ropes; bring me a -hatchet--our mast must overboard." - -Three days and nights they worked unremittingly; the lull that then -succeeded was followed by another tempest, and the exhausted mariners -grew desperate. They had been borne far into the Atlantic, and now the -wind shifting, drove them with the same fury into the Bay of Biscay. -Every moment in expectation of death, the heart of Trangmar softened -towards his victim in spite of himself; he was forced to admire his -presence of mind, his unvanquishable courage; his light, yet gentle -spirit, which made him bear up under every difficulty, yet pity those -who sunk beneath, cheering them with accents at once replete with -kindness and fearless submission to the decree of Providence. Feeling -the crew bound to him as his natural subjects, he extended towards them -a paternal love, and felt called upon to guard and save them. After, for -a fortnight, they had thus been the sport of the elements, the gale -decreased; the violent breakers subsided into one long swell, which bore -them into a sheltered cove, in the wild coast that surrounds the Bay of -Biscay. The men disembarked, the vessel was drawn up; all hands were -employed in unlading and repairing her. "Ye do ill," said Richard; "do -you not remember our vow? Doubtless some village is near which contains -a shrine where we may pay it." - -This piety was in accord with the spirit of the times; and the men, -rebuked, revered still more the youth who had saved them in danger, and -who now in safety paid, with religious zeal, the debt incurred towards -their heavenly patroness. A little village lay secluded near the creek, -and above it, on a high rock, was a chapel dedicated to Saint Mary of -the Ascension, erected by a noble, who had vowed such offering on -escaping, as the prince of England had, from death on those perilous -seas. Bareheaded, barefooted, bearing lights, following the Franciscan -who led the way, the crew of the St. George proceeded towards the -shrine. Next to the Blessed Virgin, Richard claimed their gratitude; and -after due Aves had been said at the altar, still in the sacred place -they gathered round him, offering their property and their lives, -imploring him to accept from them some pledge of their thankfulness. The -heart of the outcast sovereign swelled within him. "I reign here, in -their breasts I reign," was the thought that filled his bright eyes with -a dew springing from the fulness of his soul. With a smile of triumph he -looked towards Father Meiler, as if to appeal to his judgment, whether -now he might not declare himself, and claim these men's allegiance. He -was startled by the dark and even ferocious expression of Trangmar's -countenance. His coarse brown Franciscan dress, belted in by a rope; the -cowl thrown back, displaying the monkish tonsure; the naked feet: these -were symbols of humility and Christian virtue, in strong contrast with -the deep lines of his face, and the glare of his savage eyes. He met the -glance of his victim, and became confused, while the prince in wonder -hastened to ask what strange thoughts occupied him, painting his visage -with every sign of fierce passion. - -"I was thinking," said Trangmar, hesitating; "I was deliberating, since -God has cast us back on the land, whether it were not wiser to continue -our journey through France, bidding farewell to the perils of the ocean -sea?" - -"That will I not," cried the prince. "Father Meiler, I watched you -during the storm; you acted no coward's part then; why do you now?" - -"When danger is near, I can meet it as a man of courage," said Trangmar; -"when it is far, I can avoid it like a prudent one." - -"A good clerical distinction, fit for a monk," replied the duke; "but I, -who am a cavalier, father, love rather to meet danger, than to avoid it -like a woman or a priest." - -"Insulting boy!" cried Meiler; "dare you taunt me with cowardice? That I -was a soldier ere I was a monk, some of your race dearly rued!" - -Before these words were fully uttered, Trangmar recollected himself; his -voice died away, so that his last expression was inaudible. The duke -only beheld his burst of passion and sudden suppression of it, and said -gently, "Pardon me, father; it is my fault that you forgot the respect -due to me. I forgot the reverence meet from youth to age--most meet -from a sinful boy to a holy monk." - -"I thank your highness," said the friar, "for recalling to my memory a -truth that had half escaped it. Henceforth be assured that I will not -forget that you are the undoubted offspring of the earl of March--of -Edward of England." - -Fate thus urged this wicked and miserable man to his fiend-like purpose. -Awakened again to deadly vengeance, he resolved to delay no longer; to -trust no more to chance: he saw now all the difficulties of his former -scheme of taking his enemy a prisoner to England; and this soothed his -conscience as he recurred to more fatal designs. During the short delay -that intervened before they again put out to sea, he watched an -opportunity, but found none. At length they weighed anchor; and with a -favourable wind, bore down the coast of France. The time was come, he -surely thought: for during this long voyage he could frame an -opportunity; during some dark night, when the ship sailed cheerily -before a fair breeze, he would engage the prince in engrossing talk -concerning the conduct he should pursue when in England, taking -advantage of his victim's incautiousness to allure him near the brink, -and then push him overboard. His single strength was more than a match -for his slight adversary; but to render his scheme doubly sure, he would -have the two men in his pay near him, to assist, in the case of -struggle, and vouch for his innocence if he were accused of foul play. - -It is the fortune of those hurried into crime by violent passion, that -they can seldom find accomplices as wicked as themselves. Thus was it -with Trangmar. The men whose assistance he relied upon, the enthusiasm -of their fellow-sailors for their noble passenger. After they had again -set sail, the wind blowing gently from the south, bore them onwards with -a favourable navigation, till, shifting a few points eastward, it began -to freshen. It was then that the Franciscan, not wholly betraying his -purpose, but hinting that their presence would be necessary, ordered his -men to contrive that the rest of the crew should be below, and they near -at hand, while he that night should be alone with Richard upon deck. One -of the men replied by stoutly declaring that if any evil was threatened -the prince, he would not be a party in it. "You possess King Henry's -warrant," he said, "to make this Fitzroy a prisoner. I will not oppose -his majesty's command. You have him safely; what would you more?" - -The other apparently yielded an assent to his employer's commands, and -then found a speedy opportunity to warn Richard of his danger A veil -fell from the prince's eyes. "Surely I knew this before," he thought; -"ever since I was in Saint Mary's Chapel, I must have known that this -dastard monk was my enemy. I am indeed betrayed, alone, friendless, on -board an English vessel, surrounded by an English crew. Now let the -trial be made, whether simple honesty be not of more avail than cruelty -and craft. But first let me fathom the full intention of this man, and -learn whether he have a worse design than that of delivering me over -defenceless to my adversary. It cannot be that he would really murder -me." - -The breeze had rather sunk towards sunset, but it arose again with the -stars; the vessel's prow struck against the light waves, and danced -gaily on through the sea. One man stood at the helm; another, one of the -friar's hirelings, loitered near; the other kept out of the way. Still, -beneath the thousand stars of cloudless night, the little bark hurried -on, feeling the freshening of the wind; her larboard beam was deep in -the water, and close at the deck's leeward edge, Meiler and his intended -victim paced. One thoughtless boy, high among the shrouds, whistled in -answer to the winds. There was at once solitude and activity in the -scene. "This is the hour," thought Richard; "surely if man's sinful -heart was ever touched with remorse, this man's may now. God's throne, -visible in all its beauty above us--beneath, around, the awful roaring -waters, from which we lately so miraculously escaped." He began to speak -of England, of his mother, of the hopes held out to him by his -companion; eager in his desire of winning a traitor to the cause of -truth, he half forgot himself, and then started to find that, ever as he -walked, his companion got him nearer to the brink of the slant, slippery -deck. Seized with horror at this manifestation of the worst designs, yet -scarcely daring to credit his suspicions, he suddenly stopped, seizing a -rope that swung near, and steadying himself by winding his arm round it, -an act that escaped his enemy's observation, for, as he did it, he -spoke: "Do you know, Father Meiler, that I suspect and fear you? I am an -inexperienced youth, and if I am wrong, forgive me; but you have changed -towards me of late, from the kind friend you once were. Strange doubts -have been whispered: do you reply to them. Are you my friend, or are you -a treacherous spy?--the agent of the noble Yorkists, or Henry Tudor's -hireling murderer?" - -As he spoke, the friar drew still nearer, and the prince recoiled -farther from him: he got on the sheer edge of the deck. "Rash boy!" -cried Trangmar, "know that I am no hireling: sacred vengeance pricks me -on! Son of the murderer! tell me, where is sainted Henry? where Prince -Edward? where all the noble martyrs of his cause? where my brave and -lost sons? There, even where thou shalt be: quick, look back, thy grave -yawns for thee!" - -With the words he threw himself furiously on the prince: the stripling -sprung back with all the force lent him by the rope he held, and pushed -at the same time Trangmar violently from him, as he cried aloud on the -sailors, "What, ho! treason is among us!" A heavy splash of the falling -Meiler answered his call: the strong man was cast down in his very -pride; the waters divided, and sucked him in. In a moment the crew were -on deck; Trangmar's hireling, scared, cried out, "He is King Henry's -prisoner! seize him!" thus increasing the confusion. The friar, his -garments floating, now appeared struggling among the waves; a rope was -thrown to him; the vessel sped on meanwhile, and it fell far short; -Richard, horror-struck, would have leapt in to save his enemy; but the -time was gone. One loud shriek burst on the ear of night, and all was -still; Trangmar, his misery, his vengeance, and his crimes, lay buried -in the ocean's hoary caves. - -What explanation could follow this tremendous incident? The prince spoke -of his life attacked; the men of the warrant their master had for his -seizure: what was his crime none knew. "That will I declare freely," -said the royal youth; "that unhappy man has sealed my truth by his -death. In my childhood I was nurtured in a palace, and bore the title of -the duke of York. Edward the Fourth was my father, Edward the Fifth my -brother." - -"Why this is foulest treason," cried the trembling captain. - -"Ay, or fairest loyalty; speak, my friends; which of you will lay hands -on your liege, on Richard the Fourth of England?" - -The reckless and ignorant sailors, riotously and with one acclaim, swore -to die for him; but their commander shuddered at the peril that beset -him: while his men were hanging round their idolized prince, he retired -with his mate to lament the ugly chance of Trangmar's death, and to -express terror at the very name of York. If the captain was a -coward-friend of Tudor, the mate was a sturdy Lancastrian; he -recommended his chief to seize the boy, and convey him a welcome gift to -his sovereign; the clamours of the delighted crew showed that this was -vain advice. He had said to them, with all the ingenuousness of youth, -"My life is in your hands, and I know that it is safe." Yet, when they -spoke of seizing their unwilling commander, and of delivering the vessel -in his hands, he said, "My good friends, I will not make lawless acts -the stepping-stones to my throne; it is grief enough for me that my -young hands have unwittingly destroyed the life of one who, not as an -armed knight, but in holy garb set himself against me. I myself will -persuade your captain to do me all the service I require." - -This poor man was willing enough to hear what he called reason; at first -he would fain have entreated Richard to suffer himself to be carried a -prisoner to England; and, when he found his discourse vain, he yielded -timid obedience to York's wishes, in spite of the lowering brow of his -mate: thus, at least, his cargo would be saved, and his crew preserved -from mutiny. Richard simply requested to be set on shore in Cork -harbour, suddenly relinquishing every thought of England, now that he -saw the treachery that awaited him there, and recurring to the former -plans of Lord Barry. In Ireland, in the county of the Desmonds, he -should find friends, adherents, almost prepared for his arrival; and -there also, if Barry forgot not his promise, this stanch partisan would -speedily join him: the captain gladly assented to any project that did -not force him to land this dangerous pretender on the English shores. - -For one week they ran before the wind; and Ireland, far and low, was -discernible on the horizon; the dear land of promise to the weary exile, -the betrayed, but high-hearted prince: during this short navigation it -had required all his fortitude to banish from his mind the image of the -friar struggling in the waves, of a man precipitated in the very act of -crime "unhouseled, unanointed, unannealed," into the life-quenching -waters. Besides all other expectations, Richard longed to get on shore, -that in a confessional he might lift this burthen of involuntary guilt -from his soul. - -At length the iron-bound coast was right ahead; the ponderous rocky jaws -of the creek were open, and they sailed up Passage, past beautiful and -woody islands, under forest-crowned hills, till they cast anchor before -the picturesque and hill-set city of Cork, whose quay was crowded by -multitudes, gazing on the newly-arrived vessel. - -The duke of York stood on the prow of his skiff, reflecting on the first -step he ought to take. He knew little of Ireland, and that little had -been gleaned from Lord Barry: he heard from him of its warlike chiefs, -its uncivilized septs, and English settlers, scarce less wild, and quite -as warlike as its aboriginal inhabitants. He called to mind the names -most familiar to him--the earl of Kildare, abettor of Simnel, pardoned -by Henry, and continued in his office of Lord Deputy; the earl of -Desmond, whom Lord Barry had particularly interested in his favour, who -affected the state of an Irish chieftain, or rather king, and who, in -his remote abode in Munster, disdained to attend the Dublin parliament, -or to make one of the lawful governors of the land. Other names he -remembered of less note: Plunket, the lord chief justice, whom, with -infinite reluctance, Henry had pardoned; Keating, prior of Kilmainham, -who had been constable of Dublin Castle, and who, ejected from his -office after the battle of Stoke, had saved himself by flight, and was -now concealed in an abbey near Buttevant. Much, however, of what he had -heard, escaped his memory; and he stood on the threshold of this unknown -land, vainly seeking in his recollection for the dim and shadowy forms -which were to guide him in the new and unexplored world before him. -Another reflection also presented itself: Lord Barry had quitted Ireland -the year before, and communication there had been none since then--Was -Kildare still deputy? did incursions of the natives, or turbulence among -themselves, occupy the lords of the Pale? Should he find a band of -nobles and their followers ready to assist him, or the motley population -of a barbarous wild, whose sole ideas were internal struggles for power, -whose watchwords for enterprise were names and things in which he had no -portion? - -In a hurried manner, York resolved on his plan of action. He had, on -their approach to land, arrayed himself in gay and rich apparel. The -Spain from which he came was parent of this act: there embroidery, -housings inlaid with gold, and arms encrusted with jewels, formed the -pride of the high-born cavaliers. He stood prepared to land; he thanked -the captain for his enforced courtesy; he held out his hand to the crew, -who gathered round him with their prayers and blessings. "My own!" was -his first thought as he set his foot on shore: "Hail, realm of my -fathers! Hear the vow of the fugitive who claims your sway! Justice, -mercy, and paternal love, are the gifts with which I will repay your -obedience to my call; your submission to my rule." - -"Heave the anchor, and away!" thus spoke the captain of the craft he had -left. - -"For England; to warn our king of this springal's insolent presumption," -said the mate. - -"To any quarter of the wide world, save England," replied the timid -captain: "Would you have me run my neck into the noose for not having -clapped under hatches this mercurial spark? Master mate, learn from an -old sailor, that the best you can do with kings and grandees, is to have -nought to do with them." - - - - -CHAPTER XV - -THE LANDING AT CORK - - - Then Paridell, in whom a kindly pride - Of gracious speech, and skill his words to frame - Abounded, being glad of so fit tide - Him to commend to them, thus spake, of all well eyed. - - SPENSER. - - -Cork was an asylum for civilization in the centre of a savage district. -The cautious burghers, made wealthy by trade, and ever in fear of -incursions from the surrounding septs, kept the strictest guard upon -their city, as if they had a continual siege laid to it. They forbade -all intercourse or intermarriage between those within and without the -walls, till every citizen became linked together by some sort of -kindred. It is true, that the country around was peopled to a great -degree by English lords; but they were the degenerate English, as they -were styled, who imitated the state and independence of the native -chiefs. Such was the earl of Desmond, of the family of the Geraldines, -who ruled as a king over Munster, and with whom the Barrys, the De -Courcys, the Barrets, and the Mac Carthys, Mac Swineys, and other native -chiefs, were connected by marriage, or struggling with him for -"chieferie" in the mutable chance of war. - -There was no appearance of timidity in the frank and assured aspect of -the unfriended adventurer, as, without entering the city, but merely -passing through its suburbs, he proceeded to the cathedral church. It -was twelve o'clock on the 24th of June, the feast of Saint John the -Baptist; and high mass was celebrating. The duke of York entered the -church--his soul was filled with pious gratitude for his escape from -the dangers of the sea, and the craft of his enemies; and, as he knelt, -he made a vow to his sainted patroness, the Virgin, to erect a church on -the height which first met his eyes as he approached shore, and to endow -a foundation of Franciscans--partly, because of all monkish orders they -chiefly venerate her name, partly to atone for his involuntary crime in -the death of Meiler Trangmar, who wore that habit. The appearance of -this young, silken-suited, and handsome cavalier, drew the eyes of -Erin's blue-eyed daughters:--the men whispered together that he must be -some Spanish grandee or English noble; but wherefore, unannounced and -unattended, he came and knelt in their church before the shrine of Saint -Finbar, was matter of vague conjecture. The congregation passed out; -then, impelled by curiosity, formed a wide semicircle round the gates of -the cathedral, watching the motions of the graceful stranger. Master -John Lavallan, the mayor, John O'Water, the wealthiest citizen, and -former mayor of the town, and other rich burghers, stood close to the -Round Tower within the walls of the Garth, in expectation of being -addressed by their distinguished visitor. The duke of York cast a quick -glance around; and then, as the mayor advanced, the youth stepped -forward to meet him. The citizen, as one habituated to exercise -hospitality, bade the knight welcome, beseeching him to honour his abode -with his presence, and to command his services. The duke frankly -accepted the invitation, and descended with the mayor into the main -street, where that officer resided; and here again Richard was made -welcome to the city of Cork. - -It was a gala day at the mayor's; and now, at the dinner hour, twelve -o'clock, the long tables groaned under the weight of viands, and round -the hospitable board were seated the principal families of the town. No -questions were asked the visitor--his golden spurs bespoke his -honourable rank; he was placed at the right hand of Lavallan; and, while -the clatter of knives and trenchers went on, he was only remarked by the -younger guests, who gazed, even to the injury of their appetites, on his -burnished ringlets, his fair open brow, his bright blue eyes, and smile -of courteous affability: but time went on; the dishes were carried away, -the goblets placed; when the mayor, rising, drank welcome to the -stranger, and asked, if no reason forbade him to reply, his name and -mission. Already Richard had become acquainted with most of the -countenances of his entertainers--that is, of those nearest him; for, -far through the long hall, almost out of sight, the table extended, -crowded by city retainers, and a few of the mere "Irishry," whose long -hair and loose saffron-coloured mantles contrasted with the doublet, -hose, and trimmed locks of the townsmen. Those near him bore the latter -character, though their vivacious glances and quick gestures were more -akin to the inhabitants of the south, among whom he had been accustomed -to live, than to the steady, dull demeanour of English traders. - -When Lavallan drank to the stranger, every eye turned to the object of -the toast, Richard arose--his plumed cap was doffed; his shining hair, -parted on his brow, clustered round his throat; his sunny countenance -was full of confidence and courage--"Sir Mayor," he said, "my most kind -entertainer, and you, my friends, men of Cork, may the grateful thanks -of the homeless adventurer be as kindly received by you, as they are -gladly paid by him. Who am I? you ask. Wherefore do I come? My name is -the best in the land; my coming is to claim your aid, to elevate it to -its rightful place of pride and honour. Were I craven-hearted, or you -less generous, I might dread to declare myself; but fear never entered -the heart of a Plantagenet; and, when, unreservedly, I place my life in -your hands, will you betray the trust?" - -A murmur quickly hushed, the sound of suppressed emotion, as the winds -of thought passed over the minds of those around, for an instant -interrupted the speaker-- - -"Neither is my name nor lineage unknown to you," he continued: "you -honour both and have obeyed them; will you refuse to submit to me, their -descendant and representative? Did you not vow fealty to Richard duke of -York, who, driven from his own England by false Lancaster, found refuge -and succour here? Was not Clarence your ruler, and Edward of England -monarch of your isle? In the name of these, in the name of the White -Rose and Mortimer and Plantagenet--I, the son of Edward the Fourth, the -victim of my uncle Gloster's treachery, and low-born Tudor's usurpation; -I, named in my childhood duke of York and lord of Ireland, now, if -rightly styled, Richard the Fourth of England, demand my lieges of Cork -to acknowledge my rights, to rise in my cause. I, a prince and an -outcast, place myself in their hands, through them to be a fugitive for -ever, or a king." - -Had Richard planted this scene, with deep insight into the dispositions -of those with whom he had to deal, he could not have projected a better -arrangement. They had learned of his existence from Lord Barry, and were -prepossessed in his favour. Their fiery hearts were lighted at the -word--his name, with a thousand blessings attached to it, rang through -the hall: by means of the servants and followers at the lower end of the -table, it reached the outer apartments and avenues of the mansion-house; -while, with a kind of exalted rapture, the mayor and his guests hung -over their new-found prince. The citizens began to gather without, and -to call aloud for the White Rose of England; the day was finished in -festal tumult; the mayor led forth his princely visitor--he was hailed -lord of Ireland with one acclaim. Some elders, who had known his -grandfather, or had been followers of the duke of Clarence, and others -who, visiting England, had seen Edward the Fourth were struck by the -likeness he bore to his progenitors, and enthusiastically touched for -his truth. To see and hear the mad exultation of the moment, an -uninterested spectator must have thought that a messenger from heaven -had arrived, to bestow liberty on the groaning slaves of some -blood-nurtured tyrant. The duke was installed in the castle with -princely state, a town-guard appointed him, and the night was far -advanced, before he was permitted to repose, and wondering to collect -his thoughts, and feel himself an acknowledged sovereign in the first -town of his alienated dominions in which he had set foot. - -The morrow brought no diminution to the zeal of his partizans. The first -measure of the day was his attending high mass, surrounded by the mayor -and citizens; when the holy ceremony was finished, he took oath on the -Gospels, that he was the man he had declared himself. The eager people -clamoured for him to assume the name of king; but that he said he would -win with his good sword, nor, till he possessed its appanage, assume a -barren title: he was the duke of York, until at Westminster he received -his paternal crown. - -From the church the mayor and citizens attended his council at the -Castle, and here Richard more fully explained to them the projects of -Lord Barry, his hopes from the earl of Desmond, and his wish to attach -to his cause the earl of Kildare, Lord Deputy of Ireland. He learned the -changes that had taken place but a month or two before: some suspicion -having entered Henry's mind, the earl of Kildare had been dismissed from -his high office, and Walter, archbishop of Dublin, substituted in his -room. The baron of Portlester, who had been treasurer for forty years, -was obliged to resign in favour of a Butler, hereditary and bitter -enemies of the Geraldines, while the exaltation of Plunket, from the -office of chief justice to that of chancellor, only proved that he was -entirely gained over to the Lancastrians. The acts of this new -government tended to mortify the late deputy, who bore ill his own -degradation and the triumph of his enemies. On various occasions brawls -had ensued; and when Sir James of Ormond wished to place a creature of -his own in a castle over which Kildare claimed seignory, the latter -defended it by arms. This turbulent state of things promised fair for -the adventurer: and his first deed was to despatch letters to the earls -of Kildare and Desmond, soliciting their assistance, setting forth the -ready zeal of the city of Cork, and the promises and attachment of Lord -Barry, whom he daily expected to see arrive. - -In all that the English prince did, nothing spoke louder for him to his -Irish friends than his fearless confidence, and artless, yet not -undignified reliance on their counsels. He had gained a warm friend in -the former mayor, O'Water, a man reverenced throughout Munster. In his -youth he had served in the army, and his spirit was hardly yet tamed to -the pacific habits of a burgher. He was sixty years of age; but he bore -his years lightly, and remembered but as the occurrence of yesterday the -time when the duke of York, grandfather of young Richard, was lord of -Ireland. He had attached himself particularly to his person, and -followed him to England, returning to his own country after his patron's -death. He saw in the descendant of his chief, his rightful lord, to -refuse obedience to whom was a sin against the laws of God and man. He -fervently swore never to desert him, and despatched emissaries on all -sides to spread the tidings of his arrival, and excite the partizans of -the White Rose to his active assistance. - -When the letters were written, council held, and a course of conduct -determined on, still the caravel of De Faro did not appear, and Richard -grew weary of his state of indolence. A week passed; and during the -second, at the conclusion of which, the answers from the noble -chieftains were expected, the duke of York announced to O'Water his -intention of visiting Buttevant, the seat of Lord Barry, where, in the -Abbey of Ballybeg, he hoped to find the abbot of Kilmainham; a man who, -in exile and poverty, exercised great influence over the Irish Yorkists. -He had been insolent and cruel towards his enemies when in power, but he -was endowed with popular qualities for his followers; while among his -friends, he was valued for his boldness, sagacity, and undaunted -courage. His career had been turbulent; he had supported himself against -his sovereign by acts of lawless violence, till, obliged at last to -yield, he found himself, in his old age, a poor brother in a distant -monastery, obliged, for safety's sake, to veil his lofty pretensions in -the obscurest guise. Lord Barry had offered him an asylum in the Abbey -of Ballybeg; venerating, with the blind admiration of a soldier, the -learning and craft of the priest, conjoined, as it here was, to -dauntless courage. O'Water, on the contrary, disliked the subtle prior, -and endeavoured to dissuade the prince from the journey; but he spurned -the city laziness, and in spite of his friends' entreaties, and their -fears for his safety among the followers of Desmond, Barry, and -Macarthy, departed on his intended visit, attended only by Hubert Burgh, -the foster-brother of Lord Barry. - -The way from Cork to Buttevant was not far, but more desolate than -Granada during the Moorish war. Summer and the sun adorned that smiling -land, casting a verdurous mantle over her deep wounds, painting the rude -visage of war with brilliant hues. The forests, dark hills, and -uncultivated wilds of Munster, showed nakedly the deep traces of the -sovereign ill. But lately this neighbourhood had been the seat of war -between the earl of Desmond and the chief of the Macarthys; the latter -had fallen in battle, but his brother and Tanist had succeeded to him, -and was already gathering together his sept for a more desperate -struggle. Never in Spain had Richard seen such wild, strange figures, as -crossed his path during this short journey; whether it were the native -kern, wrapt in his mantle, disguised by his _glibb_, or long shaggy hair, -or the adherents of Desmond, who affected the state of an Irish -chieftain, whose leather-quilted jackets, long saffron-coloured shirts, -cloaks and shaggy moustachios, riding without stirrups, bearing spears, -formed objects not less uncouth and savage; the very women bore a -similar appearance of incivilization. And as a comment on such text, -Burgh told, as they rode, the history of the late wars of Desmond with -O'Carrol, prince of Ely, and with Macarthy; and, a still more dread -tale, the incursion of Murrogh-en-Ranagh, an O'Brien; who, rising first -in Clare, spread through the country, overrunning Munster, and bold from -success, advanced into eastern Leinster. All these accounts of battle -were interwoven with tales of feuds, handed down from father to son, of -the natural hatred of the native chiefs to the lords of English origin; -interspersed with such strange wild tales, where the avowedly -supernatural was intermingled with deeds of superhuman prowess and -barbarity, that the English born prince, nursling of romantic Spain, -felt as if he were transplanted into a new planet, and stopped the -speaker at each moment, to obtain some clearer explanation, or to have -interpreted words he had never before heard, the names of customs and -things found only in this land. - -Thus entertained, the way to Buttevant, or as the Irish called it, -Kilnemullagh, which was about twenty miles, seemed short. One thing was -evident in all these details, that it was easy to rouse the English -lords in Ireland to any act of turbulence and revolt; but that it would -be difficult nevertheless for their ill-armed followers, and -undisciplined bands, to compete with the soldiery of England. - - - - -CHAPTER XVI - -NEW FRIENDS - - - Sisters, I from Ireland came. - - COLERIDGE. - - -The duke, immediately on his arrival at the Castle of Buttevant, -despatched Hubert Burgh to the prior of Kilmainham, with a message from -himself and a token from Lord Barry, announcing his intention of -visiting him at the abbey the next day. But Keating feared thus to draw -the eyes of some enemy upon him, and appointed a meeting in a secluded -dell, near the bank of the Mullagh, or Awbeg, the river which Spenser -loves to praise. Early in the morning Richard repaired alone to this -rural presence-chamber, and found Keating already there. Hearing of the -priest's haughty pride, Richard, with a sensation of disgust, had -figured a man something like the wretched Trangmar, strong of limb, and -with a ferocious expression of countenance. Keating appeared in his -monk's humble guise; his light eyes were still lively, though his hair -and beard were snowy white; his brow was deeply delved by a thousand -lines; his person short, slender, bent; his step infirm; his voice was -silver-toned; he was pale, and his aspect in its lower part sweetly -serene. Richard looked with wonder on this white, withered leaf--a -comparison suggested by his frail tenuity; and again he almost quailed -before the eager scrutiny of the prior's eye. A merchant at a Moorish -mart he had seen thus scan a slave he was about to purchase. At length, -with a look of great satisfaction, the monk said, "This fits exactly; -our friends will not hesitate to serve so goodly a gentleman. The -daughter of York might in sooth mistake thee for a near kinsman. Thou -comest from Portugal, yet that could not have been thy native place?" - -Richard started. This was the first time he had heard an expression of -doubt of his veracity. How could he reply? His word alone must support -his honour; his sword must remain sheathed, for his injurer was a -priest. Keating caught his haughty glance, and perceived his mistake. It -was with an effort that he altered his manner, for he exchanged with -pain a puppet subject to his will, for a man (prince or pretender) who -had objects and a state of his own to maintain. "Pardon the obscure -vision of an old man," he said; "my eyes were indeed dim not to see the -true marks of a Plantagenet in your appearance. I was but a boy when -your princely grandsire fell; nor has it been my fortune to visit -England or to see your royal father. But the duke of Clarence honoured -me with his friendship, and your cousin De la Poole acknowledged my zeal -in furthering his projects. I am now neither prior nor commander; but, -poor monk as I am become, I beseech your highness to command my -services." - -This swift change of language but ill satisfied the pride of Richard, -and in reply, he briefly recounted such facts as established his right -to the name he claimed. The noble artlessness of his tone conquered the -priest's lurking suspicions: in a more earnest manner he besought the -duke's pardon; and a cordial intercourse was established between them. - -The place where they met was secluded and wild; a bower of trees hid it -from the view of the river, and an abrupt rock sheltered it behind. It -was apparently accessible by the river only, and it was by its bank that -the duke and prior had arrived. Nothing could equal the picturesque -solitude around them. The waving of the leafy boughs, the scream of the -water-fowl, or the splashing they made as they sprung from among the -sedge and darted across the stream, alone interrupted the voiceless -calm; yet, at every moment, in his speech, Keating stopped, as if -listening, and cast his keen eyes, which he libelled much in calling -dim, up the steep crag, as if among its herbage and shrubs some dreaded -spy or expected messenger might appear. Then again he apologized to the -duke for having selected this wild spot for their interview. A price, he -observed, had been set upon his head, and his only safety lay in -perpetual watchfulness and never-sleeping caution. "My zeal in your -highness's cause," he added, with a courtier smile, "cannot be deemed a -strange frenzy, since your success will not only assure my restoration -to the dignity of which I have been unjustly deprived, but prevent an -old man from perpetually dreaming of the sword of the slayer, or the -more frightful executioner's axe." - -Again the prior fixed his eyes on a fissure in the rock, adding, "I had -appointed to meet one in this place before your message was communicated -to me--and in good time; for, methinks, the object of your visit may be -furthered by the intelligence I hope soon to receive. Your highness must -have heard at Cork of the war carried on by the great earl of Desmond -and a native sept of this region. Macarthy, their chief, fell during the -struggle, but his successor and Tanist mustered his broken forces to -avenge him. The earl is impatient of this resistance, for his presence -is necessary in Thomond to drive the O'Carrols from that district. At -his invitation he and Macarthy meet this day to parley but a few miles -hence. I was to have made one among them, but a boding raven told me -that danger was abroad." - -The tidings of the near presence of the earl of Desmond were unexpected, -and most welcome to the duke. He immediately resolved not to lose the -golden hour. He eagerly asked where the meeting was to be, and how -speedily he might reach the spot. - -As he was thus earnestly expressing his desire, a slight rustling caught -the prior's ear: he looked up; a human form hovered as in mid-air, -scarcely, as it were, alighting on the precipitous rock; quickly, but -cautiously, it threaded its steep and tortuous path. A large mantle was -wrapt round the mountaineer, a large white kerchief enveloped the head -in the manner of a turban, yet the prince caught the outline of a female -figure, which soon descended to the little plain on which they stood, -and advanced towards them; she was evidently very young, but -weather-worn even in youth: her wild, picturesque dress concealed the -proportions of her form; her large white sleeves hid her arm, but the -emaciated appearance of her face and hands, and bare feet, struck -Richard with pity. She seemed astonished at seeing him, and spoke to his -companion in the language of the country, which he did not understand: -the prior's face darkened as she spoke: there dwelt on it a mixture of -disappointment and ferocity, of which it could hardly have been deemed -capable by one who had hitherto seen it only bland and smiling; swiftly, -however, he dismissed these indications of passion, and addressed the -prince calmly. "I cannot go," he said; "my time is still to be deferred, -though it shall not be for ever lost. How does your courage hold? if you -are not afraid of going alone with a guide whose very dialect is a -mystery to you, through a country torn by opposing factions; if you do -not fear presenting yourself friendless to a haughty noble, who deems -himself sovereign in this domain, I will contrive that, ere four hours -elapse, you shall find yourself in Desmond's presence." - -"Fear!" the prince repeated. His eyes glanced with some contempt on the -priest's cowl, which alone could suggest pardon for such a thought; yet -he checked himself from any angry disclaiming of the accusation, as he -said, "Whatever in my presumption I may hope, sage forethought tells me -that I walk a road strewn with a thousand dangers, leading, it may be, -to an early death. Not for that will I deviate one furlong from my path. -Sir Prior, where is the guide you promise?" - -Keating, after a few minutes' reflection, instead of replying, conversed -again with the girl, and then addressed the duke: "This hapless child is -a victim of the wars; she was born far hence, and is the last surviving -of my foster-sister's once blooming family. Her mother saved my life. -This child, barefoot as she is, guided me hither. Is not a Keating -fallen, when he cannot give succour to an offspring of his fosterer's -house? And she, poor girl! she has walked far for me to-day; but she -will not slacken in her toil when I bid her proceed. She shall be your -guide, and your grace may rely upon her; the dog you fed from its birth -were less faithful. Now, at the hour of noon, Desmond meets Macarthy of -Muskerry, on Ballahourah. But for the bogs and streams that cross your -path, it is not far; at the worst, you can reach Mallow, where the earl -will lie to-night. It is best not to delay; for, if there is peace in -Munster, very speedily Desmond will be on his way to Thomond." - -This was a fresh spur to Richard. He accepted the proffered guide, who -listened attentively to Keating's instructions given in her native -tongue. He followed the girl but a short distance ere he looked back; -the prior was gone; the solitude of the wild crags and shrubs alone met -his eye. Meanwhile his companion stepped forward, motioning him to -follow. They plunged into the brake; the sun rose high; the birds winged -their glad flight among the trees. Now toiling up a steep, now wading a -stream, now entangled in a thicket, now stepping lightly over boggy -earth: now meditating on Andalusia, and now wondering at his present -position, Richard followed his swift and silent guide through the wild -country between Buttevant and Mallow. - -Already the meeting between the earl of Desmond and Macarthy, the chief -of Muskerry, was at an end. They parted with fair words and exasperated -thoughts. The native lord could ill brook the settler's haughty -assumptions; nor Geraldine endure the obstinate pride of the conquered -native. Still their relative positions enforced a peace. - -They had separated, and after a hasty repast, spread on the heathy side -of Ballahourah, the earl proceeded towards Mallow. He was surrounded by -warriors, who all claimed the Geraldine name, and who variously -distinguished themselves as the White Knight, the Knight of Kerry, and -the Knight of the Glen. There was Lord Fermoy, his father-in-law, and -others of the Roches. Nor did all the native chiefs absent themselves. -One sister of the earl had married Macarthy Reagh; another, an O'Brien, -whose daughter had intermarried with an O'Carrol--all this in defiance -of the English law, which forbade such alliances, through which, the -father of the present earl was beheaded in the year 1467. Their antique -costume, tight truise, saffron tunics, and flowing robes, distinguished -them from the Saxons; yet these had not followed the fashions of the -times, but dressed in the garb used by the courtiers of Edward the -Third. - -Maurice, tenth earl of Desmond, was brave even to a proverb. He loved -war, and deemed himself rather king of Desmond, than a chief of English -descent. To extend and secure his possessions, rendering them at once -independent of his sovereign and of the native chieftains, was the aim -of his life. He now meditated the invasion of Thomond; but Macarthy's -angry demeanour showed that he must not be left unchecked in his rear. -"Where is my cousin Barry--where the lord of Buttevant--the chief of -the Barrymores? Flying before a slip of parchment indited in far London, -as if my sword held not better sway in these regions than a Parliament -attainder! Were he here, the O'Carrolls should hear the thunder of my -arms ere this moon waned. Muskerry could make no gathering in the vales, -while Barry sat on his perch at Buttevant." - -The earl had time to waste in thought, as he was borne along--at the -age of fifteen, pushing rashly forward in an assault, he received a -wound in his leg, which lamed him for life, so that he was carried about -in a litter, and went by the name of Claudus; yet he was not deemed the -less an experienced and gallant warrior. With the virtues of a chieftain -he possessed the defects: Munster was his world; his universe was -peopled by the Geraldines, the Macarthys, the Barrys, Donegans, -Barrets, Roches, O'Briens, O'Carrolls, and the rest; he disdained his -noble brethren of the pale. He considered it a mark of distinction to be -exempted by a law from attendance of Parliament and the government of -the land; he saw in the king of England, not his monarch, but the -partizan of Ormond, and therefore an enemy. This, and an ancient -alliance, linked him to the cause of the English outcast prince, who -solicited his aid; he had replied favourably to his request; but his -interests and the conquest of a kingdom must be delayed, while he -subdued the half-naked septs who insulted his power. - -While thus busied, reflecting upon the events of the day, the earl sat -silent and thoughtful. Suddenly, at a turn in the road, he called on his -followers to stop; his eye lighted up,--he saw two horsemen swiftly -approaching--Lord Barry was the foremost rider. Forgetting his lameness -in his joy, the noble warrior almost threw himself from the litter, as -he cried, "Jesu speed you, my loving cousin! spur on! spur on! remember -your badge, _Boutez en avant_! No enemy ever turned his back on your sword -to avoid, so eagerly as my arms will open to receive you! Were you -bound for Mallow?" - -"No, my noble coz," replied Lord Barry, "I am for Kilnemullagh; an -eaglet I have nursed has winged its way thither, and I fear may suffer -injury in my absence; for he is young, and his pinions all untried." - -"Leave him to his fate, my lord," said the earl; "if he be a faithful -bird he will find his way back to his fosterer; meanwhile the king of -eagles, thy cousin Desmond himself, has need of thee." - -"One word, dear Maurice, will explain the greater duty that I owe my -princely fowl. The White Hose of England, missing him, loses all; you, -I, each, and every one of us, are his servants and must become his -soldiers." - -"Cousin," replied Desmond, "one son of York made my father, whose soul -God assoilzie! Lord Deputy; another chopped off his head--so much for -the White Rose! Still I allow this new Lancastrian king is a bitterer -enemy: he is a friend of the Butlers, whom the fiend confound. We will -first subdue the O'Carrolls, humble the Macarthys, take Coollong from -Clan Cartie Reagh, and root out the Desies; and then, when we are kings -of Munster, in good hour let us march with your duke of York, and set -our foot on the necks of the Butlers in Dublin." - -The earl spoke with rapidity and energy; all Munster spread before Lord -Barry's mind--city, town, stronghold, held by ancestral enemies; and it -was wonderful what a change was wrought in his mind by his cousin's -eloquence, and the names of all these sons of Erin, with each of whom he -had a mortal quarrel. He agreed, therefore, to go with the earl to -Mallow that evening, postponing his visit to Buttevant till the -following day. - -Such were the wise counsels that stayed the mighty power Barry had -promised York should rise at his name to vanquish England. It was better -thus; so the royal boy thought himself, when, welcomed by Desmond at -Mallow, he looked round on kern and gallowglass, hearing a language that -was not English, viewing their strange attire and savage countenances. -"It is not thus, my England, that I will seize on you. Your own nobles -shall place the crown on my head; your people wield the sword that will -injure only our common enemy. Shall I make a Granada of my native land, -and shed Christian blood, better spilt in the cause of God against -infidel dogs?" - -When the earl of Desmond found that the prince, whom he regretted to -receive with such cold hopes, was well content, nothing doubting that -the good-will of the English would prove a better ally than the spears -of the Irish, he conceived a sudden affection for him. It was no wonder; -for the ingenuousness of untarnished youth is ineffably winning; and -here it was added to a quick wit, a grace and gallantry, that shone as a -vision of light in this wild region. - -A few days brought still greater satisfaction to all parties. An embassy -had arrived in Cork from the king of France to the duke of York to -invite him to Paris. Desmond would not relinquish his guest: he carried -him to his noble seat at Ardfinnin; and thither repaired in due time the -messengers from Charles the Eighth. - -The chief of these was our old friend Frion, besides a Frenchman called -Lucas, and two Englishmen, Stephen Poytron and John Tiler. The duke was -not well pleased with the selection of Frion; but, while this man by his -singular arts of insinuation made good his cause, Barry showed how in -two points his cause was benefitted by him. First, that having been -secretary to Henry, he knew many secrets, and was acquainted with many -circumstances that might be turned to use; and, secondly, that his very -attempt to entrap the prince was a proof that he was fully aware of who -he was; that he would prove a useful link between Perkin Warbeck, -Richard Fitzroy, and the duke of York; that he need be no more trusted -than was deemed expedient; but that meanwhile it were good to entertain -him with fair words. Richard yielded; and Frion made good use of this -standing-room by which he meant to move the world. Master of the arts of -flattery, cunning and wise, he so ingratiated himself with the duke, and -afterwards with his other friends, that by degrees he was admitted to -their confidence; and at last succeeded in his chief wish, of becoming -follower, secretary, counsellor, he called himself friend, of the -English prince. - -Urged by the earl of Desmond and Lord Barry, and sufficiently inclined -in his own mind, the duke accepted the French king's invitation, and -prepared to cross to France. On the very eve of his departure, he was -surprised by a visit from John O'Water, of Cork. This warm-hearted old -man had conceived a paternal love for the royal youth. He came to -recommend his return to Cork--his taking up a kind of regal residence -there--the not deserting a nook of his kingdom which acknowledged him. -He came too late:--already the prince was on board the vessel in -Youghall Harbour which was to convey him away. "One day you will return -to us, my lord," said O'Water; "a future day will afford us opportunity -to prove our zeal. I am old; I had given up public life: but I will take -to the oar again. John O'Water will once more be mayor of Cork, and his -right beloved Sovereign shall command him in his service." - -The good man departed; with blessings, thanks, and glad prognostics, -Desmond and Barry also took leave of him. The wind was fair, the sea -smooth: before morning they lost sight of the hospitable shores of -Ireland, and turned their thoughts from its quarrels, its chieftains, -its warm hearts, and kind reception, to the civilized land of France, -and the more influential protection promised by its king to the royal -adventurer. - - - - -CHAPTER XVII - -THE FRENCH COURT - - - Long die thy happy days before thy death; - And, after many lengthened hours of grief, - Die neither mother, wife nor England's queen! - - SHAKSPEARE. - - -The voyage of the duke of York was easy and auspicious. He repaired to -Paris; and all the exiled Yorkists, to the number of one hundred -gentlemen, instantly gathered round him, offering him their services, -and forming his court, Charles assigned him magnificent apartments in -the Tuileries, and appointed a guard of honour, under the command of the -lord of Concressault, who, as was the case with every one who approached -him, soon became warmly attached to the princely youth. Having just -concluded a peace with Britany by marrying its young duchess, the king -of France found himself in so prosperous a state at home, that he began -to look abroad for wars, and resolved to invade Naples, to whose crown -he had a claim. Meanwhile, the utmost splendour and gaiety reigned in -Paris:--balls, tournaments, and hunting-parties, succeeded one to the -other; now to celebrate a marriage--now to grace the entrance of some -noble gentleman into the order of knighthood. Charles was an amiable -prince--his queen a beautiful and spirited lady--the duke of Orleans -an accomplished and adventurous cavalier. They all vied in acts of -courtesy and kindness towards their royal visitor. There was an -innocence in Richard's vivacity, an ingenuousness in his reliance on -their protection, that particularly captivated the chivalrous Orleans -and the fair Queen Anne. How changed the scene from the wilds of Ireland -and the semi-barbarous halls of the Desmond! The courtly and soft grace -of the French, different from the dignity of the Spaniard, was -irresistible to the inexperienced youth. It seemed to him that his -standard was set up here for ever. No change could sully the fair favour -of these illustrious friends. All young as he was, to be treated as -rightful king of England by this potent government satisfied for the -moment his ambition. He and his English friends welcome everywhere, all -honoured--himself beloved--were the ascendant star in Paris. O'Maurice -of Desmond! O'Barry, and good, honest--hearted O'Water!--though still he -acknowledged your kindness, how did your uncivilized hospitalities fade -before the golden splendour of King Charles's court! - -York might by the sober be blamed for yielding to the current, for -setting his swelling canvas with the favouring wind--exulting. It was a -boy's blindness; the unsuspiciousness of inexperience; the fault lay in -the falsehood; and that was not his. - -On the sixth of October Henry the Seventh landed at Calais; on the -nineteenth he sat down before Boulogne, with sixteen hundred -men-at-arms, and twenty-five thousand infantry. Charles could not much -fear the tardy operations of his foe; but the name of an English -invasion, so associated with defeat and disaster, was portentous to the -French: besides, Charles was eager to prepare for his Italian wars. Thus -disposed, peace was easily brought about. One only obstacle presented -itself. Henry insisted that the newly-arrived duke of York should be -delivered up to him; Charles rejected the proposition with disdain: the -negotiations were suspended, and the French king grew uneasy: it was no -pleasant thing to have thirty or forty thousand of those English in the -kingdom, who had disputed it inch by inch, at the expense of so much -misery and slaughter, with his grandfather. Their king was averse to -war; but the body of the army, the nobles, and leaders, ardently desired -it: some intrigue, some accident, might light up a train to be quenched -only by seas of blood; and all this for a prince, in whom, except that -he was gallant and unfortunate, Charles took no concern. - -Richard, basking in the noon-day of regal favour, of a sudden felt a -cloud spread athwart his sunshine, and a chill take place of the glowing -warmth. The complaints of his followers, principally of Lady Brampton, -opened his eyes; for the king and princes, on the eve of betraying him, -were in manner kinder than ever. First, Queen Anne asked this lady, if -it were not the duke's intention to repair to Flanders, to claim the -support of the Lady Margaret. It seemed as if nothing was to be spoken -of but Brussels, the Low Countries, Maximilian of Austria, and, above -all, the virtues and sagacity of the illustrious widow of Charles the -Rash. In youth we are slow to understand the covert language of -duplicity. Frion was next put in requisition; he arrived in Paris after -ten days' absence, with an invitation to her so-named nephew from the -duchess of Burgundy; and when, from the disinclination of the French to -an act of glaring inhospitality, and of the English so to pain the -confiding spirit of their prince, he was still kept darkling, suddenly -one night his friend, the sire de Concressault, visited him. He brought -many sugared words from his sovereigns; but the end was, that their ever -dear friend, and most honoured guest, the duke of York, would render -them special pleasure, if, for some short time, he would visit Brussels. -The fiery spirit of youth blazed forth at a dismission, still more when -Concressault added, that horses were already prepared, and everything -arranged for his immediate departure. To qualify this insult, -Concressault could best bring his own warm, affectionate feelings. He -loved the English prince, and by the frankness of his explanations, -soothed him, while he made the wound deeper, by showing whence it was -directed, and that Henry Tudor's was the master-hand. - -This name calmed York by elevating his thoughts above the actual evil. -"It is well, my lord: I shall obey," he said; "I had forgotten myself; -and your monarch's kindness was an opiate to my unripened purpose. I -might have lived his happy truest; reigning over the English hearts -around me, forgetful, like Dan Ulysse of old in the Lotus land, of my -native isle, and rightful kingdom, I thank my enemy he has not permitted -this: his insults rouse me; his injuries place the sword in my hand; on -him fall the harm." - -The French sovereigns did all they could to salve this ill-favoured -wound. The duke of Orleans visited York at the moment of his departure; -his English partizans were loaded with presents; he quitted France; and, -on the day following, the treaty of peace with England was signed. - -Pride, indignation, and heroic resolve sustained the duke under this -insult; but violent, angry emotion was foreign to his disposition, and -only kept alive in his bosom at the expense of much suffering. How -gladly he took refuge from these painful sensations in the gratitude and -affection inspired by his noble aunt. Margaret had never seen him; the -earl of Lincoln, Lady Brampton, Lovel, Plantagenet, and others were -vouchers for his truth; still his first unsupported appearance in -Ireland, and his long absence in Spain, engendered doubts, not in her -mind, but in Maximilian and other nobles and counsellors around her. She -replied to their arguments, but they remained unconvinced; at once, -therefore, to justify her acknowledgment of him in their eyes, and to -force them to the same credence as herself, she caused his first -audience to be a solemn one, nor gave him a kinswoman's reception until -he had proved his right to it. - -He, who has heard some one falsely traduced and vilely calumniated, and, -if not quite believing the detraction, yet impelled by it to some -distaste of its object, and when that object appeared, radiant in -innocence, attended by the dignity of truth and conscious worth, at once -has yielded to the evidence of sense, will have some understanding of -what passed in the mind of Margaret of Burgundy. None could resist the -frank, blue, unclouded eye of the prince; that voice and manner, replete -with simplicity and native honour. He replied to the duchess's questions -briefly or otherwise, as appeared most pertinent, but in a way that -vanquished the most sceptical person present. The warm-hearted duchess -had hardly contained herself from the moment she beheld this youthful -image of her dead brother. As the tones of a remembered melody awaken -from sweet and bitter association unbidden tears, so did his voice, his -gestures, the very waving of his glossy curls, strike the mute chords of -many a forgotten memory. As soon as she saw belief and satisfaction in -the countenances of those around her, she no longer restrained herself; -with tears she embraced him; with a broken voice she presented her -nephew to all around. Now to heap favours on him was her dear delight: -she loved not the name of the duke of York, because, his pretensions -admitted, he was something more; but he objected firmly to the empty -title of king, and reiterated his determination to assume that only at -Westminster. So she invented other names; the prince of England, and the -White Rose of England, were those he went by; she appointed him a guard -of thirty halberdiers in addition to that formed by his English -followers. Nor did she rest here; it was her ardent wish to place him on -the throne of his father. The glad welcome she gave to the Yorkists, as, -from far exile in distant lands, or obscure hiding in England, they -repaired to her nephew's court, her discourse of succour, armies, plots -quickly raised a spirit that spread to the near island; and the rumour -of this new White Rose became a watch-word of hope for York, of fear for -Lancaster. - -The riches and magnificence of the now extinguished house of Burgundy, -almost equalled that of Paris; their cavaliers were as noble and as -gallant; their tournaments and feasts as gay and pompous. The prince -felt his situation much changed for the better. His aunt's warm -affection was more worth than Charles's politic and courteous -protection. There he was an honoured visitor, here one of the -family--his interests apparently bound up with theirs. His long-tried -friends exulted in his position; Plantagenet and Lady Brampton -congratulated each other. The English exiles, Sir George Neville and Sir -John Taylor, the one proud and discontented, the other extravagant and -poor, blessed the day which gave them dignity and station, as chief -attendants and counsellors of the noble York. One friend he missed: his -childhood's companion, his gentle nurse, his beloved Monina. - -She had accompanied Lady Brampton to Paris, when intelligence came of -Trangmar's treachery, of the falsehood of his pretensions; and, at the -same time, letters were covertly conveyed to Lady Brampton from the -dowager queen, in which mention was made of this man as a trustworthy -agent: the Yorkists desired much to fathom this mystery, and to have -some explicit elucidation from the imprisoned Elizabeth. As they -canvassed the various modes by which this might be accomplished--the -disguises that might be assumed--Monina preferred an earnest prayer, -that she might be permitted to undertake the task; a thousand -circumstances rendered this desirable--she would be entirely -unsuspected, and she was fully acquainted with the circumstances of the -case. Three days before Richard landed in France from Ireland, Monina -crossed to England--she assumed a pilgrim's garb, and without danger or -much difficulty, arrived at London from the sea-coast. - -The sudden apparition of Richard, first in Ireland, and afterwards in -Paris, was a stunning blow to Henry. No Trangmar arrived to explain the -riddle; and, in spite of his caution and his cruelty, he had been unable -to avert the event he dreaded--nothing could he do now better than to -scoff at his rival, and to oppose his statements with counter -declarations; spreading around his spies to stop at its very outset any -symptom of rebellion in England. He caused stricter watch than ever to -be set on the unfortunate Elizabeth Woodville, who had been for six -years the melancholy inmate of her convent prison. All necessity of -caution there was soon to be at an end; her health had long -declined--latterly she had wasted to a mere shadow, so that the -continuance of life in her attenuated frame appeared a miracle: a -feeling of suffocation prevented her from lying down; she sat propped by -pillows: her fleshless hands incapable of any office, her cheeks fallen -in; her eyes alone--last retreat of the spirit of life--gleamed -brightly amid the human ruin. So long had she been thus, that her death, -apparently so near, was hardly feared by those around. Henry almost -considered her danger as a new artifice, and absolutely refused her last -request, to be permitted to see her daughter and grand-children once -again. Her last hour approached; and none were near save the nuns of the -convent, who almost revered her as a saint. - -There arrived at the monastery a pilgrim, with relics collected in Araby -and Spain. She was admitted into the parlour; and one simple sister -asked for some wonder-working relic that might give health to the dying. -The pilgrim heard of Elizabeth's hopeless state: she begged to be -admitted to her presence, that she might try the virtues of a precious -balsam given her by the monks of Alcala-la-Real in Spain. Elizabeth was -informed of her request: when last she had heard of her son, he was at -Alcala--all the strength that had prolonged her life now roused itself; -with earnestness she desired that the Spanish maiden might be admitted -to her presence. It was Henry's express command that none should see -her; but she was dying; his power, so soon to be at end, might well -slacken in its rigour at the very verge of its annihilation. - -The pilgrim knelt beside the queen's couch--the nuns, commanded to -retreat, observed a miracle--the dying appeared again to live; the grim -spectre, who had planted his banner in the chamber, retreated for a -moment, as Elizabeth listened to Monina's whispered words, "Oh, for one -hour more," she cried, "I have so much to say. He comes then, my son -comes! Oh, rouse England with the tale--Sir William Stanley, you must -visit him--bid him not draw his sword against my Edward's son. Say to -the dean of St. Paul's--I feel faint," she continued, "my voice fails -me--I must leave all unsaid, save this--His sister must not doubt his -truth; Henry must not shed the blood of his wife's brother." - -"Madam," said Monina, "let me bear some token to my lady the queen." - -"A token--no words can these weak fingers trace. Yet stay; in the -missal there is a prayer which each day I addressed to heaven to -preserve my son. Bear the missal to my Elizabeth, bid her listen to you, -and believe." - -With trembling hands the young girl took the small, but splendid volume. -The queen then dismissed her with a faintly spoken blessing and a -prayer. Before night all was over--the cause of her son moved her no -more--her sorrowing heart reposed from every strife--she died. The -vase replete with so much anguish was broken--the "silver cord," that -bound together a whole life of pain, loosened. Her existence had been -woe; her death was the dearest blessing she could receive from heaven. - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII - -THE TOKEN - - - She was most beautiful to see, - Like a lady of a far countree. - - COLERIDGE. - - -While in attendance on the king at his palace of Shene, the lord -chamberlain, Sir William Stanley, was informed that a young and foreign -lady requested an audience with him. Monina was ushered in--her -extraordinary beauty--her large soft eyes--the fascinating sweetness -of her manner, at once charmed the worthy gentleman. She spoke in good -but accentuated English, and informed Sir William that she came from the -death-bed of the queen of England. - -"I know," said Stanley, "that her grace has long been ill, but ----" - -"God take her to his mercy," interrupted Monina, "she died last night." - -"Is his majesty informed of this event?" Sir William asked. - -"It is not yet noon," replied the maiden; "by that hour the messengers -from the convent will arrive. I have reasons for greater speed. I bear -the royal lady's last words to her daughter, the queen Elizabeth; you, -my lord, will favour me by procuring an immediate interview with her -majesty." - -Stanley knew the aversion the king had to any private intercourse -between Elizabeth and her mother. He informed his visitor that she must -first obtain the king's permission for this audience, which he did not -believe would be granted; but Monina, without hesitation, declared that -she would apply for it to the king, and requested the chamberlain to -introduce her. Stanley, good-natured but timid, hesitated--she would -not be denied--at last he hit upon an expedient. Henry had gone out -hawking in the park: if she would place herself at the gate on his -return, she might prefer her prayer--he would be near to insure her -being heard. - -Noontide was approached. The sport was over, and the royal party on -their return. Henry rode foremost with Morton, while his retinue -followed at a slower pace, conversing gaily about the birds; now and -then hazarding a remark on the war, so oft delayed, at last declared. -They were interrupted by the arrival of Sir William Stanley, who -communicated to the king the tidings of the dowager queen's death. Six -long years had passed since the battle of Stoke, and the commencement of -Elizabeth Woodville's imprisonment. She was forgotten at court. Many -there had never seen her; few remembered her as the reigning queen of -England. Her history was almost like a romance of the olden time; yet, -forgotten during life, her death clouded the hilarity of those who heard -it. Among those most affected by these tidings, as was natural, was her -son, the marquess of Dorset; he hastily rode up to receive from -Stanley's own lips confirmation of the news. Feeling that of late he had -almost forgotten and wholly neglected his mother, a sudden visitation of -remorse was blended with the grief that choked his voice, and blinded -his eyes with tears. Henry, who was attached to him, viewed with pity -the bitter regret of his gay, unheeding kinsman, and bade him, ere ruder -tongues proclaimed it, bear the melancholy tidings to his royal sister. -Dorset, gladly escaping from the throng, rode swiftly forward. Meanwhile -the order of the ride was disturbed. The nobles conversed earnestly -together. After a few questions, Henry remained lost in thought: eager -perhaps to know whether her secret had died with her; and viewing in her -demise one master testimony the less in favour of his young competitor. -Stanley awaited with some inquietude for the moment when they should -encounter Monina. They passed the park gate. She was not there. Henry -pursued his way, and entered the palace. Still she did not appear. - -Lord Dorset had ridden on with the speed of a man who seeks to escape -from himself. Death has more power in its mere sound, than the -enchanting touch of a wizard's rod. She was dead--how awful was that -word!--the unfailing friend, his mother! All his remissness towards her -took a monstrous form: he felt that if he had wearied Henry with -prayers, he might have extorted some mitigation of her suffering; and it -would have consoled her in her solitude, to have received the balmy -medicine of filial tenderness, which he had neglected to pay. At that -moment he would have given his marquisate to a beggar, to have purchased -the memory of one action done to soothe her woful end. The pomp of a -funeral--masses for her soul--these were small compensations, which -her arch enemy, even Henry himself, could, and probably would concede. -The voice of affection--the duteous affection of a child--he only -could have afforded; and he had withheld it. - -Monina stood at the park gate, attended by her Spanish domestic, whose -singular costume alone must attract regard. "What do you here, maiden?" -cried Dorset; "the king and his court will speedily pass this way: this -is no fitting place for you." - -"I am here," she replied, "to see and speak to your king. I come to -prefer a request in the name of one whom God take to his place; she can -disturb him no more." - -"You are from Bermondsey--from----" The words choked Dorset. Monina -continued:--"I come from the death-bed of the Lady Elizabeth of -England." - -"What demand would you make on his majesty?" said the marquess; "do you -seek a guerdon for your pains? Speak, then, to me--I am her son." - -He was about to draw forth his purse; but her look, which grew animated, -prevented him, as she said, "I come on a holy errand. The dying lady -commanded me to convey her last words to her royal daughter. I seek -permission from your king to fulfil her wish." - -Dorset was thoughtless and eager. He saw no objection that Henry could -have that his sister should have the last message from her now dead -parent; so without hesitation he told the maiden that by Henry's -permission he was now about to communicate the sad intelligence to the -queen, and that she might accompany him. - -It is thus by small invisible threads that Fate weaves the intricate web -of our lives. All hung by the slenderest tissue: had Monina seen Henry, -most assuredly he would have prevented the interview she sought, and -have used his utmost craft to discover whether the fatal secret made a -part of the queen's message. Now his sagacity, his caution, his severity -were of no avail. Monina stood in the presence of his wife. - -Six years had considerably altered Elizabeth; habitual fear had -engendered a moral timidity, which was not natural to her, for she was -the daughter of a proud race: her sweetness, her affectionate -disposition still remained; but her soul was sad, and she looked pale -and inanimate. The news of her mother's death moved her to tears. One -expression of bitter regret burst from her lips; it was mingled with -blame of her consort; and she checked herself, while she wept still more -abundantly. Dorset felt uneasy at the sight of female tears; he longed -to escape. Monina's request for a private interview came to liberate -him; he presented her to his sister, and hurried away. - -Elizabeth eagerly asked many questions concerning her mother's dying -moments. The Spanish maiden, wondering at her own success, fearful of -interruption, presented the missal, and then hastened to declare the -motive for which it was sent. She opened the jewelled clasps, and showed -the queen the prayer written in her mother's hand on a blank leaf of the -brilliantly-illuminated pages. Rapidly the enthusiastic girl detailed -the escape, the exile of the duke of York, while Elizabeth, not daring -to believe her own senses, astounded, terrified, looked with largo open -eyes on the animated countenance of her lovely visitant. Before Monina -paused, or gave time for an answer, they were interrupted by the -entrance of Sir William Stanley. He started when he saw Monina, nor did -the confused look of his queen, as she hastily closed the fatal volume, -tend to reassure him. He came to announce a visit from Henry to -Elizabeth. Frightened at what he saw, he hardly permitted a slight -interchange of greeting, but hurried Monina away, through a door hid by -the tapestry, down a narrow staircase into a garden, and then by a small -gate that opened on a court. In this court was placed the entrance to -the apartments of the pages and esquires of the king. Stanley unlocked -the gate cautiously, hesitating before he permitted his fair companion -to pass on, in the fear that some mischievous boy or prying servitor -might be there to wonder at and question wherefore he led the maiden -from the queen's garden through a door, sacred, and never opened, into -the resort of wild and dissolute youth. As he unclosed the wicket, at -its very entrance, standing so that in spite of every caution a full -view of Monina was at once afforded, stood a young man, whose -countenance bespoke him to be ever on the alert for gamesome tricks or -worse mischief. His first aspect was that of recklessness; his second -spoke of baser habits; and athwart both broke gleams now of better -feelings, now of desperate passion. He had heard the rusty bolts move, -and perceived the slow opening of the door. Knowing how sacred was the -respect enforced towards this ingress to the queen's retirement, he -stood close to discover and shame any intruder. "In good season, my Lord -Chamberlain!" he at first exclaimed, vexed to find no cause for taunt, -till perceiving his fair companion, the expression of his countenance -changed to irony, as he cried, "Whither so fast and fearfully, my good -lord? Does her grace deal in contraband; and art thou the huckster?" - -"As ill luck will have it, wild Robin Clifford!" cried Stanley, angrily. - -"Nay, we are brothers in wildness now, fair sir," retorted the other; -"and I claim my part here." - -Clifford approached Monina; but Stanley interposed. "Waste your ribaldry -on me, good knight, but spare this child. Let us pass in all speed, I -pray you." - -Monina drew back; but Clifford still followed. "Child! In good hour she -is young; and but that burning suns have made her cheek tawny, I might -call her fair. She is well worth your pains, and I praise them. Sweet -mistress, I am beholden to my Lord Chamberlain for making us friends." - -He was running on thus; but Monina, collecting her spirits, raised her -large eyes on him. His name had caught her ear; she remembered partly -having seen him on the night of their flight from Tournay; and frequent -mention had subsequently been made of him by the cousins. She -began--"Sir Robert Clifford, I know you will not harm me." - -"Thanks for that knowledge, pretty one," cried the youth; "old -grey-beards only, with frozen hearts (pardon me, Sir William!), could -injure thee; thou art sure of good from tall fellows (though in troth -tall I am not) like me." - -Sir William writhed with impatience; again and again he would have -interrupted the intruder. Monina replied:--"We have met before--when -you served him I now serve. I speak in his name: for the sake of Perkin -Warbeck, detain me no longer. Noble sir, I attend you. Sir Clifford -yields respect to the words I have spoken." - -"They are strange indeed, maiden," he replied, "and I must hear more of -this. We have met before, I now believe; and we must meet again. -Meanwhile, I will keep off bird-catchers till you and his reverence get -clear of these limed twigs. Ah! I see a gallant; I will go draw William -d'Aubigny aside while you pass forth." - -And now again Sir William proceeded on his expedition, and conducted his -gentle companion beyond the precincts of the palace. As they parted one -from the other, Monina, in a brief, energetic manner, delivered the -message of the departed queen to the good chamberlain: he was more -disconcerted than surprised, and the reflection that Clifford was a -party to the secret, added to his consternation. He felt how far he was -compromised by the introduction of Monina to the young queen; fear for a -while palsied his better feelings: he replied only by entreating her not -to remain longer in London, but to embark in all haste for France: he -then quitted her, yet again came back to ask where she sojourned in -town, and turned away a second time, as if to escape from his better -self, and from the interest he felt in King Edward's son, which impelled -him to ask a thousand questions. - -He returned to the courtyard of the palace, and found Clifford pacing -its length in deep thought. Monina's words had awakened a thousand ideas -in his unquiet bosom. Since the event to which she referred, when he -delivered Richard from Frion's hands, he had run a headlong, ruinous -course. No character can be wholly evil; and Clifford's was not -destitute of good, though overgrown and choked up by weedy vices, so -that his better nature too often served but as a spur and incentive to -folly and crime. He was generous; but that led to rapacity; since, -unable to deny himself or others, if he despoiled himself one day, on -the next he engaged in the most desperate enterprises to refill the -void. He was bold--that made him fearless in doing wrong; and to drown -the gentle spirit of humanity, which, too often for his own peace, -sprung up in his heart, he hardened himself in selfishness; then, as his -sensitive, undisciplined nature received new impressions, he was -cowardly, cruel, and remorseless. He had never forgotten the princely -boy he had saved: he turned to that recollection as to one of the few -oases of virtue in the far extended desert of ill, over which, in hours -of satiety or despondency, his sickening memory wandered. Indeed, he was -yet too young to be decidedly vicious: for at one-and-twenty a thousand -mere human impulses, unrepressed by worldly wisdom, occasion sallies of -kindly sympathy. The worst was, that Clifford was a ruined man: his -fortunes were nought, his reputation shaken on its base; he veiled, by -an appearance of hilarity and recklessness, the real despair that gnawed -at his heart, when he considered all that he might have been--the worse -than nothing that he was. Hitherto he had, to a great degree, blinded -the world, and he longed for some adventure, some commotion, either -public or private, that should refill his emptied money-bags, and paint -him fair in men's eye's: all these considerations mingled incongruously -to make him wish to know more of the outcast duke. He awaited the return -of Stanley--he learned the name of the Spanish girl: as they spoke, -both became aware that the other possessed a secret each dreaded to -avow. Clifford first dashed through the flimsy barrier of useless -discretion, and related his adventure at Lisle; meantime Sir William -broke forth in lamentation, that young Richard should have been induced -to quit the security of private life, to enter on an unequal and bloody -contest, which could only end in destruction to himself and his -partizans, while England would again be made the tomb of the Irish (the -landing of Richard at Cork was all that was then known), whom he might -allure from their woods and bogs to ravage the more gifted sister isle. -A new light was let in on Clifford at these words. Was the game already -playing--the box shaken--the die about to fall? This required his -attention, and determined his half-formed purpose of visiting, that same -night, the daughter of de Faro. - - - - -CHAPTER XIX - -CLIFFORD'S RESOLVE - - - His father was a right good lord, - His mother a lady of high degree; - But they, alas! were dead him frae, - And he loved keeping companie. - - To spend the day with merry cheer, - To drink and revel every night; - To card and dice from eve to morn, - It was, I ween, his heart's delight. - - THE HEIR OF LYNNE. - - -It had been Monina's design to return to the protection of Lady -Brampton, immediately on the fulfilment of her task in England. The -appearance of Clifford suggested other ideas. It was the duty of every -friend of York to declare his existence, and claim the allegiance of his -subjects. It might seem a hopeless enterprise for her, a young foreign -girl, to do this in the heart of the usurper's power; and yet she -fancied that she might attempt it with success. The most distant -prospect of serving her beloved friend was hailed by her with romantic -ardour; while the knowledge possessed by Stanley and Clifford promised -to render her undertaking less nugatory in its effects. Her purpose was -quickly formed. She resolved to postpone her departure, and to busy -herself in replanting, in Tudor's own city of London, the uprooted -rose-bush, parent of the spotless flower. None but a woman's fond -enthusiastic heart can tell the glow of joy, the thrilling gladness, -that diffused itself through her frame, as this plain spread itself, -clear as a map, beautiful as a champagne country viewed from some -overtopping mountain peak, to her keen mind's eye. She rode to London -occupied by these thoughts, and on her arrival, announced to the -merchant friend, at whose house she resided, her intention of remaining -in England: the vessel that was on the morrow to have conveyed her away -would bear instead a letter to Lady Brampton, explanatory of her hopes -and intentions: that very night, in the seclusion of her chamber, she -robbed some hours from sleep to write it; her enthusiasm animated her -expressions; her cheeks glowed as she wrote, for she spoke of services -she might render to him who was the idol of her thoughts; though with -his idea she consciously mingled no feeling save that of devoted -friendship and an intense desire to benefit. The weariness of spirit -that oppressed her in his absence, she did not attribute to him. - -Thus intently occupied, she was unaware of a parley in the room beneath -growing into a loud contention, till steps upon the stairs recalled her -wandering thoughts; she looked up from her task; but her gaze of inquiry -was changed to an expression of heartfelt pleasure, when Sir Robert -Clifford entered the apartment. Here then her enterprise commenced. -There was something that did not quite please her in the manners of her -visitant, but this was secondary to the great good she might achieve -through him. Her eyes danced in their own joy, as she cried, "Welcome, -gallant gentleman! you are here to my wish: you come to learn how best -you may prove your allegiance to your rightful sovereign, your zeal in -his cause." - -These words grated somewhat on the ear of a man who had hitherto worn -the Red Rose in his cap, and whose ancestors had died for Lancaster. He -did not, therefore, reply in the spirit of her wish when he said, "We -will not quarrel, pretty one, about names; sooth is it, that I came to -learn tidings of my princely gossip, and I am right glad that fortune -makes thee the tale-bearer. Prolong as thou wilt, I shall never cry hold -while my eyes serve to make true harmony to the sound of your sweet -voice." - -Much more he said in the same strain of gallantry, as he placed himself -beside the maiden, with the air of one whose soft speeches ever found -ready hearing. Monina drew back, replying, gently, "I am the partizan, -the vowed conspirator for a cause, whose adherents walk as over the -thread-broad ridge spanning an unfathomable gulph, which I have heard -spoken of by the Moors in my own Granada; I beseech you, as you are a -gentleman, reserve your fair speeches for the fortunate ladies of your -native land. I will be a beacon-light to guide you, a clue for your use -through a maze, a landmark to point your way; meanwhile, forget me as I -am; let me be a voice only." - -"As soon forget sunshine or moonshine, or the chance of play when the -dice-box rattles," thought Clifford, as she clasped her little fingers -in the fervour of her wish, and raised on him her soft, full eyes: but -though he gazed with unrepressed admiration, he said nothing as she told -the story of Duke Richard's Spanish adventures, and last of his attempt -in Ireland and the embassy sent to him by King Charles. How eloquently -and well she told his tale! speaking of him with unfeigned admiration, -nothing disguising her zealous devotion. "Sir Clifford," she continued, -"you are his friend. His cause will sanctify your sword; it will call -you from the paltry arts of peace to the nobler deeds of chivalry; it -will give you grace in the eyes of her you love, defending and asserting -your king." - -She paused, breathless from her own agitation; she looked up into his -thoughtful face and placed her hands on his; the soft touch awoke him -from a reverie in which he had lost himself. - -"Maiden," he replied, "you plead your cause even too well; you have cast -a spell upon me; so that at this moment I would readily swear to perform -your bidding, but that, when I do not see your witch's eyes, nor hear -your magic voice, another wind may blow me right to the other side. Do -not call this courtly gallantry, would by Saint Cupid that it were! for -I am not pleased to behold my sage self fined down into a woman's tool: -nor is it love;--Thor's hammer could not knock a splinter from my hard -heart, nor the Spanish sun thaw its seven-fold coat of ice. I never have -loved; I never shall: but there is some strange sorcery about you. When -I next see you, I will draw a circle round, knock my head three times on -the eastern floor, and call out 'aroint!' This twinkling light too, and -darkling hour--I must away:--sunshine shall, when next we meet, -protect me from your incantations. Will you trust yourself? At -to-morrow's noon a servitor of mine shall await you at the gate of St. -Paul's: dare you commit yourself to one in the devil's pay?" - -All this incoherent talk was spoken at intervals; he rose, sat down, -stood over her as she patiently let him run his tether's length: his -last words were said in an insinuating, and, as well as he could -command, a soft voice, as he pressed her hand in his. She crossed -herself, as she replied, "Our Lady and my cause shall protect me, while -I adventure life fearlessly for its sake! Adieu till then, sir knight: -the saints guard you, and give you better thoughts." - -The cavalier proceeded homewards, considering deeply the part he was to -act. He thought of what he might gain or lose by siding with the duke; -and he was angry to find that the image of Monina presented itself even -more vividly, than his ambitious dreams. "God assoil me," thought he. "I -will repeat a paternoster backwards, and so unsay her sorceries. She has -persuaded me, even as my own soul did before, that the best mode to mend -my broken fortunes, and better still to regild my faded escutcheon, is -to join Duke Richard. Yet, after all, this may be mere magic; for once I -will act a wise man's part, and seek old gray-beard, my Lord Fitzwater." - -Lord Fitzwater endured impatiently the harsh countenance Henry bore to -him, ever since he had permitted his young rival to escape. Some -question of right and law, which implicated a large portion of his -possessions, had, as he believed, been unjustly decided against him -through the interposition of the king, who, on every occasion, sought to -mortify and injure the old man. He lived as the disgraced and -impoverished servants of a court are wont to live, neglected and -forgotten. He had no family. He loved Robert Clifford better than any -other in the world; and he, when suffering from disappointment or loss, -when his own pain reminded him of that of others, sought his ancient -friend--too seldom to please him with a show of reverence, often enough -to keep alive his affection. - -If it were good for him to aid in the replanting of the White Rose, so -also were it well that Lord Fitzwater joined the same party. He talked -even to himself of asking his experienced friend's advice; he really -meant to endeavour to seduce him into a companionship in the projected -rebellion against Henry Tudor. In this spirit he paid his visit; nearly -three months had elapsed since his preceding one. The noble received him -coldly; so at once to break through the ceremony that fettered their -discourse, he cried, "I hear from soft Sir William Stanley, that his -majesty has again said that he will find a way to thank you for a -service you rendered him some six years ago." - -"I have long had knowledge of his grace's good memory on that point," -answered his lordship, angrily; "and yours, methinks, might remind you -of the part you played. By St. Thomas, Robin, I believe you saw further -in the game than I. But what makes the king harp on this out-worn tale?" - -"Few know--we may guess. Have you not heard him tell of a new king of -kerns and gallow-glasses? a phantom duke, whose duchy lies without the -English pale in Ireland? a ghost whose very name makes the king's knees -knock together as he sits on the throne? This ruffler, who calls himself -son of Edward the Fourth, the Prince Richard of York, escaped from the -Tower, bears a strange resemblance to the hero of Lisle, Perkin -Warbeck." - -"Would, by St. George, he were the same!" exclaimed the noble; "my -dagger should sever the entwined roses, our armed heels tread to dust -the cankered red blossom." - -"You speak treason, my lord," said Clifford; "but you speak to a friend. -Let us talk more calmly. I, the playmate of the imprisoned prince, know -that he, Perkin Warbeck, and the Irish hero are the same--this I can -prove: so much for the justice of our cause; as to the expediency,--we, -my good lord, are styled Lancastrians, but our meed therefore is small. -Tudor is a niggard king; Plantagenet, a young and generous adventurer. -What shall we say? Shall Fitzwater and Clifford place the sacred diadem -on this boy's head, and become chiefs in the land where they now pine -obscurely?" - -Lord Fitzwater fastened his keen eyes on his companion, while his hand -involuntary grasped his dagger's hilt. "I am not an old man," he cried; -"fifty-seven winters have shed no snows upon my head. I remember when, -at Tewkesbury, I smote an iron-capped yeoman who raised his battle-axe -against our young Edward, and clove the villain to the throat. I can -wield the same weapon--do the same deed now; and I am thrown like a -rusty sword among old armour--refused permission to lead my followers -to Calais. War in France!--it will never be: the word is grown obsolete -in England. Ambassadors thrive instead of valiant captains; crafty -penmanship in lieu of straightforward blows. Art sure, Robin, that this -youth is King Edward's son?" - -This was the first step Clifford took; and the eagerness of Fitzwater -quickly impelled him to spread wider the narrow circle of conspirators. -The intelligence, meanwhile, that the king of France had received in -Paris with meet honour a Yorkist pretender to the crown burst at once -over England, spreading wonder and alarm. Some few despised the -pretensions of the youth; the greater number gave to them full and -zealous credence. Many, dreading Henry's sagacity and harshness, -recoiled from every thought rebellious to him; others hailed with joy -the appearance of a rival who would shake his throne, and hold forth -hope of disturbance and change. As yet this was talk merely; nay, there -was more thought, than spoken. Men expected that some other would make -the first move, which would put in play the menacing forces mustered on -either side. Monina saw with joy the work well begun. She remembered the -queen's injunction to seek the Dean of St. Paul's: in acquiring him, -many reverent and powerful partizans were secured. Her presence added to -the interest which the mere name of Richard of York excited. Many who -disbelieved his tale were eager to behold his lovely advocate: they -listened to her syren eloquence, and ranged themselves on her side. -Clifford watched jealously the influence she acquired. When he first saw -her, she had been an untaught girl in comparison with the graceful, -self-possessed being who now moved among them. One feeling in her heart -separated her indeed from the crowd--but this was veiled, even to -herself; and she appeared courteous, benign to all. Clifford often -flattered himself that when she spoke to him her expressions were more -significant, her voice sweeter. He did not love--no, no--his heart -could not entertain the effeminate devotion; but if she loved him, could -saints in heaven reap higher glory? Prompted by vanity, and by an -unavowed impulse, he watched, hung over her, fed upon her words, and -felt that in pleasing her he was for the present repaid for the zeal he -manifested for the duke her friend. Strange he never suspected that she -was animated towards the prince by a deeper feeling. They had lived like -near relations from their childhood; that were sufficient to raise the -flame that shed so bright a light over her soul: that he was a prince, -and she the daughter of a Spanish mariner, forbade their union; and he -paid the just tribute to innocent youth, in not judging of its upright -purity by the distorted reflection his depraved heart presented, -whenever he dared turn his eyes inward. - -Foundation was thus laid in England for a momentous combination. -Intelligence from the continent was gathered with keen interest. Early -in December the army of Henry recrossed the Channel: they brought word -of the favour and esteem Richard enjoyed at the French court, of the -zeal of the exiled Yorkists, of their satisfied assurance of his truth. -Next was spread abroad the news of his reception by the dowager duchess -of Burgundy, and the brilliant figure he made at Brussels. What step -would be taken next to advance his cause? - -This was a fearful question for the actual king of England. He redoubled -his artful policy, while he wore a mask of mere indifference. The -Yorkists, not yet considerable enough to act openly, or even covertly to -combine for any great attempt, felt fresh bonds thrown over, new and -vexatious tyrannies in exercise against them. This served to unite and -animate their chiefs; they each and all resolved that, when fit -opportunity armed their prince, their swords should at the same moment -leap from the scabbards, darkly to be dyed ere resheathed, or struck -useless from their lifeless hands. The days of St. Alban's and -Tewkesbury passed in all their grim conclusions before their eyes, but -the event was worth the risk: defeated, they lost nothing; victorious, -they exchanged a narrow-hearted, suspicious, exacting tyrant for a -chivalrous and munificent sovereign; Henry Tudor, the abhorred -Lancastrian, for the grandson of York, the lineal heir of Edward the -Third--the true representative of the kings of the glorious and long -line of the Plantaganets. - - - - -CHAPTER XX - -THE CONSPIRACY - - - Like one lost in a thorny wood, - That rents the thorns, and is rent with the thorns, - Seeking a way, and straying from the way; - Not knowing how to find the open air, - But toiling desperately to find it out. - - SHAKESPEARE. - - -In the days of our earlier history, our commerce led us to have more -intercourse with Flanders than with France. That which journeyed slowly -and doubtfully from Paris came in all the heat of a first impression -from the Low Countries. A train had been laid before, which now took -light and blazed through the kingdom. The duchess of Burgundy's -reception of the duke of York, the honours rendered him at her court, -the glad gathering together of the fugitive English, gave pledge of his -truth, and promise of glorious results. Sedition began to spring up in -England on every side; even as, after a mild rain in the birth of the -year, a black, ploughed field is suddenly verdant with the young blades -of wheat. All who had, since the battles of Bosworth and of Stoke, lived -in seclusion or fear; all who from whatever reason had taken sanctuary; -men of ruined fortunes, who desired to escape bondage; came singly or in -small companies to the coast, embarked for the continent, and hastened -to the court of the dowager of Burgundy. All discontented men, who felt -themselves looked coldly on by Tudor, to whom they had yielded the -throne of their native land; many, whom it grieved and vexed to see the -world stagnate in changeless peace, desirous of novelty and glad of any -pretence that called them into activity, dashed headlong into revolt; -nor were there few, chiefly indeed among the nobility, who had lamented -the fall of the House of York, and hailed gladly this promise of its -resuscitation. The common adventurers and soldiers of fortune acted on -their single separate resolves; the noble adherents of the White Rose -drew together, that there might be plan and strength in their schemes. -They were cautious, for their enemy was crafty and powerful; they were -resolute, for they hated him. - -Out, far in the low flats bordering the river Lea, there stood, in a -marshy hollow, a straggling village, now effaced from the landscape. At -its extremity was a solid, but gloomy, square brick house, surrounded by -a moat, which the low watery soil easily filled, even to overflow; and -the superfluity was received in a deep stagnant pool at the back of the -mansion. The damp atmosphere had darkened the structure, and thrown a -mantle of green moss and speckled lichen over the bricks. Its -fantastically carved and heavy portal yawned like a black cavern's -mouth, and added to the singularly desolate appearance of the mansion. -The village was but half inhabited, and looked as struck by poverty and -discomfort. The house belonged to the Clifford family. It had been -built, it was said, in Henry the Fifth's time, when Sir Roger Clifford, -a stern old man, following his sovereign to the wars, shut up here his -beautiful young wife, so to insure her fidelity during his absence. -Among her peers and gentle companions, the Lady Clifford had doubtless -been true to the bond that linked her to her lord; but, alone in this -solitary mansion, surrounded by ill-natured peasants, pining for her -father's pleasant halls, and her girlish enjoyments, no wonder that she -found her state intolerable. Age and jealousy are ill mates for youth -and sprightliness, and suspicion easily begets that which it abhors even -to imagine. One who had loved her in her virgin days introduced himself -into her suite; the brief months of stolen happiness passed by, and the -green stagnant pool was, they said, the cold sepulchre of the betrayed -lovers. Since then, during the wars of York and Lancaster, this house -had been the resort of Clifford's followers: and, when the White Rose -became supreme, that alone of the family possessions had not been -forfeited to the crown: it was the last relic of Sir Robert's fortunes. -His few tenantry, hard pressed for rent to satisfy his necessities, had -deserted their abodes; the green acres had passed into other hands; a -band of poor cotters alone remained, and this old house haunted by the -ghosts of those who slept beneath the waveless pool, dilapidated, -disfurnished. Yet here the wild knight had held lawless carousals; -hither he sometimes fled to hide after some ruinous loss, or when he was -pursued by those who sought to avenge insults committed during drunken -brawls. - -Now it would seem some orgie was meditated: liveried servants, one or -two only bearing Clifford's coat, the rest wearing different badges, as -belonging to different masters, had arrived during the previous day. -Some of the ruined huts were pulled down to supply firewood, and the old -chimnies sent out volumes of smoke; various carts, laden, some with -eatables, fat bucks, young calves, pheasants, hares, and partridges, -piles of bread, seven hooped casks of wine, were unladen in the -mildew-stained hall. Other carts followed the first, bearing bedding, -apparel, furniture, and, it was whispered by the idling villagers, arms. -Several apartments were strewed thick with rushes, and the blazing -fires, in spite of the tattered plaster and stained ceilings, imparted -cheerfulness to the rooms. There was need of internal warmth; a thick -snow-storm fell, sheeting the low fields, which, uninterspersed by -trees, now looked doubly wild and drear. The waters of the moat and pool -were frozen; a sharp north wind whistled round the house. For the first -time for many years its poor dependents were cheered during the severe -season by the crumbs, or rather large portions of superfluous food, from -the mansion of their landlord. - -The first guest that arrived came in a close litter, attended by a -Moorish servant, and Clifford himself on horseback. Monina had forgotten -her Flemish home: bright Andalusia--its orange groves, myrtle and -geranium hedges, the evergreen forests which embowered Alcala, and the -fertile laughing Vega of Granada, formed her image of such portions of -fair earth, as, unencumbered by houses, afforded on its green and -various surface sustenance to his inhabitants. She shivered before the -northern blast, and gazed appalled on the white plain, where the -drifting snow shifted in whole showers as the wind passed over it. The -looks of the people, sallow, ill-clothed, and stupid, made her turn from -contemplating them, as she yet answered the contemptuous and plaintive -remarks of her Spanish attendant in a cheerful, deprecating voice. - -For two successive days other guests continued to arrive. They were -chiefly men of note, yet came attended by few domestics. There was Lord -Fitzwater, dissatisfied at the part of rebel he was forced, he thought, -to play; and on that account he was louder than any against King Henry. -Sir Simon Mountford was a Yorkist of the days of Edward the Fourth; he -personally hated Richmond, and looked on Richard's as a sacred cause. -Sir Thomas Thwaites had been a friend of the earl of Rivers, and gladly -seized this occasion to avenge his death, attributable to the dastardly -policy of Henry. William Daubeny was attached to the earl of Warwick, -and entered warmly into projects whose success crowned his freedom. Sir -Robert Ratcliffe, cousin of Lord Fitzwater, had lived in poor disguise -since the battle of Stoke, and gladly threw off his peasant's attire to -act the soldier again in a new war of the Roses. Sir Richard Lessey had -been chaplain to the household of Edward the Fourth. Sir William -Worseley, dean of St. Paul's, was a rare instance of gratitude outliving -the period of receiving benefits; he had been a creature, and was a -sincere mourner, of the late queen. Many others, clergy and laity, -entered the plot; a thousand different motives impelled them to one line -of conduct, and brought them to Clifford's moated house, to conspire the -overthrow of Tudor, and the exaltation of the duke of York to the -throne. One only person invited to this assembly failed. Sir William -Stanley; each voice was loud against his tergiversation, and Clifford's -whispered sarcasm cut deeper than all. - -The debates and consultations lasted three days. After infinite -confusion and uncertainty, the deliberations brought forth conclusions -that were resolved upon unanimously. First, the house they then -occupied, and the village, was to be a repository for arms, a rendezvous -for the recruits of the cause. The conspirators levied a tax on -themselves, and collected some thousand pounds to be remitted to the -prince. They regulated a system, whose object was to re-awaken -party-spirit in England, and to quicken into speedy growth the seeds of -discontent and sedition, which Henry's avarice and extortion had sown -throughout the land. Those who possessed estates and followers were to -organize troops. At last, they deputed two of their number to go over to -the duchess of Burgundy, and to carry their offers of service to her -royal nephew. The two selected for this purpose were, first, Sir Robert -Clifford, who had known the duke formerly, and who, it was supposed, -would be peculiarly welcome to him; and secondly, Master William Barley, -a man advanced in years; he had combated in nearly all the twelve -pitched and sanguinary battles that were fought between York and -Lancaster. He had been a boy-servitor to the old duke of York, a yeoman -of Edward's guard, a halberdier in Richard the Third's time. He had been -left for dead on the field of Bosworth, but came to life again to appear -at the battle of Stoke. He had risen in the world, and was a man of -substance and reputation: he was not noble; but he was rich, zealous, -and honest. - -The meeting lasted three days, and then gradually dispersed. All had -gone well. An assembly, whose individuals were noble, wealthy, or -influential, united to acknowledge Richard as their liege. Foreign -potentates declared for him; and hope was high in every bosom at all -these forerunners of success. Monina's enthusiastic heart beat with -ecstasy. Young, the innocent child of unsophisticated impulse, her -gladness showed itself in wild spirits and unconstrained expressions of -exultation. She and Clifford returned to London together, for he -contrived tacitly and unsuspected by her, to install himself as her -habitual escort. Happy in expectation of her beloved friend's success, -she talked without reserve; and the genius, which was her soul's -essence, gave power and fascination to everything she said. She spoke of -Spain, of Richard's adventures there, of her father and his voyages. The -name of Columbus was mentioned; and the New World--source of wondrous -conjecture. They spoke of the desolate waste of waters that hems in the -stable earth--of the golden isles beyond: to all these subjects Monina -brought vivid imagery, and bright painting, creations of her own quick -fancy. Clifford had never before held such discourse. In hours of -sickness or distaste, at moments of wild exhilaration, when careering on -a high-mettled horse beneath the stars of night, fanned by a strong but -balmy wind, he had conceived ideas allied to the lofty aspirations of -our nature; but he cast them off as dreams, unworthy of a wise man's -attention. The melodious voice of Monina, attuned by the divine impulses -of her spirit, as the harp of the winds by celestial breezes, raised a -commotion in his mind, such as a prophetess of Delphi felt when the -oracular vapour rose up to fill her with sacred fury. A word, a single -word, was a potent northern blast to dash aside the mist, and to -re-apparel the world in its, to him, naked, barren truth. So fervently, -and so sweetly did she speak of Richard, that Clifford's burning heart -was in a moment alight with jealousy; and the love he despised, and -thought he mastered, became his tyrant, when it allied itself to his -evil passions. He looked angry, he spoke sharply--Monina was -astonished; but his libellous insinuations fell innocuous on her pure -mind: she only felt that she feared him, half-disliked him, and, -trembling and laughing as she spoke, said, "Well, well; I will not care -for your angry mood. You are going soon: ere you return, our prince -will, by his own bright example, have taught you better things. Learn -from him diligently, sir knight, for he is all courtesy and nobleness." - -Clifford laughed bitterly, and a base resolve of lowering the -high-hearted York to his own degrading level arose in his breast: it was -all chaos there as yet; but the element, which so lately yielded to a -regular master-wind of ambition, was tossed in wild and hideous waves -by--we will not call the passion love--by jealousy, envy, and growing -hate. Short interval was allowed for the gathering of the storm; he was -soon called upon to fulfil his commission, and to accompany Master -William Barley on their important embassy to Brussels. - -The scene here presented, operated a considerable change on these -personages; arriving from England, where the name of the White Rose was -whispered, and every act in his favour was hid in the darkness of -skulking conspiracy, to his court at Brussels, where noble followers -clustered round him, and the duchess, with a woman's tact and a woman's -zeal, studied how best to give importance and splendour to his person -and pretensions. The spirit of the Yorkist party, in spite of her -natural mildness, still glowed in the bosom of this daughter of Henry -the Sixth's unhappy rival,--the child of disaster, and bride of frantic -turbulence. Opposed to the remorseless Louis the Eleventh, struggling -with the contentious insolence of the free towns of Flanders, war -appeared to her the natural destiny of man, and she yielded to its -necessity, while her gentle heart sorrowed over the misery which it -occasioned. - -She first received Clifford and Barley; and with the winning grace of a -sovereign, solicited for her nephew their affection and support: then -she presented them to him--this was the fair-haired, blue-eyed boy, -whom Clifford saved, the gentle, noble-looking being, whose simplicity -awed him; whose bright smile said, "I reign over every heart." The -knight shrunk into himself: how had he dyed his soul in a worldliness -which painted his countenance in far other colours.--He was not -deficient in grace: his dark-grey eyes, veiled by long lashes, were in -themselves exceedingly handsome: the variableness of his face, traced -with many unseasonable lines, yet gave him the power of assuming a -pleasing expression; and his person, though diminutive, was eminently -elegant, while his self-possession and easy address, covered a multitude -of faults. Now, his first resolve was to insinuate himself into -Richard's affections; to become a favourite; and consequently to lead -him blindly on the path he desired he should tread. - -The prince's spirits were high; his soul exulted in the attachment of -others, in the gratitude that animated him. Until Clifford's arrival -(Edmund was for the time in England), Sir George Neville, among his new -friends, held the first place. He was proud and reserved; but his -aristocracy was so blended with honour, his reserve with perfect -attention and deference to the feeling of others, that it was impossible -not to esteem him, and find pleasure in his society. Clifford and -Neville made harsh discord together. Richard, inexperienced in the -world, sought to harmonize that which never could accord: Neville drew -back; and Clifford's good humour, and apparent forbearance, made him -appear to advantage. - -At this period ambassadors from Henry arrived at Brussels: they had been -expected; and as a measure of precaution, Richard left that place before -their arrival, and took up his temporary abode at Audenarde, a town -which made part of the dowry of the Duchess Margaret. All the English, -save Lady Brampton, attended him to his retreat. The ambassadors, in -their audience with the archduke, demanded the expulsion of Richard from -the Low Countries, taunting the duchess with her support of the -notorious impostor, Lambert Simnel, and speaking of the duke of York as -a fresh puppet of her own making. They received the concise reply--that -the gentleman she recognized as her nephew, inhabited the territory of -her dowry, of which she was sovereign, and over which the archduke had -no jurisdiction: however, that no disturbance might occur in their -commercial relations, which would have roused all Flanders to rebellion, -Maximilian was obliged to temporize, and to promise to afford no aid to -the illustrious exile. - -Their audience accomplished, the ambassadors had only to return. They -remained but one night at Brussels: on this night. Sir Edward Poynings -and Doctor Wattam, who fulfilled this mission, were seated over a cup of -spiced wine, in discourse concerning these strange events, the Lady -Margaret's majestic demeanour, and the strangeness of her supporting -this young man, if indeed he were an impostor; when a cavalier, whose -soiled dress and heated appearance bespoke fatigue and haste, entered -the room. It was Sir Robert Clifford: they received him as liege -subjects may receive a traitor, with darkened brows and serious looks. -Clifford addressed them in his usual careless style:--"Saint Thomas -shield me, my masters; can you not afford one benison to your gossip! -Good Sir Edward, we have ruffled together, when we wore both white and -red in our caps; and does the loss of a blood-stained rag degrade me -from your friendship?" - -The bitter accusations of the knight, and the doctor's sarcasms, which -were urged in reply, awoke a haughty smile. "Oh, yes!" he cried, "ye are -true men, faithful liege subjects! I, an inheritance of the block, -already marked for quartering, because I am for the weak right, you for -the strong might. Right, I say--start not--the mother of God be my -witness! Duke Richard is Duke Richard--is lord of us all--true son of -the true king, Ned of the White Rose, whom you swore to protect, -cherish, and exalt; you, yes, even you, sir knight. Where is now your -oath? cast from heaven, to pave the hell where you will reap the meed of -your lying treachery!" - -Clifford, always insolent, was doubly so now that he felt accused of -crimes of which he did not deem himself guilty; but which would (so an -obscure presentiment told him) hereafter stain his soul. Doctor Wattam -interposed before Poyning's rising indignation: "Wherefore come you -here, Sir Robert?" he asked. "Though we are envoys of the king you have -betrayed, we may claim respect: Sir Edward, as a gentleman and a -cavalier--I as an humble servitor of the Lord Jesus, in whose name I -command you not to provoke to a bloody deed the messengers of peace." - -"Cease to taunt me with a traitor's name," replied Sir Robert, "and I -will chafe no further the kindling blood of my sometime friend. Let us -rather leave all idle recrimination. I came hither to learn how wagged -the world in London town, and, as a piece of secret intelligence, to -assure you that you wrongfully brand this stripling for an impostor. Be -he sovereign of our land or not--be it right or wrong to side with York -against Lancaster--York he is, the son of Edward and Elizabeth, so -never fail me my good sword or my ready wits!" - -The best of us are inclined to curiosity. A little fearful of each -other, the ambassadors exchanged looks, to know whether either would -accuse the other of treachery if they heard further. "Good sir," said -the doctor, gravely, "methinks we do our liege service in listening to -this gentleman. We can the better report to his majesty on what grounds -the diabolic machination is founded." - -So, over another goblet, Clifford sat telling them how Richard had long -lived as Perkin Warbeck in the neighbourhood of Tournay, under the -guardianship of Madeline de Faro; and he recounted the history of his -escape from the hands of Frion. Doctor Wattam carefully conned these -names; and then, in reply, he set forth how unworthy it was of a -Clifford to desert from Lancaster; how unlikely, even if it were true, -which, after all his tale hardly proved it was, that the outcast boy -could compete with success with the sage possessor of England's throne. -Poynings asked him how it pleased him to find himself at the same board -with a Neville and a Taylor, and hinted that an exile from his country -and a traitor to his sovereign, this was hardly the way to replenish his -purse, or to gain anew the broad lands he had lost. The service he might -do Henry by a return to his duty, gratitude and reward, were then urged -by the priest, while Clifford listened in dodged silence. His brow -became flushed; his lips worked with internal commotion. He felt, he -knew, that he hated the very man hose cause he espoused; but he was -pledged to so many, a whole array of noble and respected names came -before him.--Could he, in the eyes of these, become a false foul -traitor? He refilled, and quaffed again and again his cup; and at last -so wound himself up, as to begin, "My friends, you speak sooth, though I -may not listen; yet, if you name one so humble and distasteful, say to -my liege--" - -A page in green and white--the colours of Lady Brampton--entered, -announcing her speedy arrival. Clifford's wits were already disturbed by -wine; instinct made him fear in such a state to come in contact with the -subtle lady; he drew his cap over his eyes, his cloak around his person, -and vanished from the hall, ere his friends were aware of his intention. - -The interview between Lady Brampton and the gentlemen was of another -sort. Sir Edward had in her younger days worn her colours. She was -changed in person since then: but, when, after a short interval, he got -over the shock consequent on the first perception of the sad traces of -time on the cheek of beauty, he found that her eyes possessed the same -fire, her voice the same thrilling tone, her smile the same enchantment. -While the doctor, who had loved her as a daughter, and she regarded him -with filial reverence, rebuked her for what he termed her misdeeds; she -replied with vivacity, and such true and zealous love for him whose -cause she upheld, that they were both moved to listen with respect, if -not conviction, to her asseverations. She could not gain her point, nor -win them over to her side; but, when she departed, neither spoke of -young Richard's rights, unwilling to confess to one another that they -were converts to his truth. She went. The next day they departed from -Brussels, and it became subject of discussion, what step Henry would now -take, and whether, by any new measure, he could disturb the ripening -conspiracy against his throne. - - - - -CHAPTER XXI - -TREASON - - - Oh, what excuse can my invention make? - - I do arrest ye of high treason here! - - SHAKSPEARE. - - -Henry's ambassadors had wrought little change on any except Clifford. -His words had been interrupted; they were nothing in themselves; but -their spirit, the spirit of treason, was in his heart. He made up his -mind to nothing; he looked forward to no certain project; but he felt -that hereafter he might betray his present associates to their -arch-enemy. As yet his conscience was not seared; the very anticipation -of guilt tortured him, and he longed to fly from thought. Another blind -impulse drove him on. He hated the prince, because he was his opposite; -because, while he was a cankered bloom, his heart a waste, his soul -crusted over by deceit, his very person sullied by evil deeds and -thoughts, Duke Richard stood in all the pride of innocence. Could he -degrade him to his own level, there would be a pang the less in his -bosom; could he injure him in the eyes of his friends, render him, as he -himself had ever been, an object of censure, he would satisfy the -ill-cravings of his nature, and do Henry a wondrous benefit by -tarnishing the high character his rival bore, causing him whom his -adherents set up as an idol, to become a reproach to them. - -Clifford thought that it would be an easy task to entice a gay young -stripling into vice. Richard loved hawking, hunting, and jousting in the -lists, almost more, some of his elder friends thought, than befitted one -on the eve of a perilous enterprise. Governed by Edmund, attended by -Neville, watched by the noble duchess and vigilant Lady Brampton, it was -no great wonder that he had hitherto escaped error; but Clifford went -wilily to work, and hoped in some brief luckless hour to undo the work -of years. Richard was glad to find in him a defender of his inclination -for manly sports; an intimacy sprung up between them, which it would not -be the knight's fault, if it did not bring about the catastrophe he -desired. - -What then perpetually opposed all his measures? What, when he thought -he had caused the tide of temptation to flow, suddenly made it ebb and -retreat back to its former banks? Clifford, an adept in every art, -moulded himself to every needful form, and at last won the secret from -the deep recess of Richard's heart; he loved--he loved Monina, that -living emblem of innocent affection; never, he had vowed, would he -disturb the sacred calm that reigned in her young heart, nor gift -ignorance with fatal knowledge. She knew not the nature of her own -feelings, and he would not withdraw the veil; but he was himself -conscious of being swayed by the tenderest love. He could not marry her; -his own misfortunes had arisen from the misalliance of his father; she -herself would have refused to injure thus his cause, and have disdained -him, if for her sake he had been inclined to abdicate his rights; he -would be her friend, her brother. With passion came sorrow; he fled -from sad reflection to the chase, to the exercise of arms. But other -temptation became blunted by this very sentiment; his love grew more -ardent by restraint; if he yielded in her absence to the contemplation -of her image, his soul was filled with a voluptuous languor, from which -he roused himself by attention to his duties or hardy pastimes; but to -every other form of pleasure he was cold. This was a strange, -incomprehensible picture to present to the world-worn Clifford; he -fancied that it must be a delusion, but he found all the resistance of -firm reality. To embitter his defeat came his own fierce passions, and -the knowledge that Monina loved his rival; they would see each other, be -happy in each other, and laugh him to scorn! He concealed his jealousy, -his disappointment; but double treble rage gnawed at his heart; hatred -awoke in her most viperous shape, fanged by a sense of inferiority, -envenomed by envy, sharpened by the torture of defeat. How little did -any know--above all, how not at all did his innocent victim -suspect--the storm that brooded in his heart! There was something in -the very slightness and grace of his figure that was at variance with -the idea of violence and crime; and his glossing tongue added to the -deceit. Lady Brampton feared him a little; Frion saw something in him, -that made him pay greater court to him than to any other--these were -the only indications. Sunshine and calm brooded over the earthquake's -birth. - -Meanwhile, Henry was not sleeping at his post. He saw the full extent of -his danger, and exerted all his energy to provide against it. His -immediate attention was chiefly directed to two points. In the first -place it was desirable to forge some tale, to account for the -circumstances that spoke so loudly for the truth of York's story, and -thus to degrade him from the high esteem in which he was universally -held; secondly, it became necessary to certify to the public the death -of Edward the Fifth and his brother in the Tower. We may well wonder at -his ill success as to the first point;--there never was concocted so -ill-fangled, so incongruous, and so contradictory a fable, as that put -together by Henry, purporting to be the history of the pretender. He was -himself ashamed of it, and tried to call it in. History has in its -caprice given more credence to this composition, than its contemporaries -gave; it was ridiculed and despised at the time even by the partisans of -Lancaster. - -He was equally unfortunate in his second effort. To explain his attempts -we must go back to the time of Richard the Third. On repeated reports -being made to him of his unhappy imprisoned nephew's illness, this -monarch had commissioned Sir James Tirrel to visit him. The young prince -had languished without any appearance of immediate danger, and then -suddenly drooped even to the grave. Tirrel arrived at the Tower late in -the evening, and the first intelligence he received was, that the Lord -Edward was dying. At the midnight hour he was admitted into his -sick-room; his two attendants followed him no further than the -ante-chamber. He entered. The glazed eye and death-pale cheek of the -victim spoke of instant dissolution; a few slight convulsions, and it -was over--Edward was no more! With wild, loud cries poor little York -threw himself on his brother's body. Tirrel's servants, affrighted, -entered; they found one of the princes, whose illness had been -represented as trivial, dead; the other was carried off, struggling and -screaming, by their master and an attendant priest, the only two persons -in the chamber. They departed two hours afterwards from the Tower. -Tirrel seemed disturbed, and was silent. They would perhaps have thought -less about it; but hearing subsequently of the disappearance and -supposed death of the young duke, wonder grew into suspicion, and in -thoughtless talk they laid the foundation of a dire tale out of these -fragments. Henry had heard it before; now he endeavoured to trace its -origin. Tirrel, who for some time had lived obscurely in the country, -came to London--he was immediately seized, and thrown into prison. -Emissaries were set to work to find the three others, the priest and Sir -James's two servants. Only one was to be found; and when Tirrel was -asked concerning this man, by name John Dighton, he told a tale of -ingratitude punished by him, which was soothing sweet to King Henry's -ear; he was speedily discovered and imprisoned. Both master and follower -underwent many examinations: and it was suggested to each, that reward -would follow their giving countenance to a tale of midnight murder. -Tirrel was indignant at the proposal; Dighton, on the contrary--a -needy, bad man--while he told the story so as to gloss his own conduct, -was very ready to inculpate his master; and it grew finely under his -fosterage. Henry saw that without Tirrel's connivance he could not -authenticate any account; but he gave all the weight he could to these -reports. Few persons believed them, yet it served to confuse and -complicate events; and, while people argued, some at least would take -his side of the question, and these would be interested to spread their -belief abroad;--Duke Richard must be the loser in every way. - -The spies, the traitor-emissaries of the fear-struck monarch, were all -busy; there was a whole army of them dispersed in England and -Flanders--none could know the false man from the true. To obviate every -suspicion, he caused his own hirelings to be proclaimed traitors, and -cursed at St. Paul's cross. - -The priests, ever his friends, were impiously permitted to violate the -sacrament of confession; and thus several unsuspecting men betrayed -their lives, while they fancied that they performed a religious duty. A -few names still escaped him--he tampered with Clifford and Frion for -them: the former was not yet quite a villain; the latter found that he -enjoyed more credit, honour, and power as the duke's secretary than he -could do as Henry's spy; besides, his vanity was hurt--he wished to -revenge himself on the master who had discarded him. - -In nothing did Henry succeed better than in throwing an impenetrable -veil over his manœuvres. Most people thought, so tranquil and -unconcerned he seemed, that he did not suspect the existence of an -actual conspiracy, fostered in England itself, containing many -influential persons among its numbers. All were sure that he was -entirely ignorant of their names and actual purposes. The many months -which intervened while he waited patiently, corroborated this belief, -and the conspirators slept in security. The winter passed, and they -continued to scheme, apparently unobserved; spring came--they prepared -for York's landing--for a general rising--for a sudden seizing on many -walled towns and fortresses--for the occupation of London itself. A few -brief weeks, and Henry's prosperity would be shaken to its centre--his -power uprooted--he and his children would wander exiles in a foreign -land; and another king, the gallant descendant of the true Plantagenets, -reign in his stead. - -Thus occupied, thus prepared, were the Yorkists in England; at Brussels, -things were carried on more openly, and wore a more promising -appearance. The duchess, Lady Brampton, Plantagenet, triumphed. Sir -George Neville anticipated with proud joy a restoration of the fallen -race of Warwick, and regarded himself already as another king-maker of -that house. Every exile looked northward, and grew joyful with the -thought of home. Frion became more busy and important than ever; he had -lately gone disguised to England, in pursuance of some project. In -another week they expected Lord Barry to join them from Ireland: -Clifford was amazed, vacillating, terrified. He knew that Henry was far -from idle; he was aware that some of the loudest speakers in Richard's -favour in Brussels were his hirelings, whom he would not betray, because -he half felt himself one among them, though he could not quite prevail -on himself to join their ranks. He believed that the king was in eager -expectation of his decision in his favour; that nothing could be done -till he said the word; he proposed conditions; wished to conceal some -names; exempt others from punishment. Messengers passed continually -between him and bishop Morton, Henry's chief counsellor and friend, and -yet he could not determine to be altogether a traitor. - -Thus stood affairs; a consummation all thought to be nigh at hand. It -was the spring of 1494, and the coming summer was to decide the fate of -York. A ball was given by the duchess, in honour of her nephew; it was -splendidly and gaily attended. Clifford had been conversing with the -prince, when suddenly he left the apartment: it was long ere he came -back, and slowly joined the principal group in the room, consisting of -the duchess, the prince. Lady Brampton, Neville, Plantagenet, Taylor, -and several others. Clifford's countenance was marked by horror and -surprise; so much so, that Lady Brampton looked at him a moment without -knowing him. Suddenly she started up and seized his arm--"Holy Virgin!" -she cried, "what had dressed your face, Sir Robert, in this pale livery? -what tale of death have you heard?" - -The brow of Clifford became flushed, his lips grew whiter, as quivering -they refused to form the words he attempted to utter. Barley had before -this quitted the apartment: he rushed in now, crying aloud, "Treason!" - -"Treason!" Neville repeated, laying his hand heavily on Clifford's -shoulder; "hear you that word, sir knight? Where is the traitor?" - -Clifford in a moment recovered himself, answering, composedly, "Ay, -would I could point out the man--would that I could drag him forth, the -mark, the very target for the shafts of vengeance. We are lost; the -cause is lost; our friends; the good Lord Fitzwater. I would have hid -his name in the bowels of the earth!" - -Already the festal hall was deserted; already the guests were dispersed, -to learn how wide the destruction had spread. By the prince's orders, -the messenger from England was introduced before himself and his -principal friends: it was Adam Floyer, Sir Simon Mountford's chaplain; -escaped himself, he was the bearer of a frightful tale. On one day, -almost at the same hour, the Yorkist conspirators were arrested. Lord -Fitzwater, Sir Simon Mountford, Sir Thomas Thwaites, Robert Ratcliffe, -William Daubeny, Thomas Cressenor, Thomas Astwood, two dominicans, by -name William Richford and Thomas Poyns, Doctor William Sutton, Worseley -the dean of Saint Paul's, Robert Langborne, and Sir William Lessey, were -all seized and cast into prison. Others had escaped: young Gilbert -Daubeny, brother of William, and Sir Edward Lisle, had arrived in -Flanders. Others made good speed and had fled to Ireland. - - - - -CHAPTER XXII - -HERMAN DE FARO - - - Oh, Clifford! but bethink thee once again, - And in thy thought o'errun my former time, - And if thou canst for blushing, view this face! - - SHAKSPEARE. - - -"Where is the traitor?" Neville's question resounded through Flanders, -and was re-echoed in groans from the English shores. Each man feared the -other, and saw the mark of Henry's malice on the brow of all. It was a -worse scene in England: executions followed imprisonment; the scaffolds -flowed with blood; and suspicion was still greedy of prey. Among the -papers seized by the king there was found a letter from Clifford to Lord -Fitzwater, containing these words: "I do protest, my lord, that the -proof of York's truth is most pertinent. You know this; and yet he who -cut the crooked rose-bush to the roots still doubts; forsooth, he is -still at his 'ifs'--'if he were sure that young man were King -Edward's son, he would never bear arms against him.' Pray deprive my -lord of his 'if;' for arms he must never bear: he is too principal to -any cause." - -Henry tormented himself to find who this doubter might be: again he -sought to bribe Clifford, who was at first dogged that so much was done -without him, and then tried to barter his intelligence for Lord -Fitzwater's life. Such grace had he left, that he was ready to exert his -wits to save his former patron; this was granted. This noble alone of -the conspirators who were laymen was spared: he was sent prisoner to -Calais. - -At the first word of discovery, Monina's friends had endeavoured to -insure her escape to Flanders; but her name was known to Henry, and -there was none whom he was more desirous to get into his power. She -remained concealed at a little distance from London. She grew mad in -inaction: the work of death and misery around wound up her tender spirit -to torture; and the execution of her former friends filled her with such -horror as made day hateful, night the parent of frightful visions. After -several weeks' seclusion, she all at once resolved to visit London, to -seek some one of her former friends--to learn whether the tragedy was -over, and what further mischiefs despair might have engendered. She -inhabited a solitary mansion, with one old woman, who opposed her going, -but vainly. Monina was too young to bear uncertainty with any degree of -patience. Some slight joy visited her as she found herself on her road -to London. Before she arrived a heavy rain fell; but she was not to be -discouraged. Sir Edward Lisle, she knew, had not been arrested: she was -unaware of his escape, and thought perhaps that he had not been -discovered; she might get intelligence from him. His house was deserted -and empty. Another hope remained--Sir William Stanley. She knew his -timidity, and resolved to be cautious as to the manner of her visit. Sir -William had ever been peculiarly kind to the gentle maiden; fearing to -see her openly, she had often come to him by water: his mansion, near -the palace at Westminster, had a garden upon the Thames. Without -exciting any remark, she could land here. It was already night, and this -favoured secrecy. With some difficulty, in the city, where she then was, -she contrived to find her way to an obscure wharf, and embarked in a -wherry. Fortunately it was high water, and she landed without difficulty -in the garden, and dismissed the men. Now she began, to be puzzled as to -how she should make her way, dripping with rain, unexpected, to Sir -William's presence. She had been accustomed to be admitted by a little -door opening on stairs which led her to her old friend's library: this -was shut now. Suddenly she thought she heard voices, and then perceived -a thread of light that streamed through the key-hole of the summer-house -in the garden. There was a noise on the water, too: and a boat was -paddled to the landing-place. Bewildered, yet believing that all this -secrecy was connected with the grand conspiracy, she moved towards the -summer-house: the door was opened, and the light falling full upon her, -she saw several figures within, and a female shriek burst upon her ear. -Quick steps were heard behind: to retreat or go forward equally -terrified her; when one of the persons in the summer-house, a man in an -uncouth foreign garb, cried, "Thou here, Monina! What miracle is this? -Come, come in; there is danger in all we do!" - -Monina recognized the voice of Frion, and entered: there she saw one, a -lady richly attired, yet half disguised in a large black cloak. Fear was -painted on her cheek; her blue eyes were cast up to Heaven. A female -attendant with her seemed yet more terrified. About the room were -scattered globes and astrolabes, and all the gear of an astrologer. In -the lady, Monina recognized York's sister, Tudor's queen, the fair -Elizabeth of England. At once compassion and respect entered her heart: -she addressed the royal lady with reverence, and all that touching grace -that was her sweetest charm; she assured her of inviolable secrecy; she -reminded her of their former interview. Elizabeth grew calmer as she -recognized her visitor at Shene: she stretched out her hand to the -Spaniard, saying, "I do indeed believe and trust thee; thou shalt hear -again from me." Then folding her mantle round her, and leaning on her -attendant, she quitted the house, and with trembling haste embarked. - -For many weeks after this scene, Monina continued concealed in Sir -William Stanley's mansion. When the arrest of the conspirators had taken -place, Frion, balked in an attempt to escape, for safety's sake had -assumed the habit and character of an astrologer, and so far worked upon -Stanley's fears, and won him by his flattery, that he permitted him to -take up his residence in his summer-house. Frion was a clever prophet, -and too restless not to become notorious. It was a good mode, he -averred, to put hope in the hearts of the Yorkists, by prognosticating -all manner of success to them. His fame spread. The queen questioned -Stanley about his new astrologer; and the confusion the poor chamberlain -evinced, served only to excite her curiosity. She sent one of her -attendants to see what manner of man he might be; and the subtle Frion -profited by this little artifice, which Sir William in his terror -divulged, to entice the queen herself to his cell. She came, and the -result of her visit was to bring Monina again before her. - -Such were the agents still at work for York in London. Such the -materials Clifford strove to mould into a purpose of his own. There was -no reason, so many of the White Rose thought, to forego all their plans -because one had come to a fatal end. Still Richard might land in -England, and make head against Tudor. On a smaller scale, with lessened -hopes and diminished ardour, a scheme of this kind was canvassed. -Clifford appeared its chief abettor, and encouraged it by every means in -his power; none were averse. It was not an enterprise of such high -expectation as the discovered one; but, undertaken with speed, and -prosecuted with energy, it might turn out as well. England was by no -means tranquil; the metropolis itself was the scene of tumults: these -were raised to a ferment by the embargo Henry had found it necessary to -place on all communication with Holland--a measure fraught with ruin to -many of the richest merchants in London. - -At this time, towards the end of the summer, the king came up from his -palace at Shene, and held a court at Westminster. One of the immediate -subjects that brought him up, was a tumult in the city, to which the -embargo had given rise. A vast number of apprentices and journeymen -belonging to the ruined merchants were out of employ, while the traders -from Hans, and other free German towns, who went among us by the name of -the Easterlings, got the commerce into their own hands, and grew rich -upon it. The sight of their prosperity was, to the starving Londoners, -as the pressed rowel of a spur in a horse's side; with the usual -barbarism of the untaught and rude, they visited on these men the fault -of their governors--the discontent augmented till it became loud, -furious, and armed. Multitudes of those deprived of their usual means, -met, and, in a moment of rage, proceeded from words to acts. They -endeavoured to force and rifle the warehouses of the Easterlings, who -repulsed them with difficulty; nor did they disperse, till the mayor -arrived with men and weapons, from whom they fled like a flock of sheep. -When tidings of this event were brought to Henry, he, who saw in all -things the multiplied image of the abhorred White Rose, believed the -Yorkists to be its secret cause. The day after his arrival he gave -audience to the mayor, who reported that, from every examination made, -none appeared to have a part in it, except servants and apprentices, -nearly a hundred of whom were imprisoned in the Tower. - -In giving a detail of this circumstance, the mayor related that the -Easterlings declared, that at the first onset their richest -store-chambers must have become the prey of the rioters, but for the -interposition of one man. He was a sea-captain, and had arrived but the -day before with his caravel from Spain--they represented him as a -person of gigantic stature and superhuman strength. Entangled by the -mob in his progress through the city, he had no sooner discovered their -intent, than he contrived to make his way into the stilyard; and there -combining the forces of the defenders, more by his personal prowess than -any other means, he beat back the invaders, and succeeded in closing the -gates. At the representation of the mayor, Henry commanded that this man -should be brought before him, partly that he might thank him for his -services, and partly, for Henry was curious on such points, to learn -from him the news from Spain, and if more had been heard of the wild -visionary Columbus and his devoted crew, since they had deserted the -stable continent, to invade the hidden chambers of the secret western -ocean. - -The king received the mariner in his closet. None were in attendance -save Urswick. There was something grand in the contrast between these -men. The courtier-priest--the sovereign, whose colourless face was -deep-lined with careful thought, whose eyes were skilled in reading the -thoughts of men, and whose soul was perpetually alive to everything that -was passing around him--and the ocean rock, the man of tempests and -hardships, whose complexion was darkened and puckered by exposure to sun -and wind, whose every muscle was hardened by labour, but whose unservile -mien bespoke no cringing to any power, save nature's own. He received -Henry's thanks with respect, and replied simply: he answered also -several questions put to him concerning his voyages; it appeared that he -had but lately arrived from Spain--that he came to seek a relative who -resided in England. During this interview a thought flashed on Henry's -mind. In his late transactions with Clifford, the base purpose had been -formed of enticing the duke and his principal adherents to England, and -of delivering them up to their enemy; there had been some discussion as -to providing, at least, one vessel in Henry's pay, to make part of the -little fleet which would bring the duke of York over. This was -difficult, as suspicion might attach itself to any English vessel; but -here was one, with a stranger captain, and a foreign crew, a man who -knew nothing of White or Red Rose, who would merely fulfil his -commission. Slow on all occasions to decide, the king appointed another -interview with the stranger. - -It so happened, that the news of the appearance of the Spanish captain -had penetrated to the queen's apartments; and little Arthur, her gentle -and darling son, was desirous to see the countrymen of Columbus, whose -promised discoveries were the parent of such wonder and delight -throughout the world. The prince of Wales must not be denied this -pleasure, and the Spaniard was ushered into the queen's presence. An -enthusiast in his art, his energetic, though simple expressions -enchanted the intelligent prince, and even compelled the attention of -his little sturdy brother Henry. He spoke in words, borrowed from -Columbus's own lips, of translucent seas, of an atmosphere more softly -serene than ours, of shores of supernal beauty, of the happy natives, of -stores of treasure, and the bright hopes entertained concerning the -further quest to be made in these regions. Elizabeth forgot herself to -listen, and regretted the necessity of so soon dismissing him. She asked -a few questions relative to himself, his vessel; "She was a gallant -thing once," replied her commander, "when I took her from the Algerines, -and new-christened her the Adalid; because, like her owner, being of -Moorish origin she embraced the true faith. My own name, please your -grace, is Hernan de Faro, otherwise called the Captain of the Wreck, in -memory of a sad tedious adventure, many years old." - -"De Faro--had he not a daughter?" - -Anxiety and joy showed itself at once in the mariner's countenance. -Monina!--Where was she? How eagerly and vainly had he sought -her--faltering, the queen had only power to say, that Sir William -Stanley, the lord chamberlain, could inform him, and, terrified, put an -end to the interview. - -Two days after--already had De Faro found and fondly embraced his -beloved child--Urswick, at the king's command, sent for the hero of the -stilyard, and, after some questioning, disclosed his commission to him; -it was such, that, had de Faro been in ignorance, would have led him to -suspect nothing--he was simply to sail for Ostend; where he would seek -Sir Robert Clifford, and deliver a letter: he was further told that he -was to remain at Sir Robert's command, to receive on board his vessel -whoever the knight should cause to embark in her, and to bring them -safely to England. To all this De Faro, aware of the dread nature of -these orders, assented; and, in Stanley's summer-house, with the lord -chamberlain, Monina, and Frion, it was discussed how this web of treason -could best be destroyed. There was little room for doubt; Monina -resolved to sail with her father, to denounce Clifford to the prince, -and so save him and his friends from the frightful snare. Frion still -remained in England, to try to fathom the whole extent of the mischief -intended; though now, fearful of discovery, he quitted his present -abode, and sought a new disguise. Stanley trembled at Clifford's name, -but he saw no suspicion in his sovereign's eye, and was reassured. - -The Adalid sailed, bearing the king's letters to Clifford, and having -Monina on board, who was to unfold to the deceived prince and his -followers the dangers that menaced them. - -Already, as the appointed time drew near, most of Richard's partizans -were assembled at Ostend; a fleet of three vessels was anchored in the -port to convey them to England to fated death; the prince himself, with -Clifford, sojourned in a castle at no great distance. Sir Robert -insinuated himself each day more and more into his royal friend's -confidence; each day his hatred grew, and he fed himself with it to keep -true to his base purpose; among the partizans of York sometimes he felt -remorse; beside the bright contrast of his own dark self, never. - -Monina landed; and, the prince being absent, first she sought Lady -Brampton--she was at Brussels; then Plantagenet,--he was expected, but -not arrived from Paris; then she asked for Sir George Neville, as the -chief of the English exiles; to him she communicated her strange, her -horrid tidings, to him she showed Henry's still sealed letter to -Clifford. What visible Providence was here, laying its finger on the -headlong machinery that was bearing them to destruction! Neville was all -aghast: he, who did not like, had ceased to suspect Clifford, seeing -that he adhered to them at their worst. He lost no time in bringing -Monina to the castle, but ten miles distant, where York then was; he -introduced her privately, and, wishing that she should tell her tale -herself, went about to contrive that, without Clifford's knowledge or -suspicion, the prince should have an interview with her. - -Monina did not wonder that her bosom throbbed wildly, as she remained in -expectation of seeing her childhood's playfellow, from whom she had been -so long absent. Nor did she check her emotion of intense pleasure when -she saw him, and heard him in her native Spanish utter expressions of -glad delight at so unexpectedly beholding her. Time had changed him very -little; his aspect was still boyish; and, if more thought was seated in -his eye, his smile was not the less frank and sweet; she was more -altered; her but little feminine form had acquired grace; the girl was -verging into the woman--blooming as the one, tender and impassioned as -the other; her full dark eyes, which none could behold and not feel the -very inner depths of their nature stirred, were the home of sensibility -and love. A few moments were given to an interchange of affectionate -greeting, and then York, recurring to the mysterious mode in which -Neville had expressed himself, asked if anything save a kind wish to -visit the brother of her childhood had brought her hither; she replied, -by relating to him the circumstances of her father's commission from -Henry, and delivering to him the letter for Sir Robert. The whole wide -world of misery contains no pang so great as the discovery of treachery -where we pictured truth; death is less in the comparison, for both -destroy the future, and one, with Gorgon countenance, transforms the -past. The world appeared to slide from beneath the prince, as he became -aware that Clifford's smiles were false; his seeming honesty, his -discourse of honour, the sympathy apparent between them, a lie, a -painted lie, alluring him by fair colours to embrace foulest deformity. -The exceeding openness and confidence of his own nature, rendered the -blow doubly unnatural and frightful; and Monina, who had half disliked, -and latterly had almost forgotten Clifford, was full of surprise and -pain to mark the affliction her friend's countenance expressed. - -There was no time for regret. Neville interrupted them, and it became -necessary to act. Richard held in his hand the sealed proof of his -associate's falsehood; Sir George urged him to open it, so as to -discover the whole extent of the treason. The prince's eyes were at once -lighted up by the suggestion: no, no, because Clifford had been base, he -would violate no law of honour--there was no need for the sake of -others; his treachery discovered, was fangless; nor would he even -undertake the dark office of openly convicting and punishing: his -conscience and remorse should be judge and executioner. - -Monina and Neville returned to Ostend. The prince sent a message to -Clifford with some trifling commission to execute in the same town; and -Sir Robert, who had heard of the arrival of a stranger caravel from -England, was glad of an opportunity, to ride over to learn its -character. His feet were in the stirrups, when a page brought him a -letter from the duke, which he was bid not to open till he had departed. -A sense of a mysterious meaning came over him. Was he discovered? At the -first dawn of this suspicion he clapped spurs to his horse, and was -already far away; then, impatient of uncertainty, as soon as half the -brief space to Ostend was measured, he took out the packet, eyed it -curiously, and, after many qualms and revolutions of feeling, suddenly -tore it open. King Henry's despatch, written in Urswick's well-known -hand, first met his eye. Worse in action than in thought, a cold dew -mantled on his brow; and, while his heart stood still in his labouring -breast, he cast his eyes over a few lines, written in Richard's fair -clear Spanish hand:-- - - - "This paper, joined to the mode in which it fell into my hands, accuses - you of treason. If wrongfully, accord permission that the seal may be - broken, and your innocence proved. - - "Even it the mystery which this letter contains cannot be divulged nor - exculpated, all is not lost. Perhaps you are rather weak than guilty; - erring, but not wicked. If so, return immediately on your steps; by a - frank confession merit my confidence. I were unworthy of the mediation - of the Blessed Saints, whom each night I solicit to intercede for me - before our Heavenly Father, were I not ready to pardon one who has - sinned, but who repents. - - "If your crime be of a deeper dye, and you are allied in soul to my - enemy, depart. It is enough for me that I never see you more. If I - remain a fugitive for ever, you will lose nothing by deserting my ruined - fortunes; if I win the day, my first exercise of the dearest prerogative - of kings, will be to pardon you. - - "RICHARD." - - - - -CHAPTER XXIII - -THE TRAITOR UNMASKED - - - Shall I be the slave - Of--what? a word? which those of this false world - Employ against each other, not themselves, - As men wear daggers not for self offence. - But if I am mistaken, where shall I - Find the disguise to hide me from myself? - As now I skulk from every other eye. - - SHELLEY. - - -One of the surest results of guilt is to deprive the criminal of belief -in the goodness of others. Clifford was discovered. Even, if Richard -continued true to his promise of pardon, his adherents and counsellors -might force him to another line of conduct. A dungeon and death floated -terribly before his confused vision. Flight, instant flight to England, -where, by a full confession of many things he had reserved, and the -disclosure of an important unsuspected name, he might still receive -welcome and reward from Henry, was the only course left him to pursue. - -His thoughts were chaos. Shame and indignation raged in his heart. He -was a convicted traitor, a dishonoured man. "Oh, my envied father!" in -his wretchedness he exclaimed, "you died gloriously for Lancaster. I -live, steeped in obloquy, for the same cause. Abhorred Plantagenet! what -misery has been mine since first your name came to drug me with racking -poison! What have I not endured while I cringed to the fair-haired boy! -Thank the powers of hell, that time is past! Devil as I have stamped -myself, his arch crime, lying, is no more my attribute. To the winds and -men's thirsty ears I may cry aloud--I hate Plantagenet!" - -It was some relief to this miserable man to array his thoughts in their -darkest garb, soothing his evil passions with words, which acted on them -as a nurse's fondling talk to a querulous child. His line of conduct was -fixed: he remembered Neville's sudden appearance and departure the night -before; he had brought the letter; he was waiting for him at Ostend to -seize on him, to turn to mockery the prince's promised pardon. Those -were days of violence and sudden bloodshed: the enemy a man could not -visit with legal punishment, he thought himself justified in destroying -with his own hand; the passions of the Yorkists, who found they had been -driven into shambles instead of a fold, must be fierce and dangerous. -Without delay, he resolved to embark in one of the vessels then in the -roads; he hurried to the beach; the wind seemed fair; there was a poor -kind of hostelry, the common resort of sailors near, from whence a -signal could be given for a boat to be sent off for him. While waiting -for it, he quitted the noisy vulgarity of the inn, and walked towards a -kind of ruined tower, that once perhaps had served as a lighthouse. In -all the panic of guilt, a roof, however desolate, appeared a shelter, -and he sought it: it was dilapidated and dark; there were some rude, -narrow stairs leading to the upper story,--these he ascended, and -entered what had been a kind of guard-room, and started at the vision he -beheld: leaning against the aperture that had served for a casement, -looking on the wide green sea, was Monina. Her lustrous eyes turned on -him--eyes before whose full softness his violence, his insolence -quailed; till shame, despair, and rage, and the deep-seated arrogance of -his nature, conquered his better feelings. She knew his crime, witnessed -his disgrace; there was no more to lose in the world. What more could he -win? His presence occasioned her much emotion. She had just quitted -Neville, who somewhat angrily remarked upon the prince's ill-timed -lenity, and spoke bitterly of all the ill Clifford, thus let loose, -might do in England. And here he was, about to embark for that very -island, where one at least, Sir William Stanley, was at his mercy. -Gladly Monina seized on this opportunity to dive into his projects, and -to inspire by her energetic words the traitor's bosom with some sense of -right. She, alas! inspired passion only, and jealousy, that now at last -his rival would see her love-lighted eyes turned affectionately on him; -while all the reproach of which they were capable was his meed. What -such men as Clifford feel is not love: he had no real friendship for the -innocent girl; each feeling that expresses the sympathy of our -intellectual nature was never associated to him with the name of woman. -As she spoke therefore of his duties to God and man, violated, but not -irretrievably, and with soft persuasion entreated him to spare those -whose lives hung upon his word, he recovered his obduracy, and replied -in a tone whose hollow vaunting was at discord with the music that fell -from her lips--"My pretty maiden, I thank thee for thy good intentions, -and if thou wilt wholly undertake my instruction, will prove an apt -scholar. Honesty and I are too poor to be messmates; but if thou wilt -join us--by God, Monina, I mean what I say--the priest shall say grace -for us, and we will partake life's feast or fast together. I will sail -with thee to thy Spain, to the Indies of the West. England shall be a -forgotten name; the White or Red Rose, neither worse nor better in our -eyes than any blooms that smell as sweet: if thou refusest this, here -ends the last chance for honesty; and be the victim who it may, I care -not so my fortunes thrive." - -"Unworthy man!" cried Monina; "farewell! I go to England also: I to -save, you to destroy. Bounteous Heaven will look on our several -intentions, and shape our course accordingly. Henry will visit with poor -thanks your blighted purpose, barren now of its ill fruit. Mine will be -the harvest; yours the unlamented loss." - -She would have passed him, but he seized her slender wrist. "We will run -no race," he cried; "if we go to England, it will be together: listen to -the splash of oars, it is my boat among the breakers. We enter it -together; it is vain for you to resist; you are my prisoner." - -Monina trembled in every joint: she felt that in very truth she was in -Clifford's power. There rode her father's caravel; but he could not -guess her pressing danger: he would behold her depart, ignorant of the -violence she was suffering, ignorant that she was there. No help!--no -form of words was there, that might persuade the ill-minded knight to -free her: her proud spirit disdained to bend; her cheek was flushed; she -strove to withdraw her hand. "Pardon me," said Clifford; "if my fingers -press too roughly; the slight pain you endure will hardly counterbalance -the fierce torture your words inflicted. Be patient, my fellows are -already here. Let us not act a silly mime before them; do not oblige me -to demonstrate too unkindly, that you are wholly in my power." - -Hardly had he spoken the words when with a scream she sprang from him. -He turned; but before even he could see the gigantic form of De Faro, a -blow was struck which made him reel against the wall. It would have been -instantly followed by another, but that Monina had flung herself on her -father's breast, and he, supporting her, forgot his enemy, who recovered -himself, and drew his sword. He met the fierce glare of the injured -parent's eye, and shook. "We meet again, recreant!" were the only words -spoken by De Faro; and, as an elephant might snatch a youngling antelope -from the pursuit of a tiger, he took his daughter in his arms, descended -the steps with her, and, as Clifford stood gazing on the sea, in such -bitter mood as is the fruit of baffled malice, he saw the mariner lift -his daughter into the boat. It pushed from the shore; and, with long, -measured strokes, it swept the waves towards the caravel, whose sails -were again unfurled, while everything bespoke the readiness and anxiety -of the crew to depart. - -Ere the Adalid had reached the open sea, Clifford in his vessel was but -little astern. It was a race they ran. The caravel at first had the -best. Night concealed them from each other's view; and, in the morning, -already on the tranquil bosom of the Thames Sir Robert's vessel was -sailing alone towards London. By one of those strange turns of fortune -by which our purposes swim or are wrecked, De Faro, without a pilot, -unacquainted with the coast, missed the channel; he grounded on a -sand-bank at the river's mouth; and the tide which carried Clifford so -swiftly towards London had several hours to run before it reached a -height sufficient to float the other's vessel; the situation was not -without peril, and no boat even could be lowered to carry the anxious -Monina to shore. - -The very day (it was now the month of January) that Henry heard of -Clifford's arrival in London, he removed his court from Westminster to -the Tower. Already he divined that his Lord Chamberlain was to be -criminated by Sir Robert; and, as Stanley possessed considerable -influence in the state, he wished to make his arrest as unexpected as -possible. Another motive worked upon the avaricious sovereign; seized -thus, without preparation or forethought, his jewels, his rich plate, -his valuable moveables, which might otherwise be secreted, now fell the -indiscriminate prey of confiscation; the Tower, at once a palace and a -prison, favoured this purpose. Here he received Clifford; Urswick had -already conversed with the traitor knight, and represented to him the -necessity of ample confession. There was something in the priest's -manner that, like iron, entered Clifford's soul; he felt himself, too -truly, to be the abject slave, the despised tool of power; there was but -little need to use cajoleries or bribes with him now; he was there, to -be executed as a felon or pardoned as a spy, according as his -disclosures satisfied or not the callous-hearted king. - -For his greater punishment, there clung to this unfortunate man a sense -of what he ought to and might have been, and a burning consciousness of -what he was. Hitherto he had fancied that he loved honour, and had been -withheld, as by a hair, from overstepping the demarcation between the -merely reprehensible and the disgraceful. The good had blamed him; the -reckless wondered at his proficiency in their own bad lessons; but -hitherto he had lifted his head haughtily among them, and challenged any -man to accuse him of worse than greater daring in a career all travelled -at a slower and more timid pace. - -But that time was gone by. He was now tainted by leprous treachery; his -hands were stained by the blood of his deceived confederates; honour -disowned him for her son; men looked askance on him as belonging to a -pariah race. He felt this; and even Monina, who had last conversed with -him in the summer-house of the inn at Ostend, would hardly have -recognized him. He was then a bold-faced villain; his step was haughty; -his manner insolent. Now his gait was shuffling, his appearance mean, -his speech hesitating and confused. Urswick had known him a gay ruffler; -he started back: was this Sir Robert Clifford? He was obliged to use -with him the usual style of speech adopted towards men in his situation; -to speak of his duty towards his liege; the propriety of delivering up -the guilty to condign punishment: hackneyed phrases, which sounded cold -to the unhappy man. - -There was no resource. At Henry's feet, kneeling before a king who used -him as a tool, but who hated him as the abettor of his rival, and -despised him as the betrayer of his friend, Clifford spoke the fatal -word which doomed the confiding Stanley to instant death, himself to the -horrors of conscious guilt, or, what as yet was more bitter to the -worldling, relentless outlawry from the society and speech of all, -however depraved, who yet termed themselves men of honour. - -Henry heard him with feigned amazement; and with grating words of -insulting unbelief, demanded evidence of his chamberlain's treason: -these were easily furnished, yet such as they were, they comprised such -irrefragable proof of the identity of the outcast duke, that Henry -found, that while they confirmed him more than ever in his resolve that -Stanley should suffer the severest penalty of his crime, it made it -difficult to bring forward the testimonials of his guilt. This was for -after consideration: Clifford was dismissed with cold thanks, with -promise of pardon and reward, and a haughty command neither to obtrude -himself again into the royal presence, nor to depart from London without -especial leave. - -Henry's first act was to command Stanley not to quit his chamber in the -Tower. The next day before the hour of noon, the Bishop of Durham, Lord -Oxford, Lord Surrey, Urswick, and Lord Dawbeny, met in the fallen -chamberlain's apartment, for the purpose of examining him. A thousand -opposing feelings operated upon Stanley: accustomed to pay deference to -the king, even now he said nothing to displease him; and his expressions -rather spoke of compassion for him who very possibly was duke of York, -than any falling off from his allegiance to the then king of England. - -This monarch was tormented by no doubts,--to be actuated by no pity. -Stanley's acknowledgment of the truth of the Burgundian pretender roused -his bitterest feelings. In addition, he was rich booty--which weighed -heavily against him; so that, when Bishop Fox remarked on the villany -and extent of his treason, Henry, off his guard, exclaimed--"I am glad -of it; the worse the better: none can speak of mercy now, and -confiscation is assured;"--nor did he in the interval before his trial, -nor after it, express one regret that the man was about to forfeit his -head, who had encircled his own with the regal diadem. - -Tried, condemned; but a few days remained before on the fatal block the -rich, noble, prudent, royally-connected Sir William Stanley would -expiate his guilt to Henry. All wondered; many pitied; few thought of -soliciting for or aiding the fallen man; yet one or two there were, whom -this last blow against York filled with bitter regret. In a secluded -part of London Lord Barry, who had just arrived, Frion, and Monina met. -Barry came with intelligence that there had appeared in Ireland a -gentleman from Scotland, commissioned by its young monarch to inquire -into the truth of Richard's story; and, if indubitably he were the man -he pretended, to counsel him to visit Scotland, where he would find -friendship and aid. The Earl of Desmond also had just arrived in London, -and Lord Barry was in his company. This downfall of Stanley called their -minds from every other consideration. Monina was peculiarly agitated and -thoughtful. One evening she joined them late: she was full of some -project. "I can, I do believe, save our friend," she said: "the -assistance I need is small--you, Master Stephen, will hasten on board -the Adalid, and bid my father have all in readiness, for sailing, and to -drop down the river as far as Greenwich: you, my dear lord, must also -take a part in my scheme--keep watch on the river, right opposite the -Tower, during the coming night and the following: if you see a light -upon the shore beneath its dark walls, come towards it with a boat; the -blessed Virgin aiding my design, it shall be freighted with -disappointment to the Tudor, joy to us." - -Lord Barry and Frion promised obedience, though they would have -dissuaded her from the risk; but she was devoted, enthusiastic, firm: -she left them, nor did they delay to execute her commission, and both -went down the river to De Faro's caravel. Here a new surprise awaited -them. The duke of York and his friends had not been idle in the interim. -Each design, as it failed, gave place to another. They were diminished -in numbers, but now no traitors were among them. Their hopes were few; -but, unless the present time were seized, there would be none. The false -expectations Clifford had held out to them of coalition and succour in -England were lost, but attachment to York was alive in many an English -bosom: the preparations of arms they had made still existed; it was -resolved therefore in early spring to descend on the English shores. - -The duke of York, deeply grieved by the ruin that visited his friends, -stung to the heart by Clifford's treachery, resolved meanwhile to seek -relief in action. Could not his presence do much? Unknown in England, he -might visit the Yorkists, rouse their affection, and form such a union, -as, assisted afterwards by his friends and their little fleet, would -contribute to insure success. His friends did not approve of the hazard -to which he exposed himself; but everything they alleged on this score, -only confirmed his purpose. "All endanger themselves--all die for me," -he cried; "shall I alone be ingloriously safe?" The first sight -therefore that presented itself to Lord Barry and Frion on the deck of -the Adalid, was Prince Richard and Edmund Plantagenet. - -The duke's presence did not change the purpose of Frion's visit. De Faro -got his vessel in readiness for the voyage; and Lord Barry, as evening -closed in, prepared to take his stand--not singly: Richard insisted on -sharing his watch; docile as he usually was, remonstrance had now no -effect; hitherto he had given himself up to guarded safety, now he -seemed in love with peril, resolved to court her at every opportunity. -The risk to which Monina exposed herself, made him obstinate. He would -have thought himself untrue to the laws of chivalry, a recreant knight, -had he not hastened to protect her; and, more than this--for the inborn -impulses of the heart are more peremptory than men's most sacred -laws--he loved; and a mother draws not more instinctively her -first-born to her bosom, than does the true and passionate lover feel -impelled to hazard even life for the sake of her he loves, to shield her -from every danger, or to share them gladly with her. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIV - -THE TOWER - - - I do not like the Tower of any place. - - SHAKSPEARE. - - -At nine o'clock in the evening, York and Lord Barry took their station -on the Thames, at the appointed place. The boat was tethered to the -shore; and the rising tide brought them nearer to the banks. All was -dark during the cold night of early February; to the right and left, -nothing was apparent save the glimmering water, and the only sound was -the rushing and rippling of the Thames, as it sped downward in its -course. - -"My mother greets me with a cold kiss," said the prince; "in truth she -has wedded mine enemy, and cast me out from my inheritance." - -A brief pause ensued--a few minutes, which were freighted with the -cares and sorrows of years. Back, back, young Richard threw his eye over -the skeleton shapes of the dead years; and again he sought to penetrate -the future. Dark as the starless sky, not one gleam of comfort presented -itself to the outcast's hope. But such state of mind was unnatural to -the ardent boy, and he sprang from it; - - - "Like to a lark at break of day, uprising - From sullen earth, to sing at heaven's gate," - - -he soared from grovelling despondency into recollections of the labour -and love that had been expended on him. His harvest might never be the -crown at which he aimed; but, better still, the ambrosial food of -affection and devoted attachment, that filled him even to sweet satiety. - -"A light! our beacon!" cried Lord Barry. - -A small gleam appeared on the opposite bank. It moved; then returned to -its former place, and was stationary. They watched it, till they became -satisfied that it was the guide for which they were waiting. The early -matin service rung from several convents, and came pealing faintly -across the water. It was the dead of night, and the gentlemen gladly -exchanged their inert watch for the labour of contending with the tide -and floating ice, which impeded their way as they rowed across the -Thames to where the light was now fixed. - -The drear bank of the Tower-moat rose abruptly from the water-side, and -the waves lay murky dark beneath the arch of the Traitor's Gate. The -tide, which was setting in, carried them above the point were the light -was, to this spot. Their beacon indeed had disappeared; and, as they -waited its return, they floated idly on the river, merely giving now and -then a few strokes, to keep the wherry stationary. They did not perceive -that, while they thus curbed the tide, they had drifted into an eddy -which carried them fast down, till jamming them between the wall of the -Tower and a near pile, their boat lurched, partly filled with water, and -resisted every attempt they made to extricate it. The clouds were -getting thinner before the pale waning moon; but their fancied -beacon-light had vanished. - -Their situation was sufficiently dreary. The cold was piercing. They had -difficulty in keeping themselves out of the water that lay at the bottom -of the boat. Lord Barry was a soldier, accustomed to hair-breadth -escapes and dangerous attempts; Richard a bold youth, who thought that -his best safety depended on his own exertions. They were neither of them -inclined to linger tamely in their present situation. - -"Before our limbs get numbed with this biting breeze, we must use them -to our own benefit. Your highness can swim?" - -"So say the streams of the Vega," replied Richard: "but the very -remembrance of those sweet brooks makes me shudder at the chilly bath -this ice-nourished river affords. I will reconnoitre the land before I -attempt the freezing wave." With lithe, sinuous limbs he coiled about -the pile, and continued to raise himself to where a beam rested on the -upright post, and again was fixed in the turret, which spans and guards -the entrance to the Tower by water. He had hardly gained this place, and -he felt little cold as with nervous fingers he kept fast in the position -he had attained, when a ray of light fell upon the water, streaming from -out a window of the turret. It was but for a moment, and it disappeared; -but Richard's eyes had glanced keenly on the illuminated spot. The -transverse beam he had attained was but little below the window; it had -been grated, but two of the stancheons were broken. This, to our -adventurer, suspended between the unattainable sky and the icy wave, -seemed a place of refuge. Carefully and slowly, he with clinging knees -and hands contrived to get along the beam, to raise himself on his feet -on it, and then to clutch the broken iron bar, and hoist himself into a -chamber of the Tower of London. - -The immediate physical dangers that beset our adventurers were so great -(the least horrific of which was spending the night exposed to freezing -blasts, which Barry already felt chilling his very heart's blood), that -they both forgot the dangerous nature of the asylum they were seeking. -The Irish noble had, as well as darkness permitted, followed the -movements of his young companion; the same ray which guided Richard to -temporary safety, had showed to Barry the mode of following him. He made -the attempt; but, though stronger, he was not so agile as his friend; -besides, the minutes which had elapsed during Richard's exertions, had -enfeebled by numbing the other's powers; he got nearly to the top of the -pile--he felt his fingers slip, and that he could hold on no longer. -One desperate struggle he made to cling closer; his grasp seemed rather -to relax, than tighten, in the attempt; and Richard, after a second, -heard with horror his heavy fall into the water. But Barry was more at -his ease in the yielding wave; and the very intensity of the cold, -burning his skin, set his blood in motion; the tide also had arrived at -its height during this interval, and had turned: without great -difficulty the noble cleared, after a few strokes, the abrupt banks that -fence the Tower, and landed on a quay below. - -Richard heard the waters splash from under his strokes. The silence was -so entire, that he thought he could distinguish the change of sound when -the swimmer emerged, and plainly heard Lord Barry's shout, in his own -native Irish, of thanksgiving and good cheer. For a moment, like -lightning, it flashed into his mind, the thought of the ominous refuge -he had found; and he was tempted to leap into the water, and to rejoin -his friend. But by this time the alarm of some one having plunged into -the river had been spread by the sentinels. The court became thronged; -some hastened to the wall, others loosened the boats tethered beneath -the gate, and issued in them from under the dark arch, over which Duke -Richard had found refuge. By the glare of many torches, they discovered -the wherry wedged in, as has been described. The splash attested that -some one had fallen into the water: that some one should escape from the -fortress, was more readily present to their imaginations than that any -should enter. They called to each other, communicating their surmises -and intentions: then one boat remained in guard close at the gate, while -the other rowed down the stream. Their exertions must end in nothing, -for Lord Barry had had full time to insure his escape. - -Richard attended to all their motions: several of the men in pursuit had -issued from the lower chambers of the turret in which he was: it was not -thus cooped up that he chose to be found; all seemed still; the only -sounds came from the men in the boat; he descended the stairs; he came -out upon the court of the Tower; the dark fortress frowned above, -casting, in spite of the dull moon, a shadow dark enough to hide him. -Steps were heard approaching; he turned under a dim archway; he ascended -a narrow, steep staircase; the steps still followed; hurriedly he opened -a door, and entered a chamber; the men, whoever they might be, were -unaware of his presence; they passed the door, turned down another -gallery; the very echo of their steps died away. - -Did he recognize the spot where he then stood? Well!--far too -well!--with a sickening feeling, an irresistible impulse to penetrate -into the very heart of the horror that made his pulses faint, he gazed -on the walls around. Was he then alone changed? Had he sprung up into -manhood, thought, experienced, suffered; and had the material universe -stood still the while? He saw before him a small chamber, enlightened by -one deep-set window, half blocked up by projecting buttresses outside: -there was the pallet-bed, the prie-Dieu, the little crucifix; his infant -limbs had reposed there; on that couch his brother had died. - -This was the Tower! Ten years before he had escaped from its gloomy -walls; and had he done this only to return again, when maturer years -gave him a bitterer feeling of the ills he must endure? He had visited -England, guided by the traitor-spirit of Clifford, it seemed; for he had -returned but to render himself a prisoner; yet at first these thoughts -were hardly so painful as the memory of his childhood. The superstitious -fears of the Tower, which haunted poor Edward, had made it an abode of -terror for both: how often had they lain in that bed, curdling each -other's young blood with frightful tales! His brother had pined, and -died. Now, true to the pious usages of the times, he knelt to say a -paternoster for his soul; he said another for his own perilous state; -and then, having, with entire faith committed himself to the protection -of his Father in Heaven, he rose with a cheered heart and sustained -courage. - -What was he to do? He was in the Tower; a fortress so well guarded, that -of the unhappy beings confined there for life, none had ever made their -escape; high walls, numerous courts, and grated windows, opposed his -egress. The clock chimed one. It were as well to remain where he was, as -to go on. But it were better still to turn back; quiet would soon be -restored; he might attain the same room, the same window, and leap -thence into the waters below. He remembered wherefore he had come; the -hazardous enterprise of Monina, and the imprisonment of Stanley. Now -that he had attained this chamber, the whole Tower presented itself, as -in a map, to his memory: he knew where the rooms allotted to state -prisoners were situated: confident in his knowledge, his feelings -underwent an entire change; instead of considering himself a prisoner in -the Tower, he felt lord of its labyrinths. Darkness was his wand of -office; the ignorance of all that he was there, was his guard; and his -knowledge of the place, better than the jailor's key, might aid him to -liberate the victims of his enemy. - -In this temper of mind he rejoiced that he had been unable to follow his -first impulse in leaping from the window; and he resolved on making his -way immediately to the part of the fortress inhabited by the state -prisoners. Blindfold, setting out from the point where he was, he could -have found his way; yet several images of barred and locked doors -presented themselves to his recollection, as intervening between the -spot where he then was, and that which he desired to visit. He descended -again into the court--he skirted the edifice, keeping close to the -shadowy wall--he saw the door but a few paces distant, which led to the -prison-chambers. At dead of night it must be locked and barred, guarded -by a sentinel, quite inaccessible to him. He paused--he saw no soldier -near--he walked on a few steps quickly; the door was wide open--this -looked like success--he sprang up the steps; a man below cried, "Who -goes there?" adding, "Is it you, sir? My light is puffed out; I will -bring one anon." Above he heard another voice--there was no -retreat--he went on, relying on some chance that might afford him a -refuge under cover of murky night from the twofold danger that beset -him. A man stood at the doorway of the nearest chamber: it was not -possible to pass him--as he hesitated he heard the words, "Good rest -visit your lordship--I grieve to have disturbed you." Richard retired a -few steps--the man closed, locked the door--"A light, ho!" he -exclaimed, and the prince feared to see the servitor ascend the stairs. -The moon, just beginning to show its clouded rays, threw a brief ray -upon the landing where Richard stood, and he moved out of the partial -radiance; the slight movement he made attracted notice, which was -announced by a challenge of "Who goes there? is it you, Fitzwilliam? How -is this? the word, sir!" - -The duke knew that, among the numerous and various inhabitants of the -Tower, many were personally unknown to each other; and that any stranger -visitor was not intrusted with the word--so he replied immediately, as -his best safeguard: "I was roused by the calling of the guard. I knew -not that such, reveilles were usual; good night, sir." - -Those pay little attention to the impression of their senses, who are -not aware that family resemblance develops itself in nothing so much as -the voice; and that it is difficult in the dark to distinguish -relatives. In confirmation of this I heard a sagacious observer remark, -and have proved the observation true, that the formation of the jaw, and -setting of the teeth is peculiar, and the same in families. But this is -foreign--enough that, caught by the voice, hardly able to distinguish -the obscure outline of the speaker in the almost blackness of -night--the man replied, "I crave pardon, my good lord, you forget -yourself; this way is your chamber. What, ho! a light!" - -"It needs not," said the prince; "the glare would offend mine eyes--I -shall find the door." - -"Permit me," said the other, going forward, "I will wait on your -lordship so far. I wonder not you were roused; there was an alarm at the -river postern, and the whole guard roused. Sir John thought it might -concern poor Sir William; and I was fain to see all right with him. It -irked me truly to break in on his repose; the last he may ever have." - -They approached a door; the man's hand was on the lock--Richard's heart -beat so loud and fast, that it seemed to him that alone must be -perceived and excite suspicion--if the door were fastened on the inside -he were lost; but the man was in no hurry to try--he talked on:-- - -"The lieutenant was the more suspicious, because he gave credit and easy -entrance to his pretended stripling son, who craved for it even with -tears: yet when they met, we all thought that the Lord Chamberlain did -not greet him as a parent would a child at such a time; the truth, -indeed, we saw with half an eye, be she his daughter, or his light of -love; yet not the last, methinks, for she seemed right glad to be -accommodated for the night in a separate chamber--she is a mere girl -beside, and in spite of her unmeet garb, modest withal." - -"When goes she? With the dawn?" Richard hazarded these questions, for -his silence might be more suspected than his speech; and the information -he sought, imported to him. - -"Nay, she will stay to the end for me," said the man: "Sir William was a -kind gentleman, as I can testify, in his prosperity; and it is little to -let him have the comfort of this poor child's company for a day longer: -he dies on the morrow." - -"Could I see this fair one?" - -"By my troth, fair she is not, though lovely to look on, but somewhat -burnt, as if her mother had been a dweller in the south. If you visit -and take leave of Sir Stanley to-morrow, you may chance to behold her: -but I detain you, my Lord; a good night, rather, a good morning to your -lordship." - -He unclosed the door; all was dark within, save that the chamber opened -into another at the further end, in which evidently a lamp was burning. -Kind thanks and a benison passed; Richard stepped within the apartment, -and the door shut on him. - -What could this mean? Glad, confused, yet still fearful, the prince was -almost deprived of the power of motion. Recovering himself with a strong -effort, he passed on to the inner chamber: it was a bedroom, tapestried, -strewed thick with rushes, a silver lamp suspended by a silver chain to -the grim claws of a gilt eagle, which was fixed in the ceiling, gave -token of rank, as well as the rich damask of the bed-furniture and the -curious carving of the couch and seats; the articles of dress also -strewed about belonged to the noble-born: strange, as yet Richard had -not conjectured for whom he had been mistaken! He drew near the bed, and -gazed fixedly on its occupier. The short, clustering, auburn curls were -tinged with grey, yet the sleeper was young, though made untimely old by -suffering; his cheeks were wasted and fallen in; the blue veins on his -brow were conspicuous, lifting the clear skin which clung almost to the -bones; he was as pale as marble, and the heavy eyelids were partly -raised even in sleep by the large blue ball that showed itself beneath; -one hand lay on the coverlid, thin to emaciation. What manner of victim -was this to Henry's tyranny? nay, the enigma was easily solved: it must -be the earl of Warwick. "And such, but for my cousin Lincoln, would have -been my fate," thought Richard. He remembered his childhood's -imprisonment; he thought of the long days and nights of confinement, the -utter hopelessness, the freezing despair, blighting the budding hopes of -youth, the throes of intolerable, struggling agony, which had reduced -poor Warwick to this shadow of humanity; he felt a choking sensation in -his throat as he bent over him; large drops gathered in his eyes; they -fell, ere he was aware, on the sleeper's wan check. - -Warwick turned uneasily, opened his eyes, and half-started up: "Whom -have we here?" he cried: "why am I disturbed?" - -"Your pardon, fair gentleman," Richard began---- - -"My pardon!" repeated Warwick, bitterly; "were that needed, you were not -here. What means this intrusion--tell me, and be gone?" - -"I am not what you take me for, cousin Edward," said the prince. - -Now, indeed, did Warwick start; shading his eyes from the lamp, he gazed -earnestly on the speaker, murmuring, "That voice, that name--it cannot -be! In the name of sweet charity speak again; tell me what this means, -and if you are--why this visit, why that garb?" - -"My dear lord of Warwick," said the prince, "dismiss this inquietude, -and if you will listen with patience to the story of an unhappy kinsman, -you shall know all. I am Richard of York; those whose blood is akin to -yours as well as mine, have ycleped me the White Rose of England." - -The earl of Warwick had heard of the Pretender set up by his aunt, the -duchess of Burgundy; he had often pondered over the likelihood of his -really being his cousin, and the alteration it would occasion in his -fortunes, if he were to succeed. Shut out from the world, as he had been -so long, the victim of mere despair, he could not even imagine that good -could betide to any one, save to the oppressor of his race; to see -Perkin, for so he had been taught to call him, within the walls of the -ill-fated Tower, appeared to disclose at once his defeat. Even when the -duke rapidly and briefly narrated the accidents that had brought him -thither, and his strange position. Prince Edward believed only that he -had been decoyed into the trap, which had closed on him for ever. - -Still Richard talked on; his ardour, his confidence in his own measures, -his vivacious anxiety already to put them into practice, his utter -fearlessness, were not lost upon one who had been dead to outward -impressions, not from want of sensibility, but from the annihilation of -hope. Some of his cousin's spirit overflowed into Warwick's heart; and, -in conclusion, he assented to all he said, promising to do whatever was -required of him, though after ten years of lone imprisonment he almost -shrunk from emerging from his listless state. - - - - -CHAPTER XXV - -THE RESCUE - - - Let all the dukes and all the devils roar, - He is at liberty! I've ventured for him; - And out I've brought him to a little wood - A mile hence. - - TWO NOBLE KINSMEN. - - -Morning, cold and wintry, dawned upon the gloomy chambers of the Tower. -York became eager to put in execution some plan of escape in which -Warwick should share; but Warwick was full of timidity and fear. His -prison was a frightful den; yet all without was a wide, pathless, -tiger-infested jungle. He besought his cousin to regard his own safety -only. Richard refused; yet the more he meditated, the more did obstacles -crowd upon him. After the lapse of an hour, Warwick was called upon to -attend early mass, as usual, in the chapel of the fortress. Here he saw -Stanley and the disguised shrinking Monina; and, the service ended, -attended them to the prison-chamber of the chamberlain, relating as he -went, in quick low whispers, the history of the preceding night. Both -his hearers grew pale: one feared for her friend, the other for himself; -though on that score all cause of dread was well nigh at an end. All -three entered Stanley's cell, and found there Prince Richard himself, -whose active mind had led him to watch his opportunity to pass hither -unseen from Warwick's apartment. - -The young earl of March, arming for the battle of Northampton, looked -not so young, so blooming, and so frankly erect, as his uncrowned son. -Stanley saw at once who was before him, and, never forgetting the -courtier, addressed his prince with a subject's respect. York was struck -by the placid, though somewhat worldly physiognomy of the man, devoted -to die, at the age when human beings are most apt to cling to life; -when, having weathered the storms and passions of youth, they desire to -repose awhile on the sun-enlightened earth, before they enter the gloomy -gates of the tomb. - -The prince spoke eagerly of escape--of safety--of life: Warwick, even -timid Warwick, urged an attempt at flight; while Monina kissed her aged -friend's hand, and turned her sweet eyes on him, saying: "You will -listen to him, though you were deaf to me." - -Stanley alone was unmoved--"A thousand heartfelt, useless thanks, my -dear and honoured Lord, your poor servant renders; and even when prayer -for himself is most needed, earnestly he prays that harm to you arise -not from your unexampled generosity. I cannot fly; I do believe that I -would not, if I could: and I will spare myself the disgrace of further -endangering you, and of being seized myself in the coward's act. Ask me -not, with your beseeching eyes, my gentle, venturous child, for it must -not be. I die to-morrow; and this fate you would have me avoid. Whither -would you drag me from the block? To poverty? to an unhonoured old age? -a traitor's reputation, and miserable dependence? I am a sinful man; but -I trust in God's mercy, and he holds out better hopes after the brief -spasm of death, than you after the torture of difficult escape." - -More he would have said; but they were interrupted. They had not been -aware of any one's approach; and suddenly Sir John Digby, lieutenant of -the Tower, entered. He was aghast to see one more than he expected--one -whose demeanour spoke nobility. Silence followed his entrance; nor did -words readily present themselves to the blunt soldier. At length, -addressing the cause of this wonder, he, in an ironical tone of voice, -asked, "May I, lieutenant of this fortress, delegated by his majesty to -its keeping, be permitted to ask, fair sir, the name, station, and -designs of my unbidden guest?" - -"My answer to your two first questions," replied York, "would little -satisfy you. My design was to facilitate the escape of this virtuous and -unhappy gentleman." - -"The king is infinitely your debtor; and I shall prove unmannered in -marring your intent." - -"You do not mar it. Sir John," said the prince. "My Lord Chamberlain is -a true man, and would rather lay his head on the block, at his liege's -bidding, than carry it in security at the prayer of any other. Sir -William has refused to fly; and, my mission ended, I was about to take -my leave." - -"Do so, young man; take leave--an eternal one--of Sir William, and -follow me. My lord of Warwick, this is an unmeet scene for you to be -present at. This holy man comes to bestow the last words of pious -comfort my noble prisoner can receive in this world: please your -lordship to leave them together uninterrupted. I am sorry," continued -the lieutenant, addressing Monina, "to retract the permission I gave you -yesterday; but this strange incident must be my excuse. Say a last -farewell to him you have named your father." - -Monina dreaded too much the fate that might befall her friend to entreat -for any change in this decree. Soon poor Sir William found himself -separated from the busy scene of life, shut up with the chaplain. He was -bid to remember and repent, and to prepare to die. A dark veil fell -before the vista of coming years, which was apparent to the eyes of his -late companions. He saw in the present hour--one only, almost -superfluous, added to the closing account. They beheld in it the arbiter -of their undivined destinies. - -It is an awful emotion when we feel that the "very shoal of time" on -which we stand is freighted with the good and ill of futurity--that the -instant birth of the hour inherits our entire fortunes. Yet Richard was -proof against this rough testimony of our powerless mortality. The ill -had not yet arrived with which he did not believe he could cope; and -more--now he was bent upon endeavouring to save Stanley; for his own -fate, though about to expose it to the most unquestioned shape of peril, -he had no fears. - -Sir John Digby, followed by his new prisoners, paced back to his own -chamber, and then addressed his uninvited guest. "Fair gentleman," he -said, "again I crave to be informed of your name and degree, that his -majesty may be duly made acquainted on whom to bestow his thanks. Your -speech and appearance are English?" - -"Whoever I may be," replied York, "I will reveal nothing except to your -king. If he is willing to listen to disclosures nearly touching his -throne and safety, I will rouse him by a tale to shake sleep from one -who has steeped his eyes in poppy-juice. To no other will I vouchsafe a -word." - -Monina listened in terror. She would have given her life to beseech her -friend to retract that foolish word: but it was too late; while his -questioner, startled by his unforeseen reply, said, "You make a bold -demand. Think you that his grace is of such common use, that it is an -easy matter to attain his presence?" - -"I have said it, Sir John," answered York. "Your liege may hereafter -visit with poor thanks the denial you give me." - -The lieutenant fixed his eyes on him: his youth and dignity impressed -him favourably; but he hesitated, confused by doubts of who and what he -might be. At last he said, "His majesty is at present at his palace of -Shene, ten miles hence. - -"The less reason, Sir Lieutenant," replied Richard, "that you should -dally in the execution of your duty. The life of your prisoner, the -fortunes of your king, depend upon this interview." - -This was a riddle difficult for Sir John to solve; and he was about to -order his enigmatical visitant to the guard-room, while he should -consult upon the fitting conduct to pursue; when a beating at the gates, -the letting down of the drawbridge, and the clatter of hoofs announced -fresh arrivals at the fortress. - -The attention of every one was suspended, till, the usher announcing the -excellent prince, the earl of Desmond, that noble, attended by -followers, almost with regal pomp, entered. He cast his penetrating -glance around, and then unbonneting to the duke, he said respectfully, -"Your highness will believe that as soon as I heard of the position into -which, pardon me, your generous rashness has betrayed you, I hastened -hither to vouch for you, and deliver you from it." - -To such a speech, so unexpected, so portentous, what answer? Richard -felt inclined to laugh, as he heard himself spoken to, in terms which -seemed to say that the discovery of who he really was, would occasion -his release; but he quickly discerned a hidden meaning beneath this -incomprehensible language, and he contented himself with graciously -thanking the earl for his interference, while this noble turned to -address the wondering Sir John. - -"Sir Lieutenant," said he, "I have a strange story to tell, fitter for -his majesty's ears than those of a subject; but his grace is absent, and -it were not well that this noble gentleman should be kept in durance -while messengers go to and fro. Rather dismiss your followers, and I -will confide a weighty secret to you, and bring such arguments as will -induce you to intrust the high-born youth to my care and escort." - -Digby was not much of a statesman; he had a simple heart, and -considerable veneration for rank. He knew that the earl of Desmond had -been well received at court, and complied with his desire. The noble -then began a long explanation of parties and tumults in Scotland; of the -frightful death of James the Third; the accession of James the Fourth; -the discontent of several chief nobles, who wished to set up the younger -brother of the new king in opposition to him. "Your highness," continued -Desmond, addressing Richard, "will pardon me for thus introducing your -name--this, Sir Lieutenant, is the duke of Rosse, who has come, and not -vainly, to seek the assistance of our liege." - -Sir John bowed low and looked puzzled, while Desmond continued to speak -of disguise and secrecy, of friendship for Stanley, and of the rash -design of Lord Barry of Buttevant and the young duke to liberate him, -chiefly under the idea that thus they should best serve King Henry, who -must in his heart be loth to have his zealous friend put to death -through the falsehood of faction. "And now, gentle sir," he continued, -"be guided by me; the king loves peace; he loves state privacy; the very -presence of the duke in this country is a mystery; you will do agreeable -service by hushing up this youthful frolic. Permit his highness to -accompany me; I will make fitting report to his majesty, who will be -grateful withal." - -There was a kind of confused tallying in the story; for Richard's -mysterious words were at no discord with Desmond's explanations; and his -excessively youthful and perfectly noble appearance were further -corroboration. Digby liked not the responsibility of keeping him: he -spoke of sending for the bishop of Durham. Desmond exclaimed, "A soldier -have recourse to a priest--this England is a strange country! Do as you -will; only until the thumber of missals arrive, this is no place of -entertainment fur the prince. We will receive you and your clericus at -Walbrook; and I will entertain the royal gentleman till you come." - -Digby still looked blank and uncertain. Richard, who had remained -silent, now spoke: "Farewell, good sir: in truth, I need your excuse for -my impertinent visit; but here it ends. When I travel to Scotland, I -will report the favour I met at your hands." - -This sufficed. Sir John sullenly yielded: with a mixture of fear and -deference, he attended his visitors to the court; they crossed the -drawbridge; and ere the Tower-gates closed behind them, they heard the -lieutenant order out a guard and his own horse, that without loss of -time he might communicate with the bishop. - -The duke and his preserver rode gently enough down Tower Hill: scarce -had they reached the foot, before the earl gave a sudden command to his -followers, who turned one way, as he, York, and Monina, who had left the -Tower at the same time, and was mounted on one of Desmond's attendant's -horses, went another. "_Au galoppe_, dear my lord!" cried the earl, "we -have but a short hour's grace--this way--still the river to our left." - -They galloped along with loosened reins. Arriving at the Vale of -Holborn, they followed the upward course of the Fleet, so as to reach -the open country; and many a wild field they crossed, and briary lane -they threaded--the country was flat, marshy, wild; skirted in various -directions by brown wintry woods, rarely interspersed by hamlets. The -river was their only guide; they followed its course for several miles, -till they reached the shelter of Caen Wood. "Thank St. Patrick for this -cover!" cried the Irish chieftain; "may my cousin Barry find no let nor -hindrance--yon troubled stream will guide him well. We have done a -daring deed: for me, I have not ridden so far, since my father, God sain -him! died--I am well nigh _hors de combat_." - -The prince assisted both his companions to dismount. Lord Desmond's tale -was soon told, of how Lord Barry had sought him and suggested this mode -of effecting York's escape. "With the help of your Moorish friend," said -the earl, "no ill wind betide me--I shall be in Munster before the -riddle be half told; that is, if ever we reach the vessel. By my faith! -I would rather be knee-deep in a bog in Thomond, than dry-shod where I -am!" - -As day advanced, the situation of the fugitives became still more -disquieting. All was tranquil in the leafless wood; but, in spite of the -sun, it was very cold. Besides, they were in an unknown spot, without -guide; their sole hope being, that each passing minute would bring Lord -Barry to their assistance. Earl Maurice was thoroughly disabled; he -grumbled at first, and at last, wearied out, lay on the cold ground, and -fell into a slumber. Monina, serious, timid, and yet, in spite of -herself, happy in her friend's safety, and in her own being near him, -was silent; while Richard, to escape from his own thoughts, talked to -her. When, for a moment, his conversation languished, his eyes were -fondly fixed upon her downcast face, and a strife of sentiment, of -ardent, long-restrained love, and a tortuous, but severe resolve to -protect her, even from himself, battled in his heart; so that, in -all-engrossing love, every sense of danger was lost. - -Desmond at last roused himself: "The shadows grow long; herbage there is -little for our horses, pasture for ourselves there is none--if we stay, -we starve; if we stir, we----" - -He was interrupted; strange voices came upon the wind; then the cracking -of boughs, and the sound of steps. Through the vista of bare trees the -intruders at length appeared, in strange array. There was a band of -ill-attired, ruffian-looking men, followed by women and children; their -swart visages, their picturesque, but scant and ragged garb, their black -hair, and dark flashing eyes, were not English. Some were on foot, some -on asses, some in a cart drawn by two rough ill-assorted colts--their -very language was foreign. Richard and Monina recognized a horde of -Gitani, Bohemians, or Gipsies; while Desmond looked in wonder on -something almost wilder than the Irish kern. - -The savage wanderers were surprised to perceive the previous guests the -barren woods had received--they paused and looked round in some fear; -for the noble appearance of the gentlemen made them imagine that they -must be accompanied by numerous attendants. York's quick wit suggested -to him in a moment of what good use such humble friends might be. He -addressed them; told them that they were travellers who had lost their -way, "And so we have encroached on your rightful domain; but, like -courteous hosts, I beseech you, gentlemen, welcome us to your green-wood -palace, and make happy as you will grateful guests of us." - -Thus invited, the whole horde gathered round--the women, fancying all -three of an opposite sex, were forward with their prophetic art. - -"My fortune," cries Desmond, "shall not be told before supper; it is an -ill one, by the rood! at this hour. I have fasted since yesternight." - -Preparations were speedily made for a repast, while Richard, alive to -his situation, looked around for the most fitting object to address; -whose charity and aid he could hope to solicit with the greatest -success. One laughing-eyed girl glanced at him with peculiar favour; but -near her stood and scowled a tall handsome countryman of her own. York -turned to another, fairer, who sat retired apart; she looked more gentle -and even refined than the rest. He addressed her in courtly phrase, and -her reply, though ready, was modest. The acquaintance was a little in -progress, when one of the oldest among the sibyls, with white hair, and -a face of wrinkled parchment, hobbled up, muttering, "Ay, ay, the -fairest flower is aye the dearest to pluck; any of those gaudy weeds -might serve his turn; but no, my young master must needs handle the -daintiest bloom of the garden." Notwithstanding this interruption, -Richard still stood his ground, bandying pretty speeches with one not -the less pleased, because, strictly guarded by her duenna, she was -unaccustomed to the language of flattery. - -"Hast never a word for me, fair sir," said the crone, at last; "no -comparison of star and gems for one, who in her day has flaunted with -silk-clad dames--whose lips have been pressed even by a king?" - -His father's reputation for gallantry, thus alluded to, brought the -blood into York's cheeks; forgetful of what import his words bore, he -replied lastly, "Sleep King Edward's faults with him, mother; it is -neither wise nor well to speak irreverently of those gone to their -doom--may God assoilzie him!" - -"What voice is that?" cried the old woman; "if I boast, Heaven forgive -me, of his grace's slight favour, your mother may take shame----" - -"Your words are naught," cried York, interrupting her, "my mother's is a -sacred name--yet, tell me in very truth, and give me some sign that, -indeed, you knew my father." - -The word passed his lips before he was aware, but being spoken, he felt -that it were best not to recede. Seizing the old woman's shrivelled -hand, he said, "Look--use thy art--read my palm: read rather my -features, and learn indeed who I am: I am in danger; you may betray, or -you may save me: choose which you will--I am the duke of York." - -An exclamation checked, a look of boundless surprise changed into a -cautious glance around, attested the gipsy's wish to serve the venturous -youth. "Rash boy," she answered, in a low voice, "what idle, or what -mortal words are these! How art thou here? With what hope--what aid?" - -"Frankly, none but what I derive from your bounty. I have escaped worse -peril, so do not fear but that God will protect me, and even turn to -profit my parent's sin, if his kiss purchase his son's life." - -"Young sir," said the gipsy, with great seriousness, "the flower of love -is gay--its fruit too often bitter. So does she know on whose account I -wickedly and shamelessly did the foul fiend's bidding, and ruined a -sinless soul to gratify the pleasure-loving king. But thou hast paid the -penalty: thou and thine, who have been called by the ill-word, thrust -from thy place by thy crook-back uncle; and now art nearer a dungeon -than a throne through thy father's fault. I will serve and save thee; -tell me quickly, who are thy companions--whither thou wouldst go--that -I may judge the best to be done." - -It is to be observed, that at the very beginning of this colloquy, the -young girl, whom York had first addressed, had stolen away. Now he -replied by mentioning the lameness of his elder friend, and his resolve -not to be divided from the other. He spoke of the Adalid, and of his -further wish to be awhile concealed in England. The old woman continued -silent, wrapped in thought. At length she raised her head--"It can be -done, and it shall," she said, half to herself. "Come now, they are -serving our homely fare. You, who are young, and ill-apt for penance, -must eat before you go." - -The savoury steams of the well-filled and rustic _marmite_, gave force to -her words, and to Richard's appetite. The repast was plentiful and gay, -and even too long. Evening was far advanced, the fire grew light in the -dusk, and threw its fitful rays upon the strange and incongruous -feasters. Monina had cowered close to Richard; the cup went round; -scarcely did she put it to her lips; a rude companion of the crew made -some rough jest on her sobriety. Richard's face lighted up with anger: -his watchful old friend stepped forward, in her own jargon she made some -communication to her associates, which caused a universal pause, and -then a stir: it was evident some movement was intended. She meanwhile -drew the three fugitives aside: - -"In a few minutes," she said, "we shall all be on our way hence; listen -how I would provide for your safeties." She then proposed that Desmond -should assume the disguise of one of the horde, and so be conveyed in -safety to the banks of the Thames, and on board the Adalid. She promised -herself to conduct the prince and his young friend to a secure refuge. -The earl, accustomed to find fidelity and rags near mates, readily -acceded to this proposal. In the solitary unknown spot to which, chance -had directed them, environed by every danger, no step was more perilous -than the remaining where they were. York and Monina were familiar with -the reports of the gipsy character--its savage honour and untractable -constancy. The season was such, though the day had been unusually sunny -and warm, as to make a night in the open air no agreeable anticipation; -and Richard had a thousand fears on his lovely friend's account. They -all readily acceded to the old woman's plan. Desmond was quickly -disguised, his visage stained deep brown, his whole person transformed; -he was placed in the caravan, and the horde was speedily in movement; -the sound of their departing steps died away. They had left a rude cart, -to which York's horse, a strong hack, was harnessed. The sibyl undertook -to guide it. Richard and Monina ascended the jumbling fabric. Soon they -were on their journey, none but their conductress knew in what -direction; but they submitted to her, and through copse and over field -they wound their darkling way. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVI - -THE EARL OF SURREY - - - So love did vanish with my state, - Which now my soul repents too late; - Then, maids and wives, in time amend, - For love and beauty will have end. - - BALLAD OF JANE SHORE. - - - Oh, it grieves my soul - That I must draw this metal from my side - To be a widow maker! - - SHAKSPEARE. - - -Seated in the rude gipsy-cart, guided, protected, by the uncouth being -into whose hands he had so strangely fallen, Richard, for the first -time, felt the degradation and low fortune to which his aspirations, at -variance with his means, made him liable. With a strong effort he -dismissed these painful ideas, and fixed his contemplation on mightier -objects, which gilded his mean estate, or were rather the "gold -o'erdusted" by such extraneous poverty. To rise from this lowliness to a -throne were an emprise worthy his ambition. Was he not a few hours ago a -prisoner in the terror-striking tower? And now he was free--free in his -England; which, when the battle-day was come and past, would claim him -for her own. A few words from Monina interrupted the silence: she sat at -his feet, and they conversed in whispers in Spanish. Night had gathered -round them; Monina, in all the innocence of her pure heart was supremely -happy: to be near her friend in his disasters, united to him in his -peril, was a more rapturous destiny to her than the world's best pomp, -and he absent. No busy conscience, no untoward thought disturbed in her -soul the calm of perfect bliss. She grew weary at last; her head sank on -Richard's knee, and, overworn with watching, she fell into a deep sleep. -Richard heard her regular breathing; once or twice his fingers played -among her dishevelled ringlets, while his heart whispered to him what a -wondrous creation woman was--weak, frail, complaining when she suffers -for herself; heroic fortitude and untired self-devotion are hers, when -she sacrifices herself for him she loves. - -The cart moved on, Richard saw not whither; they almost stuck in some -flat, low fields, and at last arrived at a solitary, miserable hut. -Monina awoke, when they stopped, and the gipsy told them that this -wretched dwelling was to be their asylum: the apartment they entered was -poor beyond meanness--a bed of straw piled in one corner, a rude bench, -formed the furniture; the walls were ragged and weather-stained, and the -outer crumbling rafters were visible through the broken ceiling: there -appeared to be neither food nor fire. The inhabitant of the hovel alone -was there,--a white-looking, emaciated female; yet with a look of such -sweetness and patience, that she seemed the very enshrinement of -Christian resignation, the type of sorrow and suffering, married to meek -obedience to the supreme will. She had roused herself from slumber at -the voice of the gipsy, and gathered her scant garments around -her--scant and poor they were; her coarse woollen dress was tied by a -girdle of rope round her slender waist; her head was wrapped in a -kerchief; her feet were bare. - -"Jane," said the old woman, "you will not refuse the shelter of your -roof to these poor wanderers?" - -Such an address seemed strange, for the rich attire of her guests -ill-accorded with her poverty-stricken home; but she turned with a -smile--she spoke--and then a throb of agony seemed to convulse her -frame--her head swam; Richard rushed forward to prevent her falling, -but she shrunk from him, and leaned on the old woman, who said with a -look of triumph, "I knew how it would be; it is vain to hide a bright -light behind a veil of gauze! Yes, Jane, this is his son; and you may -save him from danger and death." - -Jane Shore, the once lovely mistress of King Edward, now the miserable -outcast of the world's scorn, heard these words, as if they had been -spoken to her in a dream. After the death of her royal lover, she had -obeyed the impulse that made her cling to the soft luxuries of life, and -yielded to solicitations which tended to guard her from the sharp -visitation of the world. She had become the mistress of the marquess of -Dorset; but sorrow and penury were destined to pursue her in their worst -shape--and wherefore? She had been good and humane; and in spite of her -error, even the sternest moralist might have pitied her. But she was all -woman,--fearful of repulse, dreading insult; more willing to lie down -and die, than, fallen and miserable, to solicit uncertain relief: -squalid poverty, famine, and lonely suffering, were hers; yet in all she -preserved an unalterable sweetness of disposition, which painted her wan -face with, its own soft colouring. - -The old woman went forth to seek for food, and the two friends were left -for several hours alone with Jane. She gazed affectionately on the -youthful duke; she looked more timidly on Monina, whose sex could not be -said to be disguised by her page's dress: the fallen woman fears women, -their self-sufficient virtues and cold reprobation; yet the sensibility -of Monina's countenance, and the soft expression of her eyes, so -all-powerful in their sweetness, could not be mistaken; and her first -shrinking from censure was exchanged for even a more painful feeling. -They were a lovely pair, these lone guests of poverty; innocence sat on -the brow of each, yet love beamed in their aspect:--love! the two-edged -sword, the flower-strewn poison, the dread cause of every misery! More -than famine and sickness Jane feared love; for with it in her mind were -linked shame and guilt, and the world's unkindness, hard to bear to one, -whose heart was "open as day to melting charity;" and she feared that -she saw in this sweet girl a bright reflex of her early days. Oh, might -the blotted mirror ne'er pourtray a change like hers! "I am a living -lesson of the woes of love," thought poor Jane; "may this chance-visit -to my hut, which saves young Richard's life, insure her innocence!" Thus -impelled, she spoke: she spoke of the danger of their solitary -companionship; she adjured York to fly the delusive charm--for love's -own sake he ought to fly; for if he made her his victim, affection would -be married to hate--joy to woe--her he prized to a skeleton, more grim -than death. Richard strove to interrupt her, but she misunderstood his -meaning; while Monina, somewhat bewildered, fancied that she only -alluded to the dangers she incurred in his cause, and with her own -beaming look cried, "Oh, mother, is it not better to suffer for one so -noble, than to live in the cold security of prosperity?" - -"No, no," said Jane, "Oh, does my miserable fate cry aloud, no! Edward, -his father, was bright as he. Libertine he was called--I know not if -truly; but sincere was the affection he bore to me. He never changed or -faltered in the faith he promised, when he led me from the dull abode of -connubial strife to the bright home of love. Riches and the world's -pleasures were the least of his gifts, for he gave me himself and -happiness. Behold me now: twelve long years have passed, and I waste and -decay; the wedded wife of shame; famine, sorrow, and remorse, my sole -companions." - -This language was too plain. The blood rushed into Monina's face. "Oh, -love him not," continued the hapless penitent; "fly his love, because he -is beautiful, good, noble, worthy--fly from him, and thus preserve him -yours for ever." - -Monina quickly recovered herself; she interrupted her imprudent -monitress, and calmly assured her that her admonition, though -unnecessary, should not prove vain; and then both she and York exerted -themselves to engage Jane's attention on topics relative to his cause, -his hopes, his partizans, thus exciting her curiosity and interest. - -Richard passed the whole of the following day in this abode of penury -and desolation. That day, indeed, was big with dire event. The morning -rose upon Stanley's death. In Jane's hut the hollow bell was heard that -tolled the fatal hour. The ear is sometimes the parent of a livelier -sense than any other of the soul's apprehensive portals. In Italy, for -three days in Passion week, the sound of every bell and of every clock -is suspended. On the noon of the day when the mystery of the -Resurrection is solemnized, they all burst forth in one glad peel. Every -Catholic kneels in prayer, and even the unimaginative Protestant feels -the influence of a religion which speaks so audibly. And, in this more -sombre land, the sad bell that tolls for death strikes more melancholy -to the heart than the plumed hearse or any other pageantry of woe. In -silence and fear the fugitives heard the funereal knell sweep across the -desolate fields, telling them that at that moment Stanley died. - -Women nurse grief--dwell with it. Like poor Constance, they dress their -past joys in mourning raiment, and so abide with them. But the masculine -spirit struggles with suffering. How gladly, that very evening, did the -duke hail Frion's arrival, who, in the garb of a saintly pardoner, came -to lead him from Jane's dim abode. In spite of his remonstrances, Monina -refused to accompany him: she should endanger him, she said; besides -that, his occupation would be to rouse a martial spirit among the -Yorkists--hers to seek the Adalid and her dear father's protection. - -Frion procured a safe asylum for the prince: and here, no longer pressed -by the sense of immediate danger, his head was rife with projects, his -spirit burning to show himself first to the Yorkists, in a manner worthy -of his pretensions. The choice was hazardous and difficult: but it so -happened that it was notified that in a few weeks Lord Surrey's eldest -sister was to marry the Lord de Walden, and the ceremony was to be -graced with much feasting and a solemn tournament. - -There was magic in all the associations with this family for Richard. In -his early infancy, Thomas Mowbray, the last of the dukes of Norfolk of -that name, died. It almost was beyond his recollection that he had been -married to the little Lady Anne, the duke's only child and heiress. She -died soon after; and the representative of the female branch of the -Mowbrays, John Howard was created duke of Norfolk by Richard the Third. -He fell at Bosworth; and his son, the earl of Surrey, though attaching -himself to Henry the Seventh, and pardoned and taken into favour, was -not permitted to assume his father's attainted title. - -At this marriage-feast the mother of his Anne, the dowager duchess of -Norfolk, daughter of Talbot, earl of Shrewsbury, so famous in the French -wars, would be present; and others of the Howard and Berkeley families, -all Yorkists once. The prince could not resist the temptation of -appearing on the lists that day, where, if success crowned him, as -surely it would, he could with prouder hopes call on Surrey to maintain -his claims. Frion got gallant armour for him, and contrived to have him, -under another name, inserted in the list of combatants. - -York's bosom swelled with pride and exultation when he saw himself among -his countrymen--his subjects--with lance in rest and bright shield -upon his arm, about to tilt with England's noblest cavaliers. It seemed -to him as if he had never asked more of fortune--and the herald's -voice, the clarion's sound, the neigh of steeds, the gallant bearing of -the knights, and charmed circle of joyous beauty around, were like a -voice from beyond life, speaking of a Paradise he had left,--his own -native home. But one emotion of disquiet crossed him: as about to pass -the barrier, Frion put his hand on his rein, and whispered, "Beware of -Clifford!" The duke threw his eyes round the vizored throng. With what -gladness would he have singled him out, and met him in fierce, mortal -combat! A second thought told him that the dishonoured man could not -find place in this gallant company. - -We will not dwell on the tilt, the thrust, and the parry, the -overthrowing of horses, and defeat of knights. Richard gloried in the -recollection of his Spanish combats, and the love he bore for martial -exercises, which made him, so boyish in figure, emulate the strong acts -of men. Fortune had varied: but, when at noon the pastime of that day -ended, the prince remained victor in the field. From the hand of the -queen of the feast he was receiving his reward, when Surrey, who had led -him to her throne, was suddenly called away. The assembly broke up; and -Richard was half occupied by polite attention to the countess, and half -by recollecting his peculiar situation, when the marshal of the lists -whispered him to follow--he led him to a gallery, where Surrey alone -was pacing backwards and forwards in great agitation. He stopped when -the prince entered--motioned the marshal to leave them, and then, in a -voice of suppressed passion, said, "I will not ask thee why with a false -appellation thou hast insulted the feast of nobles?--but well may I -ask, what fiend possessed thee to do a deed that affixes the taint of -disloyalty to King Henry's liege subject?" - -"My good sword, my lord," said Richard, colouring, "were eloquent to -answer your questioning, but that you are much deceived; I am not indeed -that which I called myself; but honour, not disgrace, attaches itself to -my presence. I came to tell you this, to rouse the old fidelity of the -Howards; to bid Lord Surrey arm for the last of the true Plantagenets." - -"Saint Thomas speed me! Clifford then spoke true--thou art Perkin -Warbeck?" - -"I would fain," said the duke haughtily, "ask a revered lady, who claims -kindred with thee, what name she would give to her sainted daughter's -affianced husband?" - -The language of truth is too clear, too complete, for the blots and -flaws of incredulity; the very anger Lord Surrey had manifested, now -turned to his confusion; the insult he had offered demanded reparation; -he could not refuse his visitant's earnest demand to be led to the widow -of Mowbray, duke of Norfolk. - -Elizabeth, daughter of the gallant Talbot, was proud of her ancestry, -and disappointed in the diminution of her house. When her Anne was -affianced to the little duke of York, and the nobility of Norfolk was -merged in the royal style of England, she had gloried; since then, -attainder and defeat had eclipsed the ducal honours of her race; nor -could she forgive the allegiance of its heirs to Lancaster. Often had -she pondered on the reports concerning Margaret of Burgundy's White -Rose; it was with agitation therefore that she heard that he was to be -brought for her to decide on his truth. - -The duke had doffed his helm: his golden hair clustered on the almost -infantine candour of his brow, and shaded to softer meaning the frank -aspect of his clear blue eyes. The aged duchess fixed her dimmed but -steady gaze upon him, and at once became aware that this was no ignoble -pretender who stood before her. His dignity inspired Surrey with -respect: he hesitated as he introduced the subject of his identity with -Edward the Fourth's youngest son. The duke, with a half-smile, began to -speak of his boyish recollections, and his little pretty playfellow, and -of one Mistress Margery, her governante; he spoke of a quarrel with his -infant bride on the very wedding-day, and how nothing would bribe him to -the ceremony, save the gift of a pretty foal, White Surrey, which -afterwards bore his uncle Gloucester in the battle of Bosworth. As he -spoke, he saw a smile mantle over the aged lady's countenance; and then -he alluded to his poor wife's death, and reminded the duchess, that when -clad in black, an infant widower, he had visited her in condolence; and -how the sad lady had taken a jewel-encircled portrait of her lost child, -garnished with the blended arms of Plantagenet and Mowbray, from his -neck, promising to restore it on an after-day, which day had never come. -Tears now rushed, into the duchess's eyes; she drew the miniature from -her bosom, and neither she nor Lord Surrey could longer doubt, that the -affianced husband of the noble Anne stood before them. - -Much confusion painted the earl's countenance. The duke of York's first -involuntary act had been to stretch out his hand; but the noble -hesitated ere he could bestow on it the kiss of allegiance. Richard -marked his reluctance, and spoke with gallant frankness: "I am an -outcast," he said, "the victim of lukewarm faith and ill-nurtured -treason: I am weak, my adversary strong. My lord, I will ask nothing of -you; I will not fancy that you would revive the ancient bond of union -between York and Norfolk; and yet, were it not a worthy act to pull down -a base-minded usurper, and seat upon his father's throne an injured -prince?" - -The duchess answered for him. "Oh, surely, my noble cousin will be no -recreant in this cause, the cause of our own so exalted lineage." - -But Lord Surrey had different thoughts: it cost him much to express -them; for he had loved the House of York, and honoured and pitied its -apparent offspring. At length he overcame his feelings, and said, "And, -if I do not this, if I do not assist to replant a standard whose staff -was broken on the graves of our slaughtered fathers, will your highness -yet bear with me, while I say a few words in my defence?" - -"It needs not, gallant Surrey," interrupted York. - -"Under favour, it does need," replied the earl; "and withal touches mine -honour nearly, that it stand clear in this question. My lord, the Roses -contended in a long and sanguinary war, and many thousand of our -countrymen fell in the sad conflict. The executioner's axe accomplished -what the murderous sword spared, and poor England became a wide, wide -grave. The green-wood glade, the cultivated fields, noble castles, and -smiling villages were changed to churchyard and tomb: want, famine, and -hate ravaged the fated land. My lord, I love not Tudor, but I love my -country: and now that I see plenty and peace reign over this fair isle, -even though Lancaster be their unworthy viceregent, shall I cast forth -these friends of man, to bring back the deadly horrors of unholy civil -war? By the God that made me, I cannot? I have a dear wife and lovely -children, sisters, friends, and all the sacred ties of humanity, that -cling round my heart, and feed it with delight; these I might sacrifice -at the call of honour, but the misery I must then endure I will not -inflict on others; I will not people my country with widows and orphans; -nor spread the plague of death from the eastern to the western sea." - -Surrey spoke eloquently well; for his heart was upon his lips. Prince -Richard heard with burning emotion. "By my fay!" he cried, "thou wouldst -teach me to turn spinster, my lord: but oh, cousin Howard! did you know -what it is to be an exiled man, dependent on the bounty of others; -though your patrimony were but a shepherd's hut on a wild nameless -common, you would think it well done to waste life to dispossess the -usurper of your right." - - - - -CHAPTER XXVII - -THE LANDING AT HYTHE - - - Farewell, kind lord, fight valiantly to-day. - And yet I do thee wrong to mind thee of it, - For thou art framed of the firm truth of valour. - - SHAKSPEARE. - - -The duke of York was not of a temperament to sink supinely before the -first obstacles. Lord Surrey's deep-felt abjuration of war influenced -him to sadness, but the usual habit of his mind returned. He had been -educated to believe that his honour called on him to maintain his -claims. Honour, always a magic word with the good and brave, was then a -part of the religion of every pious heart. He had been nursed in -war--the javelin and the sword were as familiar to his hand as the -distaff and spindle to the old Tuscan crone. In addition, the present -occasion called for activity. The fleet, armed for invasion, prepared by -his noble aunt--manned by his exiled zealous friends--would soon -appear on the English coast, giving form and force to, while it -necessitated his purposed attempt. - -He possessed in his secretary Frion, a counsellor, friend, and servant, -admirably calculated to prevent all wavering. This man's vanity, -lion-strong, was alive to insure his new master's success, and to -overthrow him by whom he had been discarded. He was an adept in -intrigue; an oily flatterer; a man of unwearied activity, both of mind -and body. It was his care to prevent York from suffering any of the -humiliations incident to his position. He obtained supplies of money for -him--he suffered none to approach who were not already full of -zeal--when he met with any failure, he proved logically that it was a -success, and magnified an escape into a victory--he worked day and -night to insure that nothing came near the prince, except through his -medium, which was one sugared and drugged to please. When he saw -Richard's clear spirit clouded by Lord Surrey, he demonstrated that -England could not suffer through him; for that in the battle it was a -struggle between partizans ready to lay down their lives in their -respective causes, so that, for their own sakes and pleasure, he ought -to call on them to make the sacrifice. As to the ruin and misery of the -land--he bade him mark the exactions of Henry; the penury of the -peasant, drained to his last stiver--this was real wretchedness; -devastating the country, and leaving it barren, as if sown with salt. -Fertility and plenty would speedily efface the light wound he must -inflict--nay, England would be restored to youth, and laugh through all -her shores and plains, when grasping Tudor was exchanged for the -munificent Plantagenet. - -In one circumstance Frion had been peculiarly fortunate. The part he had -played of astrologer during the foregoing summer had brought him -acquainted with a young nobleman zealous in the cause of York, and well -able to afford it assistance. Lord Audley was of the west country, but -his maternal relations were Kentish, and he possessed a mansion and a -small estate not far from Hythe in Kent. Lord Audley was of a class of -men common all over the world. He had inherited his title and fortune -early in life, and was still a very young man. He loved action, and -desired distinction, and was disposed to enter readily into all the -turmoil and risk of conspiracy and revolt. His aim was to become a -leader: he was vain, but generous; zealous, but deficient in judgment. -He was a Yorkist by birth and a soldier by profession--all combined to -render him, heart and soul, the friend of the wandering Plantagenet. - -Frion led York to the mansion of this noble, and it became the focus of -the spirit of sedition and discontent to the country round. The -immediate presence of the duke was concealed; but the activity of his -friends was not the less great to collect a band of partizans, to which, -when prepared and disciplined, they might present their royal leader. -Their chief purpose was to collect such a body of men as might give one -impetus to the comity, when the invading fleet should arrive on these -coasts from Burgundy. Time was wanting for the complete organization of -their plan; for each day they expected the vessels, and their operations -in consequence were a little abrupt. Still they were in hopes that they -should be enabled to assemble an armed force sufficient to facilitate -the landing and to insure the success of the expected troops. Day and -night these men were occupied in gathering together followers. It was -not long, however, before the wily secretary discovered that some one -was at work to counteract their schemes. Those he had left transported -with zeal for the cause yesterday, to-day he found lukewarm or icy cold. -Their enemy, whoever it might be, observed great mystery in his -proceedings; yet he appeared to have intuitive knowledge of theirs. -Frion exerted himself to discover the secret cause of all the -mischief--he was liberal of promises and bribes. One day he had -appointed a rendezvous for a party of recruits, about a hundred men, who -had been exercised for the last fortnight, and promised well--none -arrived at the appointed spot. Frion rode sorrowfully through the dusk -of the evening towards Lord Audley's dwelling. He was overtaken by a -horseman, with a slouched hat, and otherwise muffled up: he rode at his -side for a little way, quite mute to all Frion's courteous salutations; -and then he suddenly put spurs to his horse, and was out of sight in a -moment. Night grew darker; and at the mirk-embowered entrance of a shady -lane, Frion was startled by the tramp of a horse--it was the same -man:--"Maître Frion!" he cried. - -"Sir Robert Clifford!" - -"The same--I knew not that my voice was so treacherous," Clifford -began: he went on abruptly to declare that he was the counterminer; he, -the secret marplot of the sagacious Frenchman's schemes. He displayed in -all that he said a perfect knowledge of every transaction, and of the -prince's present residence. By'r Lady's grace, he might have brought -King Henry's archers to Lord Audley's very door! Wherefore he had not -done this seemed strange; his own account perplexed. In truth, this -wretched man, at war with guilt and with himself, loathed the dishonour -he had acquired. Like all evil-disposed persons, he had no idea of -purging himself from the foul stain by frank confession and reformation: -his project was to begin a new career in a new country: to go where his -own tarnished reputation was unknown, where the cankerous name of York -would poison no more his native language by its perpetual recurrence. -His violent passions led him also to other conclusions; he hated -Richard, and loved Monina; his desire to satisfy both these sentiments -suggested a project on which he now acted, and which dictated his -discourse with Frion. He showed how from that very spot he might ride to -London, and make disclosures to the king; his knowledge of every detail -of the Yorkist plans was startling--ruinous;--his offer was simply -this:--That the duchess of Burgundy should pay him a thousand golden -crowns; that the Spanish maiden, Monina, should consent to wed him; and -that they should seek together the golden isles of the western ocean, -leaving the old world for York to ruffle in. - -Frion desired time: it was necessary to consult Richard, and also -Monina; where should they meet again? Clifford would appoint neither -time nor place:--"I shall find you," he said: "I may draw your curtain -at dead of night; come on you with an armed band of men, whom you think -all your own. I will choose my own hour, my own audience-chamber. You -have but to get the damsel's consent, and to tell her, an' you list, -that she were better as Robin Clifford's wife, than as the light-of-love -of the son of Jane Shore's gallant." With these words the knight rode -off; and being much better mounted than the secretary, put all pursuit -to defiance. - -Frion was full of thought. He said nothing to the duke or Lord Audley; -but the following day hastened to visit Monina at Canterbury, where she -had resided latterly, in the character of a pilgrim to St. Thomas à -Becket's shrine. Frion had flattered himself that he could easily -persuade the young, inexperienced girl, whose ardour for York he had -often admired. Yet he felt uncomfortable when he saw her. Monina looked -a little pale, and her dark religious garb gave no adornment to her -beauty; but there was in the innocence and tenderness of her full dark -eye, in the soft moulding of the cheek which harmonized with the -beautiful lids, and in her - - - "sweet lips, like roses, - With their own fragrance pale, which Spring but half uncloses." - - ---there was in all this a purity and soft appeal which even the -politician felt, who looked on mankind as mere agents in the drama he -caused to be acted. With some hesitation he brought out his story, but -of course grew bolder as he proceeded. Monina looked pained, but -said--"Double the number of crowns, and Sir Robert will content him. My -father will make my ransom good." - -Clifford's speech and manner had convinced Frion that this would not be -the case; he tried to persuade Monina, and even repeated the knight's -insolent message. Her large eyes grew larger, dilating with surprise and -indignation. He little knows woman, who thinks to govern the timid thing -by threats. "Answer that bad man," she said, "thus: Monina will wed -death, rather than crime and treason. Good Master Frion, you have done -wrong by so insulting mine ears; it were enough to drive a poor girl to -eternal vows and a convent, to dream that such words are spoken of her; -and if I do not take that refuge, it is because I will not desert my -dear, fond, bereaved father--as soon I shall prove; meanwhile we must -not delay to secure our prince from his enemy's machinations. You know -Astley, the poor scrivener in this town? I defy Clifford to win him. -Bring his highness there, I will prepare him. We must show a boldness to -Clifford matching his own; let us be fearless for ourselves; and for the -White Rose we need not fear. Stay; Clifford watches you; I will provide -for the duke's safety." - -That very night, by secret, unknown means (it might be through her gipsy -friend), Monina had communicated with York, and induced him to take -refuge with the man she named. Astley's father had been a soldier in the -cause of York, and had died on Bosworth Field, leaving an unprovided -widow and five children, one only among them being a son. From his youth -upward, the boy had struggled, not with privation on his own account, to -that he submitted without a murmur, but for the sake of his mother and -sisters, whom he loved with an ardour peculiar to his sensitive and -affectionate disposition. Weak in health and strength, he had betaken -himself to the occupation of a scrivener, so meagrely to support them. -It is probable that, in the frame of all, there was a delicacy of -organization that unfitted them for penury. One by one they died. That -spring had left Astley comparatively rich, because he could well support -himself, but miserable beyond words, for he idolized all and every one -of his lost relatives. Frion had, with unwearied care, made an accurate -enumeration of all in Canterbury who had ever favoured the White Rose. -Astley was on this fist; he saw him, and passed him over as useless. -Chance brought him and Monina together, who instantly detected his -latent, unpractised talents, his integrity and enthusiasm; now his -habitation occurred as an unsuspected and faithful asylum for her -persecuted friend. - -Frion was still at work; Clifford came on him suddenly, and heard with -unrepressed rage his rejection by Monina; his threats were unmeasured; -but the moment for putting them into execution to their full extent had -gone by. On the very day that York arrived in safety at Canterbury, his -fleet was seen off Hythe. In the morning the vessels hove in sight; -towards evening they bore down upon land, and anchored in the offing. -The land-breeze rising at evening-tide secured them from the dangers of -a lee shore. - -Hythe is situated at the water's edge. The cliffs, which at Dover beetle -so fearfully over the tremendous deep, have by degrees receded from -their apparent task of paling in the ocean, and as they retire inland, -lose their barren, precipitous aspect, and become green, wooded hills, -overlooking a grassy plain, which extends from their feet to the sands, -a distance of about half a mile. In the neighbourhood of Hythe a ravine, -the bed of a stream, divides these acclivities, which on one side are -abrupt, on the other softly rounded as they gradually disappear. Arcadia -seems to breathe from the fertile landscape; the sunny uplands, the -fringed banks of the rivulet, the darker shadows of the wooded hills, -are contrasted with the verdant meadows, on which cattle and sheep -graze. But the sea, the dark, dangerous sea, with barking waves and vast -encircling barrenness, suddenly checks the beauty of the earth, adding -magnificence to the pastoral prospect. - -A few days before, some gipsies had pitched their tents near the stream: -some of the wanderers had strolled down to Hythe; but they were looked -on for the most part with suspicion and fear. Now, while at the close of -day most of the inhabitants of the little town were collected on the -beach, gazing on the anchored vessels, two stout-looking gipsy-men, with -one old woman of their tribe, were lying on the sands, occupied, in -their lazy way, by the same object, the vessels in sight. The people of -Hythe, fishers, or such poor traders as supplied the fishermen with a -few coarse necessaries, were roused from the usual monotony of their -lives by the aspect of this fleet. Added to these, there were three or -four mendicant friars; an old soldier or two, disabled in the wars of -the two Roses, and a few dependents on neighbouring nobles or Franklins; -while women and children of various ages filled up the group. They all -spoke of the fleet: it consisted of five armed vessels; two of these -were weather-beaten caravels, two were low-decked Flemish smacks, but -the fifth was one of prouder build, and it bore a flag of pretension on -its mizen. The French king and the Spaniard were spoken of first; some -thought it was a fleet which had sought the unknown, golden lands, -driven back upon the old world by the continuous west winds of the last -month; some said, they belonged to the duchy of Burgundy; there was a -spell in that word; no one knew who first whispered the name; none could -guess whence or wherefore the conjecture arose, but the crowd broke into -smaller groups; their talk declined into whispers as "York," "Duke -Perkin," "The White Rose," "The duchess of Burgundy," were mentioned; -and the fleet grew as they spoke into a mighty armada, freighted with -invasion, ready to disembark an army, to ravage and conquer the island. - -As soon as the appearance and nature of these vessels became confirmed, -the gipsies arose from their indolent posture and retreated to their -encampment. A few minutes afterwards, a wild-looking youth on a shaggy -horse, without a saddle, trotted off at a quick pace through the ravine -to the inland country. Lord Audley and Frion heard from him of the -arrival of their friends, who they had expected would have been delayed -for another month. Frion instantly set off for Canterbury to apprise the -prince; and the noble lost no time in collecting his retainers and -hastening to Hythe. Clifford's spies brought him word also of the -arrival of the fleet. Ill luck attended his guiles. King Henry was in -the north: there was no time to apprise him, and Clifford's underhand -proceedings might turn out bitterly to his disadvantage. He had nothing -for it but to endeavour to be the first to convey the already-blown news -to Sir John Peachy, sheriff for Kent: his pains were rewarded by his -being detained prisoner as a suspected person, while Sir John mustered -his yeomanry, and, together with the neighbouring gentry and their -retainers, marched towards Hythe. The wavering people, awed by this show -of legal and military power, grew cool towards the White Rose, whose -name, linked to change and a diminution of taxation, had for a moment -excited their enthusiasm. Some had assumed the snowy badge, and -collected in groups; but they tore it off when the magistrate appeared; -he thanked them for arming for their king, and they, in much fear and -some wonder, joined his standard. - -Sir John advanced with his increasing troop towards the village in -question. He was informed that a band of the prince's friends was there -before him, consisting of a few Yorkist gentlemen and their retainers. -His first idea was to disperse them; his second, "No; this will serve as -a decoy; every coast may not be prepared; driven too speedily hence, the -armament may make good their landing elsewhere: if we appear unguarded, -they will disembark, and fall into our hands." This policy had good -effect; the two smaller Dutch vessels and one of the caravels ran as -close in shore as their soundings permitted, and hastily landed a part -of the troops. The commanders of the expedition on board the fleet had -been in considerable anxiety; they had hoped to find the country raised -to receive them; they saw but a handful of men; still signs were made -to them to disembark; and, eager to insure the safety of their prince, -they in part obeyed, landing about two hundred and fifty men, with -Mountford, Corbet, and some other distinguished exiles, at their head. -York and Frion had not yet had time to arrive from Canterbury; Lord -Audley and his friends received the troops, and held consultation with -their chiefs. It was resolved to go forward, and penetrate into the -country, to raise it if possible; and, as they had not yet heard of Sir -John Peachy's advance, to forestall resistance by their speed. - -They marched forward in good order for nearly ten miles, when they -halted; their scouts here brought intelligence of a regular force of at -least two thousand men who were near at hand, advancing against them. -Audley advised a deviation from their line of march, so as to enter the -county in a different direction; Mountford proposed to fortify -themselves in Hythe; Corbet to re-embark with all speed on board their -vessels. While they deliberated, it was reported that another troop of -the king's men were posted in their rear, while a herald from the -sheriff called on them to lay down their arms and to submit. Already a -panic ran through this knot of men; already their coward hands dropped -their weapons, ready to be held out for servile cords, signs of terror -increased by the near tramp of Peachy's soldiers and the sound of -martial music. - -At this moment of irresolution, four persons were seen at the top of a -neighbouring eminence; one was a knight in complete armour, the others -were more peacefully attired; they paused a moment gazing on the scene -below; then the three pursued their way over the hills towards the sea; -the cavalier came riding down at a furious pace; Lord Audley advanced -towards him. "All is lost!" he cried. - -"Or won!" exclaimed the prince; "surely Neville and my good cousin will -send us reinforcements. How strong are ye on board, Mountford?" - -"About six hundred; two of which are German well-trained auxiliaries; -but we hoped to find an ally army." - -"Treason, Sir John, is stronger to break, than truth to bind. Ye are -mad; better not have landed at all than thus." - -A few scattered shot from Peachy's advanced guard broke in upon these -regrets; Richard in a moment recollected that this was a time for -action, not for words. He issued a few commands as to the position of -his troops, and riding to their front addressed them: "My merry men, and -very good friends," he cried, "let us recollect that we are soldiers; -our lives depend upon our swords; draw them for the right, and be strong -in it. Our enemies are chiefly raw recruits; cold friends of a -tyrant-usurper; but they are many, and death is before us; behind our -vessels, the wide ocean, safety and freedom; we must retreat, not as -cowardly fugitives, but as men who, while they see, fear not their -danger." - -The order of the march was speedily established. While the rear -retrograded, Richard, with a hundred chosen men, made a stand, receiving -so well the first onset of their assailants, that they were staggered -and driven back. - -"In good hour, spare neither whip nor spur," cried York; and turning his -horse's head, he galloped towards his retreating friends. Peachy, who -believed that he had them in his toils, followed slowly and in good -order. For the first five miles all went well; but when the hills -approached and grew more abrupt, forming by degrees a narrow ravine, -they found this post guarded by the enemy. "Betrayed!" cried Audley; "we -ought to have traversed the hills; now we are between two fires." - -"Silence!" said Richard, sternly; "we must give courage to these poor -fellows, not deprive them of it--fear you for your life, baron? By my -fay, I had rather mine were spilt, than that of the meanest of our men!" - -Combat like this York had shared in the ravines of Andalusia: he -remembered that warfare, and founded his present operations upon it. His -onset was impetuous; the enemy recoiled, but formed again. The horsemen -dismounted, and presented a frightful bulwark of iron-headed lances to -the horses of the little troop; while, from the intervals in the ranks, -the archers and men armed with matchlocks kept up a rain of arrows and -bullets, that spread consternation among his troop. It was necessary to -break through this formidable defence; thrice the prince charged in -vain; the third time his standard-bearer fell; he wore a white scarf; he -fixed it to his lance, and drawing his sword, he waved this emblem of -his cause as again he dashed forwards, and with greater success; yet, as -he drove the enemy before him, the whiz of bullets and arrows from -behind showed that their previous resistance had given Sir John Peachy -time to come up. York grasped Audley's hand: "Farewell," he cried, -"forgive my hasty speech, my valiant friend; may we meet in paradise, -where surely, through God's grace, we shall sup this night." - -With the words he charged again, and overcame the last faint resistance. -Followed by all his troop, pursuing the flying, Richard dashed through -the defile: soon the open plain was before them, and he saw the wide, -calm, free ocean, with his vessels riding at anchor. The decks were -crowded with men, and the water covered with boats, hovering near shore, -as they waited to receive tidings of their friends. - -Before in the van, Richard now hung back to secure the retreat of those -behind. Audley urged him to embark; but he moved slowly towards the -beach, now calling his men to form and gather round him, now marking the -motions of those behind, ready to ride back to their aid. At length -Peachy's troops poured through the defile; the plain was covered by -flying Yorkists: it only remained for him to assemble as many as he -could, to protect and insure the embarkation of all. - -"One word," cried Audley; "whither do you propose to sail?" - -"It is doubtful; if Barry still be true, and my voice be heard, not to -Burgundy and dependence, but rather to Ireland, to Cork and Desmond." - -"Meanwhile, dear your highness," said the noble, "I will not believe -that all is lost in England. I shall make good speed to the West, and -gather my friends together; we shall not be distant neighbours; and if I -succeed to my wish, Audley will call you from your Irish fastnesses to -your own native England. Our Lady preserve you meanwhile--farewell!" - -Audley, swift in all his proceedings, put spurs to his horse, and was -away. A few minutes brought Richard to the sands; he guarded the -embarkation of his diminished numbers; nor, till Peachy's troop was -within bowshot, and the last straggler that arrived was in the last -boat, did he throw himself from his horse and leap in; he was rowed to -the chief vessel. He cast an anxious glance at the _Adalid_, just under -weigh; a green and white flag was hoisted; Monina was on board. Further -to reassure him of his friends' safety, Frion received him as he mounted -on his own deck. Evening was at hand--the late balmy summer evening; a -land breeze sprung up; the vessels had already weighed their anchors, -and swiftly, with swelling sails, they gained the offing. How tranquil -and sweet seemed the wide-spread waters; how welcome these arks of -refuge, sailing placidly over them, after the strife, the blood, the -shouts, the groans of battle. "Farewell, England," said the royal exile; -"I have no country, save these decks trodden by my friends--where they -are, there is my kingdom and my home!" - - - - -CHAPTER XXVIII - -THE PARTING - - - Why, it cannot choose but be a noble plot: - And then the power of Scotland and of York - To join---- - In faith it is exceedingly well aimed! - - SHAKSPEARE. - - -The duke of York found Lord Barry, Sir George Neville, Plantagenet, and -several other distinguished friends, on board his vessel. In -consultation with them, it was agreed to sail immediately for Cork. The -loss of many brave friends, killed or prisoners, on the Kentish coast, -saddened them: while the diminution of their numbers forbade the idea of -a second descent upon England. Towards Ireland they sailed, with such -alternation of calm and contrary winds as made them linger for several -weeks upon their way. Here, for the first time, Richard heard from Frion -of Clifford's machinations, and of his message and insolent threat to -Monina. Every drop of blood in his veins was alive with indignation: -before, he had despised Sir Robert as a traitor; and, while he looked on -him as the cause of all his disasters, and of the death of so many of -his noble and gallant adherents, his abhorrence was mingled with -contemptuous pity. The unchivalrous wrong offered to a woman, that woman -his sweet sister-friend, animated him with other feelings: to avenge -her, and chastise the arrogant braggart, was his knightly duty, his -fervent, impatient wish. He saw her not meanwhile; she was in one of -those dark hulls, among which love alone taught him to discern the -lighter build and more sea-worn frame of the _Adalid_. - -Ireland was at this time very differently situated from when the prince -first landed on her shores. After Lambert Simnel's success there, still -the king of England had neglected its internal policy. A more terrible -name awakened his caution; and he sent Sir Edward Poynings, as the -deputy of his infant son Henry, whom he had nominally appointed to the -government. Poynings was resolute and successful. He defeated the -natives, quelled the earl of Kildare, and forced the earl of Desmond to -renew his oaths of allegiance. A free pardon was afterwards granted to -all, with the exception of Lord Barry. - -York was received at Cork most cordially by his old friend O'Water, and -immediately, at the earl of Desmond's invitation, repaired to Ardfinnin. -The earl had found no great difficulty in escaping from England, and -returning to his native island. The timely assistance he had afforded -Henry's enemy in the Tower was an impenetrable mystery, though the -consciousness of it had made him more yielding than he would otherwise -have been in his concessions to Poynings. He received York with the -hospitality of an Irish chieftain, and the kindness of a friend. But he -held out no inducement for him to remain: on the contrary, he was the -first to counsel him to turn his eyes, where a new and brighter prospect -presented itself. Sir Patrick Hamilton had left Munster a few months -before, with a firm belief in Richard's truth; he had assured the earl -of the favourable reception his adventurous friend would obtain from his -royal master, and had declared his intention of proceeding to Brussels -to see the prince, and personally to enforce his invitation. York was -absent; but the duchess gave a cordial reception to the renowned -Scottish cavalier. He had been present at the sailing of the fleet; and -his last words were wishes for their success, and an offer of secure and -honourable refuge in Edinburgh, in case of failure. It had been agreed, -that on his own return thither, he should be accompanied by messengers -from the duchess, to thank the king of Scotland for the interest he -manifested towards her beloved nephew. Sir Edward Brampton was chosen as -the chief of these, accompanied, of course, by his lady, York's -long-tried and zealous friend. - -All these circumstances were decisive of the course it became the exile -to pursue. He was at that moment in a condition to appear under -advantageous circumstances at the Scottish court. He had lost several -valued friends during the late attempt; but many remained of noble birth -and good renown. Above a hundred knights graced his train. The treasure -his aunt had bestowed for his English struggle remained, besides a -considerable sum of money, services of valuable plate and valuable -jewels, the munificent gift of the dowager duchess of Norfolk. In fine, -not a dissentient voice was raised; and the attention of every one was -turned towards preparations for the voyage. York continued to be the -earl of Desmond's guest: in his princely halls he received all the -honour due to his rank and pretensions. The countess, a lady of the -noble family of Roche, distinguished him by her kindness, and conceived -a peculiar friendship for the Spanish maiden, Monina. - -The moment arrived for York's embarkation. He had visited his vessels, -and seen that all was in readiness; but his surprise was excited by -perceiving that no preparations were made for sailing on board the -_Adalid_. This was explained on his return, by the countess telling him -that a friend of his desired to take leave of him before he sailed, and -that she had been besought by her to explain in some measure the reasons -of their separation. De Faro's whole soul was set upon becoming one of -those immortal pioneers who opened new paths across the unexplored west. -He could be of no use to Richard in Scotland; but he could not prevail -on himself to leave his lovely, unprotected girl behind. She had at last -consented to accompany him in his far and dangerous voyage. - -Many had been this poor child's struggles, sad her reflections, ere she -wrought herself to this purpose. "Alas!" such were her reveries, "that -innocence should be no safeguard in this ill world! If indeed I loved -him sinfully, or he sought me wrongfully, I should simply obey the laws -of God in flying him; but he is noble, and I know my own heart. Spotless -Mother of God, thou knowest it!--there is no single feeling in my -woman's soul that I dare not avouch to thy all-blessed gentleness! I ask -only to live in the same land, to breathe the same air, to serve him at -his need, to associate with his friends; so that when I see him not, I -may feed upon discourse of him. This is all I ask--all!--and this must -not be! I cannot bear a tainted name; I cannot endure that, linked with -any slightest stain of calumny, my image should haunt his dreams; nor -that he or any human being should suffer through me, which may so easily -happen: for if words like those Frion reported should reach my father's -ears, he would clothe his tempest-shaken limbs in arms, and expose his -breast to the sharp sword's point, to vindicate my honour. No!--no -tragedy shall be associated with poor Monina's name; nor agony nor woe -shall visit those I love, through me: they shall not even commiserate my -sufferings; these shall be garnered up in my own heart, watched with a -miser's care. I will not enrich the tell-tale air by one sigh; nor -through my broken heart shall the gloom of my despair appear. I will -paint my face with joy's own hue; put sunshine in my eyes: my hapless -love shall be no tale of pity for any, save my own desolate thoughts. -Nor let me forget every lesson of resignation, nor the dear belief I -cherish in the protection and goodness of my sainted guardianess. Let me -rejoice at much that exalts my destiny in my own eyes. The prince's -friendship, affection, gratitude, and esteem are mine: I have been able -to serve him I love--am I not sufficiently fortunate? He needs me no -more; but I am no alien upon earth. I shall give delight to my dear -father by accompanying him over the untrod watery deserts: through -me--for, if I went not, he would remain behind--the name of De Faro -will be added to the list of those who bestow a new creation of supernal -beauty on our out-worn world. He will call me the partner of his glory; -and, though that be a vain word, his dark eyes will flash with joy. My -dear, dear father! Should the prince succeed and ascend his rightful -throne, more impassable than that wide sea would be the gulph which -ceremony would place between us; and if he fall--ah! mine is no -summer's day voyage; the tornados of that wild region may wreck me; the -cold sea receive me in her bosom; and I shall never hear of Richard's -overthrow, nor endure the intolerable pang of knowing that he dies." - -Fortified in some degree by such thoughts, anxious to conceal her -sorrows from one who might compassionate, yet not wholly share them, -Monina met Richard with an air of gaiety: glad, in spite of his -involuntary mortification, that she should be spared any pain, he copied -her manner; and a spectator would have thought, that either they parted -for a few hours, or were indifferent to each other. He could not help -betraying some anxiety however, when Lady Desmond, who was present, -solicited him to make his friend change her purpose, and drew a -frightful picture of the hazardous voyage, the storms, the likelihood -that they might be driven far, far away, where no land was, where they -would perish of famine on the barren, desolate ocean. Monina -laughed--she endeavoured thus to put aside her friend's serious -entreaties; and, when she found that she failed, she spoke of the -Providence that could protect her even on the wastes of innavigable -ocean; and proudly reminded him, that she would trust her father, whose -reputation as a mariner stood foremost among those in the king of -Portugal's employ. Richard looked perplexed--sorrow and pain spoke in -his own countenance; while she, true to herself to the last, said, "I -have now told you my purpose--but this is no farewell; to-morrow we -meet again; and another to-morrow will come also, when I bring treasure -from my Indian isle to dazzle the monarch of fair, happy England." - -On that morrow Richard sought in vain among the countess of Desmond's -companions for his sweet Spaniard; he imaged her as he last saw her, -light, laughing, her soft-beaming eyes hardly daring to glance towards -him, while he fancied that a shower of precious drops was shaken from -their fringed lids. He had meant to say, "Ah! weep, Monina, weep for -Andalusia--for our happy childhood--for the hopes that leaves us: thy -tears will seem to me more glad than thy untrue smile." But she was not -there. Could he have seen her from the deck of his vessel, marking its -progress from the watch-tower of Youghall, he had been satisfied. The -anguish of bitter tears, the heart's agonizing gaspings, were hers, to -be succeeded by the dull starless night of despair, when his sail -vanished on the glittering plains of the sunny sea. - -Farewell to her who mourned; to her who saw neither day nor joy, whose -heart lived with him, while she prepared for her melancholy separation -from the very world which he inhabited. - -The scene shifts to Scotland; and hither, to a new country, a new -people, almost to a new language, our royal adventurer is transported. -Dark, tumultuous, stained with blood, and rendered foul by treason, are -the pages of early Scottish history. A wild and warlike people inhabited -its mountainous districts, whose occupation was strife, whose religion -was power and revenge. The Lowlanders, a wealthier race, were hardly -more cultivated or less savage. One course of rebellion against the -sovereign, and discord among themselves, flows, a sanguinary stream from -the hidden sources of things, threading a long track of years, or -overflowing it with its pernicious waves. Discord, hate, and murder were -the animating spirits of the scene. - -James the Third was a weak, unhappy man. A prophecy had induced him to -distrust all the princes of his house--he extended this distrust to his -son, who was brought up consequently in a kind of honourable and obscure -imprisonment. He fostered unworthy favourites; and many bold and -sanguinary revolts had been the consequence. On one occasion, while -encamped during a foray into England, his nobles had seized on all his -personal friends and adherents, and hanged them over London Bridge. The -last rebellion cost him his life. The insurgents seized on, and placed -at their head, his eldest son, then only sixteen years of age--they met -their sovereign in the field--he fled before them; and his death was as -miserable and dastardly as his life. - -James the Fourth succeeded to the throne. The mean jealousy of his -father had caused him to be untutored; but he was one of those beings, -who by nature inherit magnanimity refinement, and generosity. His faults -were those that belong to such a character. His imagination was active, -his impulses warm but capricious. He was benignant to every other, -severe only in his judgment of himself. His father's death, to which he -had been an unwilling accessary, weighed like parricide on his -conscience. To expiate it, in the spirit of those times, he wore -perpetually an iron girdle, augmenting the weight each year, as habit or -increasing strength lightened the former one. He devoted much of his -life to penance and prayer. Here ended, however, all of the ascetic in -his disposition. He was a gallant knight and an accomplished gentleman. -He encouraged tourneys and passages of arms, raising the reputation of -the Scottish cavaliers all over Europe, so that many noble foreigners -repaired to Edinburgh, to gain new trophies in contests with the heroes -of the north. He passed edicts to enforce the schooling of the children -of the nobles and lairds. His general love of justice, a little impaired -it is true by feudal prejudices, often led him to wander in disguise -over his kingdom; seeking hospitality from the poor, and listening with -a candid and generous mind to every remark upon himself and his -government. - -He was singularly handsome, graceful, prepossessing, and yet dignified -in his manners. He loved pleasure, and was the slave of the sex, which -gives to pleasure all its elegance and refinement; he partook his -family's love for the arts, and was himself a poet and a musician; nay -more, to emulate the divine patron of these accomplishments, he was -well-skilled in surgery, and the science of healing. He was ambitious, -active, energetic. He ruminated many a project of future glory; -meanwhile his chief aim was to reconcile the minds of the alienated -nobles--his murdered father's friends--to himself; and, succeeding in -this, to abolish the feuds that raged among the peers of Scotland, and -civilize their barbarous propensities. He succeeded to a miracle. His -personal advantages attracted the affection of his subjects; they were -proud of him, and felt exalted by his virtues. His excellent government -and amiable disposition, both united to make his reign peaceful in its -internal policy, and beneficial to the kingdom. The court of Holyrood -vied with those of Paris, London, and Brussels; to which capitals many -of his high-born subjects, no longer engaged in the struggles of party, -travelled; bringing back with them the refinements of gallantry, the -poetry, learning, and science of the south of Europe. The feuds, last -flickerings of the dying torch of discord, which lately spread a fatal -glare through the land, ceased; if every noble did not love, they all -obeyed their sovereign--thus a new golden age might be said to have -dawned upon this eyrie of Boreas, this tempestuous Thule of the world. - -We must remember that this was the age of chivalry; the spirit of -Edward the Third and the princely dukes of Burgundy yet survived. Louis -the Eleventh, in France, had done much to quench it; it burnt bright -again under the auspices of his son. Henry the Seventh was its bitter -enemy; but we are still at the beginning of his reign, while war and -arms were unextinguished by his cold avaricious policy. James of -Scotland laboured, and successfully, to pacify his subjects, children of -one common parent; but he, as well as they, disdained the ignoble arts -of peace. England formed the lists where they desired to display their -courage; war with England was a word to animate every heart to dreadful -joy: in the end, it caused the destruction of him and all his chivalry -in Flodden Field; now it made him zealous to upraise a disinherited -prince; so that under the idea of restoring the rightful sovereign to -the English throne, he might have fair pretext for invading the -neighbour kingdom. At the hope, the soldiers of Scotland--in other -words, its whole population--awakened, as an unhooded hawk, ready to -soar at its accustomed quarry. - -Sir Patrick Hamilton, the most accomplished and renowned of the Scottish -cavaliers, and kinsman of the royal house, had returned laden with every -testimony of the White Rose's truth, and a thousand proofs of his -nobleness and virtue. Sir Edward Brampton delivered the duchess's -message of thanks; and his lady had already awakened the zeal of many a -gentleman, and the curiosity and interest of many a lady, for the pride -of York, the noble, valiant Plantagenet. Woman's sway was great at -Holyrood; as the bachelor king, notwithstanding his iron girdle, and his -strict attention to his religious duties, was a devout votary at the -shrine of feminine beauty. - -There was a hawking party assembled in the neighbourhood of Stirling, -which he graced by his presence. All was, apparently, light-heartedness -and joy, till a dispute arose between two damsels upon the merits of -their respective falcons. One of these was fair Mary Boyd, daughter of -the laird of Bonshaw. Mary Boyd was the first-love of the young -sovereign, and the report went, that he was no unsuccessful suitor; it -spoke of offspring carefully concealed in a village of Fife, whom James -often visited. When, afterwards, this young lady's example was imitated -by others nobly born, this became no secret, and of her children, one -became archbishop of St. Andrew's--the other, a daughter, married the -earl of Morton. - -But these were days of youthful bashfulness and reserve; the mind of -Mary Boyd balanced between pride in her lover, and shame for her fault; -a state of feeling that ill brooked the loss of what gilded her too -apparent frailty--the exclusive attention of the king. Mary was older -than the king; the dignity which had captivated the boy's imagination, -lost its charm when the tyranny of assumed right took the place of that -of tenderness. He grew cold, then absent, and at last, ventured to fix a -regard of admiration on another, sliding easily from the restraint to -which he at first submitted, into all of devotion, and soft, gallant -courtesy, by which kings win ladies' love, and in which none grew to be -a greater adept than James. The new object that attracted him was, the -young, gay, and lovely Lady Jane Kennedy, daughter of the earl of -Cassils. Her sparkling eyes, her "bonny brent brow," her dark, -clustering hair, contrasted with the transparency of her -complexion--her perfect good-humour, her vivacity, and her wit--made -her a chief beauty in the Scottish court, and in all this she was the -reverse of the fair, light-haired, sleepy-eyed Mary. Lady Jane saw and -gloried in her triumph over the king. Innocent then, she only desired -the reputation of such a conquest, fully resolved not to tread in the -steps of her rival. It is something of fool's play to strive to enchain -fire by links of straw, to throw silken fetters on abounding torrent, to -sport with the strong lion, Love, as he were a playful whelp: some, -secure in innocence and principle, may at last discover their mistake -and remain uninjured; but not the vain, heedless, self-willed, Lady -Jane. The courtiers were divided in their attentions; some for shame -would not forsake Mary Boyd; some thought that still she would regain -her power; one or two imagined that Lady Jane's resistance would restore -the king to her rival; but the greater number caught the light spirit of -the hour, and gathered round the laughing, happy girl. - -The contention between these ladies made many smile. The king betted a -diamond against a Scotch pebble on Lady Jane's bird. Mary had thwarted -him, and forced him to her side during the first part of the day--now -he took his revenge. A heron rose from the river banks. The birds were -unhooded, and up soared Lady Jane's in one equal flight through the blue -air, cleaving the atmosphere with noiseless wing. Mary's followed -slower; but, when Lady Jane's pounced on the quarry, and brought it -screaming and flapping to the ground, the rival bird darted on the -conqueror, and a sharp struggle ensued. It was unequal; for the Lady -Jane's hawk would not quit its prey. "Let them fight it out," said Mary, -"and the survivor is surely the victor." - -But the spectators cried shame--while Lady Jane, with a scream, -hastened to save her favourite. The other, fiery as a borderer, attacked -even her; and, in spite of her gloves, drops of blood from her fair -hand, stained her silken robe. James came to her rescue, and with one -blow put an end to the offender's life. Jane caressed her "tassel -gentle," while Mary looted on her "false carrion's" extinction with -unrepressed indignation. They returned to Stirling: immediately on their -arrival, they received tidings that the duke of York's fleet had been -descried, and was expected to enter the Frith on the following day. None -heard the words without emotion; the general sentiment was joy; for -Richard's landing was to be the signal of invasion. King Henry had one -or two friends among the Scottish nobles, and these alone smiled -contemptuously. - -"We must have feasts and tourneys, fair mistress," said the king, "to -honour our royal visitor. Will your servant intrude unseemingly if, -while his arms extol your beauty, he wears your colours?" - -Lady Jane smiled a reply, as she followed her father towards his -mansion. She smiled, while feminine triumph beamed in her eye, and -girlish bashfulness blushed in her cheek. "Has she not a bonny ee?" -cried James, to him who rode near him. It was Sir Patrick Hamilton, his -dear cousin and friend, to whom James often deferred, and respected, -while he loved. His serious look recalled the king. "This is not the -time, good sooth!" he continued, "for such sweet gauds--but for lance, -and broadsword:--the coming of this prince of Roses will bring our arms -into play, all rusty as they are. I wonder what presence our guest may -have!" - -The friends then conversed concerning the projected war, which both -agreed would be well-timed. It would at once give vent to the fiery -impulses of the Scotch lords, otherwise apt to prey upon each other. But -lately a band of the Drummonds had burnt the kirk of Moulward, in which -were six-score Murrays, with their wives and children, all of whom were -victims. But foray in England--war with the land of their hate--the -defiance would be echoed in glad shouts from Tweed to Tay, from the -Lothians to the Carse of Gowrie; while it should be repeated in groans -from the Northumberland wilds. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIX - -WELCOME TO SCOTLAND - - - Cousin of York, thus once more we embrace thee; - Welcome to James of Scotland! For thy safety, - Know, such as love thee not shall never wrong thee. - Come, we will taste awhile our court delights, - Dream hence afflictions past, and then proceed - To high attempts of honour. - - FORD. - - -The duke of York arrived off Leith. While the messengers were going to -and fro, and preparation was made to disembark, he and his principal -friends were assembled on the deck of their vessel, regarding; this -strange northern coast with curiosity, wonder, and some contempt. - -"I see horses," cried Lord Barry; "by'r Lord's grace, grass grows -hitherward--that is much!" - -"I see kye," exclaimed Frion, "so we may hope for buttered sowans at -least, if not beef, at the palace of feasts." - -"Ay," cried Sir Edward Brampton, who had come on board, "you may hope -for choice cheer. I promise ye shall live well, ye that are -noble--these unclad rocks and desert moors are the home of many an earl -and belted knight, whose gorgeousness may vie with the cavaliers of -France or Burgundy. In this it differs from England, ye will not find -stout franklins or fat burgesses; there are no men of Ghent, nor London -aldermen: the half-naked kern tills the stony soil. Next to the palace -is the hearthless hovel. Wealth and penury, if not mates, are joint -masters of the land." - -"I have heard," said York, "that there is much paternal love and filial -duty between the rich and poor in this country." - -"Among the northern mountains thus it is," said Brampton; "a strange and -savage race, which, my good Lord Barry, some name Irish, dwell on the -barren heights, along the impassable defiles, beside their vast stormy -lakes; but the Lowlander looks askance on the Highland clanship. List -ye, gentlemen; all bears a different aspect here from the gentle -southern kingdoms; but they are men, proud, valiant, warlike men, as -such they claim our respect. His majesty and a few others are moreover -right gallant cavaliers." - -"Mark these words," said York, earnestly, "and remember, dear friends, -that we, the world's wanderers, seek refuge here of our own will, which -if we find, we must not disdain our hosts. Remember, too, the easy rage -of the fiery Scot; and that we boast gentler customs: suffer no brawling -to mar our concord; let not Richard of York, who of all his wide realm -possesses your hearts only, find his dominions narrowed, or violently -disturbed by your petulance and pride." - -The duke's associates listened with respect. Hitherto the spirited boy -had been led by a Barry, a Clifford, a Neville, or a Plantagenet. They -had counselled, spoken for him; his sword only had been as active as -theirs. A new light seemed to have broken in upon his soul; it assumed a -seriousness and power that exalted him in their eyes, while it took -nothing from the candour and single-hearted reliance on their loves, -which was his dearest charm. - -On landing, the duke of York was escorted to Edinburgh by the earl of -Errol, Sir Patrick Hamilton, and others. The attire, arms, and horses, -with their caparisons, of these gentlemen, were little inferior to those -displayed at Paris. King James awaited him at the castle of Edinburgh. -The monarch received his guest in state on his throne. The prince was -struck at once by his elegance, his majesty, and sweet animated aspect: -his black bonnet, looped up by a large ruby, sat lightly on his brow, -his glossy black curly hair escaping in ringlets from underneath; his -embroidered shirt-collar, thrown back, displayed his throat, and the -noble expression of his head; his dark grey eyes, his manly sun-burnt -complexion, the look of thought, combined with goodness, mingled with -dignity, gave an air of distinction to his whole person. Various were -the physiognomies, various the guises, of those around him. The swart, -gaunt Highlander, in his singular costume; the blue-eyed, red-haired -sous of the Lowlands were there; and in each and all were remarkable a -martial, sometimes a ferocious, expression. - -The prince of England entered, surrounded by his (to the Scotch) -foreign-looking knights. - -James descended from his throne to embrace his visitant, and then -re-assumed it, while all eyes were turned upon the royal adventurer, -whose voice and mien won every heart, before his eloquence had time to -move them. "High and mighty king," said Richard, "your grace, and these -your nobles present, be pleased to hear the tragedy of one, who, born a -prince, comes even as a beggar to your court. My lords, sorrow and I -were not twins: I am the elder, and for nine years I beheld not the -ill-visage of that latest birth of my poor but royal mother's fortunes. -It were a long tale to tell, what rumour has made familiar to every ear: -my uncle Gloucester's usurpation; my brother's death; and the sorrows of -our race. I lost my kingdom ere I possessed it; and while yet my young -hands were too feeble to grasp the sceptre of my ancestors, and, with -it, the sword needful to defend the same, capricious fate bestowed it on -Henry of Richmond; a base-born descendant of ill-nurtured Bolingbroke; a -scion of that Red Rose that so long and so rightfully had been uprooted -in the land, which they had bought with its children's dearest blood. - -"Good, my lords, I might move you to pity did I relate how, in my tender -years, that usurer king sought my life, buying the blood of the -orphan at the hands of traitors. How, when these cruelties failed him, -he used subtler arts; giving me nicknames; meeting my gallant array of -partizans, not with an army of their peers, but with a base rout of -deceits, treasons, spies, and blood-stained decoyers. It would suit me -better to excite your admirations by speaking of the nobleness and -fidelity of my friends; the generosity of the sovereigns who have shed -invaluable dews upon the fading White Rose, so to refresh and restore -it. - -"But not to waste my tediousness on you, let this be the sum. I am here, -the friend of France, the kinsman of Burgundy; the acknowledged lord of -Ireland; pursued by my powerful foe, I am here, king of Scotland, to -claim your friendship and your aid. Here lies the accomplishment of my -destiny! The universal justice to be rendered me, which I dreamed of in -my childhood, the eagle hopes of my youth, my better fortunes, and -future greatness, have fled me. But here they have found a home; here -they are garnered up; render them back to me, my lord; unlock with the -iron key of fatal battle the entrance to those treasures, all mine own, -whose absence renders me so poor. Arm for me Scotland; arm for the -right! Never for a juster cause could you buckle breast-plate, or poize -your lance. Be my captain, and these your peers, my fellow-soldiers. -Fear not, but that we vanquish; that I gain a kingdom; you eternal glory -from your regal gift. Alas! I am as a helmless vessel drifting towards -the murderous rock; but you, as the strong north-wind, may fill the -flapping sails, and carry me on my way with victory and gladness." - -A murmur filled the presence-chamber: dark Douglas grasped his sword; -Hamilton's eyes glanced lightnings; not one there but felt his heart -beat with desire to enforce the illustrious exile's right. The tide of -rising enthusiasm paused as James arose; and deep attention held them -all. He descended from his throne. "My royal brother," he said, "were I -a mere errant knight, so good and high I esteem your cause, without more -ado I would don my armour, and betake me to the field. The same power -which enables me to afford you far better succour than the strength of -one arm, obliges me to pause and take council, ere I speak what it is in -my heart to promise. But your highness has made good your interests -among my counsellors; and I read in their gestures the desire of war and -adventure for your sake. Deem yourself an exile no more. Fancy that you -have come from merry England to feast with your brother in the north, -and we will escort you back to your capital in triumphant procession, -showing the gaping world how slighter than silky cobwebs are the -obstacles that oppose the united strength of Plantagenet and Stuart. -Welcome--thrice welcome to the Scottish land--kinsmen, nobles, valiant -gentlemen, bid dear welcome to my brother England!" - - - - -CHAPTER XXX - -THE COURT OF SCOTLAND - - - A lady, the wonder of her kind, - Whose form was upborne by a lovely mind; - Which dilating had moulded her mien and motion, - Like a sea-flower unfolded beneath the ocean. - - SHELLEY. - - -A few days made it apparent that York acquired a stronger power over the -generous and amiable king of Scotland, than could be given by motives of -state policy. He became his friend; no empty name with James, whose -ardent soul poured itself headlong into this new channel, and revelled -in a kind of ecstasy in the virtues and accomplishments of his favoured -guest. Both these princes were magnanimous and honourable, full of -grandeur of purpose, and gentleness of manner; united by these main -qualities, the diversities of their dispositions served rather to draw -them closer. Though Richard's adventures and disasters had been so many, -his countenance, his very mind was less careworn than that of James. The -White Rose, even in adversity, was the nursling of love; the Scottish -prince, in his palace-fostered childhood, had been the object of his -father's hatred and suspicion: cabal, violence, and duplicity had waited -on him. James governed those around him by demonstrating to them, that -it was their interest to obey a watchful, loving, generous monarch: -Richard's power was addressed to the most exalted emotions of the human -heart, to the fidelity, self-devotion, and chivalric attachment of his -adherents. James drew towards himself the confidence of men; Richard -bestowed his own upon them. James was winning from his courtesy, Richard -from his ingenuousness. Remorse had printed a fadeless stamp of thought -and pain on the king's countenance; an internal self-communion and -self-rebuke were seated in the deep shadows of his thoughtful eyes. -Richard's sorrow for the disasters he might be said to have occasioned -his friends, his disdain of his own vagabond position, his sadness when -his winged thoughts flew after the Adalid, to hover over his sweet -Monina; all these emotions were tinged by respect for the virtues of -those around him, conscious rectitude, pious resignation to Providence, -gratitude to his friends, and a tender admiration of the virgin virtues -of her he loved: so that there arose thence only a softer expression for -his features, a sweetness in the candour of his smile, a gentle -fascination in his frank address, that gave at once the stamp of -elevated feeling and goodness to his mien. He looked innocent, while -James's aspect gave token, that in his heart good and ill had waged war: -the better side had conquered, yet had not come off scathless from the -fight. - -In the first enthusiasm of his new attachment, James was eager to lavish -on his friend every mark of his favour and interest; he was obliged to -check his impatience, and to submit to the necessity of consulting with -and deferring to others. His promises, though large, continued therefore -to be vague; and York knew that he had several enemies at the -council-board. The intimacy between him and the king prevented him from -entertaining any doubts as to the result; but he had a difficult task in -communicating this spirit of patient forbearance to his friends. -Sometimes they took sudden fright, lest they should all at once meet a -denial to their desires; sometimes they were indignant at the delays -that were interposed. None was more open in his expressions of -discontent than Master Secretary Frion. He who had been the soul of -every enterprise until now, who had fancied that his talents for -negotiation would be of infinite avail in the Scottish court, found that -the friendship between the princes, and Richard's disdain of artfully -enticing to his side his host's noble subjects, destroyed at once his -diplomatic weaving. He craftily increased the discontent of the proud -Neville, the disquietude of the zealous Lady Brampton, and the turbulent -intolerance of repose of Lord Barry; while Richard, on the other hand, -exerted himself to tranquillize and reduce them to reason: he was -sanguine in his expectations, and above all, confident in his friend's -sincere intention to do more than merely assist him by force of arms. He -saw a thousand projects at work in James's generous heart, every one -tending to exalt him in the eyes of the world, and to rescue him for -ever from the nameless, fugitive position he occupied. Nor was his -constant intercourse with the king of small influence over his -happiness; the genius, the versatile talents, the grace and -accomplishments of this sovereign, the equality and sympathy that -reigned between them, was an exhaustless source of more than amusement, -of interest and delight. The friends of James became his friends: Sir -Patrick Hamilton was chief among these, and warmly attached to the -English prince: another, whom at first ceremony had placed at a greater -distance from him, grew into an object of intense interest and continual -excitation. - -"This evening," said the king to him, soon after his arrival, "you will -see the flower of our Scottish damsels, the flower of the world well may -I call her; for assuredly, when you see the Lady Katherine Gordon, you -will allow that she is matchless among women." - -Richard was surprised: did James's devotion to Lady Jane Kennedy, nay, -his conscious look whenever he mentioned her, mean nothing? Besides, on -this appeal to his own judgment, he pictured his soft-eyed Spaniard, -with all her vivacity and all her tenderness, and he revolted from the -idea of being the slave of any other beauty. "Speak to our guest, Sir -Patrick," continued the king, "and describe the fair earthly angel who -makes a heaven of our bleak wilds; or rather, for his highness might -suspect you, let me, not her lover, but her cousin, her admirer, her -friend, tell half the charms, half the virtues of the daughter of -Huntley. Is it not strange that I, who have seen her each day since -childhood, and who still gaze with wonder on her beauty, should yet find -that words fail me when I would paint it? I am apt to see, and ready to -praise, the delicate arch of this lady's brow, the fire of another's -eyes, another's pouting lip and fair complexion, the gay animation of -one, the chiselled symmetry of a second. Often, when our dear Lady Kate -has sat, as is often her wont, retired from sight, conversing with some -travelled greybeard, or paying the homage of attention to some ancient -dame (of late I have remarked her often in discourse with Lady -Brampton), I have studied her face and person to discover where the -overpowering charm exists, which, like a strain of impassioned music, -electrifies the senses, and touches the hearts of all near her. Is it in -her eyes? A poet might dream of dark blue orbs like hers, and that he -had kissed eyelids soft as those, when he came unawares on the repose of -young Aurora, and go mad for ever after, because it was only a dream: -yet I have seen brighter; nor are they languishing. Her lips, yes, the -soul of beauty is there, and so is it in her dimpled chin. In the -delicate rounding of her cheeks, and the swanlike loveliness of her -throat, in the soft ringlets of her glossy hair, down to the very tips -of her roseate-tinged fingers, there is proportion, expression, and -grace. You will hardly see all this: at first you will be struck; -extreme beauty must strike; but your second thought will be, to wonder -what struck you, and then you will look around, and see twenty prettier -and more attractive; and then, why, at the first words she speaks, you -will fancy it an easy thing to die upon the mere thought of her: her -voice alone will take you out of yourself, and carry you into another -state of being. She is simple as a child, straightforward, direct: -falsehood--pah! Katherine _is_ Truth. This simplicity, which knows -neither colouring nor deviation, might almost make you fear, while you -adore her, but that her goodness brings you back to love. She is good, -almost beyond the consciousness of being so: she is good because she -gives herself entirely up to sympathy; and, beyond every other, she -dives into the sources of your pleasures and pains, and takes a part in -them. The better part of yourself will, when she speaks, appear to leap -out, as if, for the first time, it found its other half; while the worse -is mute, like a stricken dog, before her. She is gay, more eager to -create pleasure than to please; for to please, we must think of -ourselves, and be ourselves the hero of the story, and Katherine is ever -forgetful of self: she is guileless and gall-less; all love her; her -proud father, and fiery, contentious Highland brothers, defer to her; -yet, to look at her, it is as if the youngest and most innocent of the -graces read a page of wisdom's book, scarce understanding what it meant, -but feeling that it was right." - -It was dangerous to provoke the spirit of criticism by excessive praise; -Richard felt half inclined to assert that there was something in the -style of the king's painting that showed he should not like this lauded -lady; but she was his cousin, he was proud of her, and so he was silent. -There was a ball at court that night; and he would see many he had never -seen before; James made it a point that he should discover which was his -cousin. He could not mistake. "She is loveliness itself!" burst from his -lips; and from that moment he felt what James had said, that there was a -"music breathing from her face," an unearthly, spirit-stirring beauty, -that inspired awe, had not her perfect want of pretension, her quite, -unassuming simplicity, at once led him back to every thought associated -with the charms and virtues of woman. Lady Brampton was already a link -between them; and, in a few minutes, he found himself conversing with -more unreserve and pleasure than he had ever done. There are two -pleasures in our intercourse in society, one is to listen, another to -speak. We may frequently meet agreeable, entertaining people, and even -sometimes individuals, whose conversation, either by its wit, its -profundity, or its variety, commands our whole rapt attention: but very -seldom during the course of our lives do we meet those who thaw every -lingering particle of ice, who set the warm life-springs flowing, and -entice us, with our hearts upon our lips, to give utterance to its most -secret mysteries; to disentangle every knot and fold of thought, and, -like sea-weed in the wave, to spread the disregarded herbage, as a -tracery matchlessly fair before another's eyes. Such pleasure Richard -felt with Katherine; and, ever and anon, her melodious voice interposed -with some remark, some explanation of his own feelings, at once -brilliant and true. - -Richard knew that Sir Patrick Hamilton loved the Lady Katherine Gordon; -he also was related to the royal family. Hamilton, in the eyes of all, -fair ladies and sage counsellors, was acknowledged to be the most -perfect knight of Scotland; what obstacle could there be to their union? -Probably it was already projected, and acceded to. Richard did not -derogate from the faith that he told himself he owed to Monina, by -cultivating a friendship for the promised bride of another, and moreover -one whom, after the interval of a few short months, he would never see -again. Satisfied with this reasoning, York lost no opportunity of -devoting himself to the Lady Katherine. - -His interests were the continual subject of discussion in the royal -counsel-chamber. There were a few who did not speak in his favour. The -principal of these was the earl of Moray, the king's uncle: the least in -consideration, for he was not of the council, though he influenced it: -but the bitterest in feeling, was Sir John Ramsey, laird of Balmayne, -who styled himself Lord Bothwell. He had been a favourite of James the -Third. His dark, fierce temper was exasperated by his master's death, -and he brooded perpetually for revenge. He had once, with several other -nobles, entered into a conspiracy to deliver up the present king to -Henry the Seventh; and the traitorous intent was defeated, not from want -of will, but want of power in his abettors. Since then, Lord Bothwell, -though nominally banished and attainted, was suffered to live in -Edinburgh, nay, to have access to the royal person. James, whose -conscience suffered so dearly by the death of his father, had no desire -to display severity towards his ancient faithful servant; besides, one -who was really so insignificant as Sir John Ramsey. This man was -turbulent, dissatisfied: he was sold to Henry of England, and had long -acted as a spy; the appearance of York at Edinburgh gave activity and -importance to his function: his secret influence and covert intrigues -retarded somewhat the projects and desires of the king. - -When the first opposition made to acknowledging this pretender to the -English crown was set aside, other difficulties ensued. Some of the -counsellors were for making hard conditions with the young duke, saying, -that half a kingdom were gift enough to a Prince Lackland: a golden -opportunity was this, they averred, to slice away a bonny county or two -from wide England; he whom they gifted with the rest could hardly say -them nay. But James was indignant at the base proposal, and felt -mortified and vexed when obliged to concede in part, and to make -conditions which he thought hard with his guest. After a noisy debate, -these propositions were drawn out, and York was invited to attend the -council, where they were submitted for his assent. - -These conditions principally consisted in the surrender of Berwick, and -the promised payment of one hundred thousand marks. They were hard; for -it would touch the new monarch's honour not to dismember his kingdom; -and it were his policy not to burden himself with a debt which his -already, oppressed subjects must be drawn on to pay. The duke asked for -a day for consideration, which was readily granted. - -With real zeal for his cause on one side, and perfect confidence in his -friends' integrity on the other, these difficulties became merely -nominal, and the treaty was speedily arranged. But the month of -September was near its close; a winter campaign would be of small avail: -money, arms, and trained men, were wanting. The winter was to be devoted -to preparation; with the spring the Scottish army was to pass the -English border. In every discussion, in every act, James acted as his -guest's brother, the sharer of his risks and fortunes: one will, one -desire, was theirs. Sir Patrick Hamilton went into the west to raise -levies: no, third person interposed between them. It was the king's -disposition to yield himself wholly up to the passion of the hour. He -saw in Richard, not only a prince deprived of his own, and driven into -exile, but a youth of royal lineage, exposed to the opprobium of -nicknames and the accusation of imposture. The king of France -acknowledged, but he had deserted him: the archduke had done the same: -how could James prove that he would not follow in these steps? He levied -the armies of his kingdom in his favour; he was to fight and conquer for -him next spring. The intervening months were intolerable to the fervent -spirit of the Stuart--something speedy, something now, he longed, he -resolved to do; which, with a trumpet-note, should to all corners of the -world declare, that he upheld Richard of York's right--that he was his -defender, his champion. Once he penned a universal challenge, then -another especially addressed to Henry Tudor; but his invasion were a -better mode than this. Should he give him rank in Scotland?--that would -ill beseem one who aspired to the English crown. Should he proclaim him -Richard the Fourth in Edinburgh?--York strongly objected to this. -Money?--it were a base gilding; besides, James was very poor, and had -melted down his plate, and put his jewels to pawn, to furnish forth the -intended expedition. Yet there was one way,--the idea was as -lightning--James felt satisfied and proud; and then devoted all his -sagacity, all his influence, all his ardent soul, to the accomplishment -of a plan, which, while it insured young Richard's happiness, stamped -him indelibly as being no vagabond impostor, but the honoured prince, -the kinsman and ally of Scotland's royal house. - -King James and the duke of York had ridden out to inspect a Lowland -regiment, which the earl of Angus proudly displayed as the force of the -Douglas. As they returned, James was melancholy and meditative. "It is -strange and hard to endure," he said at last, fixing on his companion -his eyes at once so full of fire and thought, "when two spirits contend -within the little microcosm of man. I felt joy at sight of those bold -followers of the Douglas, to think that your enemy could not resist -them; but I do myself foolish service, when I place you on the English -throne. You will leave us, my lord: you will learn in your bonny realm -to despise our barren wilds: it will be irksome to you in prosperity, to -think of your friends of the dark hour." - -There was sincerity in these expressions, but exaggeration in the -feelings that dictated them. Richard felt half-embarrassed, in spite of -gratitude and friendship. The king, following the bent of his own -thoughts, not those of others, suddenly continued: "Our cousin Kate at -last, finds grace in your eyes; is she not good and beautiful, all cold -and passionless as she is?" - -"Cold!" the Lady Katherine, whose heartfelt sympathy, was a sunny clime -in which he basked--whose sensibility perpetually varied the bright -expression of her features--York repeated the word in astonishment. - -"Thou findest her wax?" inquired James, smiling; "by my troth, she has -proved but marble before." - -"I cannot guess even at your meaning," replied York, with all the warmth -of a champion; "the lady is in the estimation of all, in your own -account, the best daughter, the most devoted friend, the kindest -mistress in the world. How can we call that spirit cold, which animates -her to these acts? It is not easy to perform, as she does, our simplest -duties. How much of self-will, of engrossing humour, even of our -innocent desires and cherished tastes, must we not sacrifice, when we -devote ourselves to the pleasure and service of others? How much -attention does it not require, how sleepless a feeling of interest, -merely to perceive and understand the moods and wishes of those around -us! An inert, sluggish nature, half ice, half rock, cannot do this. To -achieve it, as methinks your fair kinswoman does, requires all her -understanding, all her sweetness, all that exquisite tact and -penetrative feeling I never saw but in her." - -"I am glad you say this," said James. "Yes, Kate has a warm heart: none -has a better right to say so than I. There are--there were times, for -the gloom of the dark hour is somewhat mitigated--when no priest, no -penance, had such power over me as my cousin Katherine's sweet voice. -Like a witch she dived into the recesses of my heart, plucking thence my -unholy distrust in God's mercy. By St. Andrew! when I look at her, all -simple and gentle as she is, I wonder in what part of her resides the -wisdom and the eloquence I have heard fall from her lips; nor have I had -the heart to reprove her, when I have been angered to see our cousin Sir -Patrick driven mad by her sugared courtesies." - -"Does she not affect Sir Patrick?" asked Richard, while he wondered at -the thrilling sensation of fear that accompanied his words. - -"'Yea, heartily,' she will reply," replied the king; "'Would you have me -disdain our kinsman?' she asks when I rail; but you, who are of gender -masculine, though, by the mass! a smooth specimen of our rough kind, -know full well that pride and impertinence are better than equable, -smiling, impenetrable sweetness. Did the lady of my love treat me thus, -'sdeath, I think I should order myself the rack for pastime. But we -forget ourselves; push on, dear prince. It is the hour, when the hawks -and their fair mistresses are to meet us on the hill's side. I serve no -such glassy damsel; nor would I that little Kennedy's eye darted fires -on me in scorn of ray delay. Are not my pretty Lady Jane's eyes bright, -Sir Duke?" - -"As a fire-fly among dark-leaved myrtles." - -"Or a dew-drop on the heather, when the morning sun glances on it, as we -take our mountain morning-way to the chase. You look grave, my friend; -surely her eyes are nought save as nature's miracle to you?" - -"Assuredly not," replied York; "are they other to your majesty--you do -not love the lady?" - -"Oh, no!" reiterated James, with a meaning glance, "I do not love the -Lady Jane; only I would bathe in fire, bask in ice, do each and every -impossibility woman's caprice could frame for trials to gain--but I -talk wildly to a youthful sage. Say, most revered anchorite, wherefore -doubt you my love to my pretty mistress?" - -"Love!" exclaimed Richard; his eyes grew lustrous in their own soft dew -as he spoke. "Oh, what profanation is this! And this you think is love! -to select a young, innocent, and beauteous girl--who, did she wed her -equal, would become an honoured wife and happy mother--to select her, -the more entirely to deprive her of these blessings--to bar her out for -ever from a woman's paradise, a happy home; you, who even now are in -treaty for a princess-bride, would entice this young thing to give up -her heart, her all, into your hands, who will crush it, as boys a gaudy -butterfly, when the chase is over. Dear my lord, spare her the -pain--yourself remorse; you are too good, too wise, too generous, to -commit this deed and not to suffer bitterly." - -A cloud came over James's features. The very word "remorse" was a sound -of terror to him. He smote his right hand against his side, where dwelt -his heart, in sore neighbourhood to the iron of his penance. - -At this moment, sweeping down the near hill-side, came a gallant array -of ladies and courtiers. The king even lagged behind; when near, he -accosted Katherine, he spoke to the earl of Angus, to Mary Boyd, to all -save the Lady Jane, who first looked disdainful, then hurt, and, at -last, unable to straggle with her pain, rode sorrowfully apart. James -tried to see, to feel nothing. Her pride he resisted, her anger he -strove to contemn, her dejection he could not endure: and, when riding -up to her unaware, he saw the traces of tears on her cheek, usually so -sunny bright with smiles, he forgot everything save his wish to console, -to mollify, to cheer her. As they returned, his hand was on her -saddle-bow, his head bent down, his eyes looking into hers, and she was -smiling, though less gay than usual. From that hour James less coveted -the prince's society. He began a little to fear him: not the less did he -love and esteem him; and more, far more, did he deem him worthy of the -honour, the happiness he intended to bestow upon him. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXI - -THE MARRIAGE - - - She is mine own; - And I as rich in having such a jewel, - As twenty seas, if all their sand were pearl, - Their water nectar, and the rocks pure gold. - - SHAKSPEARE. - - -The threads were spun, warp and woof laid on, and Fate busily took up -the shuttle, which was to entwine the histories of two beings, at whose -birth pomp and royalty stood sponsors, whose career was marked by every -circumstance that least accorded with such a nativity. A thousand -obstacles stood in the way; the king, with all his fervour, hesitated -before he proposed to the earl of Huntley to bestow his daughter, of -whom he was justly proud, on a fugitive sovereign, without a kingdom, -almost without a name. Fortune, superstition, ten thousand of those -imperceptible threads which fate uses when she weaves her most -indissoluble webs, all served to bring about the apparently impossible. - -The earl of Huntley was a man of a plain, straightforward, resolved -ambition. His head was warm, his heart cold, his purpose one--to -advance his house, and himself at the head of it, to as high a situation -as the position of subject would permit. In the rebellion which -occasioned the death of James the Third, he had vacillated, unable quite -to ascertain which party would prove triumphant; and when the rebels, -rebels then no more, but lieges to James the Fourth, won the day, they -looked coldly on their lukewarm partizan. Huntley grew discontented: -though still permitted to hold the baton of Earl Marshal, he saw a cloud -of royal disfavour darkening his fortunes; in high indignation he joined -in the nefarious plot of Buchan, Bothwell; and Sir Thomas Todd, to -deliver his sovereign into the hands of Henry of England, a project -afterwards abandoned. - -Time had softened the bitter animosities which attended James at the -beginning of his reign. He extended his favour to all parties, and -reconciled them to each other. A wonder it was, to see the Douglases, -Hamiltons, Gordons, Homes, the Murrays, and Lennoxes, and a thousand -others, at peace with each other, and obedient to their sovereign. The -earl of Huntley, a man advanced in life, prudent, resolute, and politic, -grew into favour. He was among the principal of the Scottish peers; he -had sons, to whom the honours of his race would descend, and this one -daughter, whom he loved as well as he could love anything, and respected -from the extent of her influence, and the perfect prudence of her -conduct; she was his friend and counsellor, the mediator between him and -her brothers; the kind mistress to his vassals, a gentle, but -all-powerful link between him and his king, whose value he duly -appreciated. - -Her marriage was often the subject of his meditation. Superstition was -ever rife in Scotland. James the Third had driven all his brothers from -him, because he had been told to beware of one near of kin; and his -death, of which his sou was the ostensible agent, fulfilled the -prophecy. Second-sight, in the Highlands, was of more avail than the -predictions of a Lowland sibyl. The seer of the house of Gordon had, on -the day of her birth, seen the Lady Katherine receive homage as a queen, -and standing at the altar with one, on whose young brow he perceived, -all dim and shadowy, "the likeness of a kingly crown." True, this -elevation was succeeded by disasters: he had beheld her a fugitive; he -saw her stand on the brow of a cliff that overlooked the sea, while the -wild clouds careered over the pale moon, alone, deserted; he saw her a -prisoner; he saw her stand desolate beside the corpse of him she had -wedded--the diadem was still there, dimly seen amid the disarray of his -golden curls. These images haunted the earl's imagination, and made him -turn a slighting ear to Sir Patrick Hamilton, and other noble suitors of -his lovely child. Sometimes he thought of the king, her cousin, or one -of his brothers: flight, desolation, and death, were no strange -attendants on the state of the king of Scotland, and these miseries he -regarded as necessary and predestined; he could not avert, and so he -hardly regarded them, while his proud bosom swelled at the anticipation -of the thorny diadem, which was to press the brow of a daughter of the -Gordon. - -Lord Huntley had looked coldly on the English prince. Lord Bothwell, as -he called himself, otherwise Sir John Ramsay, of Balmayne, his former -accomplice, tampered with him on the part of Henry the Seventh, to -induce him to oppose warmly the reception of this "feigned boy," and to -negative every proposition to advance his claims. King Henry's urgent -letters, and Ramsay's zeal, awakened the earl's suspicions; a manifest -impostor could hardly engender such fears, such hate; and, when midnight -assassination, or the poisoned bowl, were plainly hinted at by the -monarch of wide England, Huntley felt assured that the enemy he so -bitterly pursued was no pretender, but the rightful heir of the sceptre -Henry held. He did not quite refuse to join with Bothwell, especially -when he heard that he was listened to by the bishop of Moray and the -earl of Buchan; but involuntarily he assumed a different language with -regard to York, became more respectful to him, and by his demeanour -crushed at once the little party who had hitherto spoken of him with -contempt. The king perceived this change; it was the foundation-stone of -his project. "Tell me, you who are wise, my lord," said the monarch to -his earl marshal, "how I may raise our English prince in the eyes of -Scotland. We fight for him in the spring--for him, we say--but few of -ours echo the word; they disdain to fight for any not akin to them." - -"They would fight for the Foul Fiend," said Huntley, "whom they would be -ill-pleased to call cousin, if he led them over the English border." - -"Ay, if he took them there to foray; but the duke of York will look on -England as his own, and when the nobles of the land gather round him, it -will be chauncy work to keep them and our Scots from shedding each -other's blood; they would spill Duke Richard's like water, if no drop of -it can be deemed Scotch." - -"It were giving him a new father and mother," replied the earl, "to call -him thus." - -"When two even of hostile houses intermarry, our heralds pale their -arms; the offspring pale their blood." - -"But what Scottish lady would your grace bestow on him whose rank were a -match for royalty? There is no princess of the Stuarts." - -"And were there," asked James, quickly, "would it beseem us to bestow -our sister on a King Lackland?" - -"Or would your majesty wait till he were king of England, when France, -Burgundy, and Spain would compete with you? I do believe that this noble -gentleman has fair right to his father's crown; he is gallant and -generous, so is not King Henry; he is made to be the idol of a warlike -people, such as the English, so is not his rival. Do you strike one -stroke, the whole realm rises for him, and he becomes its sovereign: -then it were a pride and a glory for us, for him a tie to bind him for -ever, did he place his diadem on the head of a Scottish damsel." - -"You are sanguine and speak warmly," replied the king: "see you beyond -your own words? to me they suggest a thought which I entertain, or not, -as is your pleasure: there is but one lady in our kingdom fitting mate -for him, and she is more Gordon than Stuart. Did your lordship glance at -the Lady Katherine in your speech?" - -Lord Huntley changed colour: a sudden rush of thought palsied the -beatings of his heart. Was he called upon to give his child, his -throne-destined daughter, to this king-errant? Nay, nay, thus did -fortune blindly work; her hand would insure to him the crown, and so -fulfil to her the dark meaning of the seer: hesitating, lost to his -wonted presence of mind, Huntley could only find words to ask for a day -for reflection. James wondered at this show of emotion; he could not -read its full meaning: "At your pleasure, my lord," he said, "but if you -decide against my honoured, royal friend, remember that this question -dies without record--you will preserve our secret." - -Every reflection that could most disquiet an ambitious man possessed the -earl marshal. That his daughter should be queen of England was beyond -his hopes; that she should be the errant wife of a pretender, who passed -his life in seeking ineffectual aid at foreign courts, was far beneath -them. He canvassed every likelihood of York's success; now they dwindled -like summer-snow on the southern mountain's side--now they strode high -and triumphant over every obstacle; the clinging feeling was--destiny -had decreed it--she being his wife, both would succeed and reign. -"There is fate in it," was his last reflection, "and I will not gainsay -the fulfilment. Andrew of the Shawe was the prince of seers, as I have -good proof. Still to a monarch alone shall she give her hand, and I must -make one condition." - -This one condition Lord Huntley communicated to his royal master. It was -that York should, as of right he might, assume the style and title of -king. James smiled at his earl marshal's childish love of gauds, and did -not doubt that the duke would pay so easy price for a jewel invaluable -as Katherine. But granting this, the king, knowing the noble's despotic -character, required one condition also on his part, that he should first -announce the intended union to the lady, and that it should not have -place without her free and entire consent. Huntley was surprised: -"Surely, my liege," he began, "if your majesty and I command----" - -"Our sweet Kate will obey," interrupted James; "but this is no mere -marriage of policy; hazards, fearful hazards may attend it. Did I not -believe that all would end well, by the Holy Rood he should not have -her; but she may see things with different eyes--she may shrink from -becoming the wife of an exile, a wanderer without a home: yet that need -never be." - -York little guessed the projects of his royal friend. Love, in its most -subtle guise, had insinuated itself into his soul, becoming a very -portion of himself. That part of our nature, which to our reflections -appears the most human, and yet which forms the best part of humanity, -is our desire of sympathy; the intense essence of sympathy is love. Love -has been called selfish, engrossing, tyrannic--as the root, so the -green leaf that shoots from it--love is a part of us--it is our -manifestation of life; and poisonous or sweet will be the foliage, -according to the stock. When we love, it is our aim and conclusion to -make the object a part of ourselves--if we are self-willed and evilly -inclined, little good can arise; but deep is the fount of generous, -devoted, godlike feeling, which this silver key unlocks in gentle -hearts. Richard had found in the Lady Katherine a magic mirror, which -gave him back himself, arrayed with a thousand alien virtues; his soul -was in her hands, plastic to her fairy touch, and tenderness and worship -and wonder took his heart, ere passion woke, and threw a chain over -these bosom guests, so that they could never depart. A mild, yet golden -light dawned upon his soul, and beamed from it, lighting up creation -with splendour--filling his mind with mute, yet entrancing melody. He -walked in a dream; but far from being rendered by his abstraction morose -or inattentive to others, never had he been so gay, never so considerate -and amiable. He felt that, beneath the surface of his life, there was -the calm and even the bliss of Paradise; and his lightest word or act -must be, by its grace and benevolence, in concord with the tranquil -spirit that brooded over his deeper-hidden self. All loved him the -better for the change, save Frion; there was something in him that the -wily Frenchman did not understand; he went about and about, but how -could this man of "low-thoughted care" understand the holy mysteries of -love. - -Katherine accompanied her father to Gordon Castle, in Aberdeenshire. -Where was the light now, that had made a summer noon in Richard's soul? -There was memory: it brought before him her cherub-face, her voice, the -hours when at her side he had poured out his overbrimming soul in -talk--not of love, but of ideas, feelings, imaginations he had never -spoken before. Two days passed, and by that time he had collected a -whole volume of things he wished to say--and she was far: then hope -claimed entrance to his heart, and with her came a train he dreamt not -of--of fears, anticipations, terror, despair; and then a tenfold ardour -for his enterprise. Should he not win Katherine and a kingdom? - -On the third day after her departure, King James informed the prince, -that Lord Huntley had invited them to visit him at his castle, "Will -your grace venture," he asked, "so far into the frozen circles of the -icy north? You will traverse many a savage defile and wild mountain-top; -torrents and dark pine forests bar the way, and barrenness spreads her -hag's arms to scare the intruder. I speak your language, the effeminate -language of an Andalusian, who loves the craggy heights, only when -summer basks upon them; and the deep sunless dell, when myrtles and -geranium impregnate the air with sweets. I love the mist and snow, the -tameless winds and howling torrent, the bleak unadorned precipice, the -giant pines where the north makes music. The grassy upland and the -corn-field, these belong to man, and to her they call Nature, the fair, -gaudy dame; but God takes to himself, and lives among these sublime -rocks, where power, majesty and eternity are shaped forth, and the -grandeur of heaven-piercing cliffs allies us to a simple but elevating -image of the Creator." - -King James was a poet, and could feel thus--York might smile at his -enthusiasm for the bleak and horrific. But had the path to Gordon Castle -been ten times more frightful, the thoughts of love were roses, the -hopes of love vernal breezes, to adorn it with beauty. "Say, my lord," -continued James, "shall we go throwing aside the cumbrous burthen of -pomp? We are here in Perth. Yonder, over those peaks, lies our direct -path. Shall we, two woodland rovers, with bows in our hand and quivers -at our back, take our solitary way through the wild region? It is my -pastime ofttimes so to do; and well I know the path that leads me to the -abode of my cousin Kate. We will send our attendants by the easier path -to the eastern sea-shore, at once to announce our approach, and bear -such gear as we may need, not to play too humble a part in Huntley's -eyes." - -A thousand motives of policy and pride had induced the earl to desire -that this marriage should be celebrated in the Highlands. Here he would -appear almost a sovereign to his royal son-in-law; here also he should -avoid the sarcasms of the Tudor party, and the anger of those who had -pretended to fair Katherine's hand. James consented to his wish, and now -led his friend and guest, through the very heart of his craggy kingdom -over the Grampians, towards Aberdeen. It was the end of October; a few -sweet autumnal days still lingered among these northern hills, as if to -light on their way the last feathered migrators hastening towards the -south; but dark mists invested their morning progress. The rivers were -swollen; and the mountain peaks often saluted the rising sun, garmented -in radiant snow. It was a little drear, yet grand, sublime, wondrous. -York suppressed his chilling distaste, till it grew into admiration; the -king played the guide featly; and the honoured name of the Bruce, which -peopled this region with proud memories, was the burthen of many a tale; -nor was his account of the fierce people of these wilds unwelcome to a -warrior. York remarked that the king was generally known to them, not, -indeed, as a monarch, but as a hunter, a traveller, sometimes as a -skilful mediciner, or as a bard, and always hospitably received. - -After three days they drew near their journey's end: curiosity as to the -cause of their visit, anxiety concerning his reception, all faded in -Richard's heart; dimmed by the glad expectation of seeing her again, who -had dawned the glowing orient of his darkened heart. They had departed -from their rude shelter before the sun rose: the mountain peaks were -awake with day, while night still slumbered in the plain below: some -natural sights speak to the heart more than others, wherefore we know -not: the most eloquent is that of the birth of day on the untrodden -hill-tops, while we, who behold it, are encompassed by shadows. York -paused: the scene appeared to close in on him, and to fill him, even to -overflowing, with its imagery. They were toiling up the mountain's side: -below, above, the dark pines, in many a tortuous shape, clung to the -rifted rocks; the fern clustered round some solitary old oak; while, -beetling over, were dark frowning crags, or the foldings of the -mountains, softened into upland, painted by the many coloured heather. -With the steady pace of a mountaineer, King James breasted the -hill-side; nor did York bely his rugged Spanish home. As a bravado, the -king, in the very sheer ascent, trolled a ballad, a wild Scottish song, -and Richard answered by a few notes of a Moorish air. A voice seemed to -answer him, not an echo, for it was not his own, but taking the -thrilling sweetness of Monina's tones. Ah! ungentle waves, and untaught -winds, whither bear ye now the soft nursling of Andalusia? Such a -thought darkened York's brow; when the king, pausing in his toil, leaned -against a jutting crag--both young, both gallant, both so noble and so -beautiful; of what could they think--of what speak? Not of the -well-governed realm of the one, nor the yet unconquered kingdom of the -other; of such they might have spoken among statesmen and warriors, in -palaces or on the battle plain; but here, in this wild solitude, the -vast theatre whose shifting scenes and splendid decorations were the -clouds, the mountain, the forest, and the wave, where man stood, not as -one of the links of society, forced by his relative position to consider -his station and his rank, but as a human being, animated only by such -emotions as were the growth of his own nature--of what should they -speak--the young, the beautiful--but love! - -"Tell me, gentle cavalier," cried James, suddenly; "hast thou ever been -in love? Now would I give my jewel-hilted dagger to tear thy secret from -thee," continued the king, laughing; for York's eyes had flashed with -sudden light, and then fell downcast. Where were his thoughts? at his -journey's goal, or on the ocean sea? If he smiled, it was for Kate; but -the tear that glittered on his long eyelashes, spoke of his Spanish -maid. Yet it was not the passion of love that he now felt for his -childhood companion; it was tenderness, a brother's care, a friend's -watchfulness, all that man can feel for woman, unblended with the desire -of making her his; but gratitude and distance had so blended and mingled -his emotions, that, thus addressed, he almost felt as if he had been -detected in a crime. - -"Now, by the Holy Rood, thou blushest," said James, much amused; "not -more deeply was fair Katherine's cheek bedyed, when I put the self-same -question to her. Does your grace guess, wherefore we journey -northwards?" - -Richard turned an inquiring and unquiet look upon his royal companion. A -kind of doubt was communicated to James's mind; he knew little of his -friend's former life: was it not possible that engagements were already -formed, incompatible with his plans? With some haughtiness, for his -impetuous spirit ill brooked the slightest check, he disclosed the -object of their visit to Castle Gordon, and the proposal he had made to -the earl to unite him in marriage to the Scottish princess. - -"When I shall possess my kingdom--when I may name my wife, that which -she is, or nothing--queen!" Richard exclaimed. - -"Nay, I speak of no millenium, but of the present hour," said James. - -The enthusiastic king, bent upon his purpose, went on to speak of all -the advantages that would result from this union. York's silence nettled -him: the prince's thoughts were, indeed, opposed to the exultation and -delight which his friend had expected to see painted on his face. The -first glad thought of a lover is to protect and exalt her he loves. -Katherine was a princess in her native land;--and what was he?--an -outcast and a beggar--a vagabond upon the earth--a man allied to all -that was magnificent in hope--to all that imagination could paint of -gallant and true in himself, and devoted and noble in his friends. But -these were idealities to the vulgar eye; and he had only a title as -unreal as these, and a mere shadowy right, to bestow. It had been sinful -even to ally Monina to his broken fortunes; but this high offspring of a -palace--the very offer, generous as it was, humbled him. A few minutes' -silence intervened; and, in a colder tone James was about to address -him, when York gave words to all the conflicting emotions in his -breast--speaking such gratitude, love, hope, and despair, as reassured -his friend, and made him the more resolved to conquer the difficulties -unexpectedly given birth to by the disinterestedness of his guest. - -A contest ensued; Richard deprecating the rich gift offered to him--the -king warmly asserting that he must accept it. The words vagabond and -outcast were treason to his friendship: if, which was impossible, they -did not succeed in enforcing the rights to his ancestral kingdom, was -not Scotland his home--for ever his home--if he married Katherine? And -the monarch went on to describe the happiness of their future lives--a -trio bound by the ties of kindred--by affection--by the virtues, nay, -even by the faults of each. He spoke also of the disturbances that so -often had wrecked the fortunes of the proudest Scottish nobles, and -said, that a princess of that land, united, it might be, to one of its -chiefs, trimmed her bark for no summer sea. "Like these wild Highlands -are our storm-nursed lives," continued James. "By our ruder thanes the -beautiful and weak are not respected; and tempest and ruin visit ever -the topmost places. Kate is familiar to such fears, or rather to the -resignation and courage such prospects may inspire. Look around on these -crags! listen! the storm is rising on the hills--howling among the -pines. Such has been my cousin's nursery--such the school which has -made her no slave of luxury; no frail floweret, to be scared when the -rough wind visits her cheek." - -In such discussions the travellers beguiled the time. The day was -stormy; but, eager to arrive, they did not heed its pelting. York had a -sun in his own heart, that beamed on him in spite of the clouds -overhead. Notwithstanding his first keen emotion of pain at the idea of -linking one so lovely to his dark fate, the entrancing thought of -possessing Katherine--that she had already consented to be -his--animated him with delight, vague indeed; for yet he struggled -against the flattering illusion. - -After battling the whole day against a succession of steep acclivities, -as evening drew near, the friends gained the last hill-top, and stood on -its brow, overlooking a fertile plain or strath--an island of verdure -amidst the black, precipitous mountains that girded it. The sun was -hidden by the western mountains, which cast their shadow into the -valley; but the clouds were dispersed, and the round full silvery moon -was pacing up the eastern heaven. The plain at their feet was studded by -villages, adorned by groves, and threaded by two rivers, whose high, -romantic banks varied the scene. An extensive, strongly-built castle -stood on the hill that overhung one of the streams, looking proudly down -on this strath, which contained nearly thirty-six square miles of -fertile ground. "Behold," said James, "the kingdom of Lord Huntley, -where he is far more absolute than I in my bonny Edinburgh. The Gordon -fought for the Bruce; and the monarch bestowed on him this fair, wide -plain as his reward. Bruce flying before his enemies, on foot, almost -alone, among these savage Grampians, then looked upon it as now we do." - -King James's thoughts were full of that wild exhilaration of spirit, -which none, save the inhabitant of a mountainous country, knows, when -desolation is around--a desolation which is to him the pledge of -freedom and of power. But York had other ideas: he had been told that -the Lady Katherine had yielded a willing consent to the proposal made; -and she whom he had before conversed with only as a gentle friend--she, -the lovely and the good--his young heart beat thick,--it had no -imagery, far less words, expressive of the rapture of love, tortured by -the belief that such a prize he ought to--he must--resign. - -The petty tyranny of trivial circumstance often has more power over our -best-judged designs, than our pride permits us to confess. From the -moment York entered Castle Gordon, he found an almost invisible, but -all-conquering net thrown over him. The Gordon, for thus the earl of -Huntley preferred being called, when surrounded by his clan in his -northern fastness, received the princes with barbaric, but extreme -magnificence: his dress was resplendent; his followers numerous, and -richly clad according to Highland ideas of pomp. But no Lady Katherine -was there, and it soon became apparent that Richard was first to see her -at the altar. Sounds of nuptial festivity rang through the castle; -instead of grace or generosity attending his meditated declining of the -honour, it would have borne the guise of an arrogant refusal. There was -also something in the savage look of the clansmen, in the rude -uncivilization of her native halls, where defence and attack formed the -creed and practice of all, that reconciled him to the idea of leading -her from the wild north to softer, milder scenes; where every disaster -wears a gentler shape; soothed, not exasperated by the ministrations of -nature. - -At midnight, but a very few hours after his arrival, he stood, beside -her in the chapel to interchange their vows. The earl had decorated the -holy place with every emblem that spoke of his own greatness, and that -of his son-in-law. The style of royalty was applied to him, and the -ambitious noble, "overleaping" himself, grasped with childish or savage -impetuosity at the shadowy sceptre, and obscure cloud-wrapt crown of the -royal exile. York, when he saw the princess, summoned all his -discernment to read content or dissatisfaction in her eyes; if any of -the latter should appear, even there he would renounce his hopes. All -was calm, celestially serene. Nay, something almost of exultation -struggled through the placid expression of her features, as she cast her -eyes up to heaven, till modest gentleness veiled them again, and they -were bent to earth. - -The generosity and pride of woman had kindled these sentiments. The Lady -Katherine, a princess by birth, would scarcely have dreamed of resisting -her father's behests, even if they had been in opposition to her -desires; but here she was to sacrifice no inclination, nothing but -prosperity; that must depart for ever, she felt she knew, when she -became the bride of England's outcast prince. Yet should aught of good -and great cling to him, it was her gift; and to bestow was the passion -of her guileless heart. It was not reason; it was feeling, perhaps -superstition, that inspired these ideas. The seer who foretold her -fortunes, had been her tutor and her poet; she believed in him, and -believed that all would be accomplished; even to the death of the -beautiful and beloved being who stood in the pride and strength of youth -at her side. All must be endured; for it was the will of Heaven. -Meanwhile, that he should be happy during his mortal career was to be -her study, her gift, the aim of her life. In consenting to be his, she -also had made a condition, that, if defeat awaited his arms, and that -again a wanderer he was obliged to fly before his enemies, she was not -to be divided from him; if no longer here, she was to be permitted to -join him; if he departed, she should accompany him. - -As the priest bestowed his benediction on the illustrious and beauteous -pair, a silent vow was formed in the heart of either. Doomed by his -ill-fate to hardship and dependence, he would find in her a medicine for -all his woes, a wife, even the better, purer part of himself, who would -never suffer him to despair; but who would take the bitterer portion of -his sorrow on herself, giving in return the heroism, the piety, the -serene content which was the essence of her being. His vow, it depended -not on himself, poor fellow! "Never through me shall she suffer," was -the fervent resolve. Alas! as if weak mortal hands could hold back giant -Calamity, when he seizes the heart, and rends it at his pleasure. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXII - -THE MARCH TOWARDS ENGLAND - - - But these are chimes for funerals: my business - Attends on fortune of a sprightlier triumph; - For love and majesty are reconciled, - And vow to crown thee Empress of the West. - - FORD. - - -The royal party returned to Edinburgh, where the nuptials of Richard of -England and the Lady Katherine were celebrated with splendour. -Festivities of all kinds, tournaments, hunting parties, balls, succeeded -to each other; but far beyond every outward demonstration was the real -happiness insured by this marriage. Graced by Katherine, the little -English court became a paradise. The princess assumed her new character -among the exiles with facility; yet the phrase is bad, for Katherine -could assume nothing, not even a virtue, if she had it not. In every -position she was not princess, queen, patroness, or mistress; but woman -merely--a true-hearted, gentle, refined woman. She was too young for -the maternal character to be appropriate to her, yet the watchfulness -and care she had for all resembled it. Her new subjects felt as if -before they had been a disconnected, vagabond troop, and that dignity -and station were assigned to them through her; through her the charities -and elegances of life hallowed and adorned them. The quality most -peculiarly her own was the divine simplicity which animated her look, -her manners, her acts. Taintless simplicity, that best of fascinations, -whose power is not imperious and sudden, but gradual and changeless, -where every word spoken is but the genuine interpreter of the feelings -of the heart, to which not only falsehood, but even the slightest -disguise or affectation, is wholly foreign; and which is the more -delicate, winning and kind, from being spontaneous--so that, as in -describing her, her royal cousin had said, "you almost questioned her -authority from its want of pretension, yet yielded to it in all its -extent." - -Richard's political position stood higher than ever. The ever-watchful -duchess of Burgundy had sent a renowned Burgundian captain, Sir -Roderick-de-Lalayne, with two hundred German mercenaries. The king of -France, at the request of Henry the Seventh, had despatched an embassy -to King James, to advise a peace between England and Scotland. The -ambassador was the Sire de Concressault, York's ancient friend, who -continued to espouse his cause warmly, and gave it all the grace and -honour of his high influence. King James was eager to collect his army, -and to prepare for an invasion. If Richard had lost any part of his -open-hearted confidence and personal friendship, he had gained in his -esteem and consideration. The change that had been operating was -imperceptible to York, who naturally found in his marriage a barrier to -the hourly intercourse they had formerly had, when both were free. Yet -change there was, greater even than the king himself suspected; the -causes were easily traced. - -The Tudor party in Scotland, instigated by bribes and large promises, -were very active in their enmity to the White Rose. They had been obliged -to let the torrent of royal favour force its headlong way, but they -watched the slightest pause in its flow, to throw impediments in the way -of the abundant stream. Soon after his return from the North, it became -apparent that the king continued no unsuccessful suitor to the Lady Jane -Kennedy. This a good deal estranged him from his English friend, who no -longer reproved, but whose tacit condemnation he feared, as well as that -of his fair cousin. Nay, more, Lady Jane had drawn from him the cause of -their transient quarrel, and, now that she had yielded, felt angry and -disdainful at the attempt made to estrange her lover. One of those lower -eddies or currents of intelligence, so in use at courts, had reported an -angry expression of hers to the earl of Buchan, one of York's most -active enemies. This grasping-place in their difficult way was eagerly -laid hold of by the conspirators. A coalition was formed between Lady -Jane and this party, which insured the aggravation of any ill-feeling -that might arise between the late brothers in heart. Soon after another -agent or tool was added to their number. - -The most subtle, the most politic, the most wily, are sometimes the -slaves of impulse; nay, very often those who fancy that they measure -their actions the most narrowly by the rules, either of self-interest or -ambition, are more easily influenced to unwise passion by any obstacle -thrown in their path. The Secretary Frion had hitherto considered -himself of primal import to the English prince: no project was -conceived, that was not first concocted in his brain, and insinuated by -him; every new partizan had been enticed by his silvery speeches; -whatever of difficult, crooked, and hidden was to be done, Frion was -consulted, and employed, and deeply trusted in its accomplishment. On -his first arrival in Scotland, the intimacy between the king and York -destroyed half his influence. James's discernment and experience was not -duped by the insinuating flatteries of Frion: as a proud man he -disdained, as a conscientious and pious one, he disliked him. It was -worse when Katherine's influence became paramount; she put him exactly -in his right place, yet was so kind that there was no room for -complaint: all his former patrons were her worshippers; her praises were -re-echoed from all; and assuredly no intrigue could exist where she was. -Yet it was neither comprehensible, nor to be endured, that this banished -prince and his friends should walk straight forward in their allotted -route, unaided by plot or manœuvre. The subtlety of the man quickly -revealed to him the existence of the opposing party; he was ready to -foment it, were it only to gain reputation afterwards by its -destruction. He made one step, and became the confidant of Balmayne, and -apparently the tool of the higher confederates: at first he rather -perplexed than served them, spinning spiders' webs in their way, and -elevating himself in their eyes by brushing them off at his pleasure. He -was exactly the man to shine in a dark conspiracy: soon nothing could be -done but by his advice, nothing known but as he informed them, nothing -said but as he dictated. Balmayne, who, fierce and moody, entered more -zealously into these discontents than any other, yet took his -counsel--little knew they Maître Etienne Frion: he only watched the -while, sage fisher of men as he was, for the best opportunity of -betraying them for his own advantage. In the midst of festivity, of -gallant, warlike preparation, Frion had, like a witch gathering -poisonous herbs by the silvery light of the quiet moon, sought to -extract all that was baleful in what, but for the uses to which he -strove to put it, had died innocuous. - -The winter grew into spring: these were the happiest months of young -Richard's life. He had traversed many a pass of danger and tract of -sorrow--falsehood had blotted--loss of friends, who had died for him, -had darkened the past years: often during their course he had believed -that he gave himself up to despair; he had fancied that he had doubted -every one and every thing; he imagined that he was tired of -existence--vain ideas! Sanguine, confiding, full to the very brim of -that spirit of life which is the happiness of the young, he sprang up a -fresh Antæus, each time that Fortune with Herculean power had thrown -him to the earth. And now he congratulated himself even on every misery, -every reverse, every sentiment of despondency that he experienced: they -were so many links of the chain that made him what he was--the friend -of James, the husband of Katherine. It was this best attribute of -sunny-hearted youth, this greenness of the soul, that made Richard so -frank, so noble, so generous; care and time had laboured in vain--no -wrinkle, no deforming line marked his mind, or, that mind's interpreter, -his open, candid brow. - -With the spring the Scottish troops drew together, and encamped near -Edinburgh. The occasion seemed seasonable; for news arrived of -disturbances which had taken place in England, and which had caused -Henry the Seventh to recall the earl of Surrey (who was conducting an -army northward to oppose the expected attack from Scotland), to check -and defeat enemies which had arisen in the west of his kingdom. The -inhabitants of Cornwall, vexed by increasing taxes, had long been in a -state of turbulence; and now, instigated by two ringleaders from among -themselves, combined together, and rose in open and regulated -rebellion--sedition, it might have been called; and had perhaps been -easily crushed, but for the interference of one, who acted from designs -and views which at first had made no part of the projects of the -insurgents. - -Lord Audley had not forgotten the White Rose. On his return westward, -however, he found all so quiet, that no effort of his could rouse the -rich and satisfied men of Devon, from their inglorious repose. His -imprudence attracted attention; he had notice of the danger of an -arrest, and suddenly resolved to quit the post he had chosen, and to -join the duke of York in Ireland. He came too late; the English squadron -had sailed; and he, changeful as the winds and as impetuous, despising a -danger now remote, resolved to return to England, and to Devonshire. His -voyage from Cork to Bristol was sufficiently disastrous; contrary and -violent winds drove him from his course into the Atlantic; here he beat -about for several days, till the wind, shifting a point or two to the -west, he began to make what sail he could in the opposite direction. -Still the weather was tempestuous, and his skiff laboured frightfully -amidst the stormy waves; not far from them, during the greatest fury of -the gale, was a larger vessel, if such might be called the helmless, -dismasted hull, tossed by the billows, the sport of the winds, as it -rose and fell in the trough of the sea. At length the wind lulled; and -the captain of the caravel, which indeed might be called a wreck, -lowered a boat, and came alongside Lord Audley's vessel, asking whither -he was bound? To England, was the answer; and the vast reef of clouds -lifted on the southern horizon, and showing beyond a streak of azure, -gave promise of success in their voyage. The questioner, who spoke -English imperfectly, went on to say, that in spite of the miserable -state of the caravel, he was resolved not to desert her, but to carry -her, God willing, into the nearest French port he could make. But there -was on board one sick, a woman, whom he wished to spare the dangers and -privations of the voyage. Would the commander take her to England, and -bestow her in some convent, where she might be tended and kept in -honourable safety? Lord Audley gave a willing consent, and the boat went -off speedily, returning again with their stranger passenger. She was in -the extremity of illness, even of danger, and lay, like a child, in the -arms of the dark, tall, weather-beaten mariner, who, though squalid in -his appearance from fatigue and want, stood as a rock that has braved a -thousand storms; his muscles seemed iron--his countenance not stern, -but calm and resolved--yet tenderness and softness were in the -expression of his lips, as he gazed on his fragile charge, and placed -her with feminine gentleness on such rude couch as could be afforded; -then addressing Lord Audley, "You are an Englishman," he said, "perhaps -a father?" - -"I am an English noble," replied the other; "confide in my care, my -honour; but, to be doubly sure, if you feel distrust, remain with us; -yonder wreck will not weather another night." - -"She has seen the suns of two worlds," said the sailor, proudly, "and -the blessed Virgin has saved her at a worse hazard. If she perish now, -it were little worth that her old captain survived: better both go down, -as, if not now, some day we shall, together. I will confide my poor -child to you, my lord. If she recover, she has friends in England; she -would gain them, even if she had them not. Not one among your boasted -island-women is more lovely or more virtuous, than my poor, my -much-suffering Monina." - -Lord Audley renewed his protestations. De Faro listened with the -ingenuous confidence of a sailor; he placed several caskets and a -well-filled bag of gold in the noble's hand, saying, "The Adalid fills -a-pace. You but rob the ocean. If my child survives, you can give her -the treasure you disdain. If she does"--and he bent over her; she -almost seemed to sleep, so oppressed was she by feebleness and fever. A -tear fell from her father's eye upon her brow: "And she will: Saint Mary -guide us, we shall attain." - -Suck was the strange drama acted on the wide boundless sea. Such the -chances that restored the high-minded Andalusian to England, to the -White Rose, to all the scenes, to every hope and fear which she had -resolved to abandon for ever. For good or ill, we are in the hands of a -superior power: - - - "There's a divinity that shapes our ends, - Rough-hew them how we will." - - -We can only resolve, or rather endeavour, to act our parts well, such as -they are allotted to us. Little choice have we to seek or to eschew our -several destinations. - -With Monina at his side, and his own restless ambition as a spur, it may -be easily imagined what Lord Audley's projects were in joining the -Cornish insurgents. He led them from the western extremity of the -island towards Kent, where he hoped to find the seeds of rebellion to -Lancaster, which he had sown the year before, ripened into harvest. News -of the unimpeded march of the insurgents from Cornwall to the -neighbourhood of London was brought to Edinburgh, freshening the zeal -and animating the preparations for war. - -Already the Scottish army was encamped south of Edinburgh. The English -troops set up their tents among them. The day was fixed for the -departure of the king, the prince, and the noble leaders. They quitted -Edinburgh in all the pompous array of men assured of victory. James -loved the hopes and stirring delights of war: Richard saw his every good -in life dependent on this expedition, and fostered sanguine expectation -of triumph. The burning desire of asserting himself, of rewarding his -faithful friends, of decorating Katherine with the rank and honours due -to her--the belief that he should achieve all this--gave dignity and -even gladness, to his last adieu to his lovely wife. Her heart mirrored -his hopes; not that she entertained them for her own, but for his sake: -yet the quicker sensibilities of a woman imparted fears unknown to him. -She concealed them, till when, as her last office and duty, she had -fastened an embroidered scarf around him. Softly, whisperingly, as -fearful of paining him, she said, "You will return--you have a kingdom -here: though England prove false, you must not disdain to be sole -monarch of Katherine." - -These words had been spoken--earl, baron, and gallant knight thronged -the courts of Holyrood. There was the sound of warlike trump and the -streaming of painted banners, among which, that of the White Rose waved -conspicuous. The king vaulted on his saddle; the prince of England rode -at his side. He was surrounded by the rude northern warlike chiefs, -ancient enemies of his native land, whose fierce eyes were lighted up by -the expectation of meeting their old adversaries in the field. Could he -fancy that, through such aid, he might win back the crown usurped from -him? - -King James and Richard rode side by side. At this moment, when the one -was spending the riches of his kingdom and the lives of his subjects for -the other's sake, while the hearts of both were softened by regret for -their abandoned home, and both anticipated the joys of victory or perils -of defeat to be shared between them, the sentiment of friendship was -rekindled. Never had they been more cordial, more confidential, more -happy in each other's society. After several hours' ride, the short -spring day declined to evening, which was accompanied by a drizzling -rain: the bad roads and the darkness impeded their progress; and it was -night before the twinkling camp-lights appeared in the distance and the -hum of men was heard. To the right of the camp, surrounded by the tents -of his nobles, the royal pavilion was pitched. On their arrival, the -earl of Buchan was in readiness to hold the king's stirrup. "Nay," said -James, "first we will see our royal guest lodged; where is the tent of -his grace of England? we commanded it to be pitched in close -neighbourhood to our own?" - -"Please you, my liege," said Buchan, "Lord Moray, gave direction it -should be placed out of our line; it is set up a mile eastward of us." - -"My uncle forgot himself; and you also, sir earl, were bound rather to -obey our order," said the king. - -"There were reasons," returned Buchan: "your majesty, I dare aver, will -approve the change, and his highness of England also. There was a brawl -between the Scottish borderers and the English; blood has been shed. We -feared that the peace of the encampment, not to say the life of his -highness, would be endangered if he were in the midst of our savage -Southrons." - -"I like not this," said James, moodily, "but it is too late to change -to-night. The rain-drops begin to freeze upon my hair; your highness -would rather be in year tent, far though it be from mine, than quarrel -about its position at this inclement hour. Lord Buchan, you will attend -him thither. Prince, goodnight; to-morrow we will be more brotherly in -our fashion; now the fiat of my lord of Moray must be obeyed." - -The king dismounted, and entered his pavilion: as the cloth was raised, -a blazing fire, the apparel of silver flagons and golden cups, the trim -appearance of silken-suited pages were visible, making strong contrast -with the cheerless blank without. One slight glimpse revealed the cause, -and partly excused the inhospitality of James, in not inviting his guest -to partake his warm cheer. One in a kirtle sat somewhat retired from -view; the quick motion of her head, the glance of her dark eye, showed -that the monarch had been impatiently expected, and was gladly welcomed -by the lovely daughter of the earl of Cassils. - -Lord Buchan accompanied Richard, Lord Barry, and Plantagenet to their -quarters; talking, as he went, of the contention, which had terminated -fatally to several. They rode down the elevated ground on which the -king's tent was placed, over a plashy, low plain, through a little wood -of stunted larch, across a narrow dell, in whose bottom a brook -struggled and murmured, to the acclivity on the other side, on which the -tents of the English troops were pitched; considerably apart from the -rest was Richard's own pavilion: all looked tranquil and even desolate, -compared to the stirring liveliness of the Scotch camp, Richard was -received by Sir George Neville, who looked more than usually cold and -haughty as he bent to Lord Buchan's salutation: the Scotchman uttered a -hasty good night, galloped down the upland and across the dell, and was -lost to sight in the wood. - -"What means this, Sir George?" was the prince's first remark: "what -discipline is yours--brawling and bloodshed with our allies?" - -"Did your highness name them our enemies," said Neville, "it were more -appropriate. Suspend your displeasure, I beseech you, until I can lay -before you the reality of what you name a brawl; my honour, and I fear -all our safeties are concerned in the discovery. Now, your grace is wet -and fatigued; you will repose?" - -Richard desired solitude, not rest: he wished to be alone; for a -thousand intricate ideas possessed him, clamouring to be attended to. He -dismissed his friends. Frion only remained--Frion, who lately had -almost become surly, but who was now smooth, supple as ever; his eye -twinkling as of yore, and his ready laugh--that most characteristic -part of him--again showing the old secretary returned. To the prince's -warm heart, the appearance of discontent and moodiness was peculiarly -grating; the smile or frown even of Frion had power over him; and he -felt grateful to the man for his glossy and satisfactory speeches, now -that, spite of himself, a feeling--it was not fear, but an anticipation -of evil--disturbed his mind. - -At length, he dismissed him; yet still he felt utterly disinclined for -sleep. For some time he paced his tent; images of war and battle floated -before him--and then the vision of an angel with golden hair, came, not -to calm, but to trouble him with unquiet regret. In vain he strove to -awaken the flock of gentle thoughts that usually occupied him; his ideas -seemed wolf-visaged; unreal howlings and cries rung in his ears. This -unusual state of mind was intolerable: he folded his cloak round him, -and stepped into his outer tent. Frion, two pages, and his esquire, were -to occupy it; but he found it solitary. This seemed a little strange; -but it was early yet. He lifted the outer cloth; a sentinel was duly at -his post; the prince saluted him and passed on. The fitful winds of -spring had dispersed the storm: the scarcely waning moon, encircled by -the dark clear ether, was in the east; her yellow light filled the -atmosphere, and lay glowing on the trees and little hill-side. The -prince stepped onwards, down the declivity, across the dell, into the -wood. He thought he heard voices; or was it only the swinging branches -of the pines? The breeze raised his hair and freshened his brow. Still -he walked on, till now he came in view of the Scottish camp, which lay -tranquil as sheep in a fold, the moon's bright eye gazing on it. The -sight brought proud Granada and all its towers, with the Christian camp -sleeping at her feet, before his mind; and he still lingered. Now the -tramp of horses became audible: a troop wound down the hill: the leader -stopped exclaiming in some wonder, "My lord of York! does your highness -need any service? do you bend your steps to the royal tent?" - -"I blush to answer, Sir Patrick," replied the prince; "for you will -scoff at me as the moon's minion: I came out but to visit her. Yet a -knight need not feel shame at loitering beneath her ray, dreaming of his -lady-love. You are more actively employed?" - -"I was on my way to your highness's encampment," replied the knight. -"His majesty is not quite satisfied with Lord Buchan's report, and sent -but now his esquire to me, to bid me visit it. With your good leave, I -will escort you thither." - - - - -CHAPTER XXXIII - -THE ASSASSIN - - - Traitor, what hast thou done? how ever may - Thy cursed hand so cruelly have swayed - Against that knight? Harrow and weal-away? - After so wicked deed, why liv'st thou longer day! - - SPENSER. - - -When he had been dismissed by his royal master, Frion called aside the -esquire, and sent him on an errand, it would seem of some import and -distance; for the youth uttered a few forcible interjections, and with a -lowering brow drew on the riding-boots he had just doffed, muttering, -"I must treat my horse better than my lord treats me; so, master, seek a -fresh steed. By my fay! this is to become a squire of dames--a -love-token to the duchess, in good hour!" - -Having got rid of this young gentleman, Frion's next care was to give -distant employment to the pages, saying he would wait their return. But -scarcely had they entered the most crowded part of the camp, before with -quick cautious steps the secretary took the same path which the prince -trod half an hour later--he crossed the dell, and arriving at the -little wood of larches, instead of traversing, he skirted it, till the -gentle eminence on which the English camp was pitched, grew higher and -more abrupt, the murmuring brook took the guise of a brawling torrent, -grey rocks peeped out from the soil, and the scene became wilder and -more mountainous: he walked on, till he arrived where a rustic bridge -spanned the stream; under its shadow were three horsemen, two of whom -dismounted, and a tall servitor held the bridles. One of these men Frion -knew at once to be him who called himself Lord Bothwell, King Henry's -spy, and Richard's fierce, motiveless, but ruthless enemy; the -other--his bonnet was drawn over his brow--a cloak obscured his -person. Frion's quick eyes scrutinized it vainly, for the moon, cloudy -at intervals, gave uncertain light; besides, the man had stationed -himself within the deepest shadow of the bridge. - -"Good befall your watch," said Frion; "your worship is before your -time." - -"Is not all ready?" asked Balmayne. - -"That question is mine," replied the other. "You know our treaty--not a -hair of my lord's head must be injured." - -"Tush! tush! fear not, good conscience-stickier," replied Bothwell, with -a contemptuous laugh; "no ill will befall the boy; we but ferry him over -the Tweed a few hours earlier than he dreamed of, and land him all -gently on the shore he seeks. As for thy reward, I have said, name it -thyself." - -"Fair words are these, Sir John Ramsay," said Frion; "but I said before, -I must have surer pledge, both for my reward and my lord's safety. King -Henry will haggle about payment when the work is done, and the steel you -wear is a toper in its way." - -"How now, sir knave?" cried Balmayne; "thinkest thou that I will turn -midnight stabber?" - -The man in the cloak started at these words. He uttered some sound, but -again drew back; while the person who continued on horseback said, and -his voice was that of the bishop of Moray, King James's uncle, "A truce -to this contention, Master Good-fellow--whatever thy name be: I will -answer for thy pay, and here is earnest of my truth." He threw a purse -at Frion's feet. "The peace of two kingdoms--the honour of a royal, too -long dishonoured house are at stake. No time is this to squabble for -marks, or the paltry life of a base impostor. I, a prince of Scotland, -avouch the deed. It were more friendly, methinks; to unlock his life -with the steel key of our friend Wiatt, than to devote him to the -gallows. Let Scotland be rid of him, I reck not how." - -Again Frion fixed his eyes on the other;--the clouds had fallen low in -the sky; the moon was clear; the western breeze murmured among the -bushes and the trees, and the beams of the silvery planet played upon -the unquiet waters. "We have no time for delay. Sir John," said Frion, -"prithee introduce me to our fellow-labourer--this is the king's -emissary? You call yourself Wiatt, Master Black Cloak?" - -The other made a gesture of impatience as he stepped aside. Balmayne and -Moray discoursed aside, till the former bade the secretary lead on; as -they went, the Scotchman and Frion conversed in whispers concerning -their plans, while their companion followed as if doggedly. Once he cast -an impatient glance at the moon--Frion caught that look. "Have I found -you, good friend," he thought; "then by our lady of Embrun, you shall -acquit you of the debt I claim this night." - -With quicker steps the Provençal proceeded, till they readied the -opening of the valley, and came opposite the slope on which the English -camp was pitched. Furthest off and far apart was the royal pavilion, the -banner of England flapping in the breeze, and this the only sign of -life; but for this, the white silent tents looked like vast Druidical -stones piled upon a wild moor. They paused. "I must go first," said -Frion; "we have wasted more time than I counted for--you will await me -here." - -"Listen, Master Frion," said Balmayne. "I would hardly trust you, but -that I think you are a wise man; silver angels and golden marks, as a -wise man, you will love: one thing you will hardly seek, a shroud of -moonbeams, a grave in the vulture's maw. Look ye, one soars above even -now; he scents dainty fare: twenty true men are vowed that he shall sup -on thee, if thou art foresworn: thou wilt give some signal, when all is -ready." - -"That were difficult," said Frion; "I will return anon if there be any -let to your enterprise; else, when the shadow of that tall larch -blackens the white stone at your feet, come up without fear: have ye -bonds ready for your prisoner?" - -"An adamantine chain--away!" Frion cast one more glance at him called -Wiatt. "It is even he, I know him, by that trick of his neck; his face -was ever looking sideways:" thus assured, the Frenchman ascended the -hill. Balmayne watched him, now visible, and now half-hid by the -deceptive light, till he entered the folds of the pavilion; and then he -glanced his eyes upon the shadow of the tree, yet far from the white -stone; and then paced the sward, as if disdaining to hold commune with -Wiatt. Whatever thoughts possessed this hireling's breast he made no -sign, but stood motionless as a statue; his arms folded, his head -declined upon his breast. He was short, even slight in make, his -motionless, half-shrinking attitude contrasted with the striding pace -and the huge, erect form of the borderer. Who that had looked down upon -these two figures, sole animations visible on the green earth beneath -the moon's bright eye, would have read villany and murder in their -appearance; the soft sweet night seemed an antidote to savageness, yet -neither moon nor the sleeping face of beauteous earth imparted any -gentleness to the Scot; he saw neither, except when impatiently he -glanced at the slow-crawling shadow, and the moonlight sleeping on the -signal-stone. Many minutes passed--Bothwell gave one impatient look -more--how slowly the dusky line proceeded! He walked to the edge of the -brook; there was no movement about the pavilion: tranquil as an infant's -sleep was the whole encampment. Suddenly a cry made him start, it was -from Wiatt; the man, heretofore so statue-like, had thrown his arms -upward with a passionate gesture, and then recalled by Bothwell's -imprecation, shrunk back into his former quiet, pointing only with a -trembling finger to the stone, now deep imbedded in the black shadow of -the larch. The Scot gave a short shrill laugh, and crying "Follow!" -began the ascent, taking advantage of such broken ground and shrubs, as -blotted the brightness of the rays that lit up the acclivity. Bothwell -strode on with the activity of a mosstrooper; Wiatt was scarce able to -walk; he stumbled several times. At length they reached the pavilion; -the Frenchman stood just within, lifting the heavy cloth; they entered. -Frion whispered, "I have cleared the coast; my lord sleeps; we need but -cast a cloak around him, to blind him, and so bear him off without more -ado on his forced journey." - -"There is wisdom in your speech," said Balmayne, with something of a -grin. "My friend Wiatt has a cloak large and dark enough for the nonce." - -Frion drew back the silken lining of the inner tent, saying, "Tread -soft, my lord ever sleeps lightly; he must not be waked too soon." - -"_Never_ were the better word," muttered Bothwell: the dimmest twilight -reigned in the tent. The prince's couch was in shadow; the men drew -near; the sleeper was wrapt in his silken coverlid, with his face buried -in his pillow: his light-brown hair, lying in large clusters on his -cheek, veiled him completely. Ramsay bent over him; his breathing was -heavy and regular; he put out his large bony hand, and, as gently as he -might, removed the quilt, uncovering the sleeper's right side; then -turning to Wiatt, who had not yet advanced, he pointed to the heaving -heart of his victim with such a glance of murderous callousness, that -the very assassin shrunk beneath it; yet he approached; his hand held an -unsheathed dagger, but it shook even to impotence; he raised it over his -prey, but had no power to strike. Frion had crept round behind; a sound -just then, and tramp of feet was heard in the outer tent; as by magic, -in one brief second of time the mute dread scene changed its every -characteristic. The assassin cried aloud, "It is not he!" Frion had -seized his arm--the dagger fell--the pretended sleeper (one of York's -pages) leaped from the couch; and the muffling cloak, dropping from the -murderer's shoulders, disclosed the wretched, degraded Clifford. Ramsay -drew his sword, and rushed towards the outer tent, when at the same -moment Richard of York and Sir Patrick Hamilton showed themselves from -beneath the hangings, which their attendants had raised. This sight -startled Frion, and Clifford, restored to life and energy, tore himself -from his grasp, and in a moment had rushed from beneath the pavilion; he -was forgotten; all eyes were turned on Bothwell; the dagger at his feet, -his drawn sword, his appearance in the retirement of the prince of -England, all accused him. He saw at once his danger, drew himself -proudly up, and returned Hamilton's look with a fierce, haughty glare. - -"Thy act is worse than thy enemies' speech," said Sir Patrick, sternly; -"thou wilt answer this, recreant, to thy royal master." - -"To him, to any, to you," said Balmayne; "there is my glove. Now, on the -hill's side, or in the lists anon, I will avouch my deed." - -Hamilton answered with a look of sovereign contempt; he bade his men -seize the traitor. "Before I sleep," he cried, "the king hears this -treason." - -Richard had looked on in silence and wonder; he placed his hand on -Hamilton's arm, stopping him, "Pardon me, valiant knight," he said; -"but, I do beseech you, disturb not the king to-night, nor ever, with -this ill tale. Too roughly already has the English prince broken -Scotland's rest. No blood is shed; and, strange as appearances are, I -take Sir John Ramsay's word, and believe that, as a cavalier, he may -maintain his cause, nor stain by it his knightly cognizance. I take up -your glove, fair sir, but only to restore it; without one slightest -accusation attaching itself to you therewith. Nay, myself will take up -the quarrel, if any blame you. Sir Patrick will not call me to the -trial, I am sure. Frion, conduct the gallant gentleman beyond our -lines." - -Shame for the first time flushed Ramsay's brow as he left the tent. The -prince drew up to let him pass, with a mien so dignified and yet so -tranquil, with a smile so bland, that thus it seemed an angelic essence, -incapable of wound, might have gazed on a mere mortal, armed to injure -him. - -"Is this recklessness or nobility of soul?" Sir Patrick thought. He did -not doubt, when Richard, changing his look to one of anxious appeal, -besought him to omit utterly to report this strange scene. "I much -fear," he said, "my wily secretary to be most in fault; and I caught a -glance of one, whose appearance here proves that Ramsay is not alone -guilty. Let me inquire, let me learn--punish, if need be. English gold -and English steel were the weapons here, and I alone have power over -England. You will pledge me your word. Sir Patrick, not to disquiet our -royal cousin by our domestic brawls. We must not put in opposing scales -our paltry anger against ruffians like these, and the disquiet of the -generous-hearted James. Ramsay was his father's favourite; for his sake -he bears with him; and more easily may I. I indeed, who am most in -fault, for spending the precious minutes wandering, like a shepherd of -Arcadia, in a listless foolishness, instead of acting the general, and -guarding my tents from such visitors. The brawl last night might have -forewarned me." - -"Does it not shame Scotland," cried Hamilton, warmly, "that you should -need any guard but our true hearts, while you tread our soil?" - -"Were this true," answered York, yet more earnestly, "remember, what -shames Scotland, shames her king. Be assured, dear cousin, I speak -advisedly. Were this examined, worse might appear; and I and your liege -must be the sufferers: I to excite this treason in his subjects' hearts; -he to prove that some near him are not true as they seem." - -Hamilton yielded to these many pleas; but his heart warmed with -admiration and love for the noble being who urged the cause of pardon -for his enemies. "Be it as your highness pleases," he exclaimed. "This I -the more readily yield, since any new attempt kills Hamilton ere it -reach you. I will be your guard, your sentinel, your wide, invulnerable -shield; you will not refuse me this post of honour." - -"Or let us both fulfil it," cried York, "one to the other; let us be -brothers in arms, noble Hamilton. And yet, how can I, a fugitive, almost -a tainted man, seek the alliance of one who stands as you do, fair and -free in all men's eyes?" - -As he spoke, the prince held out his hand; the Scottish knight raised it -respectfully to his lips. But now Frion returned; and the clash of arms -and trumpets' sound spoke of the advance of night, and change of guard: -the noble friends took leave of each other, and Sir Patrick departed. As -soon as they were private, the prince questioned his secretary closely -and sternly as to the events of the night. Frion had a plausible and -ready tale, of artifice and guile, of how he had a pledge even from the -king's uncle that York's life was not to be attempted; and that he had -but wished to balk and vex them, by causing the page to be carried off: -the discovery of their mistake would shame them from any second -enterprise against the prince of England. - -York was but half satisfied; he had caught a transient glimpse of the -fugitive. Was it indeed Clifford, who came a hired murderer to his -bedside? A man who had partaken his heart's counsels, long his -companion, once his friend? It was frightful, it was humiliating but to -imagine how deep the man may fall, who once gives himself over to evil -thoughts, and unlawful deeds. Frion here protested his ignorance and -surprise. It was almost day before his master dismissed him: and even -then, how could Richard repose? That couch, Clifford had marked as his -bier--it were a bed of thorns; he threw himself on the bare hard -ground, and innocence had more power than his angelic pity for the vice -of others; it shed poppy influence on his lids; and the beams of the -morning sun stole softly over, but did not disturb his slumbers. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXIV - -DISAPPOINTMENT - - - Methinks I see Death and the Furies waiting - What we will do, and all the Heaven at leisure - For the great spectacle. Draw then your swords! - - BEN JONSON. - - -Faster than the airy slave quicksilver is influenced by the changes of -the atmosphere, does the subtle essence of the mind of one, who from -love or gratitude hangs upon the smile or frown of another, feel the -sunshine or frost of that other's countenance; and an independent -disposition speedily revolts from servile obedience to such alteration. -On the following day, and afterwards on the succeeding ones, Richard -felt that the heart of James was no longer the same. He was courteous, -kind--his friend's interests formed the sole topic of their -conversations--but York could neither say the thing he wished, nor do -that which he desired; the same objects were before him, apparently the -same colouring was upon them; yet a pale sickly hue was cast over the -before glowing picture; a chill had penetrated the summer warmth in -which he basked; the wave was yet calm, but it was clouded, and no -longer showed in its limpid depths that sympathy and affection which -made the White Rose's fortunes seem truly and intrinsically Scotland's -own. - -Friendship was now professed, service tendered; before words had seemed -superfluous--the thing was there. James assured his guest that he would -not turn back, nor give ear to Henry's propositions; and York felt, with -a start, that ear had been, given to them, or this conclusion had not -been noted. The disunion and continued separation of the camps was -another circumstance that spoke loudly of division of thought and -counsel. - -Frion believed that he should now resume his ancient position with his -royal master: he bore his reproofs humbly, and strove to regain his -favour by the importance of his services. The arcana of the Tudor party -were, to a great degree, revealed to York; and it was easy to mark the -ascendancy it was gaining. The presence of Lady Jane Kennedy might -explain the ceremony and regulations observed in the intercourse between -the king and his friend; but it was Frion's part to disclose the enmity -this lady entertained for the White Rose, and the influence she exerted -to its detriment. Moray and Lord Buchan were her friends, and they were -frequent visitors in the royal pavilion. - -A short time somewhat changed this state of things. The army drew near -the frontier; and the king separated himself from the fair mistress of -his heart. On the third day they arrived on the banks of the Tweed. It -was but crossing a little river--but stepping from one stone to -another, and Richard would stand on English ground. - -The troops had passed the day before; some had proceeded southward; -others were even now to be seen defiling in long lines on the distant -plain. The sun was up cheerily; the fresh pleasant green of spring had -stolen, more like a tinted atmosphere, than in the guise of foliage, -over tree and bush; field flowers and crocusses peeped from under the -mossy turf. The scene was a wide moor, varied by broken ground; clumps -of trees, where many a bird nestled; and here and there thick underwood, -where the wild deer made his lair; this had been the scene of a thousand -conflicts, and of mortal carnage between Scot and Englishman, but the -skylark above sang of nature's bounty and nature's loveliness, an -immemorial and perennial hymn, while nothing spoke of the butchery and -wretchedness which once had made the landscape a tragic corpse-strewn -stage. - -Reining in his pawing courser, King James, in all the gay array of a -high-born knight, paused on the Scottish bank--his lips, proud as the -Apollo's--spoke of struggle and victory, - - - "In his eye - And nostril, beautiful disdain and might - And majesty flashed their full lightnings by." - - -Here was he who, in a later day, led the flower of Scotland to die on -the English plains; who himself was doomed to lie with mangled limbs, -and in blank, cold extinction, a trophy of victory to his enemy, on -Flodden Field: he was alive now, and in his strength; he drank in with -buoyant spirit every glorious anticipation, and laughed with fond -delight; spurring on his horse, he crossed the ford, and entered -England. - -In a moment, as by impulse, York, who had lingered, dashed after him; -allies they were; friends in seeming, nay, in truth; for the glance of -proud enmity Richard cast on the Scot was perhaps the more factitious -feeling: it sprang from patriotism, but its energy was borrowed from the -deadly feuds of their ancestors, that natural hate which is said to -exist now between the French and English, and which was far more -envenomed between the near-rival people. Notwithstanding James's change -towards him, York felt in the core of his affectionate heart, all that -was due to him who had raised him when he was fallen; given him state, -power--Katherine; he saw in him his kinsman--his benefactor. But the -pride of a son of England rose in his breast, when he beheld the haughty -Scot caracol in arrogant triumph on her soil. What was he? What had he -done? He was born king and father of this realm: because he was -despoiled of his high rights, was he to abjure his natural duty to her, -as her child? Yet here he was an invader; not arming one division of her -sons against the other, but girt with foreigners, aided by the ancient -ravagers of her smiling villages and plenteous harvests. He looked on -each individual Scot, and on their gallant king, and felt his bosom -swell with rage and hate. These were unwise, nay, ungrateful sentiments; -but he could not repel them. His first commands were to his cousin, to -hasten to Randal of Dacre, to learn what Yorkists had gathered together -to receive him. "If there be any large company," he said, "without more -ado we will thank our kind cousin, invite him to recross the Tweed, and -leave us to fight our battles by ourselves." - -The satisfaction and triumph James felt made him, so far from -participating in York's feelings, turn with renewed cordiality towards -him. It was his first care to have the standard of the White Rose set up -with martial pomp, to disperse his proclamations, and to invite, by his -own manner, the Scottish nobles to increase in observance towards the -prince. Lord Huntley, believing that the prophecy of his daughter's -elevation was on the eve of its accomplishment, was prodigal of his -shows of honour and service to his son-in-law. For some days the -pavilions of the brother kings were pitched side by side, and James each -hour thought to hear of the arrival of the Yorkist nobility of England: -he had expected so many that he had given orders that care should be -taken to recall his own troops, when the English visitants outnumbered -his own guard. Day after day passed, and not one came--not one: even -Randal of Dacre, Lord Dacre's brother, who had visited Richard in -Scotland, seized with panic, had gone southward. Nothing came, save -intelligence that the Cornish insurgents had been defeated on -Blackheath, their ringleaders taken and executed; among them Lord Audley -perished. - -Another life!--how many more to complete the sad hecatomb, a useless -offering to obdurate fate in Richard's favour! Sir George Neville, -gathered up in all the cold pride of disappointed ambition, disdained to -regret. Plantagenet saw the hopes and purpose of his life crushed, but -dared not give words to his despair; Sir Roderick sneered; Lord Barry -was loud in his laments; while the Scots grew taller and prouder, and -ceased to frequent the tents of the English exiles. Councils were held -by James, in which York had no part; it was only afterwards, that he -learnt it had been commanded to the Scotch army to lay waste the -country. Now indeed all the Englishman was alive in his heart--he gave -sudden orders to raise his camp, and to march forward; he had sat still -too long; he would enter the kingdom he claimed; discover for himself -his chance of success--and, if there were none, his rights should not -be made the pretence of a Scotch invasion. - -None cried, "Long live King Richard!" as he passed along. How did his -noble, youthful spirit droop at finding that not only he did not meet -with, but was judged not to deserve success. It ranks among the most -painful of our young feelings, to find that we are justly accused of -acting wrong. Our motives--we believed them disinterested or -justifiable; we have advanced a wondrous step in life before we can -concede even to ourselves that alloy may be mingled with what we deemed -pure gold: ignorant of the soil and culture of our own hearts, we feel -sure that no base mixture can form a part of what we fancy to be a mine -of virgin ore, Richard would have stood erect and challenged the world -to accuse him--God and his right, was his defence. His right! Oh, -narrow and selfish was that sentiment that could see, in any right -appertaining to one man the excuse for the misery of thousands. - -War, held in leash during the army's march from Edinburgh, was now let -loose; swift and barbarous he tore forward on his way; a thousand -destructions waited on him; his track was marked by ruin: the words of -Lord Surrey were fulfilled. What a sight for one, whose best hope in -acquiring his kingdom, was to bestow the happiness of which the usurper -deprived it. The English troops, about five hundred men, crossed the -wide-spread plains in the immediate vicinity of Scotland; they entered a -beaten track, where the traces of cultivation spoke of man; a village -peeped from among the hedge-row trees--York's heart beat high. Would -the simple inhabitants refuse to acknowledge him? A few steps disclosed -the truth--the village had been sacked by the Scotch: it was half -burnt, and quite deserted; one woman alone remained--she sat on a pile -of ashes wailing aloud. The exiles dared not read in each other's eyes -the expression of their horror; they walked on like men rebuked. This -was England, their country, their native home; and they had brought the -fierce Scot upon her. Passing forward, they met trains of waggons laden -with spoil, droves of cattle and sheep. They overtook a troop roasting -an ox by the burning rafters of a farm-house, whose green palings, trim -orchard, and shaved grass-plat, spoke of domestic comfort; the house-dog -barked fearfully--a Lowland archer transfixed him with his arrow. - -The English marched on; they dared not eye the ravagers; shame and hate -contended--these were their allies; while the sarcasm and scornful -laugh which followed them, drugged with wormwood the bitter draught. In -vain, west or east or south, did they turn their eyes, a sad variety of -the same misery presented itself on every side. A stout yeoman, gashed -by an Highlander's claymore, was sometimes the ghastly stepping-stone -passed over to enter his own abode; women and children had not been -spared, or were only left to perish for want. Often during apparent -silence, a fearful shriek, or the voice of lamentation, burst upon the -air: now it was a woman's cry, now the shrill plaint of infancy. With -the exception of these sufferers, the landscape was a blank. Where were -the troops of friends Richard had hoped would hail him? Where the -ancient Yorkists? Gone to augment the army which Surrey was bringing -against the Scot; attached to these ill-omened allies, how could the -prince hope to be met by his partizans? He had lost them all; the first -North Briton who crossed the Tweed trampled on and destroyed for ever -the fallen White Rose. - -Resolutely bent on going forward till he should have advanced beyond the -Scotch, on the following day York continued his march. They entered the -ruins of another village; the desolation here was even more complete, -although more recent; the flame was hardly spent upon the blackened -rafters; the piles which the day before had been smiling dwellings, -still smoked; a few domestic animals were skulking about. There was a -church at the end of what had been a street; this was not spared. The -English entered the desecrated aisle; an aged bleeding monk was lying at -the altar's foot, who scowled even in death upon the soldiery; suddenly -he recognized his countrymen; pleasure gleamed in his sunken eyes, "Ye -will avenge us! Deliver the land!--The hand of God will lead ye on!" - -Plantagenet rushed forward--"Father!" he cried, "do I find you here?" - -The old man spoke, looked faintly; Edmund bent over him: "My father, it -is I, Edmund, your boy, your murde----" - -"My son," said the monk, "I behold you again, and die content! You are -in arms, but by the blessing of the saints your sword's point is turned -against the cruel invader. Not one, oh! not one Englishman will fall by -his brother's hand, for not one will fight for that base deceit, the -ill-nurtured Perkin, to whom God in his wrath has given such show of -right as brings the Scot upon us. Once I thought--but no son of York -would ally himself to these cruel border-robbers. God of my country, oh -curse, curse him and his cause!" - -The dying man spoke with difficulty; a few moments more, a spasm crossed -his features, and they settled into stony insensibility. Edmund threw -himself on the body; a deathlike silence reigned in the building; every -heart beat with breathless horror; the curse uttered by the murdered man -was even then breathed before God, and accepted. York spoke first with a -calm, firm voice, "Arise, my cousin," he said; "do not thou fix yet more -deeply the barbed arrow, which has entered my heart." - -There are periods when remorse and horror conquer by their intensity -every lesser impulse, and reign kings of the waste; this was no time for -words or tears. Oh! welcome the grief or crime, which the bitterest of -these could express or extenuate; it would insult this sad effigy of -death to imagine that the impiety could be expiated. In silence they -bore the reverend corpse to the vaults of the church, and then continued -their way; some of the under-officers and men whispered together; but -when again the chiefs conversed, they did not allude to this frightful -scene, or to the awful imprecation which they felt suspended over their -heads, shadowing their souls with unknown horror. - -This was but the opening scene to worse wretchedness; hitherto they had -seen the waste of war, now they came upon its active atrocities. A dense -smoke, the flickering of pale flames, marked the progress of -devastation; fierceness gleamed in the open blue eyes of Richard; he bit -his lips, and at a quicker pace went forward; screams and horrid -shrieks, mixed with shouts--oh! may not a veil be drawn over such -horrors--flying children, mothers who stayed to die, fathers who -unarmed rushed upon the weapons of the foe; fire and sword, animated by -man's fellest spirit, were there to destroy. Kindled to fury, York and -his chief friends had outspeeded their troops: they came to save; they -called on the fierce Scot to spare; and, when their words were unheeded, -they drew their swords to beat back their allies. A fresh troop of -Borderers, headed by Sir John Ramsay, at this moment poured into the -village. The grey eye of the Scot was lighted up to the fiercest rage; -but when he saw who and how few were they who had assailed his men, a -demoniac expression, half exultation and joy, half deadly hate, animated -him. Richard was driving before him a whole troop of camp-followers, -cowardly and cruel fellows. Balmayne's hand was on his arm. "Your -Highness forgets yourself," he said; "or is the fable ended, and you -turned friend of Tudor?" - -York's blood was up; his cheek, his brow were flushed; the word -"assassin" burst from his lips, as he wheeled round and assailed his -midnight foe. Thus a natural war began; English and Scotchmen, bent on -mutual destruction, spurred on by every feeling of revenge, abhorrence, -and national rivalship, dealt cruel blows one on the other. Richard's -troops began to arrive in greater numbers; they far out-told their -adversaries. Lord Bothwell, with his marauders, was obliged to retreat, -and York was left in possession of his strange conquest. The peasantry -gathered round him: they did not recognize the White Rose, they but -blessed him as their deliverer: yet the sufferers were many, and the -flames still raged. One woman with a wild shriek for her children, threw -herself into the very heart of her burning cot; while, statue-like, -amidst a little helpless brood, his wife at his feet a corpse, his -dwelling in ashes, a stout yeoman stood; tears unheeded flowing down his -weather-beaten cheeks. During the whole day Richard had striven against -his own emotions, trying to dispel by pride, and indignation, and -enforced fortitude, the softness that invaded his heart and rose to his -eyes, blinding them; but the sight of these miserable beings, victims of -his right, grew into a tragedy too sad to endure. One young mother laid -her infant offspring at his feet, crying, "Bless thee; thou hast saved -her!" and then sunk in insensibility before him; her stained dress and -pallid cheeks speaking too plainly of wounds and death. Richard burst -into tears, "Oh my stony and hard-frozen heart!" he cried, "which -breakest not to see the loss and slaughter of so many of thy -natural-born subjects and vassals!" - -He spoke--he looked: Plantagenet was there, grief and horror seated in -his dark, expressive eyes; Neville, who had lost his lofty pride; it was -shame and self-abhorrence that painted their cheeks with blushes or -unusual pallor. "We must hasten, my lord," said Barry, "after those -evil-doers: they but quit one carcase, to pounce upon another." - -"Do we fight the king of England's battles?" cried the Burgundian -Lalayne, in unfeigned astonishment: "this will be strange intelligence -for James of Scotland." - -"So strange, Sir Roderick," said Richard, "that we will be the bearers -of it ourselves. Give orders for the retreat, gentlemen. His majesty is -engaged in the siege of Norham Castle. We will present us before him, -and demand mercy for our unhappy subjects." - - - - -CHAPTER XXXV - -THE RETREAT - - - Why didst thou promise such a beauteous day, - And make me travel forth without my cloak, - To let base clouds o'ertake me on the way, - Hiding thy bravery in their rotten smoke? - - SHAKSPEARE. - - -It was York's characteristic to be sanguine beyond all men. Pain -impressed him more deeply and sorely, than could be imagined by the cold -of spirit; but show him the remedy, teach him the path to redress, and -he threw off the clogging weight of care, and rose free and bright as in -earliest youth. His impatience to behold his royal friend, to speak the -little word, which he felt assured would recall the Scots from their -ravages, and take from him the guilt of his subjects' blood, grew like a -torrent in the spring:--he outspeeded his main troop; he left all but -his chiefest friends behind; one by one even these grew fewer; he -mounted a fresh horse, it was the third that day--"May-flower is worse -than blown," said Neville; "will not your highness repose till -to-morrow?" - -"Repose!"--this echo was his only answer, and already he was far and -alone upon his way. - -The Scottish lines were passed, and the embattled walls of Norham, grey -and impenetrable as rock, were before him; the royal pavilion occupied -the centre of the camp. The wearied steed that bore York dropt on one -knee as he reined him up before it, flushed, with, every mark of travel -and haste--he threw himself from his saddle, and entered the tent: it -was thronged; he saw not one face, save that of the monarch himself, who -was conversing with a churchman, whose dark foreign countenance Richard -had seen before; now it was like a vision before him. James, in an -accent of surprise, cried, "My lord, this is an unexpected visit." - -"Excuse ceremony, my dear cousin," said York; "I come not to speak to -the majesty of Scotland: man to man--a friend to his dearest friend--I -have a suit to urge." - -James, who was aware that his actual occupation of listening and even -acceding to the suggestions of his foreign visitant, in favour of peace -with Henry, was treason to York's cause, thought that news of Don Pedro -D'Ayala's arrival was the secret of these words: he blushed as he -replied, "As friend to friend, we will hear anon--to-morrow." - -"There is no anon to my dear plea," said York; "even now the hellish -work is about which you must check. Oh, what am I, king of Scotland, -that I am to be made the curse and scourge of my own people? The name of -Richard is the bye-word of hate and terror, there, where I seek for -blessings and filial love. You know not the mischief your fierce -Borderers achieve--it is not yet too late; recall your men; bid them -spare my people; let not the blood of my subjects plead against my -right; rather would I pine in exile for ever, than occasion the -slaughter and misery of my countrymen, my children." - -Richard spoke impetuously; his eyes filled with tears, his accents were -fraught with passionate entreaty, and yet with a firm persuasion that he -spoke not in vain: but his address had the very worst effect. James -believed that, hearing that he was in treaty with his foe, he had come -to re-urge his suit, to enforce the many promises given, to demand a -continuation of the war. James, a Scotchman, bred in civil strife among -fierce Highlanders and ruthless Borderers, saw something contemptible in -this pity and supplication for cottagers and villains: the shame he had -felt, or feared to feel, at the idea of being accused of treachery by -his guest, was lightened; his lips were curled even to scorn, as in a -cold tone he replied, "Sir, methinketh you take much pains, and very -much strive to preserve the realm of another prince, which, I do -believe, never will be yours." - -A momentary surprise set open wide York's eyes; he glanced round him; -the earl of Huntley's brow was clouded; a smile curled Lord Buchan's -lips; the emotion that had convulsed the prince's features, gave place -to the calmest dignity. "If not mine," he said, "let me yield the sway -to the lady Peace: the name and presence of a Plantagenet shall no -longer sanction the devastation of his country. I would rather be a -cotter on your wild Highlands, than buy the sovereignty of my fair -England by the blood of her inhabitants." - -The warm, though capricious heart of James, was quietly recalled by the -look and voice of his once dearest friend, to a sense of the -ungraciousness of his proceeding: he frankly stretched out his hand; "I -was wrong, cousin, forgive me, we will confer anon. Even now, orders -have been issued to recall the troops; a few words will explain -everything." - -York bent his head in acquiescence. The king dismissed his nobles, and -committed to the care of one among them the reverend D'Ayala. With a -strong sentiment of self-defence, which was self-accusation--a half -return of his ancient affection, which acted like remorse--James set -himself to explain his proceedings. Fearful, unaided by any of the -natives, of proceeding with an inadequate force farther into the heart -of the country, he had set down before the castle of Norham, which was -defended undauntedly by the bishop of Durham. He had wasted much time -here; and now the Cornish insurgents being quelled, the earl of Surrey -was marching northwards, at the head of forty thousand men. Surrey, -Howard, might he not be a masked friend? "who," continued James, "has -surely some personal enmity to your highness; for the reverend Father -D'Ayala, an ambassador from Spain, visited him on his journey northward, -and it seems the noble indulged in despiteful language; saying, that he -who could bring the fell Scot (I thank him) into England, wore manifest -signs of--I will not say--I remember not his words; they are of no -import. The sum is, my dear lord, I cannot meet the English army in the -open field; walled town--even those paltry towers--I cannot win: with -what shame and haste I may, I must retreat over the border." - -Many more words James, in the heat of repentant affection, said to -soothe his English friend. York's blood boiled in his veins; his mind -was a chaos of scorn, mortification, and worse anger against himself. -The insult inflicted by James before his assembled lords, the bitter -speech of Surrey; he almost feared that he deserved the one, while he -disdained to resent the other; and both held him silent. As speedily as -he might, he took leave of the king: he saw signs in the encampment of -the return of the foragers; they were laden with booty: his heart was -sick; to ease his pent-up burning spirit, when night brought solitude, -though not repose, he wrote thus to the Lady Katherine:-- - - -"Wilt thou, dear lady of my heart, descend from thy lofty state, and -accept an errant knight, instead of a sceptered king, for thy mate? -Alas! sweet Kate, if thou wilt not, I may never see thee more: for not -thus, oh not thus, my God, will Richard win a kingdom! Poor England -bleeds: our over-zealous cousin has pierced her with dismal wounds; and -thou wouldst in thy gentleness shed a thousand tears, hadst thou beheld -the misery that even now, grim and ghastly, floats before my sight. What -am I, that I should be the parent of evil merely? Oh, my mother, my too -kind friends, why did ye not conceal me from myself? Teaching me lessons -of humbleness, rearing me as a peasant, consigning me to a cloister, my -injuries would have died with me; and the good, the brave, the innocent, -who have perished for me, or through me, had been spared! - -"I fondly thought that mine was no vulgar ambition. I desired the good -of others; the raising up and prosperity of my country. I saw my -father's realm sold to a huckster--his subjects the victims of -low-souled avarice. What more apparent duty, than to redeem his crown -from Jew-hearted Tudor, and to set the bright jewels, pure and sparkling -as when they graced his brow, on the head of his only son? Even now I -think the day will come when I shall repair the losses of this sad -hour--is it the restless ambitious spirit of youth that whispers future -good, or true forebodings of the final triumph of the right? - -"Now, O sweetest Kate, I forget disgrace, I forget remorse; I bury every -sorrow in thought of thee. Thy idea is as a windless haven to some -way-worn vessel--its nest in a vast oak-tree to a tempest-baffled -bird--hope of Paradise to the martyr who expires in pain. Wilt thou -receive me with thine own dear smile? My divine love, I am not worthy of -thee; yet thou art mine--Lackland Richard's single treasure. The stars -play strange gambols with us--I am richer than Tudor, and but that thy -husband must leave no questioned name, I would sign a bond with -fate--let him take England, give me Katherine. But a prince may not -palter with the holy seal God affixes to him--nor one espoused to thee -be less than king; fear not, therefore, that I waver though I -pause--Adieu!" - - - - -CHAPTER XXXVI - -TIDINGS FROM IRELAND - - - Yet noble friends, his mixture with our blood, - Even with our own, shall no way interrupt - A general peace. - - FORD. - - -Pedro D'Ayala was ambassador from Ferdinand and Isabella to the king of -England. There was something congenial in the craft and gravity of this -man with the cautious policy of Henry. When the latter complained of the -vexation occasioned him by the counterfeit Plantagenet, and the favour -he met with in Scotland, D'Ayala offered to use his influence and -counsel to terminate these feuds. He found James out of humour with -York's ill success among the English, weary of a siege, where -impregnable stone walls were his only enemies, uneasy at the advance of -Surrey; pliable, therefore, to all his arguments. A week after D'Ayala's -arrival, the Scots had recrossed the Tweed, the king and his nobles had -returned to Edinburgh, and York to Katherine. - -Richard's northern sun was set, and but for this fair star he had been -left darkling. When the English general in his turn crossed the Tweed, -and ravaged Scotland, _he_ was looked on by its inhabitants as the cause -of their disasters; and, but that some loving friends were still true to -him, he had been deserted in the land which so lately was a temple of -refuge to him. The earl of Huntley exerted himself to prevent his -falling into too deep disgrace in the eyes of Scotland, and was present -at the consultations of the exiles to urge some new attempt in some -other part of King Henry's dominions. York was anxious to wash out the -memory of his overthrow; so that this check, which seemed so final to -his hopes, but operated as an incentive to further exertions. Yet -whither should he go? the whole earth was closed upon him. The territory -of Burgundy, which had so long been his home, was forbidden. -France--Concressault, who was his attached friend, dissuaded him from -encountering a mortifying repulse there. Even his own Spain would refuse -to receive him, now that D'Ayala had shown himself his enemy; but, no, -he was not so far reduced to beg a refuge at the limits of civilization; -still he had his sword, his cause, his friends. - -A stranger came, an unexpected visitant from over the sea, to decide his -vacillating counsels. The man was aged and silver-haired, smooth in his -manners, soft-voiced, yet with quick grey eyes and compressed lips, -indications of talent and resolution and subtlety. Frion saw him first, -and, deceived by his almost fawning manners into an idea of his -insignificance, asked his purpose and name. The stranger with the utmost -gentleness refused to disclose his object to any but the prince; and -Frion, with great show of insolence, refused to introduce him to his -presence. "Then without thy leave, sir knave," said the old man calmly, -"I must force my way." - -Astley, the poor scrivener of Canterbury, was present. This honest, -simple-hearted fellow, had shown so much worth, so much zeal, so much -humbleness with such fidelity, that he had become a favourite in York's -court, and principally with the Lady Katherine. Frion hated him, for he -was his opposite, but pretended to despise him, and to use him as an -underling. Astley meekly submitted, and at last gained a kind of favour -in the Frenchman's eyes by the deference and respect of his manner. The -stranger, with the readiness of one accustomed to select agents for his -will, addressed him, bidding him announce to his highness a gentleman -from Ireland. "And be assured," he said, "the duke will ill-requite any -tardiness on thy part." - -An angry burst from Frion interrupted him. This man, rarely off his -guard, but roused now by recent mortifications, forgot himself in the -violence he displayed, which strangely contrasted with the soft -tranquillity of the stranger, and Astley's modest, but very determined -annunciation of his resolve to convey the message to the prince. Frion, -from loud words, was about to proceed to acts, when Lord Barry -entered--Barry, who felt Scotland as a limbo of despair, who was for -ever urging Richard to visit Ireland, to whom the court life of the -English was something like a trim-fenced park to a new caught lion. -Barry saw the stranger--his eyes lighted up, nay, danced with sudden -joy: with no gentle hand he thrust Frion away, and then bent his knee, -asking a blessing of the prior of Kilmainham; and in the same breath -eagerly demanded what had brought the venerable man from Buttevant -across the dangerous seas. - -Keating's presence gave new life to York's councils: he brought an -invitation from Maurice of Desmond to the duke. The earl had, since -Richard's departure, been occupied in training troops, and so fortifying -himself as to enable him to rise against Poynings, whose regular -government, and above all, whose predilection for the Butlers, caused -him to be detested by the Geraldines. Hurried on by hatred and revenge, -Desmond resolved to do that which would be most dreaded and abhorred of -Henry--to assume the badge of the White Rose, and to set up the -pretensions of young Richard. The tidings were that York was a loved and -honoured guest in Edinburgh; and the impetuous Desmond feared that he -would hardly be induced to abandon King James's powerful alliance, for -the friendship of a wild Irish chieftain. The very invitation must be -committed to no mean or witless hands: the difficulties appeared so -great, that the measure was on the point of being abandoned, when the -prior of Kilmainham, who, in the extreme of age, awoke to fresh life at -a prospect of regaining his lost consequence, offered himself to -undertake the arduous task. His views went far beyond the earl's: he -hoped to make the king of Scotland an active party in his plots, and to -contrive a simultaneous invasion of England from the north and from the -west. Already his turbulent and grasping spirit saw Irish and Scotch -meeting midway in England, and with conjoined forces dethroning Tudor, -and dictating terms to his successor. He came too late: he came to find -a peace nearly concluded between James and Henry; the White Rose fallen -into disregard; and his arrival looked, upon as the best hope, the last -refuge of his fallen party. - -Richard on the instant accepted his invitation. To a generous heart the -feeling of enforced kindness succeeding to spontaneous affection, is -intolerable. The very generosity of his own disposition made him recoil -from exacting a reluctant boon from his sometime friend. To live a -pensioner among the turbulent, arrogant Scots, was not to be thought of. -The earl of Huntley, in fond expectation of his daughter's greatness, -would have despised him had he remained inactive. Even Katherine was -solicitous to leave Scotland--she knew her countrymen; and, ready as -she was to give up every exalted aim, and to make her husband's -happiness in the retired quiet of private life, she knew that insult and -feud would attend his further tarrying among the Scotch. - -York had been for nearly a year the guest of King James; twelve months, -in all their long-drawn train of weeks and days, had paced over the wide -earth, marking it with change: each one had left its trace in the soul -of Richard. There is something frightful, to a spirit partly tired of -the world, to find that their life is to be acquainted with no durable -prosperity; that happiness is but a modification of a train of events, -which, like the fleeting birth of flowers, varies the year with -different hues. But York was still too young to be aweary even of -disappointment; he met the winter of his fortunes with cheerful -fortitude, so that a kind of shame visited James, inspired by the -respect his injured friend so well merited. - -The capricious, but really noble heart of the Scottish king was at this -time put to a hard trial. One of the preliminaries of peace, most -insisted upon by Henry, was, that his rival should be given up to -him:--this was, at the word, refused. But even to dismiss him from his -kingdom, seemed so dastardly an act towards one allied to him by his own -choice, that the swelling heart of the cavalier could not yet tame -itself to the statesman's necessity. Some of his subjects, meanwhile, -were ready enough to cut the Gordian knot by which he was entangled. -Tudor had many emissaries in Edinburgh; and Lord Moray, Lord Buchan, and -the dark Both well, whose enmity had become fierce personal hate, were -still egged on by various letters and messages from England to some deed -of sanguinary violence. - -Sir John Ramsay was sought out by Frion. That goodly diplomatist must -have entertained a high opinion of his mollifying eloquence, when he -dared encounter the hot temper of him he had dishonoured in the eyes of -the English prince, and of his own countryman Hamilton. But Frion knew -that in offering revenge he bought pardon: he was of little mark in -Ramsay's eyes, while the man he had injured, and whom he consequently -detested beyond every other, survived to tell the grating tale of the -defeated villany of the assassin, and the godlike magnanimity of him who -pardoned. - -Frion's own feelings, which had vacillated, were now fixed to betray the -prince. He had wavered, because he had a kind of personal affection for -the noble adventurer. Somehow he managed to fancy him a creature of his -own: he had worked so long, and at one time so well for him, that he had -fostered the vain belief that his dearest hopes, and best pretensions, -would vanish like morning mist, if he blew unkindly on them. It was not -so: James had been his friend; Huntley had given him his daughter -without his interference; and the Irish project, with Keating at its -head, who treated Frion with galling contempt, filled up the measure of -his discontents. If anything else had been needed, the Lady Katherine's -favour to Astley, and some offices of trust, in which York himself had -used him, sufficed to add the last sting to malice. "If they will not let -me make, they shall rue the day when I shall mar; learn shall they, that -Frion can clip an eagle's wings even in its pride of flight." - -It is common to say that there is honour among thieves and villains. It -is not honour; but an acknowledged loss of shame and conscience, and a -mutual trust in the instinctive hatred the bad must bear the good, which -strongly unites them. In spite of the Frenchman's former treachery, -Balmayne felt that he could now confide, that his guilt would stretch -far enough to encircle in its embrace the very act he desired; and he -again trusted, and used him as the chief agent of his plots. - -The earl of Surrey was ravaging Scotland; and King James, with the -chivalrous spirit of the times, challenged him to single combat. The -earl, in answer, refused to place his master's interests at the hazard -of his single prowess, though ready for any other cause to accept the -honour tendered him. The herald that brought this reply, Frion reported -to Richard to be charged with a letter to him. Its purpose was to -declare, that though, while aided and comforted by the enemies of -England, the earl warred against him, yet the Howard remembered the -ancient attachments of his house; and that, if the White Rose, wholly -renouncing the Scotch, would trust to the honour of the representative -of a race of nobles, the army now in the field to his detriment should -be turned to an engine of advantage. "Time pressed," the letter -concluded by saying--"and if the duke of York were willing to give his -sails to the favouring wind, let him repair with a small company to -Greenock, where he would find zealous and powerful friends." - -At first this intimation filled the prince with exultation and delight. -The time was at last come when he should lead the native nobility of -England to the field, and meet his enemy in worthy guise. There was but -one check; he could not join Surrey, while Surrey was in arms against -his once generous friend; so that, by a strange shifting of events, he -now became anxious for peace between Scotland and England; eager that -the seal should be set that destroyed the alliance and amity which had -so lately been the sole hope of his life. Neville and Plantagenet -entered into his views; and while, seemingly at the bottom of Fortune's -scale, a new spirit of gladness animated this little knot of Englishmen. - -For one thing young Richard was not prepared: the preliminaries of peace -he knew were arranged, and he was aware that its conclusion would take -the sword out of James's hand. They had rarely met lately; and this, -while it lessened the familiarity, rather added to the apparent kindness -of their interviews. There was in both these young princes a genuine -warmth of heart, and brightness of spirit, that drew them close whenever -they did meet. James honoured the integrity and the unconquered soul of -the outcast monarch, while his own genius, his vivacity, and polished -courtesy, in spite of his caprice and late falling off, spread a charm -around that forced admiration and affection even from him he injured. It -was at this period, that, notwithstanding their real disunion, Richard -felt it as strange to find his royal host confused in manner, and -backward of speech. They had been at a hunting party, where Lord Moray's -haughty glance of triumph, and the sneer that curled the earl of -Buchan's lip, would have disclosed some victory gained by them, had York -deigned to regard their aspects. At length, after much hesitation, while -riding apart from his peers, James asked--"If there were any news from -the Lady Margaret of Burgundy?" - -"Sir Roderick Lalayne returned to her a month ago," replied York, "and -with him went my dear and zealous Lady Brampton, to urge fresh succour -for one, to whom fortune has so long shown a wintry face, that methinks -spring must at last be nigh at hand, herald of bright, blossoming -summer." - -"What promises then my lady duchess?" said the king, eagerly. - -"Alas! her promises are as blank as her power," replied Richard. "Even -when the old dukes of Burgundy were as emperors in Christendom, they -were but as provosts and city-magistrates in the free towns of Flanders; -and these towns resolve on peace with England." - -"It is the cry of the world," said James, with a sigh; "this Tudor is a -mighty man. Why, even I, a Scot, a warrior, and a king, am forced to -join the universal voice, and exclaim, 'Peace with England,' even though -my honour is the sacrifice." - -"Your majesty imparts no strange truth to me," said York. "I have long -known that this must be; but surely you speak in soreness of spirit, -when you speak of the sacrifice of honour. I thought the terms agreed on -were favourable to Scotland?" - -"King Henry demanded, in the first place, the delivery of your highness -into his hands." James blushed deeply as he said these words. - -"Or he will come seize me," rejoined the duke, with a laugh. "In good -hour I will deliver myself, if he will walk through the bristling -lances, and set at naught the wide-mouthed cannon that will bellow in -his path." - -"Have you then new hopes?" cried the king; "oh! say but so; and half my -shame, and all my sorrow vanishes. Say that you have hope of speedy good -in some other country; for I have sworn, ere April wear into May, -Scotland shall be made poor by your highness's absence." - -A long pause followed these words. James felt as if he had given words -to his own concealed dishonour, and struck his iron-girdled side with -the bitter thought. "O! spirit of my father, this may not atone; but I -must pay also in shame and torturous self-contempt for my heavy guilt." -A sudden blow, a precipitous fall when unaware his feet had reached the -crumbling brink of a beetling precipice, would not have made such -commotion in Richard's heart, as the forced and frightful conviction -that the friend he had trusted heaped this insult on him. For the first -time in his life, perhaps, pride conquered every other feeling; for -reproach had been more _friendly_, than the spirit that impelled him, with -a placid voice, and a glance of haughty condescension, to reply:--"Now -that your majesty dismisses me, I find it fittest season to thank you -heartily for your many favours. That you deny me to the suit of your new -ally, and send me forth scathless from your kingdom, is the very least -of these. Shall I forget that, when, a wanderer and a stranger, I came -hither, you were a brother to me? That when an outcast from the world, -Scotland became a home of smiles, and its king my dearest friend? These -are lesser favours; for your love was of more value to me than your -power, though you used it for my benefit; and, when you gave me the Lady -Katherine, I incurred such a debt of gratitude, that it were -uncancelled, though you cast me, bound hand and foot, at Tudor's -footstool. That I am bankrupt even in thanks, is my worst misery; yet, -if the eye of favour, which I believe Fortune is now opening on me, -brighten into noon-day splendour, let James of Scotland ask, and, when -England shall be added to his now barren name, Richard will give, though -it were himself." - -"Gentle cousin," replied the king, "you gloss with horrid words a bitter -pill to both; for though the scath seem yours, mine is the punishment. I -lose what I can ill spare, a kinsman and a friend." - -"Never!" cried York; "Scotland bids a realmless monarch, a beggar -prince, depart: the king of Scotland, moved by strong state necessity, -is no longer the ally of the disinherited orphan of Edward the Fourth: -but James is Richard's friend; he will rejoice, when he sees him, borne -with the flowing tide, rise from lowness to the highest top at which he -aims. And now, dear my lord, grant me one other boon. I am about to -depart, even of my own will; dismiss then every rankling feeling; lay no -more to your generous, wounded heart, a need, which is even more mine -than yours; but let smiles and love attend your kinsman to the end, -unalloyed by a deeper regret, than that fate wills it, and we must -separate." - - - - -CHAPTER XXXVII - -TREACHERY - - - I am your wife, - No human power can or shall divorce - My faith from duty. - - FORD. - - - ----With - My fortune and my seeming destiny, - He made the bond, and broke it not with me. - No human tie is snapp'd betwixt us two. - - SCHILLER'S WALLENSTEIN. - - -Frion believed that he held the strings, which commanded the movements -of all the puppets about him. The intrigues of party, the habitual use -of ill means to what those around him deemed a good end, had so -accustomed him to lying and forgery, that his conscience was quite -seared to the iniquity of these acts; truth to him was an accident, to -be welcomed or not according as it was or was not advantageous to his -plots. - -King James prepared a fleet for the conveyance of the prince; and the -earl of Huntley, as a matter of course, promised to entertain his -daughter royally, until, in a palace in Westminster, she should find her -destined title and fit abode. The Lady Katherine thanked him, but -declared that she was nothing moved from her bridal vow, and that she -never would desert Richard's side. All that her father urged was of no -avail. State and dignity, or their contraries, humiliation and disgrace, -could only touch her through her husband; he was her exalter or debaser, -even as he rose or fell; it was too late now to repine at degradation, -which it ill beseemed the daughter of a Gordon to encounter; it was -incurred when she plighted her faith at the altar; wherever she was it -must be hers. As a princess, she was lost or redeemed by her husband's -fortunes. As a woman, her glory and all her honour must consist in never -deviating from the straight line of duty, which forbade her absence from -his side. - -The earl disdained to reason with a fond doting girl, as he called the -constant-minded lady, but applied to the king, representing how it would -redound to his discredit, should a princess of his blood wander a -vagrant beggar over sea and land. James had passed his royal word to -Katherine, that she should have her will on this point; and when, at her -father's suit he tried to dissuade her, he was at once silenced by her -simple earnest words; "Ask me not," she said, "to place myself on the -list of unworthy women: for your own honour's sake, royal cousin, permit -your kinswoman to perform a wife's part unopposed. You and my father -bestowed me, a dutiful subject, an obedient daughter, according to your -will; you transferred my duty and obedience; and truly as I paid it to -you, so will I keep it for my lord." - -"What can we reply, my good earl marshal," said James, turning to -Huntley, "I rebelled against the religion through which I reign, did I -deny our sweet Kate free allowance to follow the dictates of her -generous heart. Nor let us grudge the White Rose this one fair bloom. -Love, such as Katherine feels, love, and the dearest, best gift of -God--alas! too oft denied to poor humanity, and most to -me--self-complacency, arising from a good conscience, will repay her -every sacrifice." - -Huntley retired in high indignation; his will was opposed; his word, -which he deemed a law, had but a feather's weight. The blood of the -Gordon was stirred to rage; and he broke forth in fierce and cruel -expressions of anger, calling his daughter ingrate--her lord base, and -a traitor. Such muttered curses were reported to Lord Buchan: in the -scheme on foot, they had somewhat dreaded to incur Huntley's displeasure -and revenge, knowing how dearly he prized the hope of royalty for his -daughter; but now they fancied that they might draw him in ere he was -aware to approve their deed. The crafty Frion was set on to sound him; -the iron was hot, most easily to their eyes, it took the desired form. - -Huntley was a Scot, cunning even when angry--cautious when most -passionate. The first intimations of the conspiracy were greedily -received by him. He learnt the falsehood of the letter pretending to -come from the earl of Surrey; and the use that was to be made of this -decoy to seize on the duke of York's person. He did not scruple to -promise his assistance; he reiterated his angry imprecations against his -unworthy son-in-law; he thanked Frion with cordial warmth for affording -him this opportunity for revenge; he declared his gratitude towards the -confederate nobles; and the Frenchman left him, with the full belief -that he was ready to lend his best aid to deliver over the English -prince to ignominy and death. - -Such was the end of King Henry's last scheme to obtain possession of his -too noble, too excelling rival, by means of Scottish fraud, and the -treason of York's dependants. The earl of Huntley conducted the whole -affair with the utmost secrecy. Apparently he acted the part designed -for him by the conspirators. He reconciled himself to the prince; he -urged an instant compliance with Surrey's invitation. The English had -asked for some guarantee of Surrey's truth. Huntley obviated this -difficulty. Through his intervention a new and sufficing impulse was -given. Richard appointed the day when he should repair to Greenock, -there to meet the envoy who was to lead him to Lord Surrey's presence. -In the harbour of Greenock rode the bark which was to convey him to his -English prison. King Henry's hirelings were already there: Frion -conducted the victims blindfold into the net: they had meant to have -gathered together a troop of ruffian borderers to prevent all -resistance; but Huntley promised to be there himself with a band of -Highlanders. The whole thing only seemed too easy, too secure. - -The wily secretary had overshot his mark in taking so readily for -granted Huntley's assent to the ruin of the duke of York. He had come -upon him in his angry hour: his honied words were a dew of poison; his -adjurations for peace, oil to fire. Then, as the noble strode through -the hall, imprecating vengeance, he slid in words that made him stop in -full career. Men are apt to see their wishes mirrored in the object -before them; and, when the earl bent his grey eyes upon the Provençal -and knit his time-furrowed brow in attention and interest, Frion saw the -satisfaction of a man on the brink of dear revenge. He was far a-field. -The very rage in which the earl had indulged, by a natural reaction, -softened him towards his children; and when the traitor spoke of schemes -ripe to deliver York into his adversary's hands, he recoiled at once -from the path of vengeance opened before him, and listened with horror -to the detail of a conspiracy which would tear the very shadow of a -diadem from his daughter's brow; yet he listened, and his words still -enticed the over-wily Frion. "Balmayne," said the earl, "all must -succeed even to the death. Where he intermeddles, he is ruthless;" thus -ran his comments: "My good Lord Buchan, what the foul fiend makes him so -busy? English gold! Yes: Buchan loves the gilding better than the strong -iron that it hides. The honour of the royal house, my most reverend -uncle! Is his animosity so stirring? Oh! priests are your only haters. -So Richard's tale is told. The chroniclers will speak of Duke Perkin, of -the canker that ate out the heart of Gordon's fair rose, the gibbet, -instead of a throne, to which she was wed; a fair eminence! My Kate will -hardly ascend it with him: she must halt at the gallows' foot." These -words, said with bitterness, seemed to Frion the boiling sarcasm of an -exasperated parent. The man's vanity was the trap in which he was -caught: he could not believe that a savage Scot, an untaught Highlander, -could enter the lists with one nurtured in the subtle atmosphere of -Provence, with the pupil of Louis the Eleventh; a man schooled in -eastern lore, who had passed a whole life of contrivance and deceit. - -The Scottish nobles, Moray, Buchan, and Bothwell, were satisfied in -having given their countenance to the English hirelings; and now that -the more powerful Huntley promised to watch over the execution of their -designs, they were glad enough to withdraw from the rude and -inhospitable act. Huntley had everything in his own hands. He, with a -party of Highlanders, escorted the duke and duchess of York, with their -friends and attendants, to Greenock. Frion had never shown himself so -humble or so courteous; he seemed afraid that any one of his victims -should escape: he was particularly anxious to entice his old enemy, the -prior of Kilmainham, into the snare. His readiness and vivacity were -remarked by all: it was attributed to the high hopes he entertained of -his royal master's success through the alliance of the earl of Surrey; -and, while York expressed his affectionate approbation, he smiled -blandly, and painted every feature in the very colouring he wished it to -wear. - -The vessel rode at anchor; the English sailors, on the arrival of York, -went on board, got her under weigh, and dropped down the coast. With the -dawn Lord Howard of Effingham, with a chosen troop, was, according to -the false hopes of Richard, to arrive at the rendezvous, a wood about -two miles south of the town, bordering the sands of the sea. Here the -English emissaries were congregated, and here a score of Highlanders -were in ambush, to assist in the capture of the White Rose. Hither, even -before dawn, the wakeful Frion came, to announce the speedy arrival of -his lord. He found his English friends in some anxiety. Clifford, who, -under the name of Wiatt, had been chief among them, was seized with -panic or remorse, and had gone on board the vessel, which had east -anchor but a few furlongs from the shore. The others were mean -underlings: Frion's presence gave them courage; he was elated; his laugh -was free; he had neither doubt nor scruple; no, not even when he turned -from the vulgar, brutalized countenances of these ruffians, to behold -the princely victim in all the splendour of innocence, with one beside -him so lovely, that the spirit of good itself had selected her form for -its best earthly bower; or to see Edmund, whose dark eyes beamed with -unknown joy, and Neville, whose haughty glance was exchanged for a glad -smile. The man's sole thought was exultation at his own cleverness and -success, in having inveigled so many of the noble and the brave to this -dark fate. - -"What tidings of Effingham?" asked York. - -"Are ye ready?" cried Huntley. - -"All!" replied Frion; "all save him ye name Wiatt. Sir Robert, forsooth, -is but half a man, and never does more than half deed, though that half -makes whole crime. All is ready. I hear the sound of oars; the boat -nears the shore." - -Through the tall bare trunks of the trees, a glimpse of the beach might -be gained; the roaring of the surges was distinct, now mingled with the -cry of sailors. - -"Then lose we no time," said Huntley. "My lord of York, these words -sound strange. You expected a noble countryman to lead you to victory; -you find nameless fellows, and the prince of knaves, most ready and -willing to lead you to everlasting prison. Lo, the scene shifts again! -Never be cast down, Master Frion; you are as subtle as any of your -race--only to be outwitted by a niggard Scotchman, who can ill read, -and worse write; except when villany is blazoned in a man's face, and -his sword indites a traitor's fate. Your clerkship will find none among -us learned enough to afford you benefit of clergy." - -Huntley drew his sword; and at the signal his Highlanders arose from -their ambush. Prion was seized and bound. None, who even a moment before -had seen the smooth-faced villain, could have recognized him; he was -pale as the snow on Ben Nevis. A Highlander, an adept in such acts, -dexterously threw a knotted rope over his head, and cast his eye up to -the trees for a convenient branch. Such had been the orders; such the -summary justice of the earl. - -Richard meanwhile looked on the blanched visage and quailing form of his -betrayer in mere compassion. "Is it even so, Etienne!" he said; "and -after long companionship we part thus." - -The trembling craven fell on his knees, though he tightened the halter -by the movement, so that when Richard turned away, saying, "I had -thought better of thee: Jesu pardon thee as readily as I--farewell!" he -had scarce voice to cry for mercy. - -"Aye," cried the Gordon; "such mercy as we grant the wolf and thievish -fox. Short shrift be thine, Master Secretary!" - -"By Our Lady's grace, stay!" said Katherine; "do not kill the -false-hearted knave. He is a coward, and dares survive his honour; let -him live." - -Richard looked sternly on the kneeling slave. To the good there is -something awful in the sight of a guilty man. It is a mystery to them -how the human heart can be so perverted. Is it a spirit from hell that -incorporates itself with the pulsations of our mortal bosom; a darkness -that overshadows; a fiendish essence that mingles with the breath God -gave to his own image? York felt a shrinking horror. "Thou hast pursued -me since my youth," he said, "forcing thyself into my councils; -sometimes as a wily enemy; at others befriending me in seeming, raising -my soul, that flagged beneath the world's unkind ministry; dropping balm -by thy words into a wounded heart; to end thy office thus! Was this thy -purpose ever; or what demon whispered thee to betray? Die! oh no! too -many, the good, the great, the true, have died for me; live thou a -monument--a mark to tell the world that York can pardon, York can -despise--not so base a thing as thee--that were little, but even thy -employer. Go, tell my sister's husband that I bear a charmed life; that -love and valour are my guards. Bid him bribe those, nor waste his -ill-got crowns on such as thee. Unbind him, sirs; make signal to the -boat; let him on board; the wind stands fair for England." - -The fall of many a hope, roused by the forgery on Surrey's name, was -forgotten by Richard, as he sickened at this other mark of man's -wickedness and folly. He was surely the dear sport of fortune, a tale to -chronicle how faithless friends may be. If such thoughts, like summer -clouds, darkened his mind, they vanished, driven by the winds of life -that bore him onward. This was no time for mere gloomy meditation. -Though he was obliged to return to his forgotten Irish scheme, and to -dismiss the glorious anticipation in which he had indulged, of leading -the chivalry of England to the field; though no real defeat had ever -visited him so keenly as this mockery of one; yet he was forced to -forget himself, and to apply himself to console and rouse his downcast -friends; but his skill was well repaid, and soon he again awoke to those -feelings of buoyant hope, unwearied energy, and unshaken confidence -which were the essence of his character. - -In this last trial he felt how much good he might derive from the -sweetness and constant spirit of the Lady Katherine. She hoped for none -of the world's blessings, except they came in the shape of loves from -him to whom she was united; happiness--all hers as centred in her -blameless affections; and her confidence was placed in the belief and -knowledge, that by devoting herself to her lord, to the wandering -outcast who so dearly needed her sacrifice, she fulfilled her destiny -upon earth, and pleased "the great Task Master," who for happiness or -misery, but certainly for good, had given her life. All her gentle -eloquence was spent in dissuading Richard from those unkind thoughts -towards his species, which the treason of these base men, the caprice of -James, the harsh sentence (for this was again brought home to him by -disappointment) of Surrey, awakened in his bosom. It proved no hard -task; soon the princely adventurer, with eagle flight, soared from the -sad prostration of spirit, the birth of his disasters, to fresh hopes -and lofty resolves. - -It was necessary immediately to prepare for his departure. The earl of -Huntley, struck by his magnanimity, no longer opposed his daughter's -wish. The English exiles were eager for a new, and, they believed (for -untired is hope in man), for a prosperous career. Scotland grew rude, -confined, and remote in their eyes. In Ireland were placed for them the -portals of the world, to be opened by their swords; the dancing -sea-waves invited them; the winds of heaven lent themselves to their -service. "My friends," said Richard, "dear and faithful partners of my -wayward fortunes, I would fondly believe that we are favoured of Heaven. -We are few; but the evil and the treacherous are no longer among us. And -does old Time in all his outworn tales tell any truer, than that the -many, being disunited, and so false, have ever been vanquished by the -loving, bold, and heroic few? That a child may scan with its fingers our -bare arithmetic, will therefore be to us the source of success, as -assuredly it will be of glory. The English were few when they mowed down -thickly-planted French at Cressy and Poictiers. Which among us, armed as -we are in the mail of valour, but would encounter ten of Tudor's -scant-paid mercenaries? For me! I do believe that God is on my side, as -surely as I know that justice and faith are; and I fear no defeat." - -It is thus that man, with fervent imagination, can endue the rough stone -with loveliness, forge the misshapen metal into a likeness of all that -wins our hearts by exceeding beauty, and breathe into a dissonant trump -soul-melting harmonies. The mind of man--that mystery, which may lend -arms against itself, teaching vain lessons of material philosophy, but -which, in the very act, shows its power to play with all created things, -adding the sweetness of its own essence to the sweetest, taking its -ugliness from the deformed. The creative faculty of man's soul--which, -animating Richard, made him see victory in defeat, success and glory in -the dark, the tortuous, the thorny path, which it was his destiny to -walk from the cradle to the tomb. - -Oh, had I, weak and faint of speech, words to teach my fellow-creatures -the beauty and capabilities of man's mind; could I, or could one more -fortunate, breathe the magic word which would reveal to all the power, -which we all possess, to turn evil to good, foul to fair; then vice and -pain would desert the newborn world! - -It is not thus: the wise have taught, the good suffered for us; we are -still the same; and still our own bitter experience and heart-breaking -regrets teach us to sympathize too feelingly with a tale like this; -which records the various fortunes of one who at his birth received -every gift which most we covet; whose strange story is replete with -every change of happiness and misery; with every contrast of glorious -and disgraceful; who was the noble object of godlike fidelity, and the -sad victim of demoniac treason; the mark of man's hate and woman's love; -spending thus a short eventful life. It is not spent; he yet breathes: -he is on the world of waters. What new scene unfolds itself? Where are -they who were false, where those who were true! They congregate around -him, and the car of life bears him on, attended by many frightful, many -lovely shapes, to his destined end. He has yet much to suffer; and, -human as he is, much to enjoy. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXVIII - -DEPRESSION - - - One moment these were heard and seen; another - Past, and the two who stood beneath that night, - Each only heard, or saw, or felt the other. - - SHELLEY. - - -The hour had now arrived when Richard took leave of Scotland. The king -was humbled by the necessity he felt himself under, of sending forth his -friend and kinsman into the inhospitable world; and he felt deep grief -at parting with his lovely cousin. She grew pale, when for the last time -she saw the friend of her youth. But Katherine looked upon life in a -mode very different from the usual one: the luxuries and dignities of -the world never in her mind for a moment came in competition with her -affections and her duty; she saw the plain path before her; whatever her -father's or her royal cousin's idea had been in giving her to the duke -of York, she knew that, being his, her destiny upon earth was to share -his fortunes, and soothe his sorrows. This constant looking on, giving -herself up to, and delighting in one aim, one object, one occupation, -elevated her far above the common cares of existence. She left - - - ----"All meaner things, - The low ambition and the pride of kings," - - ---to shroud herself in love; to take on herself the hallowed state of -one devoting herself to another's happiness. Cleopatra, basking in sunny -pomp, borne, the wonder of the world, in her gilded bark, amidst all the -aroma of the east, upon the gently-rippling Cydnus, felt neither the -pride nor joy of Katherine, as, on the poor deck of their dark -weather-beaten skiff, she felt pillowed by the downy spirit of love, -fanned by its gentle breath. - -The duke of York was more depressed; he thought of how, since his -miserable childhood, he had been the sport of Fortune and her scorn. He -thought of the false, the cold, the perished: a dark wall seemed to rise -around him; a murky vault to close over him: success, glory, honour, the -world's treasures, which he had been brought up to aspire to as his -dearest aim, his right, were unattainable; he was the defeated, the -outcast; there was a clog in his way for ever; a foul taint upon his -name. Thus seated on the deck, his arm coiled round a rope, his head -leaning on his arm, while the stars showered a dim silvery radiance, and -the sparkling sea mocked their lustre with brighter fires; while the -breeze, that swelled his sail, and drove him merrily along, spent its -cold breath on him; he, painting all natural objects with the obscure -colouring suggested by his then gloomy spirit, distorting the very -scenery of heaven and vast ocean into symbols of his evil fate, gave -himself up to the very luxury of woe,--meanwhile the shadow of a lovely -form fell on him, soft fingers pressed the curls of his hair, and -Katherine asked, "Are the nights of Andalusia more glorious than this?" - -At the voice of the charmer the demon fled; sky and sea cast off the dim -veil his grief had woven, and creation was restored its native beauty. -Hitherto the halls of palaces, the gaiety of a court, the -council-chamber, had been the scenes in which the princely pair had -lived together; linked to an engrossing state of things, surrounded by -their partisans, they had been friends, nay lovers, according to the -love of the many. But solitary Nature is the true temple of Love, where -he is not an adjunct, but an essence; and now she alone was around them, -to fill them with sublime awe, and the softest tenderness. In Richard's -eyes, the kingdom of his inheritance dwindled into a mere speck; the -land of her nativity became but a name to Katherine. It sufficed for -their two full hearts that they were together on the dark wide sea; the -bright sky above, and calm upon the bosom of the deep. They could ill -discern each other in the shadowy twilight; a dream-like veil was cast -over their features, as sleep curtains out the soul, so that we look on -the beloved slumberer, and say, "He is there, though the mystery of -repose wraps me from him;" so now darkness blinded and divided them: but -hand clasped hand; he felt that one existed who was his own, his -faithful; and she rejoiced in the accomplishment of the master-sentiment -of her soul, the desire of self-devotion, self-annihilation, for one who -loved her. The passion that warmed their hearts had no fears, no tumult, -no doubt. One to the other they sufficed; and, but that the trance is -fleeting, Happiness, the lost child of the world, would have found here -her home; for when love, which is the necessity of affectionate hearts, -and the sense of duty, which is the mystery and the law of our souls, -blend into one feeling, Paradise has little to promise save immortality. - -For many days this state of forgetful ecstasy lasted. Plantagenet and -Neville spoke of wars in England; Lord Barry and Keating of their Irish -schemes--the prince listened and replied; but his soul was far -away--Oh, that for ever they might sail thus on the pathless, shoreless -sea!--Nothing mean or trivial or ignoble could visit them; no hate, no -care, no fear--this might not be, but to have felt, to have lived thus -for a few short days, suffices to separate mortal man from the groveling -part of his nature--no disgrace, no despair can so bring him back to -the low-minded world, as to destroy the sense of having once so existed. -And Richard, marked for misery and defeat, acknowledged that power which -sentiment possesses to exalt us--to convince us that our minds, endowed -with a soaring, restless aspiration, can find no repose on earth except -in love. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXIX - -SIEGE OF WATERFORD - - - "Now for our Irish wars!" - - SHAKSPEARE. - - -Again the duke of York approached the rocky entrance of the Cove of -Cork, again he passed through the narrow passage, which opening, -displayed a lovely sheet of tranquil water, decked with islands. The -arrival of his fleet in the harbour was hailed with joy. Old John -O'Water had returned to his civic labours, and had contrived to get -himself chosen mayor for this year, that he might be of greater -assistance to the White Rose in his enterprise. - -As soon as the arrival of his ships off the coast was known, O'Water -despatched messengers to the earl of Desmond, and busied himself to -give splendour to Richard's entrance into Cork. Tapestry and -gay-coloured silks were hung from the windows; the street was strewn -with flowers--citizens and soldiers intermixed crowded to the -landing-place. York's heart palpitated with joy. It was not that thence -he much hoped for success to his adventure, which required more than the -enthusiasm of the remote inhabitants of the south of Ireland to achieve -it: but Cork was a sort of home to him; here he had found safety when he -landed, barely escaped from Trangmar's machinations--here he first -assumed his rightful name and title--here, a mere boy, ardent, -credulous, and bold--he had seen strangers adopt his badge and avouch -his cause. Five years had elapsed since then--the acclaim of a few kind -voices, the display of zeal, could no longer influence his hopes as then -they had done, but they gladdened his heart, and took from it that -painful feeling which we all too often experience--that we are cast -away on the inhospitable earth, useless and neglected. - -He was glad also in the very first spot of his claimed dominions whereon -he set foot, to see the Lady Katherine received with the honours due to -her rank. Her beauty and affability won the hearts of all around, and -O'Water, with the tenderness that an old man is so apt to feel towards a -young and lovely woman, extended to her a paternal affection, the -simplicity and warmth of which touched her, thrown as she was among -strangers, with gratitude. - -Lord Desmond arrived--he was struck by the improvement in York's -manner, still ingenuous and open-hearted: he was more dignified, more -confident in himself than before--the husband of Katherine also -acquired consideration; as an adventurous boy, he might be used -according to the commodity of the hour--now he had place--station in -the world, and Desmond paid him greater deference, almost unawares. - -But the earl was sorely disappointed; "Reverend Father," said he to -Keating, "what aid does Scotland promise? Will they draw Tudor with his -archers and harquebusiers, and well-horsed knights, to the north, -giving our Irish kern some chance of safe landing in the west?" - -"Peace is concluded between Scotland and England," replied Keating. - -Desmond looked moody. "How thrives the White Rose over the water? How -sped the duke, when he entered England? Some aid somewhere we must have, -besides yonder knot of wanderers, and our own hungry, naked kerns." - -"By my fay!" replied Keating, "every budding blossom on the Rose-bush -was nipped, as by a north-east wind. When Duke Richard sowed his hopes -there, like the dragon's teeth of Dan Cadmus, they turned into so many -armed men to attack him." - -"Sooth, good prior," said the earl, with a sharp laugh, "we shall speed -well thereby: would you a re-acting of the gleeful mime at Stowe?" - -"Wherefore," said Keating, "fix your thoughts on England? The dark sea -rolls between us, and even the giants of old broke their causeway, which -in the north 'tis said they built, ere it laid its long arm on the -English shore. The name of Ireland reads as fair as England; its sons -are as brave and politic, able to defend, to rule themselves: blot -England from the world, and Ireland stands free and glorious, sufficing -to herself. This springal, valorous though he be, can never upset -Tudor's throne in London; but he can do more for us by his very -impotence. He is the true lord of Ireland: we are liegemen in -maintaining his right. Plant his banner, rally round it all men who wish -well to their country; drive out the good man Poynings; crush the -Butlers--aye, down with them; and when Richard is crowned King of Erin, -and the Geraldines rule under him, our native land will stand singly, -nor want England for a crutch--or, by'r Lady! for a spear to enter her -heart, while she leaneth on it; so the wars of York and Lancaster may -free us from the proud, imperious English; and the Irish, like the -Scotch, have a king and a state of their own." - -Desmond's eyes flashed for a moment, as Keating thus presented before -them the picture he most desired to behold; but they grew cold again. -"The means, reverend prior, the arms, the money, the soldiers?" - -"A bold stroke brings all: strike one blow, and Ireland is at our feet. -We must not tarry; now the Butlers and their party are asleep in their -security; gather men together; march forward boldly; strike at the -highest, Dublin herself." - -"Father," replied the earl, "long before I were half way there, my -litter would be abandoned even by its bearers, and we left alone among -the bogs and mountains, to feed as we may, or die. If there be any sooth -in your scheme, it can only prove good, inasmuch as we secure Connaught -to ourselves, and turn this corner of the island into a kingdom; but -neither one word, nor one blow, will gain Dublin. You are right so -far,--something must be done, and speedily; and, if it be well done, we -may do more, till by the aid of the blessed St. Patrick and -white-tooth'd Bridget! we tread upon the necks of the Butlers." - -This one thing to be undertaken, after much consultation among the -chieftains, was the siege of Waterford: it had been summoned to -acknowledge Duke Richard as its lord, and had refused: Keating was very -averse to spending time before a fortified town. "On, on, _boutez en -avant_!" He reminded Lord Barry of his device, and strove to awaken -ambition in him. The prior of Kilmainham had spent all his life in -Dublin, a chief member of the government, a seditious, factious but -influential man: the capital to him was all that was worth having, -while, to these lords of Munster, the smallest victory over their -particular rivals, or the gaining a chief city in a district, which was -their world, appeared more glorious than entering London itself -victoriously, if meanwhile Waterford, or any one of the many towns of -Ireland, held out against them. - -On the fifteenth of July, 1497, the duke of York, the earl of Desmond, -and the other many chief of many names, some Geraldines, all allied to, -or subject to them, as the O'Briens, the Roches, the Macarthys, the -Barrys, and others, assembled at Youghall, a town subject to the earl of -Desmond, and situated about midway between Cork and Waterford, at the -mouth of the river Blackwater. - -On the twenty-second of July the army was in movement, and entered the -county of Waterford; the chiefs, at the head of their respective -followers, proceeded to the shrine of St. Declan at Ardmore, to make -their vows for the success of their expedition. The church at Ardmore, -the round tower, the shrine, and healing-rock, were all objects of -peculiar sanctity. The countess of Desmond, and her young son, and the -fair duchess of York, accompanied this procession from Youghall. After -the celebration of mass, the illustrious throng congregated on the rocky -eminence, on which the mysterious tower is built, overlooking the little -bay, where the calm waters broke gently on the pebbly beach. It was a -beauteous summer-day; the noon-day heat was tempered by the sea breeze, -and relieved by the regular plash of the billows, as they spent -themselves on the shore. A kind of silence--such silence as there can -be among a multitude, such a silence as is preserved when the winds sing -among the pines--possessed the crowd: they stood in security, in peace, -surrounded by such objects as excited piety and awe; and yet the hopes -of the warrior, and, if such a word may be used, a warrior's fears, -possessed them; it was such a pause as the mountain-goat makes ere he -commits himself to the precipice. A moment afterwards all was in motion; -to the sound of warlike instruments the troops wound up the Ardmore -mountains, looking down on the little fleet that stemmed its slow way -towards the harbour of Waterford. The ladies were left alone with few -attendants. The young duchess gazed on that band of departing warriors, -whose sole standard was the spotless rose; they were soon lost in the -foldings of the hills; again they emerged; her straining eye caught -them. That little speck upon the mountain-side contained the sole hope -and joy of her life, exposed to danger for the sake of a little good; -for Katherine, accustomed to the sight of armies, and to the -companionship of chiefs and rulers, detected at once the small chance -there was, that these men could bring to terms a strongly fortified -city; but resignation supplied the place of hope; she believed that -Richard would be spared; and, but for his own sake, she cared little -whether a remote home in Ireland, or a palace in England received them. -She looked again on the mountain path; no smallest moving object gave -sign of life; the sunlight slept upon the heathy uplands; the grey rocks -stood in shadowy grandeur; Katherine sighed and turned again to the -chapel, to offer still more fervent prayers, that on this beauteous -earth, beneath this bright genial heaven, she might not be left -desolate: whatever else her fortune, that Richard might be hers. - -The army which the earl of Desmond led against Waterford, did not -consist of more than two thousand men. With these he invested the -western division of the city. Richard, with his peculiar troop, took his -position at the extremity of this line, nearest Passage, close to -Lumbard's Marsh, there to protect the disembarkment of troops from the -fleet. - -Neither party failed in zeal or activity. The first days were actively -employed in erecting works and bringing the cannon to play upon the -town. On the third, in the very midst of their labours, while the earl -in his litter was carried close under the walls among the pioneers, and -Lord Barry in his eagerness seized a spade and began to work, signals of -attack were made from the town, and the troops poured out from the -nearest gate. The advanced guard were too few to contend with them; they -were driven back on the entrenchments. The citizens were full of fury -and indignation; they rushed forward with loud cries, and created a -confusion, which Desmond and Lord Barry were not slow to encounter; they -brought a few regular troops to stand the assault; a well pointed cannon -from the town swept the thin lines; they fell back; a yell of victory -was raised by the men of Waterford; it reached the outpost of Duke -Richard: he, with a score of men, five among them, with himself, being -cavaliers armed at all points, were viewing a portion of the walls that -seemed most open to assault; the roar of cannon and the clash of arms -called him to more perilous occupation; he galloped towards the scene of -action; and, while still the faltering men of Desmond were ashamed to -fly, yet dared not stand, he, with his little troop, attacked the enemy -on their flank. The white steed, the nodding plume, the flashing sword -of York were foremost in the fray; Neville and Plantagenet were close -behind; these knights in their iron armour seemed to the -half-disciplined Irish like invulnerable statues, machines to offend, -impregnable to offence; twenty such might have turned the fortunes of a -more desperate day: their antagonists fell back. The knight of Kerry led -on at this moment a reinforcement of Geraldines, and a cannon, which -hitherto had been rebel to the cannoneer's art, opened its fiery mouth -with such loud injurious speech, that for many moments the dread line it -traced remained a blank. Richard saw the post of advantage, and -endeavoured to throw himself between the enemy and the city: he did not -succeed; but, on the contrary, was nearly cut off himself by a -reinforcement of townsmen, sent to secure the retreat of their fellows. -Those who saw him fight that day spoke of him as a wonder: the heart -that had animated him in Andalusia was awake; as there he smote to death -the turbaned Moor, so now he dealt mortal blows on all around, fearless -of the pressing throng and still increasing numbers. While thus hurried -away by martial enthusiasm, the sound of a distant trumpet caught his -ear, and the echo of fire-arms followed; it came from the east--his own -post was attacked: now, when he wished to retreat, he first discerned -how alone and how surrounded he was; yet, looking on his foes he saw, -but for their numbers, how despicable they were; to a knight, what was -this throng of half-armed burghers and naked kerns, who pell-mell aimed -at him, every blow ineffectual? But again the loud bellow of distant -cannon called him, and he turned to retreat--a cloud of missiles -rattled against him; his shield was struck through; the bullets -rebounded from his case of iron, while his sword felled an enemy at -every stroke; and now, breaking through the opposing rank on the other -side, his friends joined him--the citizens recoiled. "Old Reginald's -tower," they averred, "would have bled sooner than these Sir -Tristans--they were charmed men, and lead and good arrowheads were -softer than paper-pellets on their sides." The first movement of panic -was enough; before their leaders could rally them again to the attack, -the English knights were far, riding at full speed towards the eastern -gate. - -Here Richard's presence was enough to restore victory to his -standard--flushed, panting, yet firm in his seat, his hand true and -dangerous in its blows, there was something superhuman in his strength -and courage, yet more fearful than his sharp sword. The excess of -chivalrous ardour, the burning desire to mingle in the thickest fight, -made danger happiness, and all the terrible shows of war entrancing joys -to York. When reproached for rashness by his cousin, his bright eye was -brighter for a tear, as he cried, "Cousin, I must have some part of my -inheritance: my kingdom I shall never gain--glory--a deathless -name--oh, must not these belong to him who possesses Katherine? The -proud Scots, who looked askance at my nuptials, shall avow at least that -she wedded no craven-hearted loon." - -With the morrow came a new task. Their little fleet had made its way up -Waterford Harbour into the river Suir; and the troops destined to join -his were partly disembarked. To protect the landing, he and Neville rode -across the marsh to the strand. On their return a fresh sight presented -itself--the ponds of Kilbarry were filled, the besieged having raised a -mound of earth to stop the course of the river which flows from Kilbarry -into the Suir; and the road back to their camp was completely cut off. -There was no mode of getting round save by the road to Tramore; yet to -the active mind of Richard, it seemed that even this disaster might be -turned into a benefit. He re-embarked the troops; he himself went on -board the principal vessel; he called to secret council the -captains:--the conclusion was not immediately divulged, but some -adventure of peril was assuredly planned among them. - -The long summer day went slowly down; the hum of men from Waterford -reached the ships; the quay was thronged with soldiers: several vessels -were anchored in the advance, and manned with troops; but the English -fleet, their anchors cast, their sails furled, seemed peacefully -inclined. As night came on, the quay became a desert; the ships were -worked back to their former stations. It grew darker; the city, with its -old rough tower and spires, was mirrored indistinctly in the twilight -tide; the walls grew dim and gigantic; the sound of fire-arms ceased; -the last roll of the drum died away; the city slept, fearless of its -invaders. At this moment, the ebbing tide began to flow. Assisted by the -rising waters, Richard and Neville ran a small boat under the cover of -the opposite bank of the river, to observe what defences the quay might -possess. The low tide at that hour was its best defence; a watch-tower -or two with their sentinels, completed the guard of a part of the town, -whose defence on that side was neglected; by midnight also the tide -would have risen, but it was necessary to wait for the following night; -for first he must communicate with Desmond, that a night attack in the -opposite direction might effectually leave the water-side deserted. The -vessels meanwhile dropped down below Little Island, at once to get out -of shot of Reginald's Tower, which commands the harbour, and to remove -from the citizens any apprehensions they might entertain of attack. The -winding of the river concealed them entirely from the town. - -The next day, a burning August day, declined into a dewy night; -imperceptibly during the dark the vessels were nearer the city; and -while the warders of the city fancied that the troops on board the fleet -were finding a circuitous path over land to Desmond's camp, the stars of -night twinkled through the shrouds upon decks crowded with men, arming -themselves in busy silence. Suddenly it was reported to Richard that a -stranger caravel was among them; she was the only vessel with set sails, -and these were enlarged by night, till as she neared, she seemed a -giant, a living thing stalking between heaven and the element beneath. A -sudden shiver convulsed the prince; to his eye it was the likeness of -that vessel which long ere this had traversed, he hoped in safety, the -western sea, stemming its mountainous waves towards the beauteous Indian -Isles. Had it been wrecked, and this the spectre? It was the illusion of -a moment; but it was necessary to ascertain the nature and intentions of -the stranger, who was now close among them. York's vessel, at his -command, got alongside of her; he leapt upon the deck, and saw at once -him whom the dim night had concealed before, Hernan de Faro upon the -deck. - -A thousand emotions--wonder, fear, delight--rushed into the youth's -heart; while the mariner, yet more weather-beaten, thin to emaciation, -but still erect, still breathing the same spirit of fortitude and -kindliness, grasped his hand, and blessed the Virgin for the meeting. -The questions, the anxiety of Richard, could not be uttered in this hour -of action; he only said, "You will join us, and we will be doubly -strong; or must you remain to guard your daughter?" - -"I come from her--she is not with me--more of this anon." - -Rapidly he asked and obtained information of the meditated attack; in -part he disapproved, and, with all the sagacity of a veteran in such -enterprises, suggested alterations. Now every boat was lowered with -silent expedition, each received its freight of troops, and was rowed -with the tide up the Suir. One skiff contained York and the Moor. The -prince, in the anticipation of the hazardous contest, looked serious; -while every feature of De Faro's face was bright, his animated, glad -smile, his flashing eyes--all spoke the exhilaration of one engaged in -his elected pleasure. Richard had never seen him thus before: usually he -appeared kind, almost deferential; yet, except when he talked of the -sea, heavy and silent, and speaking of that in a subdued tone. He now -stood the picture of a veteran hero, self-possessed and calm, but for -the joyousness that the very feeling of his sword's weight, as his right -hand grasped the hilt, imparted to his warlike spirit. - -Had an angel, on poised wings of heavenly grain, hovered over the city -of Waterford, gazing on its star-pointing spires, the reflecting waters -of the Suir, the tranquil hills and woods that gathered round the river, -he would have believed such quiet inviolate, and blessed the sleep that -hushed the miserable passions of humanity to repose. Anon there came the -splash of waters, the shout of men, the sentinels' startled cry, the -sudden rush of the guard, the clash of swords, the scream, the low -groan, the protracted howl, and the fierce bark of the watch-dog joining -in. The celestial angel has soared to heaven, scared; and yet honour, -magnanimity, devotion, filled the hearts of those who thus turned to -hell a seeming paradise. Led by Richard and De Faro, while a party was -left behind to insure retreat, another rushed forward right through the -town, to throw open the western gate, and admit Desmond, before the -terrified citizens had exchanged their nightcaps for helmets; in vain: -already the market-place was filled with soldiers ready for the -encounter; guided by a native, they endeavoured to find a way through -the bye-streets; they lost themselves; they got entangled in narrow -alleys; the awakened citizens cast upon their heads tiles, blocks of -wood,--all they could lay hands upon. To get back to the square was -their only salvation; although the storm and yell that rose behind, -assured them that Desmond had commenced the attack. With diminished -numbers York regained the market-place; here he was furiously attacked: -the crowd still increased, until the knot of assailants might have been -crushed, it seemed, by mere numbers; day, bright day, with its golden -clouds and swift-pacing sun, dawned upon the scene. In one of those -pauses which sometimes occur in the most chaotic roar, a trumpet was -heard, sounding as it seemed Desmond's retreat from the walls. Richard -felt that he was deserted, that all hope was over; and to secure the -retreat of his men was a work of sufficient difficulty. Foot to foot the -young hero and the veteran mariner fought; one by the quickness of his -blows, the other by his tower-like strength, keeping back the enemy; -while retreating slowly, their faces to the foe, they called on their -men to make good their escape. They reached the quay--they saw the wide -river, their refuge; their vessels near at hand, the boats hovering -close, their safety was in sight, and yet hope of safety died in their -hearts, so many and so fierce were those who pressed on them, Richard -was wounded, weary, faint; De Faro alone--Reginald's old tower, which, -dark and scathless, frowned on them, seemed his type. They were at the -water's edge, and the high tide kissed with its waves the very footway -of the quay: "Courage, my lord,--a few more blows and we are safe:" the -mariner spoke thus, for he saw Richard totter; and his arm, raised -feebly, fell again without a stroke. At that moment, a flame, and then a -bellowing roar, announced that the tardy cannoneer had at last opened -his battery on the fleet, from the tower. One glance De Faro cast on his -caravel; the bolt had struck and damaged one of the vessels, but the -Adalid escaped, "Courage, my lord!" again he shouted; and at that moment -a blow was struck at Richard which felled him; he lay stretched at De -Faro's feet. Ere it could be repeated, the head of the assailant was -cleft by a Moorish scimitar. With furious strength, De Faro then hurled -his weapon among the soldiers; the unexpected act made them recoil; he -lifted up the insensible form of Richard with the power of an elephant; -he cast him into the near waves, and leapt in after: raising him with -one hand, he cut the waters with the other, and swam thus towards his -vessel, pursued by a rain of missiles; one arrow glanced on Richard's -unstrung helmet, another fixed itself in the joint at the neck; but De -Faro was unhurt. He passed, swimming thus, the nearest vessels: the -sailors crowded to the sides, imploring him to enter: as if it had been -schoolboy's sport, he refused, till he reached the Adalid, till his own -men raised Richard, revived now, but feeble, to her worn deck: and he, -on board her well-known planks, felt superior to every sovereign in the -world. - - - - -CHAPTER XL - -AN ESCAPE - - - Farewell, Erin! farewell all - Who live to weep our fall! - - MOORE. - - -On the height of the tower of Ardmore, the White Rose of young Richard -kept her vigils, and looked across the calm sea, and along the passes of -the mountains of Drum, in anxious expectation of the event of the -expedition. Sad forebodings oppressed her; the sentiment that mastered -every other, was that her lord should require her presence, her -assistance, while she was far. He had promised to send a post each day; -when these failed, her heart sank within her. The only change that -occurred, was when she saw the Adalid proceed slowly in the calm towards -Waterford. - -One sunny morn she from her watch-tower perceived several straggling -groups descending the mountains. She strained her eyes: no banners -waved; no martial music spoke of victory. That was secondary in her -eyes; it was for Richard's safety that she was solicitous; yet she would -not, did not fear; for there is an instinctive sense in human nature -which, in time of doubt, sallies forth from the ark of refuge, and -brings back tidings of peace or sorrow to the expectant on the perilous -flood; a prophetic spirit which, when it despairs--woe the while!--the -omen proves not false. The Lady Katherine watched anxiously but not in -despair. At length heavy footsteps ascended the tower-stairs; and to -answer the beatings of her heart, Edmund Plantagenet and the mayor of -Cork presented themselves; they eagerly asked, "Is he not here?" - -"Nay, he has not fled?" she replied, while for the first time she grew -pale. - -"Weigh our words as mere air," said O'Water; "for we know nothing, -gentle dame, but that I must to Cork, to bar out the men of Waterford. -His highness left us for the fleet; and the filling up of those cursed -ponds of Kilbarry--ill luck to them!--cut off his return. Last -night--Saint Patrick knows the deeds of the last night!--weary from -our labour the day before, we were all too carelessly asleep, when our -camp was assaulted. Earl Maurice had ridden to Lismore to hasten his -cousin, the Knight of the Valley. There was some report of an attack -upon the town from the ships. Havoc was the cry that roused the welkin -from east to west. The sum I know not, save that we are runaways--the -siege of Waterford is raised." - -"What skiff is that?" interrupted the duchess. Round the point of -Minehead first peeped the bowsprit, then the prow; and last the complete -form of a vessel in full sail, yet scarcely touched by the wind, -weathered the promontory. "Haste we, my friends," she continued; "the -duke may be on board; at least we shall have intelligence." - -"I know that craft full well," said O'Water; "her captain is a converted -Moorish pagan." - -"The White Rose waves from her mast-top," cried Katherine; "oh, he is -there!" - -"Holy angels!" exclaimed Edmund; "it is the Adalid! I will on board on -the instant." - -Already the duchess was descending the steep narrow stairs; the -villagers of Ardmore, with many of the soldiers who had fled from -Waterford, were on the shingles, watching the caravel, now full in -sight, yet fearful to venture too near the shelving shore. "They are -bound for Cork," cried a man. - -"Oh, not till I first speak to them," said Katherine; "the day is fair, -the sea calm, put off a boat. Ah, my cousin Edmund, take me with thee." - -Plantagenet had already got a boat from its moorings. O'Water was beside -the princess to beseech vainly that she would be patient; and poor -Astley, who had been left in special attendance on her, waited near with -blanched cheeks. Accompanied by these dear or humble friends, the White -Rose was borne with the speed of ten oars towards the Adalid. On the -deck, half reclining on a rude bed, very pale, yet with lively, wakeful -eyes, lay the prince of England. In a moment Katherine was assisted on -board. There was no death for Richard; she was there, life of his life; -so young, so beautiful, and true; the celestial goodness that beamed in -her eyes, and dimpled her cherub countenance, was not like that of an -inhalant of this sad planet; except that spirits of beauty and love ever -and anon _do_ animate the frames of the earth-born; so that we behold in -the aspects of our fellow-beings glances and smiles bright as those of -angels. De Faro himself looked with admiration on the bending form of -this lovely one, till accosted by Edmund, whose first question was, "Don -Hernan here--where then is----" - -"My beloved Monina you would ask for," said De Faro; "she, who to please -her vagrant father would have crossed the wild Atlantic to visit the -savage Western Isles. Poor child, even at the threshold of this -adventure we were nearly wrecked. She is now in England; she sent me -here--to tell of rebellion against King Henry; to invite Duke Richard -to his kingdom." - -Thus they were occupied on the sunny deck; the sea was calm, the keel -almost stationary in the water; they were bound for Cork; Plantagenet -and the mayor gathered eagerly from De Faro the history of the combat. -They learned that it had been expected that Desmond would have assaulted -from land, while York invaded the city from the river; but the fellow -sent with Richard's missive had been taken, the city put on her guard. -Nothing but the desire of the citizens to do too much, and his own -desperate valour, had saved Richard; they resolved at once to receive -and destroy him, and to sally unawares on the earl's camp: they hoped to -make prisoners of all the chiefs. They failed in this, but succeeded in -raising the siege of their city. - -Towards evening a land-breeze sprung up, and two others of York's -vessels hove in sight, and passed them quickly; for the Adalid was much -disabled, and made slow way. Soon in pursuit appeared a ship and two -corvettes, which O'Water recognized as belonging to Waterford. The -corvettes proceeded on their way; but the larger vessel spied out the -Adalid, and, being now in advance of her, hove to, with the manifest -resolve of attacking her on her watery way towards Cork. De Faro, with -his keen eyes fixed on the enemy's movements, stood on the forecastle in -silence; while Plantagenet and O'Water eagerly demanded arms, and -exhorted the sailors to a most vain resistance. From the vessel of the -foe the Moorish mariner cast his eyes upwards; the wind was shifting to -the west. With a loud voice he shouted to his crew to man the yards; -then, seizing the rudder, gave the swift orders that made the caravel go -about. Sailing near the wind, her canvass had flapped lazily, now it -filled; the keel felt the impulse, and dashed merrily along, bounding -forward like a courser in the race; the ship, which had furled its sails -in expectation of the combat, was in an instant left far behind; the -other vessels from Waterford were still further to the west, towards -Cork. - -All these manœuvres were mysteries to the landsmen: they gladly hailed -the distance placed between them and a superior enemy; but as with a -freshening gale the Adalid still held her swift course towards the east, -and the land began to sink on the horizon, O'Water asked with some -eagerness whither they were bound. - -"To safety," De Faro replied, laconically. - -"An idle answer," said Edmund; "we must judge where our safety lies?" - -"I have ever found best safety on the wide ocean sea," cried the -mariner, looking round proudly on his beloved clement. "Your safeties -and your lords are, methinks, English born; if this wind hold, on the -third morning we shall see the coast of Cornwall." - -The mayor was aghast, exclaiming--"Cornwall! England! we are betrayed?" - -De Faro looked on him with contempt:--"I do not command here," he -continued, "I obey the prince of England; let him decide. Shall we -engage superior force; be boarded; taken by the enemy: or land, be -wrecked, perchance, upon this savage coast; alive with vengeful -kerns--defeated men among a victorious angry people? Or go where we are -called by your leader's cause, where thousands of men are up in arms to -receive you like brothers, to fight for you, with you; where England, -the long-desired kingdom, makes you welcome to her green, sunny shores? -Ask ye your prince this question; let his word be law." - -This statement, upheld by York, brought conviction to the minds of -Plantagenet and O'Water. The latter was aware of the risk he ran from -the awakened vengeance of Henry, to pursue his having fostered rebellion -in the city of which he was magistrate; and a moment's reflection showed -him that there was no security for him, except in flight from Ireland. -Meanwhile the wind, increasing in its strength, and right astern, -carried them over the foaming waters. The early dawn showed them far at -sea: they had outrun or baffled their pursuers; and though, now and -then, with anxious thought, they reflected on the comrades left behind, -on the poor equipage, and diminished numbers with which they were about -to land in England, still there was something so miraculous in their -escape, so unforeseen in the destiny that cut them off, and carried -them, a remnant merely of the war, away from its dangers, that they felt -as if they were under the immediate direction of a ruling Providence, -and so resigned themselves; greedily drinking in the while the highly -coloured picture De Faro painted of the Yorkist army which awaited them -in Cornwall. - -Again upon the sea--again impelled by winds and waves to new -scenes--new hopes, tossed here and there by Fortune, it was Richard's -fate to see one frustrated expectation give place to another, which, in -its turn, faded and died. This constant succession of projects kept -alive within him that sanguine spirit which never could be vanquished. -Eagerly he passed from one idea to another, and almost welcomed the last -disaster, which appeared but to pioneer the way to future success. -During this voyage, weak as his wounds had made him, he talked of -England as his own--the dearer because he must spend his blood to win -it. Circumstances had an exactly contrary effect upon Katherine. The -continual change of schemes convinced her of the futility of all. She -felt that, if the first appearance of the duke of York, acknowledged and -upheld by various sovereigns and dear high-born relatives, had not -animated the party of the White Hose in his favour, it was not now, -after many defeats and humiliations on his side, and after triumphs and -arrogant assumptions on that of his enemy, that brilliant success could -be expected. This conviction must soon become general among the -Yorkists, Richard would learn the sad lesson, but she was there to -deprive it of its sting; to prove to him, that tranquillity and -Katherine were of more worth than struggles, even if they proved -successful, for vain power. - -It was strange that a girl of royal birth, bred in a palace, accustomed -to a queen-like sovereignty over her father's numerous vassals in the -Highlands, should aim at restricting the ambitious York to mere privacy; -while Monina, the humble daughter of a Moorish mariner, would have felt -honour, reputation, all that is dear to man, at stake, if her friend had -dreamed of renouncing his claims to the English crown. His cause was her -life; his royalty the main spring of all her actions and thoughts. She -had sacrificed love to it--she taught her woman's soul to rejoice in -his marriage with another, because his union with a princess was pledge -to the world of his truth. Perhaps, had the time ever come when he -renounced his struggles, she had felt with a pang that his lowly -fortunes might not incongruously be shared by her, and self had mingled -in the religion of her heart, which was virtuous devotion to him; but as -it was, the idea never presented itself. He must win or die. Did he win, -her happiness would result from the contemplation of his glory; were he -to die, the young hero's grave would not be watered by her tears: she -believed that in that hour her life would cease. - -The Lady Katherine saw a vain mask in all the common-place pomp of -palaces; she perceived that power failed most when its end was good; she -saw that in accomplishing its purpose in the cottage, or in halls of -state, felicity resulted from the affections only. It was but being an -actor in different scenes, to be a potentate or a peasant; the outward -garb is not the livery of the mind: the refinement of taste which -enables us to gather pleasure from simple objects; the warmth of heart -which necessitates the exercise of our affections, but which is content -when they are satisfied; these, to her mind, were the only, but they -were the complete ingredients of happiness; and it was rarer to find and -more difficult to retain them, among false-hearted, ambitious courtiers, -and the luxury of palaces, than among simple-minded peasantry and a -plain natural style of living. There was some romance in this idea; -Katherine felt that there was, and subdued herself not to lay too much -store by any change or guise of outward circumstance. She taught herself -to feel and know, that in the tumult of camps and war, in the anxieties -of her present vagrant life, on the throne which she might possess, or -in the prison she might share, by devoting herself to the happiness of -him to whom she was united, whose heroism, goodness and love merited all -her affection, she was performing the part assigned to her on earth, and -securing a portion of happiness, far beyond the common lot of those -whose colder, harder natures require something beyond sympathy to -constitute their misnamed felicity. - - - - -CHAPTER XLI - -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." - - - - -CHAPTER XLII - -RECEPTION IN CORNWALL - - -SKELTON. 'Tis but going to sea, and, leaping ashore, cut ten or twelve -thousand unnecessary throats, fire seven or eight towns, take half a -dozen cities, get into the market-place, crown him. Richard the Fourth, -and the business is finished. - - FORD. - - - Am I not king? - Awake, thou coward majesty! thou sleepest. - Is not the king's name forty thousand names? - - SHAKSPEARE. - - -These doughty leaders drew out their followers in a plain just without -Bodmin. There were about two hundred men decently clad from the remnants -of the mercer's wares, tolerably well armed and disciplined by Trereife; -this troop obtained the distinction of being selected as King Richard's -body-guard. Skelton was their captain, a rare commander, whose real -merit was that he felt happiest when stuck close as a burr to Trereife; -for at heart he was an arrant coward, though a loud braggart, and talked -of slaying his thousands, while the very wounding of his doublet had -made him wince. - -Heron was brave in his way; a true Cornishman, he could wrestle and cast -his antagonist with the strength of a lion; he loved better, it is true, -to trust to his arm than to his sword, which, in spite of his strength, -Trereife always made fly from his hand in their fencing lessons; not the -less did he consider himself a gallant knight, and had cut up many a -yard of crimson cramoisy to make a rich suit for himself. He wore -Monina's glove in his cap and large yellow roses at his knees; he called -himself generalissimo, and marshalled under him full three thousand men, -who in truth had - - - Never set a squadron in the field - Nor the division of a battle knew - More than a spinster; - - -but they were sturdy discontented spirits, who valued life at its worth, -which was even nothing to them, who had laboured with all their hearts, -till labour was of no avail, and who then left the mine and the furrow -to carry their loud complaints to the foot of Henry's throne--they were -better pleased with the prospect of overthrowing it. - -"Now, my masters, make yourselves heard," cried Heron, as he shuffled -down a little eminence on a short-legged Welsh pony, the only steed he -found he could back in safety. "His grace is within ear-shot, so you be -loud. Long life to King Richard!--down with the taxes--Saint Michael -and Cornwall for ever!" - -The din was prolonged, ended, began, went on, as the prince arrived at -the summit of the hill with his little train--fair Katherine was at his -side--Plantagenet, O'Water, De Faro, with some dozen soldiers who fled -from Waterford; sure never invader came so ill equipped. On the hill-top -the illustrious wanderers paused, Richard hastily scanned the -rough-suited multitude--then, turning to Plantagenet, "Cousin," he -said, "you told me that the insurgent army would be drawn out for my -view; is it not strange that yonder rabble should hide it from us? As -far as my eye can reach, I see no martial discipline, no banners, no -lordly crest; fie on those drums! they have no touch of military -concord. What makes our army so slack of duty, cousin?" - -Though no fault of his, Edmund blushed deeply in very shame--the -approach of Heron, Skelton, Trereife, and three or four other principal -rebels, cut off his reply. It had been agreed that Skelton, who had a -gift of eloquence, should speak, and many words he used to welcome his -liege. "We will have every man with a red rose in his cap, in a drag -chain, please your grace, and give a sound lesson to the saucy burghers -of Exeter withal. Not a knight shall live in the land, but of your -majesty's dubbing. We have but to put to rout King Henry's army, to hang -the false loon for a traitor, and to set fire to London and the -Parliament. Such nobles as please to doff their silken cloaks, and don -miners' jackets, may work, the rest shall hang. Their mere wardrobes, -bless the day! will find us and your grace in cloth of gold, embroidery, -and other rich garniture to the end of our lives." - -"We thank your zeal, my worthy master," said Richard, courteously; "if -our good troops do half your saying, King Henry must look to it." - -"Are those men to be worse than their word?" cried Skelton. "There is -not one among us but has the arms of ten. We are of a race of giants, -please your majesty, and could knock the walls of Exeter down with, our -fists. Please you to enter Bodmin, whose very stones will cry for King -Richard louder than King Hal's cannon;--to-morrow, God willing, we are -for the wars." - -The royal party passed on--the dark ferocity or sturdy obstinacy -painted on the faces of the ill-armed rout, struck Richard as he -passed--he became meditative, while Edmund, shamed and angry, his -cheeks burning, his eyes on the ground, listened in indignant silence to -Master Skelton, who fastened on him with such talk, that whether a -soldier spoke of killing doublets, or a tailor prattled of fashioning a -field of slaughter, was a riddle ill to be devised. At length they -passed the gates of Bodmin; and here was a louder cry of welcome from -the shrill voices of women, who held up their thin hands and -half-starved children, crying for vengeance on Tudor, blessing the sweet -faces of Richard and his lovely wife. York's eyes flashed again with -their wonted fires; his creative spirit had found materials here to work -some project, all poor and rude as they might seem. - -They entered the town-hall; when, by some sudden revulsion, in the tide -of the crowd, every Cornishman fell back, closed the doors, and left the -wanderers alone. Something was forgotten surely; for Heron had paced -pompously up to Richard, when suddenly he turned on his heel, crying, "A -word, my masters!" and all were gone. The Lady Katherine had marked -their backing and hurrying with becoming gravity; but, when the door was -fairly shut, she could restrain no longer a heartfelt laugh. Richard -joined in her mirth, while Plantagenet strode through the hall angrily; -muttering, "an army, a rout of shirtless beggars; is this England's -reception for her king?" - -"It were fine mumming," said Richard, "under a hedge with the green -sward for a stage." - -"By our Lady, this passes patience!" reiterated Edmund; "where are the -gentlemen of England? Where the sons of those who fell for York? Are we -to oppose these half-naked knaves to the chivalry of Henry?" - -"It would seem that such is expected," replied the prince; "and, verily, -cousin, we might do worse. I pray you, treat the honest rogues well; -better may come of it; keep we our secret, and have we not an array?" - -"My lord!" cried Plantagenet, in wonder. - -"Patience, dear friend," said York; "I have not been apprentice to -adversity so many long years, without becoming an adept in my calling. I -say, I have an army; bold, though poor--ragged truly, but exceeding -faithful. Methinks it were more glorious to put Tudor down with such -small means, than to meet him in equal terms, like a vulgar conqueror. I -do beseech you, Edmund, put a good face on it; speak to our Cornish -giants, as if they had souls of mettle, and bodies decked like Ponce de -Leon and his peers, when they welcomed Queen Isabel to the Spanish camp. -You remember the golden array of the knights, cousin?" - -Edmund was impatient of the prince's gay humour; while Katherine, seeing -in his bright eyes heroism and lofty resolve, felt a dewy moisture -gather in her own: there is something at once awful and affecting, when -a man, the sport of fortune, meets her rudest blow unshrinking, and -turns her very spite into arms against herself. The whole secret of -Richard's present thoughts she could not divine, but she saw that their -scope was worthy of his birth, his aim: her respect--her love -augmented; and her gentle heart at that moment renewed its vow to devote -herself to him entirely and for ever. - -In the same spirit, York answered the deputation that waited on him. He -commanded a proclamation to be made, in which he assumed the title of -Richard the Fourth. He announced his intention of immediately -penetrating England, and seizing on some walled town or city, before -Henry could be aware of his having landed. Nor did he confine his energy -to words; he examined the state of his men; their arms and furniture; he -provided for their better discipline, and animated his cousin to take an -active part in marshalling them to order. He went among them, learned -the causes of their dissatisfaction, promised them better days, and so -raised a glad spirit in them, that their hearts, overleaping both time -and circumstance, paid him the honour and the love he might have -claimed, had he already led them through fertile England, and planted -his victorious standard on the Tower of London. Trereife swore by his -beard, he was a proper youth; the old soldier awoke to the remembrance -of harvests of spoil he had gathered in the Netherlands, the stern -encounters and the joys of success; he gazed on the rough Cornish men, -and wondered how they should withstand the nobility of England: but, -when Richard glanced hope and triumph from his bright eyes, when he -spoke of the omnipotence of resolved valour, when he drew a picture of -their ghastly poverty, and showed them how, by standing firm merely, -they might redeem themselves;--while the poor fellows answered with a -prolonged shout, or better still, grasped their arms more fiercely, and -trod the earth with free and decided steps;--a thousand facilities -seemed to be discovered; a thousand resources for the war displayed, -undreamt of before. Were these mere words? or at his voice did soldiers -rise from the clods, and victory obey the sound? - -Plantagenet, seeing his royal cousin's resolve, strove to second it. -With a party of men he assaulted a near fortress, carried it, and seized -on a store of arms. This success looked like a mighty victory; Richard -exalted it as such; and the very fellows who handled awkwardly their -booty, fancied themselves heroes at the mere sight of it. - -On the third day they were to proceed to Exeter, it being determined -that they should besiege this city. De Faro offered to sail to Cork to -invite the warlike chieftains of Munster to come over with their power; -and at least himself to bring back in the Adalid, Neville, and the rest -of the English exiles. While Edmund, who looked glad at the thought, -counselled that they should entrench themselves in this corner of -England, which was so entirely devoted to them, till these forces were -added to their number, and till by discipline, they should have made -regular troops of the rabble, by courtesy ycleped an army. - -"Wherefore, cousin," asked Richard, "do you desire others to share in -our disasters?" - -"My lord!" cried Edmund, astounded. - -"I have but one wish," continued the prince, "that you and my good -O'Water were even now in Ireland; so that I might stand the brunt of -this war alone. You look amazed. Yet it were more amazing if I expected -to do battle against the Veres, the Howards, the Berkeleys, the -Courtneys, and ten thousand other names of high renown, backed by their -train of martial adherents, with ragged regiments like those we are -about to lead to the field;--even though the kerns of Ireland made -their number double, and the Geraldines, Barry and Neville added by -their nobleness dignity to our victor's conquest. Remember Stoke, my -cousin Edmund; you may well remember it. Remember my honoured kinsman -the earl of Lincoln and my lamented Lovel. Ah! that I did not now peril -your life, then spared!" - -"Yet, if your grace fight at all," said O'Water, bluntly; "methinks we -were not the worse for being better appointed for the fray. For victims, -even those poor honest varlets are too many." - -"That one other life should be wasted for me," replied Richard, -fervently, "is my saddest thought. I fear it must be so; some few lives, -each as dear to him that spends it, as is the life-blood to our own -hearts, I can say no more. I have a secret purpose, I confess, in all I -do. To accomplish it--and I do believe it to be a just one--I must -strike one blow; nor fail. Tudor is yet unprepared; Exeter vacant of -garrison; with stout hearts for the work, I trust to be able to seize -that city. There the wars of York shall end. So far I confide in your -discretions, that you may not deem me mad. More is the single property -of my own soul. Will you help me so far, dear friends--so far hazard -life--not to conquer a kingdom for Richard, but to redeem his honour?" - -The warm-hearted, grey-headed Irish O'Water, with gushing eyes, swore to -adhere to him the last. - -Edmund replied, "I am but a bit of thee; deal with me as with thyself; -and I know thou wilt be no niggard in giving me away to danger." - -De Faro cried, "I am a sailor, and know better how to face death on the -waves than victory on shore; but, Santiago! may our blessed Lady herself -look shy on me at the great day, if the mariner of the wreck prove false -to your grace." - -"Now then to our work," cried York, "to speak fair to my faithful -fellows and their braggart leaders. They at least shall be winners in -our game; for my hand is on my prize; a spirit has whispered success to -me; my hope and its consummation are married even at their birth." - - - - -CHAPTER XLIII - -MISGIVINGS - - - Dost thou hear, lady? - If from the field I shall return once more - To kiss these lips, I will appear in blood; - I and my sword will earn our chronicle; - There is hope in it yet. - - SHAKSPEARE. - - -Richard was obliged to plead his cause yet once again. Katherine had -watched all his movements; she had eyed curiously the army he mustered -to the field: she talked to its leaders, and while they vaunted her -affability, she was diving with earnest mind, into the truth of things. -No fear that it could be hid from her; love for Richard was the bright -light that dispelled every deceptive shadow from the scene. She saw the -bare reality; some three thousand poor peasants and mechanics, whose -swords were more apt to cut themselves than strike the enemy, were -arrayed against the whole power and majesty of England. On the morrow -they were to set forward. That night, while at the casement of his rude -chamber, Richard gazed upon the congregated stars, trying to decipher in -their intricate bright tracery the sure omen of the good he was told -they charactered for him, Katherine, after a moment's hesitation, with a -quivering voice, and hand that shook as it pressed his, knelt on a -cushion at his feet, saying, "My sweet Richard, hear me; hear your -faithful friend--your true wife; call not my councils weak and -feminine, but weigh them sagely ere you resolve. May I speak?" - -"Lady of my heart, arise," said Richard; "I speak, my soft-voiced -Katherine--my White Rose of beauty--fair flower, crowning York's -withered tree. Has not God done all in giving you to me? yet we must -part, love, for a while. Your soldier is for the wars, Kate, while you -sit in your bower, weaving victorious garlands for his return." - -"My ever dear lord," said Katherine, "I speak with fear, because I feel -that I shall not address myself to your concealed thought. I do not wish -to penetrate your secrets, and yet I tremble at their event. You have -not so far deceived yourself as to imagine, that with these unfortunate -men you can ride over the pride and the power of this island; did I see -on what else you founded the lofty hope, that has, since we came here, -beamed in your eyes, I would resign myself to your better wisdom. But, -wherever I turn my view, there is a blank. You do not dream of conquest, -though you feel secure of victory. What can this mean, save that you see -glory in death?" - -"You are too quick-sighted, sweet Kate," said Richard, "and see beyond -the mark. I do not set my cast upon falling in this fray; though it may -well happen that I should: but I have another aim." - -"Without guessing at what that may be," replied the lady, "since you -seem desirous to withhold the knowledge, permit me to present another -object to your choice; decide between them, and I submit: but do not -carelessly turn from mine. There is all to lose, nought to win, in what -you now do. Death may blot the future page, so that we read neither -disgrace nor prison in its sad lines; but wherefore risk to die. While -yet, dear love, we are young, life has a thousand charms, and one may be -the miserable survivor, whose heart now bleeds at the mere surmise." - -She faltered; he kissed her soft cheek, and pressed her to his heart. -"Why may we not--why should we not live?" continued Katherine; "what is -there in the name or state of king that should so take captive our -thoughts, that we can imagine no life but on a throne? Believe me, -careful nights and thorny days are the portion of a monarch: he is -lifted to that awful height only to view more clearly destruction -beneath; around, fear, hate, disloyalty, all yelling at him. The cold, -heartless Tudor may well desire the prize, for he has nothing save the -gilt crown to ennoble him; nothing but the supple knees of courtiers to -present to him the show of love. But--ah! could I put fire into my weak -words--my heart's zeal into my supplicatory voice--persuasion would -attend upon me, and you would feel that to the young, to two united as -we are, our best kingdom is each other's hearts; our dearest power that -which each, without let or envy, exercises over the other. Though our -palace-roof be the rafters of a lowly cot, our state, the dear affection -we bear each other, our attendants the duty and observance of one to the -other--I, so served by King Edward's son--you, by the rightful queen -of this fair island--were better waited on than Henry and Elizabeth, by -their less noble servitors. I almost think that, with words like these, -I might draw you from the uneasy throne to the downy paradise of love; -and can I not from this hard struggle, while death yet guards the -palace-gate, and you will be pierced through and through long ere you -can enter." - -"Thus, my gentle love," said Richard, "you would have me renounce my -birth and name; you desire that we become the scorn of the world, and -would be content that, so dishonoured, the braggart impostor, and his -dame Katherine, should spend their shameful days in an ignominious -sloth, misnamed tranquillity. I am a king, lady, though no holy oil nor -jewelled crown has touched this head; and such I must prove myself." - -"Oh, doubt it not," she replied, "it is proved by your own speech and -your own nobleness; my heart approves you such; the whole earth, till -its latest day, will avouch that the lord of Katherine is no deceiver; -but my words avail not with you." - -"They do avail, my best, my angel girl, to show me that the world's -treasure is mere dross compared with thee: one only thing I prize, not -as thy equal, but as that without which, I were a casket not even worthy -to encase this jewel of the earth--my honour! A word taught me by my -victim brother, by my noble cousin Lincoln, by the generous Plantagenet; -I learnt its meaning among a race of heroes--the Christian -cavaliers--the Moorish chivalry of Spain; dear is it to me, since -without it I would not partake your home of love--a home, more glorious -and more blessed than the throne of the universe. It is for that I now -fight, Katherine, not for a kingdom; which, as thy royal cousin truly -said, never will be mine. If I fall, that cousin, the great, the -munificent James, will be your refuge." - -"Never," interrupted the lady. "Scotland I shall never see again; never -show myself a queen and no queen, the mock of their rude speech; never -put myself into my dear, but ambitious father's hands, to be bartered -away to another than my Richard; rather with your aunt of Burgundy, -rather in Tudor's own court, with your fair sister. Holy angels! of what -do I speak? how frightfully distinct has the bereft world spread itself -out as my widowed abode!" - -A gush of tears closed her speech. "Think of brighter days, my love," -said Richard, "they will be ours. You spoke erewhile of the difficulty -of giving true imagery to the living thought; thus, I know not how to -shape an appropriate garb (to use a trope of my friend Skelton) for my -inmost thoughts. I feel sure of success. I feel, that in giving up every -prospect of acquiring my birthright, I make the due oblation to Fortune, -and that she will bestow the rest--that rest is to rescue my name from -the foul slur Henry has cast on it; to establish myself as myself in the -eyes of England; and then to solicit your patience in our -calamity--your truth and love as the only sceptre and globe this hand -will ever grasp. In my own Spain, among the orange and myrtle groves, -the flowery plains and sun-lit hills of Andalusia, we will live -unambitious, yet more fortunate than crowned emperors." - -With such words and promises he soothed her fears; to the word honour -she had no reply. Yet it was a mere word here; in this case, a barren -word, on which her life and happiness were to be wrecked. - -The prince and Monina had met with undisguised delight. No Clifford -would now dare traduce her; she need not banish herself from countries -where his name enriched the speech of all men; nor even from that which, -invited by her, he had come to conquer. He was glad to be able to extend -his zealous fraternal protection over her, to feel that he might guard -her through life, despite of the fortune that divided them. He obtained -for her the Lady Katherine's regard, which she sought opportunities to -demonstrate, while they were avoided by Monina, who honoured and loved -her as Richard's wife and dearest friend, yet made occasion to absent -herself from both. Nothing beautiful could be so unlike as these two -fair ones. Katherine was the incarnate image of loveliness, such as it -might have been conceived by an angelic nature; noble, soft, equable -from her tender care not to displease others; in spite of the ills of -fate, gay, because self-satisfied and resigned; the bright side of -things was that which she contemplated: the bright and the -tranquil--although the hazards run by him she loved, at this period -informed her thoughts with terror. Monina--no, there was no evil in -Monina; if too much self-devotion, too passionate an attachment to one -dear idea, too enthusiastic an adoration of one exalted being, could be -called aught but virtue. The full orbs of her dark eyes, once flashing -bright, were now more serious, more melancholy; her very smile would -make you weep; her vivacity, all concentred in one object, forgot to -spend itself on trifles; yet, while the princess wept that Richard -should encounter fruitless danger for a mistaken aim, gladness sat on -Monina's brow: "He goes to conquer; God will give victory to the right: -as a warrior he treads his native land; as a monarch he will rule over -her. The very name of king he bears will shame the lukewarm English; -they will gather round the apparent sun, now that he shows himself -unclouded, leaving the false light, Tudor, to flicker into its native -nothingness." - -"Monina," said the prince, "you in the wide world can bestow richest -largess on the beggar. King Richard." She looked on him in wonder. "I go -to conquer or to die: this, lovely one, is no new language for you; a -warrior's friend must hear such words unflinching. I die without a fear -if you take one charge upon you." Her beaming, expressive eyes replied -to him. He continued: "The Adalid and safety are images most firmly -united in my mind; if I cannot find security on board of her myself, let -those dear to me inherit my possession there. The hardest thought that I -bear with me, is that my fair queen should become captive to my -base-minded foe. May I not trust that if I fall, the Adalid will be her -home and refuge to convey her to her native country, or any whither she -may direct? I intrust this charge to you, my sister, my far more than -sister, my own kind Monina. You will forget yourself in that fateful -hour, to fulfil my latest wish?" - -"My prince," she replied, "your words were cruel, did I not know that -you speak in over-care, and not from the impulse of your heart. In the -same spirit, I promise that your desire shall be accomplished: if you -fall, my father will protect--die for my lady the queen. But why speak -these ill-omened words? You will succeed; you will hasten the lagging -hand of Fate, and dethrone one never born to reign, to bestow on England -its rightful king. The stars promise this in their resplendent, -unfailing scrowl--the time-worn student in his lore has proclaimed -it--the sacred name of monarch which you bear is the pledge and -assurance of predestined victory." - -"And you, meanwhile, will stay, and assure Katherine's destiny?" - -"My dear lord, I have a task to accomplish. If I leave her grace, it is -because all spirits of good and power watch over her, and my weak -support is needed elsewhere. I am bound for London." - -They parted thus. The temerity of their designs sometimes inspired them -with awe; but more usually animated them to loftier hopes. When the -thickening shadows of "coming events" clouded their spirits, they took -refuge in the sun-bright imaginations which painted to each the -accomplishment of their several hopes. Monina felt assured that the hour -of victory was at hand. Richard looked forward to a mortal struggle, to -be crowned with success: a few short weeks or briefer days would close -the long account: his word redeemed, his honour avenged, he looked -forward to his dear reward: not a sceptre--that was a plaything fit for -Henry's hand; but to a life of peace and love; a very eternity of sober, -waking bliss, to be passed with her he idolized, in the sunny clime of -his regretted Spain. - - - - -CHAPTER XLIV - -A CHALLENGE - - - Oh, that stern, unbending man! - In this unhappy marriage what have I - Not suffered--not endured! - - SCHILLER'S WALLENSTEIN. - - - Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more, - Or close the wall up with our English dead! - - SHAKSPEARE. - - -The lapse of years had confirmed Henry on his throne. He was -extortionate and severe, it is true; and thus revolts had been frequent -during the earlier portion of his reign; but they took their rise in a -class which, even in modern days, it is difficult to keep within the -boundaries of law. The peasantry, scattered and dependent on the nobles, -were tranquil: but artificers, such as the miners of Cornwall, who met -in numbers, and could ask each other, "Why, while there is plenty in the -land, should we and our children starve? Why pay our hard earnings into -the regal coffers?" and, still increasing in boldness, demand at last, -"Why should these men govern us?" - - - "We are many--they are few!" - - -Thus sedition sprung from despair, and assumed arms; to which Henry had -many engines to oppose, bulwarks of his power. A commercial spirit had -sprung up during his reign, partly arising from the progress of -civilization, and partly from so large a portion of the ancient nobility -having perished in the civil wars. The spirit of chivalry, which -isolates men, had given place to that of trade, which unites them in -bodies. - -Among these the White Rose of England had not a single partizan--the -nobles who once had upheld the house of York were few; they had for the -last eight years been intent upon restoring their fortunes, and were -wholly disinclined to the endangering them afresh for a stranger youth. -When Fitzwater, Stanley, and their numerous fellow-conspirators and -fellow-victims, sided with the duke of York, nearly all England -entertained a timid belief in his identity with lung Edward's lost -son--but those times were changed. Many were glad to soothe their -consciences by declaring him an impostor; many so desired to curry -favour with Henry; a still greater number either feared to say their -thought, or were averse to disturb the tranquillity of their country by -a contest which could benefit one man alone, and which must entail on -them another war like that so lately ended. Abroad, in France, Burgundy, -and Scotland, the prince might be discountenanced from political -motives; but he was treated with respect, and spoken of as being the man -he named himself: in England it was otherwise--contempt followed hard -upon fear, giving birth to derision, the best weapon against the -unhappy, which Henry well knew how to wield. He had two motives in -this--one was, that by affixing disgrace and scorn to his adversary, he -took away the glitter of his cause, and deterred the young and ambitious -from any desire to share in his obloquy. The other was a feeling -deeper-rooted in his mind--an intense hatred of the house of York--an -exultation in its overthrow and disgrace--a gloating over every -circumstance that blotted it with ignominy. If Richard had really been -an impostor, Henry had not used half the pains to stigmatize him as -low-born--to blast his pride with nicknames, nor have looked forward -with the joy he now did, to having him in his power--to the -degradation--the mortal stain of infamy he intended to taint him with -for ever. - -Secure in power--fearless of the result, Henry heard with unfeigned joy -that his young rival had landed in England, and was advancing into the -interior of the island, at the head of the Cornish insurgents. He -himself announced the rising to his nobles. Laughing, he said, "I have -tidings for you, gentlemen, a flight of wild geese clad in eagles' -feathers, are ready to pounce upon us. Even now they hover over our good -city of Exeter, frighting the honest burghers with their dissonance." - -"Blackheath will witness another victory," said Lord Oxford. - -"And my kitchen receive a new scullion," replied the king; "since -Lambert Simnel became falconer, our roast meat thinks itself dishonoured -at not being spitted by a pretender to my crown; for no Audley heads -these fellows, but the king of Rakehells himself, the most noble Perkin, -who, to grace the more the unwashed rogues, calls himself Richard the -Fourth for the nonce. I have fair hope to see his majesty this bout, if -he whiz not away in a fog, or sink underground like Lord Lovel, to the -disappointment of all merry fellows who love new masks and gaudy -mumming." - -"Please your majesty," said the young Lord William Courtney, "it is for -the honour of our house that not a stone of Exeter be harmed. With your -good leave, my father and myself will gather in haste what force we may: -if fortune aid us, we may present your grace with your new servitor." - -"Be it so, my lord," replied the king, "and use good despatch. We -ourselves will not tarry: so that, with less harm to all, we may tread -out these hasty lighted embers. Above all, let not Duke Perkin escape; -it is my dearest wish that he partake our hospitality." - -"Yes," so ran Henry's private thoughts; "he must be mine, mine alive, -mine to deal with as I list." With even more care than he put in the -mustering his army, he ordered that the whole of the southern sea-coast -of England should be guarded; every paltry fishing village had its -garrison, which permitted no boat to put off to sea, nor any to land, -without the strictest investigation; not content with this, he committed -it to the care of his baser favourites to forge some plot which might -betray his enemy without a blow into his hands. - -"Give me your benison, good Bess," said the monarch, with unwonted -gaiety of manner; "with daylight I depart on the ungentle errand of -encountering your brother Perkin." - -Elizabeth, not less timid than she had ever been, was alarmed by his -show of mirth, and by this appellation bestowed on one she knew to be so -near of kin. That very morning she had seen Monina--the enthusiastic -Monina, who, confiding in her royal friend's success, visited London to -watch over the fate of Elizabeth and her children. The queen smiled at -her offers of service; she felt that no such army could endanger Henry's -reign; but she feared for Richard, for her ill-fated brother, who had -now entered the net, for whom she felt assured there was no escape. -Trembling at her own boldness, she answered the king, "Whoever he may -be, you will not destroy him in cold blood?" - -"You would have me spare the impostor?" asked Henry. "Spare him who -claims your son's throne? By Our Lady of Walsingham, the maternal -virtues of the daughter of York deserve high praise." - -Elizabeth, dreading more to offend, horror-struck at the idea that her -husband should shed her brother's blood, burst into tears. "Silly girl," -said Henry, "I am not angry; nay, more, I grant your prayer. Perkin, if -not slain by a chance blow, shall live. My word is passed, trust to it; -I neither inquire nor care whether he be the godson or the base brat of -the libertine Edward. In either case, my revenge stoops not so low as -his paltry life: does this content you?" - -"May the saints bless your grace," said Elizabeth, "you have eased my -every fear." - -"Remember then that you prove no ingrate," continued the king, "no dupe -of report, no traducer of your children's birth. Betray no interest in -the knave's downfall, save as he is my enemy. If you display any emotion -that awakens a doubt that this canker rose be aught in your eyes except -a base pretender--if you mark any feeling but stern contempt for one so -vile--tremble. My vengeance will fall on him; and his blood be on your -head." - -"Magnanimous prince!" thought Elizabeth, in bitter scorn, when he had -left her: "this is your mercy. You fear! My poor Richard--your sister, -a monarch's daughter, is finely taught by this earl's son. But you will -live; then let him do his worst: the queen of England is not quite a -slave; if Henry can bind, Elizabeth may loose; and the duke of York -laugh in another land at the malice of his enemy." - -We return to this prince, whose lofty spirit was sustained by an aim, an -object dearer than a kingdom in his eyes. He arrived before Exeter at -the head of seven thousand men. All the discontented in Cornwall and -Devonshire joined him. Some of these were younger brothers; some -men-at-arms who repined at peace; chiefly they were needy, oppressed -men, roused by a sense of wrong, as destitute, but not so hardy as the -kerns of Ireland. Still they were many, they were valiant; Exeter was -ungarrisoned, unprepared for defence, and there was a possibility that -by sudden assault, he might possess himself of the town. With this -intent he did not allow his troops time to repose, but at once set on -for the attack, endeavouring to scale the lofty walls; unaided by any -fitting machinery, scarcely possessed of a single scaling ladder, he was -driven back with loss. Foiled, but not vanquished, for his heart was set -upon this prize, for three days, though unpossessed of artillery or any -warlike engine, he exerted his utmost force to win the city; he -contrived rude machinery to cast stones, he planted the ladders himself, -he multiplied himself to appear everywhere, flattering, encouraging, -leading his troops again and again to the assault. When they found the -walls impregnable, he made an attempt on the gates; with fascines and -hewed trees he set one of them on fire; his men shouted as they heard -the stout oak crackle, and saw it split and crumble, offering a large -opening; but the citizens, made desperate, fearful of the ravages this -untamed multitude might commit, were true to themselves; they resisted -fire by fire, keeping up a fierce blaze within, till with piles of brick -and rubbish they had blocked the passage. Richard saw his last hope -fail. "This is not the work of the burghers," he cried, "a soldier's -skill is here." - -"True as my old yard measure!" cried Heron. "It was but last night that -my cousin, the earl of Devon, clambered into the city; he came to the -northern wall, where Skelton keeps watch; when my valiant tailor heard -the noise, he ran to look for Master Trereife, who, poor fellow, lies -cold within the moat. The citizens heard and answered my cousin the -earl's call; but they were too frightened to let light through the -keyhole of a postern; and his lordship, God save him! was obliged to -climb the battlements." - -"Climb the battlements, noble captain?" said Richard; "that is, a ladder -was let down!" - -"It was a stone ladder he scaled, my liege," said Heron; "your grace may -walk up the same. It will scarce budge, seeing that it is the old part -of the wall itself." - -"Who knows more of this?" asked the prince. - -"I saw the whole," said Skelton; "That is the end. Master Trereife was -dead for the nonce, so I came back to lead my men to the fray. There was -the earl, perched like a crow, on the boughs of an old thorn-bush that -grows at the top of the wall. Surely he must have torn his cloak, for -the place is thick with all manner of weeds, and rough stones, and -brambles. But more than his broadcloth got a hole; for Clim of -Tregothius handled his bow, and let fly a cloth-yard shaft, which was -sticking in his shoulder as he got down the other side." - -While the tailor talked, Richard was proceeding hastily to the spot. It -looked tranquil. The old crumbling wall was green with rank grass and -tangled weeds. He drew nearer, and then a whole shower of arrows was -discharged against him. The earl had expected that his success would -excite their curiosity, and prepared for them, with not the less zeal on -account of his own wound. Richard escaped unhurt; but Edmund, who was -scantily armed, received an arrow in his side--he fell. That same hour -tidings came of the advance of King Henry at the head of a formidable -army. - -Plantagenet's wound was dressed; it showed signs of danger, and quite -disabled him. "My faithful fellows swear to preserve you in safety, -cousin," said Richard; "I must leave you." - -"Do you retreat?" asked Edmund. - -"No, by my soul! Truly, my hopes have somewhat quailed; yet it is but a -lucky blow, and I gain all. I leave you, my friend; but I will not leave -you in doubt and ignorance. Read this paper: it is to enforce its -contents--to oblige my haughty foe to lay aside his worst weapon, -detraction, that I, against all probability and wisdom, will urge my -cause to the last. My kingdom, it is his; my honour he must restore, and -I cry him quits. Now you have my secret. Pardon for my poor fellows; -pardon, and some alleviation of their cruel lot. For myself, as you will -find, I ask little, but I must show no fear, no retreating, to obtain -even that. I march forwards, then, towards Taunton: it is a less place -than Exeter. The smallest secure port gained, and Henry may grant my -boon." - -Plantagenet unfolded the paper, and read these words:-- - - -"Richard, legitimate and true son of Edward the Fourth, king of England -and France, and lord of Ireland, to Henry, the reigning sovereign of -these realms. In my infancy I was made a prisoner by a usurping uncle, -escaping from his thrall by aid of the most noble earl of Lincoln. This -uncle, this usurper, you conquered, and seized upon his crown. You claim -the same by right of Bolingbroke, and strengthen your title through your -union with my sister, the Lady Elizabeth. I am poor, and an -outcast--you a king. God has destroyed my house, and I submit. But I -will not submit to the vile slander that takes from me my name, and -brands me a dishonoured man. - -"Henry of Richmond, I neither admit nor combat your claim to the crown. -Lancaster has many partisans, and the victory is yours. But as duke of -York, I challenge and defy you. I call on you, either by person or by -champion, to meet me in the lists, that I may defend my honour and -maintain the right. Let us spare the people's blood. In single combat -let my pretensions be set at issue; and my good sword shall cut to -pieces the wicked lies and base traditions you have calumniously and -falsely forged to my disgrace. - -"Body to body, I will meet you or your champion. Name the day, the hour, -and the place. With my lance and my sword, to the death I will maintain -my birth. If I fall, I ask that my wife, the Lady Katherine Gordon, be -permitted to return to her royal cousin, James of Scotland; that such of -my followers as desire it, may be allowed to go beyond seas; that those -of your subjects, who, goaded into rebellion by your exactions, have -taken up arms, receive free pardon and remission of their imposts. If I -conquer, I add but one other demand--that you confess to the wide world -how foully you have slandered me; revoke the lies you have published, -and acknowledge me to all men, the rightful duke of York. - -"If you deny my just demands, be the blood spilt in defence of my honour -on your head; England ravaged, your towns destroyed, your realm subject -to all the calamities of war; these evils rest with you. I will not -sheathe my sword, nor tread one backward step in my undertaking; but as -in the lists, so on the dread battle-field, meet your abettors, and -conquer or die in defence of my name. Expecting a fitting answer to this -just defiance, I bid you heartily farewell. - - "RICHARD. - -"Written under the walls of Exeter, this twelfth day of September, in -the year of our Blessed Lord, 1497." - - -Plantagenet was deeply affected by his cousin's gallantry. He sighed, -saying, "Tudor has not, will not reply to your challenge?" - -"He has not, but he may," replied Richard. "I have, I know not why, a -firm belief that good will come from it. If not, in a few days all will -be over. In a very few days you can be conveyed to St. Michael's Mount, -where the queen now is. The Adalid hovers near. Save her, save yourself: -save one other, less helpful than my Katherine--be a brother to -Monina." - -Richard, erring in his mark, was animated by the most sanguine hopes, to -which he was seduced by a constant belief that his life was not near its -close, and therefore that his claims would be admitted: as otherwise he -had resolved to fall in the assertion of them. Leaving the sick couch of -his cousin, he prepared to advance to Taunton. A conversation meanwhile -which he dreamt not of, and would have scorned, had taken place in an -obscure and gloomy spot in London, fraught with fate to him. - -After the base desertion of his royal master, Frion had sailed to -England with the other hirelings of Henry; among these was -Clifford--Clifford, whose need and whose malice armed him against -York's life, but who tried to hide his shame under an assumed -appellation. There had always been a false fellowship and a real enmity -between Frion and the knight. On his first arrival in Brussels, the -secretary looked on him as an interloper; and Clifford, while he used -the other, tried to force him into his place as an underling, and to -blind him to his own designs. When he betrayed his party, spreading -death among the partizans of York, and annihilating the cause, Frion, -whose fortunes depended on its success, was unmeasured in his -expressions of indignation and contempt. They had worked in direct -opposition the year before in Kent: and, when Frion saw the hand of this -reprobated man uplifted in midnight assassination, he triumphed in the -lowness of his fall. Both were traitors now, both baffled: Frion looked -on Clifford as the worse villain; and Clifford writhed under the -familiar impertinence of a menial. They arrived in London; Sir Robert -was dismissed with barren thanks, Frion thrown into prison; how far the -knight's account gave intimation of the Frenchman's double-dealing, and -so brought this severity upon him was not known, but for three months -this mercurial spirit had languished in confinement. - -Addicted to scheming, he had now full leisure to spend his whole -thoughts that way; a single, simple plot was too plain for his -industrious soul; he wore a whole web of them so intricate, that he -sometimes lost the clue himself; not the less did he do his endeavour to -put them in action. He intended either to lose Richard or make him; -either to be the cause of his overthrowing Henry, or of being overthrown -by him; in either case, to reap favour and advantage from the triumphant -party. - -Sad as is ever a prison-house, it was worse in those days of -incivilization: this pen could ill describe the squalid figures and dire -visages that crowded its tumultuous court. Even here Frion reigned -umpire; but he broke from a knot of noisy squabblers, who held tattered -cards, and appealed to him on a question of fair-play, as he saw one -enter. Even he a wretch, yet many degrees better than the best of his -miserable companions; a scarlet suit, trimmed with gold lace, somewhat -tarnished, a cloak of ample folds, but threadbare, a dark plumed bonnet, -drawn over his brow, above all, a rapier at his side, distinguished him -from the prisoners. "This is kind, Sir Robert," said Frion in his -softest manner, "I half feared you were too proud or politic to visit a -disgraced man; for these last three days I have despaired of your -worship; by my fay! you are right welcome." - -Clifford cast a shuddering look around the walls; his eyes were hollow; -his cheek sunk; he was the mere shadow of bold Robert. "Few words are -best thanks, Master Stephen," he replied; "I am kind to you because the -dice are cruel to me; you promise largely, and my wants are no dwarfs. -What are your designs?" - -"This is no place for parley," said Frion; "follow me." He led the way -through several narrow passages to a miserable cell; straw was heaped in -one corner for a bed; the walls were dank and tattered; the floor broken -and filthy. "Welcome to my domicile, sir knight," said Frion: whether it -were compunction that he had brought him to this, or distrust that the -injury would be revenged, Clifford shrunk back and his lips grew livid. -"One would not live here from choice," said Frion, "I allow; yet do not -grudge me a few moments, it may stead us both." - -"To the point then," said the knight; "it is not the place, Master -Frion; but at the hour of noon--" - -"No excuses, you like the place as ill as I," said the Frenchman, with a -bland smile; "but you are more generous, for I would not dwell an -instant's space here of my own will to gain any man's salvation. Now, -what news from the west? Is it true that the duke of York is slain? or -Exeter taken? both reports are rife. Adam Wicherly and Mat Oldcraft made -their escape two days ago, to join the gallant. Mat was seized again, -and says that there were bonfires in Southwark for Richard the Fourth." - -Clifford, by a brief detail, answered, and then after some hesitation -said, "He is not so low but that the king desires him to be lower: he -who could bring him, bound hand and foot, to London, would be made a -man. Empson saw Garthe yesterday; and he, who calls me Wiatt, came post -to consult with me; but it were hazardous to attempt him; he is ten -thousand strong." - -"You know me, Sir Robert," said Frion; "there are few things I cannot -bring about, so that I have room to ruffle in. I have a plot, King -Richard is ours in three days, so one word be said; that word is liberty -to me. Take you the reward; I ask no further share in your gains than -free leave to set the channel between me and this dingy island." - -Each despising, each mistrusting the other, these men conspired for the -prince's fall: like "mousing owls" they hawked at an eagle with too true -an aim. York's thoughts were of honour; but through them they were to be -drugged with ignominy and despair. It is melancholy that circumstance -and fortune should have power to reach the very shrine of our dearest -thoughts; degrading them from their original brightness to a likeness of -the foul aspect of the outer world. Richard's free and noble spirit was -to become plastic to the touch of such men as the fallen Clifford and -crafty Frion. Men, whom he had cast from him as unworthy his regard, -could besiege the citadel of his hopes, and garrison it with disgrace; -forcing him to occupy himself with ideas as base as those which -possessed their own minds. It is the high heart's curse to be obliged to -expend its deep and sacred emotions in hatred of, or struggle with -things so mean, so very alien to its own aspiring nature. - - - - -CHAPTER XLV - -ARRIVAL AT TAUNTON - - - Ah! Richard, with the eyes of heavy mind, - I see thy glory, like a shooting star, - Fall to the base earth from the firmament. - - SHAKSPEARE. - - -Richard proceeded towards Taunton. Although this was in appearance an -advance, his ill success before Exeter, and report of the large force -already brought against them by Sir John Cheney, King Henry's -chamberlain, had so far discouraged his followers as to occasion the -desertion of many, so that of the seven thousand he had with him in -Devonshire, he retained but three on his arrival near Taunton. These -consisted of the original body of insurgents, Cornishmen, who had -proceeded too far to go back, and who, partly in affection for their -leader, partly from natural stubbornness, swore to die in the cause. -Poor fellows! rusty rapiers, and misshapen lances were their chief arms; -a few had bows; others slings; a still greater number their ponderous -tools, implements of labour and of peace, to be used now in slaughter. -Their very dress displayed at once their unmartial and poverty-stricken -state. In all these might be gathered a troop of three hundred foot, not -wholly destitute of arms and discipline. The horse were not less at -fault; yet among them there were about one hundred tolerably mounted, -the riders, indeed, but too frequently disgracing their steeds. - -It required all Richard's energy of purpose to hold him back from -despair. The bitter sense of degradation visited him in spite of every -effort. Had he ever made one of the chivalry of France and Burgundy? Had -he run a tilt with James of Scotland, or grasped in knightly brotherhood -the mailed hand of Sir Patrick Hamilton? And were these his comrades? -unwashed artificers; ragged and rude peasants; vulgar-tongued traders? -He felt "in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes;" and now to obtain -pardon for them, to send them back scathless to their own homes, was his -chief desire, even to the buying of their safety with his own downfall. - -After a two days' march he arrived near Taunton. On reconnoitring the -town, its position and weakness gave him hope that he might carry it, -even with his sorry soldiery. To check these thoughts, tidings came, -that Sir John Cheney was in close neighbourhood, and Henry himself -advancing with a chosen body of men. On the evening of their arrival -before the town, a detachment of the enemy entered it, cutting off the -last hope of Richard. - -The next morning it became evident that the crisis of his fortunes was -at hand. The whole country teemed with soldiery. As the troops poured -towards a common centre, the array and order of a battle-field became -apparent in their operations. A battle, between a very myriad of -golden-spurred knights, armed at all points, and the naked inhabitants -of Richard's camp! call it rather a harvest; there were the -reapers, here the bending corn. When in the north Richard wept -over the devastation of the land, he felt that a word of his could -counteract the harm--but now, his challenge had proved an airy -dagger--substance-less--his resolve to encounter his foe, bringing the -unarmed against these iron-suited warriors, grew in his eyes into -premeditated murder: his heart heaved in his overcharged breast. To add -bitterness to his thoughts there were his companions--O'Water brave in -despair; Astley pale with fear for his lord; Heron foolish in his -unmeaning boasting; Skelton trembling in every joint, and talking -incessantly, apparently to deafen himself to "the small still voice" -that whispered terror to his heart. - -Richard spent the day among his men. They were prepared to fight; if -needs must, to fall: protestations of sturdy devotion, the overflowing -of the rude, manly heart, always affecting, met him at every turn. He -was beloved, for he was generous and kind. Often he had exposed his -life, when before Exeter, to save some one among them: when dismayed, he -had cheered, when defeated, he had comforted them; nor did he leave the -body of the meanest camp-follower uninterred; for one of Richard's -characteristics was a quick sympathy with his species, and a reverence -for all that bore the shape of man. But, while these qualities rendered -him dear to all, they inspired him with a severe sense of his duties -towards others, and a quick insight into their feelings; thus increasing -to anguish the disquietude that agitated him. - -Towards evening he was alone in his tent. At first he was confused by -the various aspects, all terrible, that his fortunes assumed. By the -caprice of destiny, he, who was descended from a line of kings, who had -so long been the inhabitant of courts, a cavalier, honourable in his -degree, renowned for his prowess, had not one noble-born partizan near -him: not one of his ancient counsellors, to whom he had been used to -defer, remained; he was absolutely alone; the sense of right and justice -in his own heart was all he possessed, to be a beacon-light in this -awful hour, when thousands depended upon his word--yet had he the power -to save? - -An idea, dim at first as a star on the horizon's verge, struggling -through vapours, but growing each second brighter and clearer, dawned -upon his mind. All then was over! his prophetic soul had proved false in -its presumed foreknowledge; defeat, dishonour, disgrace tracked his -steps. To lead his troops forth, and then to redeem them at Henry's -hand, by the conditionless surrender of himself, was the thought, child -of despair and self-devotion, that, still struggling with the affections -and weaknesses of his nature, presented itself, not yet full fledged, -but about to become so. - -He had been several times interrupted during his meditations by the -arrival of scouts, with various reports of the situation and proceedings -of the enemy: Richard, better than these untaught recruits, knew the -meaning of the various operations. As if on a map, he saw the stationing -of a large and powerful army in expectation of battle; and was aware how -incapable he was to cope with their numbers and force. At last Astley -announced the arrival of two men: one was a Fleming, known to Richard as -one of Lalayne's men, but the fellow was stupidly drunk; the other was -an English peasant. "Please your worship," he said, "I am this man's -guide, and must act as his interpreter besides; nothing would serve the -spungy fellow but he must swallow ale at every tavern on the way." - -"Speak, then," said Richard; "what is the purport of his journey?" - -"Please you, sir, last night three hundred of them came right pop upon -us afore we were aware: sore afraid they made us with their tall -iron-shafted poles, steel caps, and short swords, calling each one for -bread and beer." - -"Do you mean," cried the prince, his eye brightening as he spoke, "that -three hundred men, soldiers, armed like yonder fellow, are landed in -England?" - -So the countryman averred; and that even now they were but at the -distance of twenty miles from Richard's encampment. They were still -advancing, when the report was spread that the prince's forces were -dispersed, himself taken prisoner. The rustic drew from the Fleming's -pocket a letter, in French, signed by Schwartz, a son of him who fell at -Stoke, a man in high favour with the Lady Margaret of Burgundy. It said -how he had been despatched by her grace to his succour; how intelligence -of the large army of Henry, and his defeat, had so terrified his men, -that they refused to proceed, nay, by the next morning would take their -way back to Poole, where they had landed, unless Richard himself came to -reassure them, and to lead them on. Every word of the letter lighted up -to forgotten joy young Richard's elastic spirit. With these men to aid -him, giving weight and respectability to his powers, he might hope to -enforce the conditions of his challenge. All must be decided on the -morrow; that very hour he would set forth, to return before morning -with these welcome succours. - -It was near midnight; his camp was still: the men, in expectation of the -morrow's struggle, had retired to repose; their leaders had orders to -visit their commander in his tent at the hour which now the empty -hour-glass told was come. Hastily, eagerly, Richard announced the -arrival of these German mercenaries; he directed them to accompany him, -that with some show of attendance he might present himself to Schwartz. -The camp was not to be disturbed; two or three men alone among them were -awakened, and ordered to keep guard--in five hours assuredly he must -return. In a brief space of time, the troop who were to accompany him, -Heron, Skelton, O'Water, and Astley, with some forty more, led their -horses to his tent in silence:--there were few lights through all the -camp; their honest hearts which beat within slept, while he was awake to -succour and save them. This was Richard's last thought, as, mounted on -his good steed, he led the way across the dim heath towards Yeovil. - -It was such a night as is frequent at the end of September; a warm but -furious west-wind tore along the sky, shaking the dark tresses of the -tress, and chasing the broad shadows of the clouds across the plains. -The moon, at the beginning of her third quarter, sped through the sky -with rapid silvery wings; now cutting the dark, sea-like ether; now -plunging deep amidst the clouds; now buried in utter darkness; anon -spreading a broad halo among the thinner woof of vapours. The guide was -at the prince's side; Heron, upon his short, sturdy pony, was just -behind; Skelton tried to get his tall mare to an even pace with -Richard's horse, but she fell back continually: the rushing, howling -wind and rustling trees drowned the clatter of the hoofs. They reached -the extreme edge of the common; Richard turned his head--the lights of -his little camp burnt dim in the moonshine, its poor apparel of tents -was lost in the distance: they entered a dark lane, and lost sight of -every trace of it; still they rode fleetly on. Night, and the obscure -shapes of night around--holy, blinding, all-seeing night! when we feel -the power of the Omnipotent as if immediately in contact with us; when -religion fills the soul, and our very fears are unearthly; when familiar -images assume an unknown power to thrill our hearts; and the winds and -trees and shapeless clouds have a voice not their own, to speak of all -that we dream or imagine beyond our actual life. Through embowered -lanes, whose darkness seemed thick and palpable--over open, moonshiny -fields, where the airy chase of clouds careered in dimmer shapes upon -the earth--Richard rode forward, fostering newly-awakened hope; glad in -the belief that while he saved all who depended on him, he would not -prove a mere victim led in tame submission, an unrighteous sacrifice to -the Evil Spirit of the World. - - - - -CHAPTER XLVI - -A PRISONER - - - Art thou he, traitor! that with treason vile - Hast slain my men in this unmanly manner, - And now triumphest in the piteous spoil - Of these poor folk; whose souls with black dishonour - And foul defame do deck thy bloody banner? - The meed whereof shall shortly be thy shame, - And wretched end which still attendeth on her. - With that himself to battle he did frame; - So did his forty yeomen which there with him came. - - SPENSER. - - -Some miles to the east of Yeovil there was a deep stream, whose -precipitous banks were covered by a thick underwood that almost -concealed the turbid waters, which undermined and bared the twisted and -gnarled roots of the various overhanging trees or shrubs. The left side -of the stream was bounded by an abrupt hill, at the foot of which was a -narrow pathway; on the green acclivity flourished a beech grove, whose -roots were spread in many directions to catch the soil, while their -trunks, some almost horizontal, were all fantastically grown, and the -fairy tracery of the foliage shed such soft, mellowed, chequered light -as must incline the heart of the wanderer beneath the leafy bower to -delicious musings. - -Now the moon silvered the trees, and sometimes glimmered on the waters, -whose murmurs contended with the wind that sung among the boughs: and -was this all? A straggling moonbeam fell on something bright amid the -bushes, and a deep voice cried, "Jack of the Wynd, if thou can'st not -get to thicker cover, pluck darnels to cover that cursed steel cap of -thine." - -"Hush!" repeated another lower voice, "your bawling is worse than his -head-piece; you outroar the wind. How high the moon is, and our friends -not come;--he will be here before them." - -"Hark! a bell!" - -"Matins, by the Fiend! may _he_ seize that double-tongued knave! I much -suspect Master Frion; I know him of old." - -"He cannot mar us now, though it be he who made this ambushment." - -"Oh, by your leave! he has the trick of it, and could spring a mine in -the broadest way; he can turn and twist, and show more faces than a die. -He this morn--I know the laugh--there is mischief in 't." - -"But, your worship, now, what can he do?" - -"Do! darken the moon; set these trees alive and dancing; do! so play the -Will o' the Wisp that the king shall be on Pendennis and the duke at -Greenwich, and each fancy he is within bow-shot of the other; do! ask -the devil what is in his compact, for he is but the Merry Andrew of -Doctor Frion. Hush!" - -"It is he," said the other speaker. - -A breathless pause ensued; the wind swept through the trees--another -sound--its monotonous recurrence showed that it was a dashing -waterfall--and yet again it grew louder. - -"It is he." - -"No, Gad's mercy, it comes westward--close, my merry fellows, close, -and mind the word! close, for we have but half our number, and yet he -may escape." - -Again the scene sank into silence and darkness: such silence as is -nature's own, whose voice is ever musical: such darkness as the -embowering trees and vast island-clouds made, dimming and drinking up -the radiance of the moon. - -The stillness was broken by the tramp of horses drawing near, men's -voices mingled with the clatter, and now several cavaliers entered the -defile; they rode in some disorder, and so straggling, that it was -probable that many of their party lagged far behind: the principal -horseman had reached midway the ravine, when suddenly a tree, with all -its growth of green and tangled boughs, fell right across the path; the -clatter of the fall deafened the screech which accompanied it, for one -rider was overthrown; it was succeeded by a flight of arrows from -concealed archers. "Ride for your lives," cried Richard: but his path -was crossed by six horsemen, while, starting from the coppice, a band of -near forty men engaged with the van of his troop, who tried to wheel -about: some escaped, most fell. With his sword drawn, the prince rushed -at his foremost enemy; it was a mortal struggle for life and liberty, -for hatred and revenge. Richard was the better swordsman, but his horse -was blown, and half sunk upon his haunches, when pressed closely by the -adversary. Richard saw his danger, and yet his advantage, for his foe, -over-eager to press him down, forgot the ward; he rose on his stirrups, -and grasped his sword with both hands, when a blow from behind, a -coward's blow, from a battle-axe, struck him; it was repeated, and he -fell lifeless on the earth. - -Sickness, and faintness, and throbbing pain were the first tokens of -life that visited his still failing sense; sight and the power of motion -seemed to have deserted him, but memory reviving told him that he was a -prisoner. Moments were stretched to ages while he strove to collect his -sensations; still it was night; the view of fields and uplands and of -the varied moon-lit sky grew upon his languid senses; he was still on -horseback, bound to the animal, and supported on either side by men. As -his movements communicated his returning strength, one of these fellows -rode to impart the tidings to their leader, while the other stayed to -guide his horse; the word "gallop!" was called aloud, and he was urged -along at full speed, while the sudden motion almost threw him back into -his swoon. - -Dawn, which at first seemed to add to the dimness and indistinctness of -the landscape, struggling through the clouds, and paling the moon, -slowly stole upon them. The prince became sufficiently alive to make -observations; he and his fellow-prisoners were five in number only, -their guards were ten; foremost among them was one whom, in whatever -guise, he could not mistake. Each feeling in Richard's heart stimulated -him to abhor that man, yet he pitied him more. Gallant, bold Robin, the -frolicksome page, the merry-witted sharer of a thousand pleasures. Time, -thou art a thief; how base a thief--when thou stealest not only our -friends, our youth, our hopes, but, besides, our innocence; giving us in -the place of light-hearted confidence--guile, distrust, the -consciousness of evil deeds. In these thoughts, Richard drew the -colouring of the picture, from the fresh and vivid tints that painted -his own soul. Clifford's breast had perhaps never been free from the -cares of guilt: he had desired honour; he had loved renown; but the -early development of passion and of talent had rendered him, even in -boyhood, less single-hearted than Richard now. - -Clifford was triumphant; he possessed Monina's beloved--the cause of -his disgrace--bound, a prisoner, and wounded. Why then did pain distort -his features, and passion flush his brow? No triumph laughed in his eye, -or sat upon his lip. He hated the prince; but he hated and despised -himself. He played a dastardly and a villain's part; and shame awaited -even success. The notoriety and infamy that attended on him (exaggerated -as those things usually are, in his own eyes), made him fear to meet, in -the neighbouring villages or towns, any noble cavalier who might -recognise him; even if he saw a party of horsemen on the road he turned -out of it, and thus got entangled among by-paths in an unfrequented part -of the country. They continued the same fast career for several hours, -till they entered a wild dark forest, where the interminable branches of -the old oaks met high-arched overhead, and the paths were beset with -fern and underwood. The road they took was at first a clear and open -glade, but it quickly narrowed, and branched off in various directions; -they followed one of its windings till it abruptly closed: the leader -then reined in, and Clifford's voice was heard. Years had elapsed since -it had met Richard's ear; the mere, as it were, abstract idea of -Clifford was mingled with crime and hate; his voice, his manner, his -look were associated with protestations of fidelity; or, dearer still, -the intercourse of friendship and youthful gaiety; no wonder that it -seemed a voice from the grave to betrayed York. "Halloo!" cried -Clifford, "Clym of the Lyn, my merry man, thou art to track us through -the New Forest to Southampton." - -"Please your knightship," said a shaggy-headed fellow, "our way is -clear, I am at home now: but, by Saint George, we must halt; a thirty -miles' ride since matins, his fast unbroken, would have made Robin Hood -a laggard." - -"What would you eat here?" cried Clifford; "a stoup of canary and beef -were blessings for the nonce; but we must get out of this accursed -wilderness into more Christian neighbourhood before we find our -hostelry." - -Clym of the Lyn grinned. "To a poor forester," said he, "the green-wood -is a royal inn; vert and venison, your worship, sound more savoury than -four smoky walls, and a platter of beef brought in mine host's left -hand, while his right already says--'Pay!'" - -"They would feed me with mine own venison in way of courtesy, even as -the Lion Heart, my namesake and ancestor, was feasted of old; -mine--each acre, each rood, and every noble stag that pastures thereon; -but I am not so free as they; and, mine though this wild wood be, I must -thank an outlaw ere I dine upon my own." - -Thus thought Richard; and at that moment, with his limbs aching through -their bondage, and with throbbing temples, liberty in the free forest -seemed worth more than a kingdom. The bright sun was high--the sky -serene--the merry birds were carolling in the brake--the forest basked -in noon-day, while the party wound along the shady path beneath. The -languid frame of York revived; at first to pain alone, for memory was -serpent-fanged. What bird-lime was this to ensnare the royal eagle! but -soon Despair, which had flapped her harpy wings across his face, -blinding him, fled away; Hope awoke, and in her train, schemes of -escape, freedom, and a renewal of the struggle. - -Meanwhile they threaded many a green pathway, and, after another hour's -ride, arrived at the opening of a wide grassy dell; a deer, "a stag of -ten," leaped from his ferny bed and bounded away; a herd of timid fawns, -just visible in the distance, hurried into the thicket; while many a -bird flew from the near sprays. Here the party halted; first they -unbitted their steeds, and then dismounted the prisoners, binding them -for security's sake to a tree. Richard was spared this degradation, for -still he was a prince in Clifford's eyes; and his extreme physical -weakness, caused by his blow, made even the close watching him -superfluous. He was lifted from his horse, and placed upon the turf, and -there left. While some of his guards went to seek and slay their repast, -others led their animals to a brook which murmured near; all were -variously and busily employed. Clifford alone remained; he called for -water; evidently he was more weary than he chose to own; he took off his -casque: his features were ghastly: there was a red streak upon his brow, -which was knit as if to endurance, and his lips were white and -quivering. Never had crime visited with such torment ill-fated man; he -looked a Cain after the murder; the Abel he had killed was his own fair -fame--the ancestral honour of his race. How changed from when Richard -last saw him, but two years before; his hair was nearly grey, his eyes -hollow, his cheeks fallen in; yet, though thin to emaciation, he had -lost that delicacy and elegance of feature that had characterized him. -Almost without reflection, forgetting his own position in painful -compassion, the prince exclaimed, "Thou art an unhappy man. Sir Robert?" -The knight replied with a ghastly smile, which he meant to be -disdainful. "But now," continued Richard, "while thy visor screened thy -face, I was on the point of taunting thee as a coward, of defying thee -to mortal combat; but thou art miserable, and broken-hearted, and no -match for me." - -Clifford's eyes glared, his hand was upon his sword's hilt: he -recollected himself, replying, "You cannot provoke me, sir, you are my -prisoner." - -"Thy victim, Robin; though once saved by thee: but that is past, and -there is no return. The blood of Stanley, and of a hundred other -martyrs, rolls between us: I conquer my own nature, when even for a -moment I look upon their murderer." - -The weakness of the prince gave a melancholy softness to his voice and -manner; the deep pity he felt for his fallen friend imparted a seraphic -expression to his clear open countenance. Clifford writhed with pain. -Clifford, who, though not quick to feel for others, was all sense and -sensitiveness for himself: and how often in the world do we see -sensibility attributed to individuals, whose show of feeling arises from -excessive susceptibility to their own sorrows and injuries! Clifford -wished to answer--to go away--he was spell-bound; his cowering look -first animated Richard to an effort, which a moment before he would have -ridiculed. "Wherefore," said he, "have you earned all men's hate, and -your own to boot? Are you more honoured and loved than in Brussels? -Scorn tracks you in your new career, and worst of all, you despise -yourself." - -"By St. Sathanas and his brood!" fiercely burst from the knight. Then he -bit his lip, and was silent. - -"Yet, Clifford, son of a noble father, spare yourself this crowning sin. -I have heard from travelled men, that in Heathenesse the unbaptized -miscreant is true to him whose hospitality he has shared. There was a -time when my eyes brightened when I saw you; when the name of Robin was -a benediction to be. You have changed it for the direst curse. Yours are -no common crimes. Foremost in the chronicles, your name will stand as a -type and symbol of ingratitude and treason, written with the blood of -Fitzwater and Stanley. But this is not all. The young and defenceless -you destroy: you have stood with uplifted dagger over the couch of a -sleeping man." - -Clifford had fostered the belief that this vilest act of his life, to -which he had been driven rather by fierce revenge than hope of reward, -was a secret. A moment before he had advanced with hasty and furious -glances towards his enemy. Scarcely had the words passed York's lips, -than a kind of paralysis came over him. His knees knocked together: his -arms fell nerveless to his side. - -"O, man!" continued York, "arouse thy sleeping faculties. Bid the fiend -who tortures thee avaunt! Even now, at the word, he feels his power over -thy miserable soul waver. By Him who died on the Cross, I conjure him to -leave thee. Say thou 'amen' to my adjuration, and he departs. Cast off -the huge burthen of guilt: deliver thy soul into the care of holy men. -As thy first act, depart this spot: leave me. It is I who -command--Richard of York, thy sovereign. Begone; or kneeling at my -feet, seek the grace thou hast so dearly forfeited." - -For a moment it almost seemed as if the wretched man were about to obey; -but at the moment his groom came from the spring, where he had been -watering his horse. The sight of another human being, to witness his -degradation, awoke him to frenzy. He called aloud, "How now, sirrah! -Why, unbit Dragon? Bring him here. I must begone." - -"He can't carry your honour a mile," said the fellow. - -"A miracle," cried Richard; "you repent, Sir Robert." - -"As Lucifer in hell! Look to the prisoner." Clifford vaulted on his -horse: his head was bare, his eyes wild and bloodshot. Clapping spurs to -the jaded animal's side, he put him to his speed, and was gone. - -"His fit is on him!" cried his attendant, "and what are we to do? He -rides a race with the fiend, leaving us to do both their works." More -whisperingly he muttered, "Hold Duke Richard in bonds against his will -may I not. He gave me gold in Flanders; he is a king's son and a belted -knight, and I a poor servitor." - -Richard had conceived a faint hope of working on Clifford's manifest -remorse, and enlisting him again under the banner of the White Rose. His -wonder was great when he saw him flying through the forest with -uncovered head and dishevelled hair; the bridle of his horse in the -groom's hand, while the wearied animal, spurred to speed, threw up his -head, snorting with fear. Not a moment was to be lost, the prince flew -to his comrades in captivity. Already Heron and O'Water had their bonds -cut by the sword of which he possessed himself. Heron, in whose two arms -lay his chief strength, and O'Water, at home in a fray, fired with the -desire of liberty and life, got speedy hold of battle-axes, and stood at -bay. Skelton, the next made free, began to run; but finding his flight -was solitary, he secured a bow and arrows, and betook himself to a -short, sure aim from behind a tree, while he offered up another sigh to -the memory of Trereife. Astley threw himself foremost before his master, -unarmed. The weapons of their guard were chiefly in a heap, and these, -defended by the enfranchised prisoners, were useless to them. Headed by -Clifford's groom, who stood in salutary awe of shedding royal blood, a -parley commenced. He entreated Richard to submit; he told him that the -whole country was in arms against him, his way back to his army beset, -the sea-coasts strictly guarded. What then could he do? - -"Die, in arms and at liberty. Stand back, sirs; what would you do with -me? Your guilty captain has deserted you; is there one of your number -who will raise his accursed weapon against a king and a knight?" - -Clym of the Lyn, and another outlawed forester (Clifford in mustering a -troop had gathered together all manner of wild companions), now appeared -dragging in a fat buck. Clym grinned when he saw the altered state of -things: "Come, my men," he said, "it is not for us to fight King Henry's -battles; the more majesties there be in England, the merrier for us, I -trow; and the wider and freer the range of the king of the New Forest. -Put up your rapiers, and let us feast like brethren; ye may fall to with -your weapons afterwards. Or, if it please your grace to trust to me, I -will lead you where none of the king's men will follow." - -"Wilt thou guide me back to Taunton?" asked the prince. - -"Not for my cap full of rose nobles," replied the outlaw; "the way is -beset: and trust me your worship's men are scattered far and wide ere -this. You are a tall fellow, and I should ill like to see you in their -gripe. Be one of us; you shall be king of the Greenwood-shade; and a -merrier, freer monarch than he who lives at Westminster." - -"Hark!" the word, spoken in a voice of alarm, made the party all ear. -There was a distant tramp--every now and then a breaking of -bushes--and a whole herd of deer came bounding up the glade in flight. -A forester who had rambled further than the rest, rushed back, saying, -"Sixty yeomen of the royal guard! They are coming hitherward. Sir Harry -de Vere leads them--I know his bright bay horse." - -"Away!" - - - - -CHAPTER XLVII - -A DILEMMA - - - He might have dwelt in green forest, - Under the shadows green; - And have kept both him and us at rest, - Out of all trouble and teen. - - OLD BALLAD. - - -It had been the policy of Richard's captors to have remained to deliver -up their prisoners to a stronger force. But most of them were outlaws by -profession, who held the king's men in instinctive horror: these were -the first to fly; the panic spread; those who had no cause to fear fled -because they saw others do so. In a moment the sward was cleared of all -save the prisoners, who hastily bridled their horses, and followed York -down a narrow path into a glen, in an opposite direction from the -approaching troop. With what speed they might they made their way -through the forest, penetrating its depths, till they got completely -entangled in its intricacies. They proceeded for several hours, but -their jaded horses one by one foundered: they were in the most savage -part of the wood: there was no beginning nor end to the prospect of -knotted trunks, which lifted their vast leafy burthen into the air; here -was safety and needful repose. Richard, animated to a sudden effort, -could now hardly keep his seat: the state of their animals was -imperative for a halt; so here, in a wild brake, they alighted near a -running brook; and here O'Water slew a buck, while Astley and Skelton -unbridled their horses, and all set about preparing a most needful -repast. Evening stole upon them before it was concluded; the slant -sun-beams lay in golden glory on the twisted ivy-grown trunks, and -bathed the higher foliage in radiance. By the time their appetites were -satisfied, Heron and Skelton were discovered to be in a sound sleep; it -were as well to follow their example; neither men nor horses could -proceed without repose; darkness also afforded best safety for -travelling. It was agreed that they should pursue their way at midnight; -and so, stretched on the grassy soil, peace and the beauty of nature -around them, each gave himself up to a slumber which, at that extremity -of fatigue, needed no courting. - -All slept, save the prince; he lay in a state of feverish disquietude, -looking at the sky through the leafy tracery overhead, till night massed -and confused every object. Darkest thoughts thronged his mind; loss of -honour, desertion of friends, the fate of his poor men: he was to have -devoted himself to them, but a stream, driven by a thundering avalanche -from its course, had as much power as he to oppose the circumstances -that had brought him from his camp near Taunton, to this secluded spot. -For an interval he gave himself up to a tumult of miserable ideas, till -from the grim troop some assumed a milder aspect, some a brighter hue; -and, after long and painful consideration, he arranged such a plan as -promised at least to vindicate his own name, and to save the lives of -his adherents. Calmed by these thoughts, soothed to repose by the gentle -influence of a south wind, and the sweet monotony of rustling leaves and -running-water, he sank at last into a dreamless sleep. - -A whispering of voices was the first thing that struck his wakening -sense: it was quite dark. "Is Master O'Water come back?" asked Heron. - -"I am here," replied the Irishman. - -"Hast discovered aught?" - -"That the night is dark, and the forest wide," replied O'Water; "had we -a planet to guide us we might hope to reach its skirts. We are worse off -than the Spanish Admiral on the western sea, for the compass was a star -without a cloud to him." - -"Saint Mary save us!" said, or rather whined poor Skelton, "our fortunes -are slit from top to toe, and no patch-work will make them whole." - -"There is hope at the mouth of a culverin," said O'Water, "or at the -foot of the gallows, so that a man be true to himself. I have weathered -a worse day, when the Macarthys swore to revenge themselves on the -Roches." - -"And by our Lady's grace," interrupted Richard, "shall again, worthy -mayor. My good fellows, fear nothing, I will save you; the ocean cannot -be many miles off, for the sun set at our right hand, and blinded our -eyes through the day; the wind by its mildness is southerly; we will -face it. When once we reach the seaside, the shore of the free, wide -ocean, Tudor's power stops short, and ye are safe; of myself there will -then be time to think. Say, shall we proceed now, or give another hour -to repose?" - -All were eager to start, slowly leading their horses through the tangled -paths they could find, the quarter whence the wind blew, their only -guide; morning found them toiling on, but morning diminished half their -labours; and, as the birds twittered, and the east gleamed, their -spirits rose to meet and conquer danger. O'Water was in his native -element, that of hair-breadth escape and peril. As to Heron and Skelton, -they might have flagged, but for Richard; he flattered their pride, -raised their hopes, making weariness and danger a plaything and a jest. -As the sun mounted in the sky, their horses showed many a sign of -weariness; and in spite of a store of venison, which the careful Skelton -had brought away with him, they needed refreshment; each mile lengthened -to ten; each glade grew interminable in their eyes; and the wide forest -seemed to possess all England in its extent. Could the prince's body -have conquered his mind, the White Rose had indeed drooped; he was -parched with fever, and this, preying on his brain, made him the victim -of conflicting thoughts: his heart, his imagination, were in his -deserted camp; even fair Katherine, awaiting tidings of him in her far -retreat, had not such power to awaken anguish in his heart, as the idea -of Henry's vengeance exercised on his faithful, humble friends, whose -father and protector he had called himself. There was disease in the -fire and rapidity with which these ideas coursed through his mind; with -a strong will he overcame them, bent on accomplishing his present -purpose, and rescuing these chief rebels, whose lives were most -endangered, before he occupied himself with the safety of the rest. - -At length, at noon, his quick ear caught a heavy, distant roar. The -trees had begun to be more scattered: they reached the verge of the -forest; they were too weary to congratulate each other; before them was -a rising ground which bounded their view; some straggling cottages -crowned the height; slowly they reached the hill-top, and there beheld -stormy ocean, clipping in the circular coast with watery girdle; at a -crow's flight it might be a mile distant. A few huts and a single black -boat spotted in one place the else desert beach; a south wind swept the -sea, and vast surges broke upon the sands; all looked bleak and -deserted. - -They stopped at a cottage-door, inquiring the road; they heard there was -one, which went three miles about, but that the plain at their feet was -intersected by wide ditches, which their fagged animals could not leap. -Moreover, what hope of putting out to sea, in opposition to the big -noisy waves which the wind was hurrying towards shore! It were safest -and best to take a short repose in this obscure village. Heron and -Skelton entered the poor inn, while Richard waited on his horse, -striving to win him by caresses to taste the food he at first refused. -Heron, who was warm-hearted with all his bluster, brought the prince out -a flagon of excellent wine, such as by some chance--it might be a -wreck--the tide had wafted from the opposite coast: Richard was too ill -to drink; but, as he stood, his arm on his poor steed's neck, the -creature looked wistfully up in his face, averting his mouth from the -proffered grain; half-play fully his master held out to him the -wide-mouthed flagon, and he drank with such eagerness, that Richard -vowed he should have another bottle, and, buying the host's consent with -gold, filled a large can from the wine-cask; the beast drank, and, had -he been a Christian man, could not have appeared more refreshed. The -prince, forgetful of his pains, was amusing himself thus, when Skelton, -pale and gasping, came from the house, and voiceless through fear, laid -one hand on his leader's arm, and with the other pointed: too soon the -hapless fugitive saw to what he called his attention. Along the shore of -the sea a moving body was perceptible, approaching towards them from -west to east, which soon showed itself to be a troop of horse soldiers. -Richard gave speedy order that his friends should assemble and mount, -while he continued to watch the proceedings of the enemy. - -They were about two hundred strong--they arrived at the huts on the -beach, and the prince perceived that they were making dispositions to -leave a part of their number behind. Fifty men were selected, and posted -as patrol--the rest then, moved forward, still towards the east. By -this time the remaining fugitives had mounted, and gathered in one -spot--the villagers also were collecting--Skelton's teeth -chattered--he asked an old woman if there were any sanctuary near. - -"Ay, by our Lady, is there," replied the dame, "sixteen miles along the -coast is the monastery of Beaulieu. A sanctuary for princes; by the same -token that the Lady Margaret, Saint Henry's queen, lived safely therein -spite of the wicked Yorkists, who would have taken her precious life." - -Richard turned quickly round as the woman spoke and heard her words, but -again his eyes were attracted to the coast. As the troop were proceeding -along the sands, the little knot of horsemen perched upon the hill -caught the attention of a soldier. He rode along the lines, and spoke to -the commanding officer; a halt ensued, "We are lost," cried Skelton, "we -are taken, Lord! Lord! will they grant us our lives?" - -"These trees are tempting, and apt for hanging," said O'Water, with the -air of a connoisseur. - -"Oh, for Bewley,--for Bewley, let us ride!" exclaimed Skelton, longing -to go, yet afraid of separating himself from his companions. - -Still the prince watched the movements of the adverse party. Ten men -were detached, and began to advance inland--"Oh, dear, my lord," cried -Astley, "betake yourself to the forest--there are a thousand ways of -baffling these men. I will meet them, and put them to fault. Hide, for -my Lady's sake, ride!" - -"Master Astley is a cunning gentleman," said Skelton; "our horses are -aweary, and a little craft would help us mightily." - -Still Richard's eyes were fixed on the troopers--the men advanced as -far as a broad, deep stream, which intersected the plain; here they -hesitated; one of the best mounted leaped across, the others drew back, -seeking along the steep, shelving banks for a ford, or a narrowing of -the stream. The eyes of the troop on the shore were now turned upon -their comrades. "Our time is come," cried Richard; "back to the forest." -One step took them down the other side of the hill, hiding sea and beach -and enemy from their eyes, and screening them also from observation. -They soon reached the forest, and entered its shade; and then proceeded -along just within its skirts. "Whither?" respectfully O'Water asked, -after Skelton had for some time been muttering many a hint concerning -sanctuary. - -"To Beaulieu," said the prince. "We are barred out from the ocean--we -are beset at land--the little island ycleped sanctuary is all that is -left to ye. God speed us safely hither." - -Richard's horse was lively and refreshed after his generous draught, but -these of the others flagged. The prince exerted himself to keep up the -spirits of all; he rallied Skelton, spoke comfort to Astley, and good -hope to Heron. The sturdy apprentice of danger, flight, and trouble, -O'Water, treated it all as a matter of course--even hanging, if it so -chanced, was but a likely accident--the others needed more -encouragement. Astley feared for his lord, even to an appearance of -timidity, which, though disinterested, had a bad effect on the others. -Heron complained bitterly that his dinner had been left unfinished; -while the poor tailor, now fancying that he would run away from all, now -fearful of solitary misadventure, kept up a garrulous harangue, of which -terror was the burthen and the sum, Richard's voice was cheerful, his -manner gay; but, placing his hand on Astley, it felt scorching; every -moment it required more energy to throw off the clinging lethargy that -fell upon him. It was again evening--a circumstance that had caused -them to enter deeper into the forest; and it was to be feared they had -lost their way. All were weary--all, save Richard, hungry. The breeze -had died away; the air was oppressive, and more and more it felt like a -load intolerable to the prince's burning brow. Night began to close in -so very dark, that the horses refused to go forward. Suddenly a roaring -sound arose, which was not the sea; and, but that the atmosphere was so -still, the wanderers would have said that it was a fierce wind among the -trees. Such must it be, for now it came nearer; like living things, the -vast giants of the forest tossed their branches furiously; and entire -darkness and sudden pouring rain revealed the tempest, which their leafy -prison had before hidden--all was so instantaneous, that it would seem -that nature was undergoing some great revulsion in her laws. The -prince's horse snorted and reared, while O'Water's dashed furiously on, -striking against a tree, and throwing his rider, from whose lips there -escaped a shriek. What would have been the last overflowing drop in the -bitter cup to a weak mind, restored Richard--lassitude and despondency -vanished. In an instant he was off his horse at O'Water's side, speaking -in his own cheerful, kind voice. "Waste no moment on me," cried the -generous mayor. "My leg is broken--I can go no further--speed you, -your highness, to the sanctuary." - -This was the end of hope--the raging storm, the disabled man, dark -night, and Richard's resolve not to desert his follower, all were causes -of terror and of despair. - -A voice in the wood was heard calling aloud; no answer could be -returned; it was repeated, and Astley went forward to reconnoitre--even -an enemy were help in such disaster, yet Heron and Skelton implored him -to remain. Another halloo Richard answered; for he recognized Astley's -voice, who in the dark could not find his way back. He came at last, -accompanied by a monk--this was heaven's favour revealed; for the holy -man was a hermit, and his poor cell was near: poor indeed was it, built -with logs, the interstices filled with mud; a bed of dried leaves was -nearly all the furniture. The hermit had gone on first, and lit a torch; -as they might, they bore along poor O'Water, and placed him in his agony -on the low couch. The hermit looked inquisitively on all the party, -neglecting to answer Skelton, who asked for the hundredth time the -distance to Beaulieu. - -Richard still occupied himself with the mayor, endeavouring to discover -if the limb were broken. "By your leave, your grace," said the hermit, -"I am somewhat of a chirurgeon; I boast of my cures of horses, and have -saved a Christian man ere now." - -Scarcely did the prince remember to wonder at the title by which the -unknown addressed him. By our Lady's love he besought him to attend to -his friend. "Trust me," said the hermit, "I will not fail; but you, my -lord, must not tarry here; the forest is beset with troops; but for -night and storm, you would hardly attain Beaulieu in safety. It is but -two miles distant: I will guide your highness thither; and then return -to your follower. Have faith in me, my lord; I have served your royal -uncle, and was enlisted under your banner last year in Kent. I made a -shift to escape, and took sanctuary; but the stone walls of a monastery -are little better than those of a prison; so I betook me to the woods. -Oh, I beseech you, waste no time: I will return to your follower: he is -safe till then." - -"Direct us, and I will thank you," replied Richard; "but you shall not -desert your patient even for a moment." - -There was no alternative but to comply: the man gave as clear -instructions as he might, and Richard again set forward with his -diminished party. They were long entangled by trees; and it was now -quite night: the excitement over, the prince had drooped again. Even -this interval was full of peril--a tramp of steeds was heard: they drew -up among the trees; a party of horsemen passed; one--could it be the -voice of the subtle Frion?--said, "At the end of this glade we shall -see the abbey spires. Well I know the same; for when Queen -Margaret----" - -This speaker was succeeded by a woman's voice: yet greater wonder, she -spoke in Spanish, in unforgotten accents--Richard's heart stood still, -as he heard them; but soon both voice and tramp of steeds grew faint; -and his brain, becoming more and more bewildered, allowed no thought to -enter, save the one fixed there even in delirium. The fugitives -continued to linger in this spot until it was probable that the -travellers should have arrived. True to the information they had -overheard, the forest opened at the end of the glade into a leafy -amphitheatre; an avenue was opposite, which led to the abbey gates, -whose Gothic spires, buttresses and carved arches, rose above the tufted -trees in dark masses. One end of the building was illuminated--that was -the church, and the pealing organ stole mournfully on the night, -sounding a Miserere; the chaunting of the monks mingled with the -harmonious swell, adding that pathos, that touch of solemn, unutterable -sentiment, which perhaps no music, save that of the human voice, -possesses. Richard's companions were rough-suited, vulgar-minded; but -they were Catholic and religious men, and were awe-struck by this voice -from heaven reaching them thus in their desolation; a voice promising -safety and repose to their harassed, wearied bodies. - -A few steps carried them to the very spot; the bell was rung, the gate -was opened, sanctuary was claimed and afforded. Skelton sprang forward; -the other two hung back; but, on a sign from Richard, they also passed -the sacred threshold "Farewell, my friends," he said, "a short farewell. -Astley, I charge you wait for me. Sir priest, close the gate." - -The word was said, the order obeyed, Richard was left alone in darkness. -"Now for my task--for my poor trusty fellows. The work of murder cannot -yet have begun: my life pays for all. Yet awhile bear me up, thou -fainting spirit; desert not Richard's breast till his honour be -redeemed!" - -Vain prayer!--"I must repose," he thought; "it is of no avail to urge -nature beyond herself; a few minutes, and I am strong." He dismounted, -and, with a sensation of delicious relief, threw himself at his length -on the wet grass, pressing the dank herbage to his fevered brow. At -first he felt recovered; but in a few minutes strong spasms shot through -his frame; and these yielded to a feebleness, that forced him to sink to -the ground, when he endeavoured to rise: he forgot his situation, the -near abbey, his friends; he forgot wherefore, but he remembered that his -presence was required somewhere, and with a resolved effort he rose and -staggered towards his horse--he fell. "A little sleep, and I shall be -well." This was his last thought, and he lay in a state between slumber -and stupor upon the earth. - - - - -CHAPTER XLVIII - -CAPTURE OF KATHERINE - - - If the dull substance of my flesh were thought, - Injurious distance should not stop my way; - For then, despite of space, I would be brought - To limits far remote, where thou dost stay. - - SHAKSPEARE. - - -There is a terror whose cause is unrevealed even to its victim, which -makes the heart beat wildly, and we ask the voiceless thing wherefore; -when the beauty of the visible universe sickens the aching sense; when -we beseech the winds to comfort us, and we implore the Invisible for -relief, which is to speed to us from afar. We endeavour, in our impotent -struggle with the sense of coming evil, to soar beyond the imprisoning -atmosphere of our own identity; we call upon the stars to speak to us, -and would fain believe that mother earth, with inorganic voice, -prophesies. Driven on by the mad imaginings of a heart hovering between -life and death, we fancy that the visible frame of things is replete -with oracles. Or is it true; and do air and earth, divined by the -sorrow-tutored spirit, possess true auguries? At such dread hour we are -forced to listen and believe: nor can we ever afterwards, in common -life, forget our miserable initiation into the mysteries of the -unexplained laws of our nature. To one thus aware of the misfortune that -awaits her, the voice of consolation is a mockery. Yet, even while she -knows that the die is cast, she will not acknowledge her intimate -persuasion of ill; but sits smiling on any hope brought to her, as a -mother on the physician who talks of recovery while her child dies. - -The Lady Katherine had yielded to Richard's wishes, because she saw that -he really desired her absence. Alone in a monastery, in a distant part -of Cornwall, she awaited the fatal tidings, which she knew must come at -last She was too clear-sighted not to be aware, that the armed power of -a mighty kingdom, such as England, must crush at once his ill-organized -revolt. She was prepared for, and ready to meet, all the disasters and -humiliations of defeat; but not to be absent from her husband at this -crisis. She ordered horses to be kept perpetually in readiness, that she -might proceed towards him on the first intimation of change and -downfall. She watched from the highest tower of her abode, the arrival -of messengers: before she dared open her letters, she read in their -faces, what news of Richard? It was a bitter pang to hear that -Plantagenet was dangerously wounded; that the prince had advanced -further forward, at the head of his rabble soldiers. - -She had no friends, save humble ones, and very few of these: they -borrowed their looks from her, yet hoped more than she did. Quickly she -was aware of a change in them: they spoke in a low, subdued voice, as if -awe-struck by some visitation of destiny. That very day letters arrived -from the prince: they were of ancient date, nor could she lay his terms -of endearment and cheering to her heart and be consoled. In the -afternoon a torn, soiled billet was brought her from Edmund. In spite of -his wound, he had dragged himself as far as Launceston, on his way to -her. Forced to stop, he sent her tidings of all he knew--Richard's -mysterious flight, Henry's bloodless victory, the eagerness the king -expressed to learn where she was, and the despatching of troops in -search of her. He besought her to fly. It might be hoped that the prince -had escaped beyond sea, whither she must hasten; or falling into his -enemy's hands, she would never see him more. - -Perplexed and agitated, knowing that dishonour would result from -Richard's strange disappearance, yet persuaded that he had some ulterior -view which it behoved her not to thwart, she hesitated what step to -take. - -An incident occurred to end her uncertainty. Suddenly, in the evening, -Monina stood before her. Monina came with the safety-laden Adalid, to -bear her to the shores of Burgundy. She brought the history of the fraud -practised upon York, of the ambush laid for his life, of his escape, and -the arrival, immediately succeeding to hers, of his followers at the -Abbey of Beaulieu; how the pawing and trampling of a horse at the gates -had brought out the monks, who discovered the hapless prince senseless -on the dark sod. He was carried in, and through her care his name was -entered in the sanctuary. She had attended on his sick couch two days -and nights, when his first return to reason was to implore her to seek -Katherine, to carry her beyond Tudor's power, out of the island prison. -Her father's caravel was hovering on the coast. A favouring south-east -wind bore her to these shores: she came at his desire: the Adalid was -there, and she might sail, not to Burgundy, but even to the spot which -harboured Richard. She also could take sanctuary in Beaulieu. - -The monastery in which the duchess of York had taken refuge was situated -on St. Michael's Mount, not far from the Land's End. The land projects -romantically into the sea, forming a little harbour called Mount's Bay. -Towards the land the acclivity is at first gradual, becoming precipitous -towards the summit: now, at high water, the tide flows between the rock -and the land, but it was in those days connected by a kind of natural, -rocky causeway. Towards the sea it is nearly perpendicular. A strong -fortress was connected with the church; and a stone lantern was attached -to one of the towers of the church. Not far from the castle, in a craggy -and almost inaccessible part of the cliff, is situated Saint Michael's -Chair, which, on account of its dangerous approach, and the traditions -attached to it, became the resort of the pious. Many a legend belonged -to this spot. Its thick woods, the hoar appearance of the crags, the -wide-spread sea, for ever warring against the land, which had thrust -itself out into the watery space, usurping a part of its empire, made it -singularly grand; while the placid beauty of the little bay formed by -the rock, and the picturesque grouping of the trees, the straggling -paths, and numerous birds, added every softer beauty to the scene. - -Often did Katherine watch the changeful ocean, or turn her eyes to the -more grateful spectacle of umbrageous woods, and rifted rock, and seek -for peace in the sight of earth's loveliness. All weighed with tenfold -heaviness on her foreboding soul. For the first time, they wore to her -the aspect of beauty, when now she hoped to leave them. Hopes so soon to -fail. A south wind had borne the caravel swiftly into the bay, but the -breeze increased to a gale, and even while the ladies were making a few -hasty preparations, De Faro had been obliged to slip his moorings, and -run out to sea, to escape the danger of being wrecked on a lee shore. -With a pang of intense misery, Katherine saw its little hull hurry over -the blackening waters, and its single sail lose itself amidst the -sea-foam. The mariner had even, on anchoring, anticipated a storm; he -had informed his daughter of the probability there was, that he should -be driven to seek for safety in the open sea; but he promised with the -first favourable change of wind to return. When would this come? Fate -was in the hour, nor could even Katherine school herself to patience. - -Evening shades gathering round them; the princess, growing each minute -more unquiet and miserable, sought in some kind of activity for relief -to her sufferings. "I will go to Saint Michael's Chair," she said; "good -spirits for ever hover near the sainted spot; they will hear and carry a -fond wife's prayer to the throne of the Eternal." - -In silence Monina followed the lady. They were both mountain-bred, and -trod lightly along paths which seemed scarcely to afford footing to a -goat. They reached the seat of the rock; they looked over the sea, whose -dark surface was made visible by the sheets of foam that covered it; the -roar of waves was at their feet. The sun went down blood-red, and, in -its dying glories, the crescent moon showed first pale, then glowing; -the thousand stars rushed from among the vast clouds that blotted the -sky; and the wind tore fiercely round the crag, and howled among the -trees. O earth, and sea, and sky! strange mysteries! that look and are -so beautiful even in tumult and in storm; did ye feel pain then, when -the elements of which ye are composed battled together? Were ye tortured -by the strife of wind and wave, even as the soul of man when it is the -prey of passion? Or were ye unmoved, pain only being the portion of the -hearts of the two human beings, who, looking on the commotion, found -your wildest rage calm in comparison with the tempest of fear and grief -which had mastery over them. - -Sickened by disappointment, impatient of despair, each remained, -brooding mutely over their several thoughts. - -Poor Katherine; her dearest wish was set upon sharing in all its drear -minutiæ the fortune of her lord, her gallant knight, her most sweet -Richard. He was her husband; he had taken her, timid yet confiding, -from the shelter of her father's roof; they had entered the young -world of hope and hazard together. Custom, the gentle weaver -of soft woman's tenderness, had thrown its silken net over her; -his disasters became hers; his wishes, and their defeat, were -also hers. She only existed as a part of him; while enthusiastic -love made her fondly cling even to the worst that betided, as -better in its direst shape than any misnamed good fortune that -unlinked them. - -"My love, my altar-plighted love! must I then wake and say no good day -to thee; and sleep, my rest unbenisoned by thy good night! The simple -word, the we, that symbolized our common fate, cut in two, each half a -nothing so disjoined." - -While Katherine thus struggled with necessity, Monina was given up to -patience. The present hour had fulfilled its fear; her busy thoughts -fashioned a thousand plans for his escape, or tremblingly painted a dark -futurity. He was a part of her being, though no portion of herself was -claimed by him. She was not his, as a lover or a wife, but as a sister -might be; if in this ill world such heart's concord could exist: a -sharing of fate and of affection, combined with angelic purity. As -easily might she fancy animal life to survive in her body after the soul -had fled, as soon imagine that the beating of her heart could continue -when the living impulse which quickened its palpitations was still, as -that he, her childhood's playfellow, the golden dream of her youth, the -shrine at which she had sacrificed that youth, should die, and she live -on in the widowed world without him. - -The stars glittered over their gentle heads, and the moon went down in -the west; fitful, thread-like rays were shed upon the raging sea, whose -heady billows foamed and roared at their feet: both these fair, gentle -creatures remained, careless of the wild wind that swept their limbs, or -the spray which, high as they stood, besprent their hair: both young, -both lovely, both devoted to one, yet confiding in the reality of virtue -and purity, trusting fully each other, the one accepting the heart's -sacrifice which the other unreservedly made, they watched for the -Adalid, which, a plaything of the waves, was carried afar. Day dawned -before they could resolve to quit this spot; then they took refuge in -the near monastery, and from its towers looked out over the sea. - -A few anxious hours brought the dreaded consummation of their fears. The -ascent of a troop of horse up the steep, told Katherine that she was -discovered. Their sudden appearance before her proved that she was a -prisoner. For the first time she saw the White and Red Rose entwined; -the earl of Oxford was announced to her as their leader, and he soon -appeared to claim his prize. - -Katherine received him with dignified sweetness; she conquered her ill -fate by smiling at its blows, and looked a queen, as she yielded herself -a slave. The watching of the night had all disordered her dress, and -deranged her golden tresses; but her wondrous fairness, the soft -moulding of her face, her regal throat, and arched open brow, bending -over her intelligent, yet soft, blue eyes; her person majestic, even in -its slim beauty, were tokens of a spirit, that in destitution must reign -over all who approached it. - -Her first words, to ease the awe-struck earl, were an entreaty to be -conducted to the king. She showed more earnest desire than he to present -herself to her royal victor. In a very few hours they had descended the -Mount, and hastened out of hearing of the roar of the ocean, which had -so cruelly deceived her hopes. In her eyes could only be read the -mastery she had obtained over her thoughts; no lurking weakness betrayed -fear, or even disappointment, Surely yet she cherished some dear -expectation; yet how, lost to liberty, could she hope to attain it? - -But thus we are, while untamed by years. Youth, elastic and bright, -disdains to be compelled. When conquered, from its very chains it forges -implements for freedom; it alights from one baffled flight, only again -to soar on untired wing towards some other aim. Previous defeat is made -the bridge to pass the tide to another shore; and, if that break down, -its fragments become stepping-stones. It will feed upon despair, and -call it a medicine which is to renovate its dying hopes. - - - - -CHAPTER XLIX - -RICHARD SURRENDERS - - - For, when Cymocles saw the foul reproach - Which him appeached, prick'd with noble shame - And inward grief, he fiercely 'gan approach; - Resolved to put away that loathly blame, - Or die with honour and desert of fame. - - SPENSER. - - -After the prince, by the voyage of Monina, had, as he hoped, provided -for the escape and safety of the Lady Katherine, he could not, all weak -as he was, remain in repose. - -From his early childhood he had been nurtured in the idea that it was -his first, chief duty to regain his kingdom; his friends lived for that -single object; all other occupation was regarded as impertinent or -trifling. On the table of his ductile boyish mind, that sole intent was -deeply engraved by every hand or circumstance. The base-minded -disposition of his rival king adorned his cause with a show of use and -the name of virtue. - -Those were days when every noble-born youth carved honour for himself -with his sword; when passes at arms where resorted to whenever real wars -did not put weapons in their hands, and men exposed their breasts to -sharp-biting steel in wanton sport. Often during his green and budding -youth Richard had gloried in the very obstacles set before him; to be -cast out and forced to redeem his state, was a brighter destiny than to -be lapped in the bosom of guarded royalty. The treason of Clifford and -the sacrifice of devoted friends but whetted his ambition; vengeance, -the religion of that age, being a sacred duty in his eyes. He had been -shaken by Lord Surrey's appeal, but cast the awakened pity off as a -debasing weakness. - -The painted veil of life was torn. His name had not armed the nobles of -his native land, his cause had not been trumpeted with praise nor -crowned by victory; deserted by foreign allies, unsuccessful in Ireland, -he had appeared at the head of a rabble army strong only in wrongs and -in revenge. Even these he had abandoned, and with nameless hinds taken -sanctuary; his story was a fable, his name a jeer; he no longer, so it -seemed, existed; for the appellation of duke of York was to be lost and -merged in the disgraceful misnomer affixed to him by the Usurper. - -Richard was no whining monk to lament the inevitable, and tamely to -await the result. To see an evil was to spur him to seek a remedy: he -had given up every expectation of reigning, except such as sprung from -his right, and faith in the justice of God. But honour was a more valued -treasure; and to his warm heart dearer still was the safety of the poor -fellows abandoned by him. On the third day after his arrival at -Beaulieu, he arose from his sick couch, donned his armour, and, yet pale -and feeble, sent to speak with the cavalier who commanded the party that -guarded all egress from the abbey. With him he held long parley, in -conclusion of which Sir Hugh Luttrel directed three of his followers to -be in readiness, and two of his chosen horses to be led to the abbey -gates. Richard took leave of the abbot; he recommended his poor -followers to him, and lightly answered the remonstrance of the holy man, -who thought that delirium alone could urge the fugitive to quit the -tranquil, sacred spot, where he himself passed his days in quiet, and -which held out so secure a protection to the vanquished. His -remonstrance was vain; one word weighed more with Richard than a -paradise of peace. Infamy, dishonour! No; even if his people were -safe--by throwing himself in the self-same peril to which he had -apparently exposed them, that stain were effaced. The very gentleman to -whom he had surrendered himself had trespassed on his allegiance to -Henry to dissuade him from the fool-hardihood of his adventure. It was a -sight of pity to see one so very young walk voluntarily to the -sacrifice; and the princely mien and youthful appearance of the -self-constituted prisoner wrought all to compassion and respect. For -still this fair White Rose was in the very opening flower of manhood: he -looked, after such variety of fortune, as if evil not only never had, -but never could tarnish the brightness of his spirit or of his aspect; -illness had a little enfeebled him, without detracting from his youthful -beauty, giving rather that softness which made it loveliness, yet -painted fairer by his self-immolating resolve. - - - "A sweet regard and amiable grace, - Mixed with manly sternness did appear," - - -and eagerness withal: for eager he was, even to almost foolish haste, to -redeem the lost hours, and establish himself again no runaway. - -With fresh joy he addressed himself to retrace his steps to Taunton. -Sanctuary and refuge from death--oh! how he trampled on the slavish -thought. Death was to him a word, a shadow, a phantom to deride and -scorn, not an enemy to grapple with; disgrace was his abhorred foe, and -him he thus overthrew. His resolves, inspired by disdain of permitting -one taint to blemish his career, were not the expedients of prudence, -but the headlong exploit of daring youth. The iron must indeed have -entered our souls, and we be tamed from dear, youthful freedom to age's -humble concessions to necessity, before we can bow our head to calumny, -smile at the shafts as they rankle in our flesh, and calmly feel that, -among the many visitations of evil we undergo, this is one we are -compelled to endure. - -Thus he, his gentle guide and followers, travelled towards Taunton. In -all prudence, from the moment they left sanctuary, Sir Hugh Luttrel -ought to have guarded him closely. But even the staid Sir Hugh forgot -this duty; rather was Richard the enforcer of this journey, than his -guard, Richard it was who at night halted unwillingly; Richard who first -cried to horse at morning's dawn; who, in spite of ill-weather, resisted -every delay. As they drew near their bourne, the appellation of Perkin -first met the prince's ear; he was unaware that it had ever been applied -to him except by Henry's written proclamations. It acted as a galling -spur; for he believed, with youth's incapacity of understanding -systematized falsehood, that his presence would put to flight the -many-coloured web of invention, which his rival had cast over him to mar -his truth and obscure his nobility. - -After three days they drew near Taunton. The stubble fields, the flowery -hedges, the plenteous orchards were passed. From a rising ground they -looked upon the walls of the town, and the vacant moor where his camp -had stood. Richard halted, saying--"Sir knight, I will await you -here--do you seek your king: say, I come a voluntary sacrifice, to -purchase with drops of my royal blood the baser tide of my poor -followers. I demand no more--bid him rear the scaffold; let the -headsman sharpen the axe, to lop off the topmost bough of Plantagenet. -The price I ask, is the despised lives of men, who, but that they loved -me, were incapable of merit or of crime in his eyes. For their humble -sakes, like my grandfather York, I am prepared to die. If pledge of this -be denied me, I still am free. I wear a sword and will sell my life -dearly, though alone." - -Sir Hugh Luttrel was perplexed. He knew the stern nature of his royal -master, and how heavily he would visit on him any disappointment in his -dearest wish of obtaining possession of his rival's person. The prince -had, during their three days' companionship, gained great power over -him: he felt that he was in truth the son of Edward the Fourth, a man he -had never loved (for Sir Hugh was a Lancastrian), but one whom he had -feared and obeyed as his sovereign. How could he put slavish -force upon his gallant offspring? He hesitated, till the prince -demanded--"Wherefore delay--is there aught else that you desire?" - -"You pledge your knightly word," said Sir Hugh, "not to desert this -spot?" - -"Else wherefore am I here?--this is idle. Yet, so to content you, I -swear by my vow made under the walls of Granada, by our Lady, and by the -blessed saints, I will abide here." - -The knight rode into the town with his followers, leaving young Richard -impatient for the hour that was to deliver him to servitude. - -Sir Hugh first sought Lord Dawbeny, requesting him to obtain for him -instant audience of the king. "His grace," said the noble, "is at -vespers, or about to attend them." - -"I dare not wait till they are said," replied Luttrel, who every minute -felt the burthen of responsibility weighing heavier on him. - -"Nor I interrupt his majesty--even now he enters the church." - -In haste Sir Hugh crossed the street; and, as the king took the holy -water from the chalice, he knelt before him. The few words he spoke -painted Henry's face with exulting gladness. "We thank thee, good Sir -Hugh," he said, "and will make our thanks apparent. By the mass, thou -hast deserved well of us this day! Where hast thou bestowed our -counterfeit?" - -"Please your majesty, he awaits your highness's acceptance of his -conditions without the eastern gate." - -"You have placed strong guard over him?" - -"He pledged his oath to await my return. He is alone." - -A dark, angry frown chased all glee from Tudor's brow; bending a stern -glance on his erewhile welcome messenger, he commanded Lord Wells, his -cousin, to take a strong force and to seize this duke of Runaways. Sir -Hugh, timid as he was, interfered: driven by respect for his prisoner, -and fear of what might ensue, he tried to enforce York's stipulation. -Henry looked on him with scorn, then said, "Truly, cousin, I have -vaunted of a bloodless conquest; so let not the blood of the misborn -traitor stain our laurels, nor Sir Luttrel's Duke Perkin shed one -precious ruby drop. Say ay to all he asks; for, as it seems, his demands -are as foolish as himself, and need no chaffering. Tell him that his -life is safe, but bring him here; set him within our ward and -limitation: do this, while we with a Te Deum thank our Heavenly Father -for his watchful mercies. Sir Hugh, accompany our cousin, and then wend -your way whither it please you. We have no pleasure in your presence." - -Thus duped, even by his own generous, proud spirit, the duke of York -became a prisoner--delivering up his sword, and yielding himself an -easy prey to his glad victor. Once, twice, thrice, as he waited the -return of Luttrel, it had crossed his mind, not to fly, his vow being -pledged, but to remember that he was now free and unconstrained, and -would soon be in other's thrall--when farewell to the aspiring thought, -the deed of arms, and to the star of his life, to whose idea, now his -purpose was accomplished, he fondly turned!--"Poor Katherine," he -whispered, "this is the crown, the fated, fallen youth, the seer -foretold." In after-times that scene dwelt on his memory; he called to -mind the evening-tide, for the sun was down, and the clouds, lately gold -besprent, waxing dun, as the town walls grew high and dark, and the few -trees about him waved fitfully in a soft breeze; that wind was free, and -could career over the plain; what spell bound the noble knight and -stalwart steed, that they coursed not also free as it? - -In a few minutes he was a prisoner--and led within those darksome -walls. At first, treated with some observance, he was unaware, as is the -case in any new position, with whose circumstances and adjuncts we are -unacquainted, how utterly he had fallen. He was led to no barred prison; -and, for a time, the nobles and knights who flocked, to see him were no -bad exchange for the motley crew he had quitted. But, as if in a dream, -he felt gather round him impalpable but adamantine walls--chains hung -upon his limbs, not the less heavy, because the iron pierced his soul -rather than his flesh. He had been a free man; his name was attended -with love and respect, and his aspect commanded the obedience of men. -Now, the very appellation given to him was a mortal insult; a stranger -seemed to be spoken to when he was addressed, and yet he must answer. He -was never alone; and night was the sole suspension from the insulting -curiosity of the crowd. He must forego himself; grow an impostor in his -own eyes; take on him the shameful name of Perkin: all which native -honour, and memory of his princess bride, made trebly stinging. - -To barb the dart came intelligence that the Lady Katherine was a -prisoner. King Henry had quitted Taunton, and gone towards Exeter, when, -on his arrival there, the earl of Oxford presented the Scottish princess -to him. Praises of her wondrous beauty became rife, brought by some of -the king's train, returned to Taunton; praises so excessive and warm as -could not have been inspired by celestial beauty in adversity, if not -egged on by some adventitious stimulant. It was the fashion to speak of -her as the Queen of Loveliness; as (for beauty's sake the name belonged -to her) the fairest White Rose that ever grew on thorny bush. By this -name she was mentioned to York; and it visited his heart as the first -gleam of sunshine on his enshadowed misery; dear was the name of the -White Rose to the fallen one. It had been his own in fresh and happy -days, when first he showed his prowess among the knights of France and -Burgundy. Still louder grew the echo of some mighty voice, that gave -forth encomium of the prisoner's bride; and the smiles with which some -spoke, smiles half of wonder half of mockery, told of some secret charm, -which at last was openly commented upon. "Again the king saw the fair -one yestermorn; and dallied ere he granted the earnest suit she made, as -if he loved to be entreated." - -"The grave King Henry caught in the net of the wanton boy! Oh, this were -subject for a ballad for the nonce." - -"Blythe news for gentle Perkin; his wife thrives at court. She takes -occasion by too slender a hold, if she raise not her husband from the -kitchen to a higher place at court." - -"Now we shall see our the lady the queen jealous of her liege." - -"Our queen? what midsummer's dream is this? The White Rose will never -flower in our court garden." - -To falsify this assertion came the next day a messenger, with command to -convey the noble prisoner with all speed to London; and for the -attendance of the Lady Cheney, and the Lady Howard, two noble matrons, -to wait on the Lady Katherine, who was about to proceed to Westminster. -Smiles and whispers were interchanged; and, when to this was added, that -as much courtesy should be shown the counterfeit youth as might not -endanger his safe keeping, the light laugh followed; though, as if to -meet and overthrow the raillery, it was added, this was ordered for his -royal wife's sake, who was cousin to England's dear ally, the king of -Scotland. These idle tales did not reach York's ear: wherever he showed -himself, he enforced such personal respect, that there was no likelihood -that any conjecture, linked with his lady's name, would be hazarded -before him. He was told that the king entertained her royally; and when -he heard that she was to be presented to his sister, the Queen -Elizabeth, a thrill of joy passed into his heart. His sister! as a boy, -he remembered the fair, kind girl, whom he had called his loved and most -sweet sister: he knew that she was conscious of his truth, and, though -wedded to his rival, loved not her lord. It was a pleasing dream, to -fancy these gentle ladies together; to know that, while the one spoke -her affection and praise, the other must feel the kindred blood warm in -her heart, and proudly, though sadly, acknowledge him her worthy -brother. - - - - -CHAPTER L - -A PROCESSION - - - They are noble sufferers. I marvel - How they'd have looked, had they been victors, that - With such a constant nobility enforce - A freedom out of bondage. - - TWO NOBLE KINSMEN. - - -The vulgar rabble, fond of any sort of show, were greedy of this new -one. In all parts the name of the duke of York, of the counterfeit -Perkin, drew a concourse of gazers. The appetite was keenest in London; -and many a tawdry masque and mime was put in motion, to deck the streets -through which the defeated youth was to pass. Vainly; he entered London -at night, and was conducted privately to Westminster. What strange thing -was this? What mark of reality did his very forehead wear, that Henry, -so prodigal of contumely on his foes, dared not bring him forward for -the public gaze? One man was put in the stocks for a similar remark; and -on the following day it was suddenly proclaimed, that Perkin would go in -procession from Westminster to Saint Paul's, and back again. A troop of -horse at the appointed hour left the palace: in the midst of them rode a -fair young gentleman, whose noble mien and gallant bearing gave lustre -to his escort: his sweet aspect, his frank soft smile and lively but -calm manner, had no trace of constraint or debasement, "He is -unarmed--is that Perkin? No, the earl of Warwick--he is a prince -sure--yet that is he!" Such murmurs sped around; at some little -distance followed another burlesque procession; a poor fellow, a -Cornishman, was tied to an ass, his face to the tail, and the beast now -proceeding lazily, now driven by sticks, now kicking, now galloping, -made an ill-fashioned mirth for the multitude. Whether, as York was not -to be disgraced in his own person, the contumely was to reach him -through this poor rogue, or whether the eyes of men were to be drawn -from him to the rude mummery which followed, could only be guessed: the -last was the effect produced. Richard heard mass at Saint Paul's, and -returned to Westminster unmolested by insult. It seemed but as if some -young noble made short pilgrimage from one city to the other, to -accomplish a vow. The visit of ill-fated Warwick to the cathedral, -before the battle of Stoke, had more in it of humiliating ostentation. - -He returned to the palace of Westminster. A few weeks he spent in -mingled curiosity and anxiety concerning his future destiny. It was -already accomplished. Modern times could not present anything more -regular and monotonous than the way of life imposed upon him. It was -like the keeping of a lunatic, who, though now sane, might be -momentarily expected to break out in some dangerous explosion, rather -than the confining of a state-prisoner. Four armed attendants, changed -every eight hours, constantly guarded him, never moving, according to -the emphatic language of the old chroniclers, the breadth of a nail from -his side. He attended early mass each morning: he was permitted to take -one hour's ride on every evening that was not a festival. Two large -gloomy chambers, with barred windows, were allotted him. Among his -guards, he quickly perceived that the same faces seldom appeared; and -the most rigorous silence, or monosyllabic discourse, was imposed upon -them. Harsher measures were perhaps spared, from respect to his real -birth, or his alliance with the king of Scotland: yet greater severity -had been less tantalizing. As it was, the corpse in the grass-grown -grave was not more bereft of intercourse with the sunny world, than the -caged duke of York. From his windows, he looked upon a deserted -court-yard; in his rides, purposely directed to unfrequented spots, he -now and then saw a few human beings--such name could be hardly bestowed -on his stony-faced, stony-hearted guards. - -Richard was the very soul of sympathy; he could muse for hours in -solitude, but it must be upon dear argument, that had for its subject -the pleasures, interests or affections of others. He could not entertain -a heartless intercourse. Wherever he saw the human countenance, he -beheld a fellow-creature; and, duped a thousand times, and a thousand -times deceived, "still he must love." To spend the hour in sportive -talk; fondly to interchange the gentle offices of domestic life; to meet -peril and endure misery with others; to give away himself, and then -return to his inner being, laden like a bee with gathered sweets: to -pile up in his store-house, memory, the treasured honey of friendship -and love, and then away to nestle in the bosom of his own dear flower, -and drink up more, or gaily to career the golden fields; such was his -nature: and now--this was worse loneliness; this commune with the mutes -of office; to be checked by low-born men; to feel that he must obey the -beck of an hireling. A month, interspersed with hopes of change, he had -endured the degradation; now he began to meditate escape. Yet he paused. -Where was Katherine? where his many zealous friends? - -The Lady Katherine was in an apartment of the palace, whose arched and -fretted roof, and thick buttresses, were well adapted to impart a -feeling of comfortable seclusion from the rough elements without. The -dulness of dark November was gladdened by a huge wood fire. The little -prince of Wales was narrating some strange story of fairyland; and bluff -Harry was setting two dogs to quarrel, and then beating his favourite -for not conquering, which seeing, his sister Margaret drew the animal -from him to console and caress it. The gentle queen bent over her -embroidery. Listening she was to her favourite Arthur, interrupting him -with playful questions and exclamations, while Katherine now kindly -attended to the boy, now turned anxiously at every sound. She rose at -last: "Surely vespers are ringing from the abbey. My lord the king -promised to see me before vespers." - -"My lord the king is very gracious to you, sweet one," said Elizabeth. - -"Methinks by nature he is gracious," replied the princess; "at least, I -have ever found him so. Surely the shackles of state are very heavy, or -ere this he would have granted my prayer, which he has listened to so -oft indulgently." - -The queen smiled faintly, and again pursued her work with seeming -earnestness. Was it jealousy that dimmed the silk of her growing rosebud -by a tear--or what name shall we give to the feeling?--envy we may not -call it, she was too sweetly good--which now whispered, "Even he, the -cold, the stern, is kind to her; my brother loves her passionately; and -many a lance has been broken for her. Happy girl; happy in adversity; -while I, England's miserable queen, am forgotten even by my -fellow-prisoner of Sheriff Hutton, poor Warwick! he might have been my -refuge: for the rest, how hard and rocky seem all human hearts to me." -Her tears now flowed fast. Katherine saw them: she approached her, -saying, "Dear and royal lady, none should weep, methinks, but only I, -whose mate is caged and kept away; none sigh but poor Kate, whose more -than life hangs on state policy; or is it for _him_ these tears are shed?" - -Still Elizabeth wept. Accustomed to the excess of self-restraint, timid, -schooled to patience, but with the proud, fiery spirit of a Plantagenet, -tamed, not dead within her, she could be silent, but not speak by -halves. The very natural vivacity of her nature made her disdain not to -have her will, when once it was awaked. She struggled against her rising -feeling; she strove to suppress her emotion; but at last she spoke; and -once again, after the ten years that had elapsed since her mother's -imprisonment, truth was imaged by her words. To none could she have -addressed herself better. The life of the Scottish princess had been -spent in administering balm to wounded minds: the same soft eloquence, -the same persuasive counsels, that took the sting of remorse from her -royal cousin's conscience, was spent upon the long-hidden sorrows of the -neglected wife, the humbled woman. From her own sensitive mind she -culled the knowledge which taught her where and how peace and -resignation were to be found. The piety that mingled with her talk was -the religion of love; her philosophy was mere love; and it was the -spirit of love, now kindling the balmy atmosphere of charity to many, -now concentred in one point, but ever ready to soothe human suffering -with its soft influence, that dwelt upon her lips, and modulated her -silver voice. Elizabeth felt as if she had wandered long in a -wolf-haunted wild, now suddenly changed to a fairy demesne, fresh and -beautiful as poet's dream. Timidly she feared to set her untaught feet -within the angel-guarded precincts. The first effect of her new friend's -eloquence was to make her speak. After years of silence, to utter her -very inner thoughts, her woman's fears, her repinings, her aversions, -her lost hopes and affections crushed: she spent her bitterest words; -but thus it was as if she emptied a silver chalice of its gall, to be -refilled by Katherine with heavenly dew. - -The weeks of baffled expectation grew into months. It is a dreary -portion of our existence, when we set our hearts upon an object which -recedes as we approach, and yet entices us on. The kings courtesy and -smiles, and evident pleasure in her society, gave birth to warm hopes in -the bosom of the princess. She had asked to share her husband's prison; -she had besought to be permitted to see him; it seemed, from Henry's -vague but consolatory answers, that to-morrow she would receive even -more than her desires. The disappointment of the morrow, which she -lamented bitterly at first, then grew into the root whence fresh hopes -sprang again, to be felled by the cruel axe, again to shoot forth: the -sickening sensation of despair crept over her sometimes; her very -struggles to master it enfeebled her; and yet she did conquer all but -the hard purposes of the tyrant. Now a messenger was to be despatched to -Scotland; now he expected one thence; now an embassy from Burgundy: he -implored her patience, and talked back the smiles into her saddened -countenance. He was almost sincere at first, not in his excuses, but in -his desire to please her at any sacrifice; but this disinterested wish -grew soon into a mere grasping at self-gratification. In a little while -he hoped she would be persuaded how vain it was to expect that he should -set free so dangerous a rival: and yet he did not choose to extinguish -all her anticipations; for perhaps then she would desire to return to -her native country; and Henry would have sacrificed much to keep her -where he could command her society. Thus he encouraged her friendship -with the queen, though he wondered how one so wise, so full of -reflection and reason as Katherine, could love his feeble-minded wife. - -The king underrated the talents of Elizabeth. This hapless woman had -perceived that contention was useless; she therefore conceded everything -without a struggle. Her energies, spent upon endurance, made her real -strength of mind seem tameness; but Katherine read with clearer eyes. We -are all and each of us riddles, when unknown one to the other. The plain -map of human powers and purposes, helps us not at all to thread the -labyrinth each individual presents in his involution of feelings, -desires, and capacities; and we must resemble, in quickness of feeling, -instinctive sympathy, and warm benevolence, the lovely daughter of -Huntley, before we can hope to judge rightly of the good and virtuous -among our fellow-creatures. - -The strangest sight of all was to see Henry act a lover's part. At first -he was wholly subdued, - - - "So easy is t' appease the stormy wind - Of malice, in the calm of pleasant womankind." - - -Even generosity and magnanimity, disguises he sometimes wore the better -to conceal his inborn littleness of soul, almost possessed him; for a -moment he forgot his base exultation in crushing a foe, and for a moment -dwelt with genuine pleasure on the reflection, that it was in his power -to gratify her every wish, and to heap benefits on one so lovely and so -true. When first she was presented to him, in all the calm majesty of -her self-conquering mood, her stainless loveliness had such effect, that -surely he could deny her nothing; and when she asked that no foul -dishonour should be put upon her lord, he granted almost before she -asked: his expressions of service and care were heartfelt; and she lost -every fear as she listened. When custom, which, with man, is the -devourer of holy enthusiasm, changed his purer feelings into something -he dared not name, he continued to manifest the same feelings, which had -bested him so well at first, and to angle with his prey. Though he -scarcely knew what he wished, for a thousand worldly motives sufficed to -check any dishonourable approach, it was enough that she was there; -that, when she saw him, her countenance lighted up with pleasure; that -with the sweetest grace she addressed her entreaties to his ear; not in -abrupt demands, but in such earnest prayer, such yielding again, to -return with another and another argument; that often he thought, even if -he had wished to concede, he would hold out a little longer, that still -her sweet voice might address him, still her stately neck be bent -imploring as she fixed her blue eyes on him. - -It was very long before the artless girl suspected that he had any other -intent but to consent at last to her supplications. As it was as easy to -him to lure her on with a greater as a lesser hope, she even fancied -that, under certain restrictions, York's freedom might be restored; and -that with him, in some remote country, she might bless Tudor as a -generous adversary. Elizabeth was afraid to discover the truth to her, -for she also dreaded to lose her, and was afraid that, on the failure of -her hopes, she would seek to return to Scotland; or at least seclude -herself from her husband's jailor. Monina first awoke her to the truth. -Monina, who had been to Brussels, to consult with the Duchess Margaret -and Lady Brampton, and who came back full of projects for her friend's -escape, heard with amazement and scorn the false lures held out by -Henry; she impatiently put aside every inducement for delay, and with -rash, but determined zeal, framed many a scheme for communicating with -him, and contriving means for his flight. - -He himself--the chained eagle--was sick at heart. No word--no -breath--no hope! Had all forgotten him? Was he, yet living, erased from -the lists of memory? Cut off from the beloved beings in whom he had -confided, through their own act--no longer a part of their thoughts, -their lives, themselves? Stood he alone in this miserable world, -allied to it by hate only--the hate borne to him by his foe? -Such gloomy misgivings were so alien to his nature, that they -visited him as cruel iron torture visits soft human flesh. That -she--the life of his life, should be false and cold! Each friend -forgetful--Monina--Plantagenet--all--all! Oh, to stretch his -quivering frame upon burning coals, had been to slumber on a bed of -roses, in comparison with the agony these thoughts administered. His -calmer moods, when he believed that, though tardy, they were true, were -scarcely less painful. Then the real state of things grew more galling: -the bluntness or silence of his keepers; their imperturbable or rude -resistance to his questions; the certainty that if one answered -graciously--that one he should see no more. Often he felt as if he -could not endure his present position one hour longer. Fits of hope, -meditations on escape, chequered his days; so that all was not so -dark--but the transition from one emotion to another, each to end in -blank despair, tasked his mercurial soul. Patience died within him--he -might perish in the attempt, but he would be free. - -Urged by Monina, by her own awakening fears, and above all by the keen -burning desire of her heart, the Lady Katherine became very importunate -with the crafty monarch to be permitted an interview with her lord. -Henry was in no mood to grant her request: the thousand designs he had -meditated to disgrace his victim, he had given up for her sake, because -he would not refuse himself the pleasure of seeing her, and feared to -behold aversion and horror mark an aspect hitherto all smiles towards -him. The same fear, nurtured by the expressions of her tender affection, -made him hesitate, ere he should endeavour to convince her that she had -misallied herself to an impostor. Indeed, when at last he ventured to -frame a speech bearing such a meaning, her answer told him, that if he -could have changed the Royal York into base-born Perkin, the young and -innocent wife would still cling to him to whom she had pledged her rows; -to whom she had given himself; whose own, in Heaven's and her own eyes, -she unalienably was. But now Henry, grown more callous as time elapsed, -coined a new scheme, vile as his own soul: he resolved, by acting on her -woman's fears, tenderness, and weakness, to make her the instrument of -persuading her lord to some damning confession, that must stamp him as a -deceiver for ever. This bright project animated him to fresh endeavours -to please, and her with fresh hopes; yet he paused a little before he -sought to execute it. - -Winter crept on into spring, and spring ripened into summer, and still -the various actors in this tragic drama were spending their lives, their -every thought and heart's pulsation on one object. Richard had latterly -received intimation that he would be permitted an interview with his -beloved White Rose; and a week or two more were patiently endured with -this expectation. Katherine each day believed, that on the morrow she -should see him, whom now she conversed with only in her nightly dreams, -and woke each morning to find him fled with them. Some change -approached: Henry's promises became more clear in their expression; his -assertions more peremptory: he would at last name his conditions, which -she was to communicate to her lord; even Elizabeth almost dared to hope. -Monina alone, deeply impressed with a belief in the malice of Tudor, was -incredulous, and reluctantly yielded to Katherine's request to suspend -yet a little while her plots. - -Whitsuntide arrived, and Henry at last would decide. This estival was to -be spent at Shene: thither the royal family went, accompanied by the -princess, who vanquished her disappointment at further delay, not to -appear an ingrate to the fair-promising king. Indeed, in the secure hope -she cherished of again seeing him who was her earthly paradise, she -smiled through the very heart-gushing tears expectation caused to flow. -On Whit Sunday she awoke, resolving to discard the heavy load of -anticipated evil that involuntarily weighed at her heart. She knelt at -mass, and fervently strove to resign her dearest wishes to the direction -of her God; and yet that she should see him again soon--oh! how very -soon,--filled her with such dizzy rapture, that her orisons were forgot -midway--remembered, and turned to thanksgivings--till she recollected -that still her hope was unfulfilled; and fear awoke, and with tears and -prayer she again strove to ease her agitated heart. - -That very night a thunder-storm roused her from slumber: with those -unexplained emotions, which, in fateful periods, make so large a portion -of our lives, she felt as if every clap spoke audibly some annunciation -which she could not interpret: as if every lurid flash were sent to -disclose a sight which yet she could not see. At length the rain ceased, -the thunder grew distant, the lightning faint; a load was lifted from -her soul; she slept, with the firm belief that on the morrow tidings, -not all evil, would be brought from London. - -Some tidings surely came. What they were she was not permitted to know. -For the first time Henry made her a real prisoner; she was carefully -guarded, and none were allowed to speak to her. Overwrought by her -expectations, this seemed a frightful cruelty; and yet, where caution -was used, there must be fear: her--his enemy feared--then good had -occurred. She dared not permit her imagination to picture forth the -thing which yet was for ever present to it; and, while all else were -amazed to hear that York had escaped and fled, his lovely, anxious wife, -cut off from communication with all, knew only that she alone was -ignorant of what she would have given her life to learn. - - - - -CHAPTER LI - -AN ESCAPE - - - Thou, God of winds, that reignest in the seas, - That reignest also in the continent, - At last blow up some gentle gale of ease, - The which may bring my ship, ere it be rent, - Unto the gladsome port of her intent. - - SPENSER. - - -During the winter and the untoward late spring, Richard had endured his -captivity. The warm happy summer season, calling all nature to a -jubilee, at first saddened, then animated him to contrive new projects -of escape. The promised interview with his White Rose tempted him to -delay; while an inner spirit rebelled even against this dear enticement, -and bade him fly. - -On the evening of the ninth of June, he was permitted to attend vespers -in a secluded chapel of Westminster Abbey. During the short passage from -the palace to the cathedral, it seemed to him as if a new life were -awake everywhere; an unknown power, on the eve of liberating him. Never -before had he prayed so fervently for freedom: the pealing organ, the -dim arched venerable vault above, acted as stimulants to his roused and -eager soul; he stood tiptoe, as on the eve of the accomplishment of his -desire. - -A deep and awful sound suddenly shook the building; a glaring, lurid -flash, filled with strange brilliancy the long, dark aisle. A clap of -thunder, loud, and swiftly repeated, reverberated along the heavens; -the shrill scream of women answered the mighty voice. The priest who -read the service, saw his sacred book glared on by so keen a flash, as -blinded him to the dimmer light that succeeded. Every being in the -church sank on their knees, crossing themselves, and striving to repeat -their Paternosters and Aves; while Richard stood fearless, enjoying the -elemental roar, exulting in the peal, the flash, the tempestuous havock, -as powers yet rebellious to his conqueror. Freedom was victorious in the -skyey plains; there was freedom in the careering clouds, freedom in the -sheeted lightning, freedom in the cataract of sound that tore its way -along. On his poor heart, sick of captivity, and enforced obedience, the -sweet word liberty hung as a spell: every bird and tiny fly he had -envied as being free; how much more things more powerful, the chainless -destructions of nature. The voice of God speaking in his own consecrated -abode was terrible to all; soothing to himself alone. He walked to the -southern entrance of the edifice to mark the splashing shower, as it -ploughed the stones: two of his keepers remained on their knees, -paralyzed by terror; the two others followed trembling. At that moment a -louder, a far, far louder clap burst right above them, succeeding so -instantaneously the blinding flash, that, while every object was wrapped -inflame, the pavement and fretted roof of the abbey shook with the -sound. A bolt had fallen; the priest at the altar was struck; with -mingled horror and curiosity one of York's remaining guards rushed -towards the spot; the only remaining one was kneeling in an agony of -terror. York stood on the threshold of the porch; he advanced a few -steps beyond; a new fear possessed the fellow. "He will -escape!--halloo!--James!--Martin!" The very words imparted the -thought to the prince, who filled erewhile with wonder and religious -awe, had forgotten his own sad plight. He turned to the man, who was -doubtful whether to rush into the chapel for his comrades, or singly to -seize his prisoner--his dagger was drawn. "Put up that foolish steel," -said York, "it cannot harm one whom God calls to freedom--listen, he -speaks;--farewell!" The lightning again flashed; with blue and forked -flame it ran along the blade of the weapon raised against him; with a -shriek the man dashed it to the earth. Richard was already out of sight. - -The rain poured in torrents: it came down in continuous cataracts from -the eaves of the houses. On this sunny festival few had remained at -home; and those, terror-stricken now, were on their knees; no creature -was in the streets as the fugitive sped on, ignorant whither he should -go. London was a vast, unknown labyrinth to him: as well as he could -divine, he directed his flight eastward, and that with such velocity, -that he might compete with a horse in full career. If any saw him, as -thus with winged heels he flew along, they did not wonder that a person -should hasten to shelter out of the storm. It was of slight regard to -him that rain and hail ploughed the earth, and continued thunder echoed -through the sky; that alone and friendless he fled through the streets -of his victor's chief city. His exulting heart, his light, glad spirit -told him that he was free; if for a few minutes only, he would joyfully -purchase with his life those few minutes' emancipation from his -frightful thraldom. No words could speak, no thought image the supreme -gladness of that moment. - -Meanwhile, dark night, aided by the thick clouds which still poured down -torrents of rain, had crept over the dim twilight, and began to -imbarrier with doubt the path of the rejoicing fugitive. He found at -last that the lines of houses receded, and that he was in an open space, -in the midst of which rose a gigantic shadow, stretching itself in -stillness and vastness on the summit of the rising ground before -him;--it was the cathedral of St. Paul's. Now, cloaked by the dark and -inclement night, he began to reflect on his actual situation: London -might swarm with his partizans, but he knew not where to find one. -Probably all those who were occupied by his fate resided in Westminster, -whence he had precipitately fled; whither assuredly he would not return. -These reflections perplexed him, but in no way allayed his transport at -finding himself free; he felt that if he wandered to the wide fields, -and died of hunger there, it were bliss enough to see the sky "unclouded -by his dungeon roof;" to behold the woods, the flowers, and the dancing -waves; nor be mocked with man's shape, when those who wore it had sold -man's dearest privilege--that of allowing his actions to wait upon the -free impulses of his heart. - -Still, therefore, he hurried along, and finally became completely -bewildered in some swampy, low fields, intersected by wide ditches. The -night was pitchy dark; nor was there any clue afforded him by which he -could even guess whether he might not be returning on his path. Suddenly -a small ray of light threaded the gloom; it went and came, and at last -remained stationary. With wavering will and irregular steps the prince -proceeded towards it; for he would rather have died where he stood, than -discover himself, so to fall again into captivity. Once or twice he lost -sight of this tiny earth-star, which evidently shone through some low -casement; and, as at last he caught sight of the solitary miserable hut -where it was sphered, the recollection of his former asylum, of -ill-fated Jane Shore's penurious dwelling, flashed across him: with -speedy, reassured pace he hurried on, leaping a ditch that obstructed -his path, careless of every physical obstacle, when the malice of man -was no longer to be apprehended. "Poor Jane!" he ejaculated: and again -he reflected with some wonder that, in every adversity, women had been -his resource and support; their energies, their undying devotion and -enthusiasm, were the armour and weapons with which he had defended -himself from and attacked fortune. Even one so fallen and so low as poor -Jane Shore, was, through the might of fidelity and affection, of more -avail than all his doughty partizans, who, in the hour of need, were -scattered and forgetful. - -The low-roofed cot was before him unmistaken. The crevice whence the -light emanated was too small to admit his inquiring glance; amid the -driving, pattering rain he fancied that he distinguished voices within; -but, with a boldness which bade him fear nothing, he lifted the latch, -and beheld in truth a sight of wonder;--Monina, with a shriek started -from her seat; she folded him with wild joy in her fair arms, and then, -blushing and trembling, threw herself on the neck of Lady Brampton; and -Jane herself rose from her couch of straw, more wan, more emaciated than -ever;--yet even over her sad pale face a smile wandered, showing in yet -more ghastly hues the ruin it illumined. - -Questions, ejaculations, wonder and delight, burst from every lip: "He -is here to our wish; the means of escape are secured, and he is here! -Oh, dearest Lady Brampton, do not the blessed angels guard him?" Monina -spoke, and her soft luminous eyes were fixed on him, as if not daring to -believe the vision; it was not the chastened delight of age, but the -burning, ardent joy of a young heart, who had but one thought, one -desire, and that about to be accomplished; her flushed cheeks betokened -her rapture: "I have repined, despaired, almost blasphemed; yet he is -here: how good is Almighty God! Listen, dear my lord, how wondrously -opportune your arrival is: Lady Brampton will tell you all. Oh, this new -miracle is the blessed Virgin's own achievement--you are free!" - -Scarcely less animated, the zealous lady detailed the circumstances that -united so favourably for him. She had been for some time at Brussels -with the Duchess Margaret, who was more grieved than could be imagined -at the capture of her beloved nephew. She lived in a state of terror on -his account. That his life was awhile spared, availed little to pacify -her; the midnight murders and prison-assassinations, so rife during the -wars of York and Lancaster were present to her imagination. She -exhausted every device, every bribe, to gain partizans for him to -achieve his freedom. Among others, most liberal of promises, was the -false Clifford. After Richard had escaped from him in the New Forest, he -fell in with Frion, whose double plot being defeated, he strove to -capture and accuse the accomplice whom, in fact, he had deceived. The -knight fled; he escaped to the Low Countries; and by a glozing tale -easily gained the ear of the duchess. Lost in England, perhaps he wished -to rebuild his fallen fortunes; aided by her munificence, perhaps he -prepared some new treachery; however it might be, he was trusted, and -was the soul of the present enterprise. De Faro's vessel, refitted and -well manned, was now anchored in the mouth of the Thames. Clifford -undertook the task of foisting some creature of his own, or even -himself, disguised, of undertaking the part of one of Richard's keepers, -when he doubted not to be able to secure his flight. - -With her usual vivacity Lady Brampton gave this account; but no -explanations on her part could dissipate the horror York felt at the -name of Clifford, or inspire him with anything but distrust of his -intentions. Monina, before silenced by her sanguine associates, now gave -expression to the terror and abhorrence his interference occasioned; she -had come, exposing herself to a thousand perils and pains, merely that -she might watch over his acts, and awaken her too credulous friends to a -knowledge of his duplicity. But the danger was past; before Clifford -could know that he had escaped, York might reach the Adalid. - -Almost as an answering echo to these words there was a sound of hurrying -steps. "It is he: the traitor comes. Oh, bar the door!" There was no -bar, no mode of securing this dwelling of penury; three women alone were -his guard: Monina, pale and trembling; Lady Brampton, endeavouring to -reassure her; while Richard stood forward, his gaze fixed on the opening -door, whose latch was already touched, resolved to meet, with perfect -show of frank reliance and intrepidity, the intruders. - -Sir Robert Clifford entered. Confusion, attempted boldness, and, last, -sullen malice painted his aspect when he beheld the prince. He was much -changed, and looked almost an old man; his dark and profuse hair was -grizzled; his grey eyes hollow: and his dress, though that of a -cavalier, exhibited signs of habitual neglect. His person, always -slight, had been redeemed from insignificance by its exquisite grace and -elegance; every trace of this was flown; and his haggard countenance and -diminutive size made even York scarcely credit that this was indeed the -gay, reckless Robin. His resolve had been already made; he addressed him -kindly, saying, "Sir Robert, I hear that you are willing to renew to me -your broken vows: may you hereafter keep them more faithfully." - -Clifford muttered a few words; he looked towards the door, as if -desirous of escape; he struggled with shame, guilt, and some other -emotion. As soon as a consultation began as to the means to be adopted -for the prince to reach the sea in safety, he conquered himself, -entering; into it with spirit and zeal. The plan he proposed was crafty, -his own part in it the principal. He spoke of disguising the prince as a -female attendant on Monina; of his and O'Water's accompanying them along -the river banks as soon as daylight. - -"And wherefore not now? Or rather, wherefore even now do we not hasten -to the Thames, and seize a boat?" - -"Because," said Clifford, interrupting Monina, "his highness's flight is -already known; a line of boats intersects the Thames below London -Bridge; and lower still every craft is on the alert." - -Each one exchanged looks; the knight continued: "You all distrust me, -and I wonder not. I am in your power now; here are my unarmed hands; -even a woman may bind them. Go forth yourselves: seek the path to the -sea: before an hour elapses the duke will be again a prisoner. You may -in this wild spot plant your daggers in my heart to avenge, but that -will not save him; for I have no power here. But set me free, confide to -my care, and, by the God that made me, he walks the deck of the Adalid -ere the setting sun. I could tell you how this can be, and ye would not -the more trust me, if I spoke of such alliance with, such power over, -the rogues and vagabonds of this saintly city, as enables me to move -strange engines to execute my will; even if you credited me you would -disdain that your hero should owe his life to such base means. Be it as -you will: believe me; and I pledge my life that his grace will ride the -dancing waves beyond King Henry's reach to-morrow night." - -"I accept the pledge," replied York, who had eyed him earnestly as he -spoke. "I commit myself to your care; act speedily, without fear of balk -or suspicion on my part." - -Clifford's lips curled into a triumphant smile; because again he was -trusted, or because again he would betray, it was hard to divine. "I -must beseech your patience in the first place," said Sir Robert: "I -cannot get the fitting disguises during the night." - -"Night is no more," replied Richard, throwing open the casement; and the -dusky room was illuminated by the day. In the east there was a very -fountain of light, which, welling up, flooded the flecked and broken -clouds with rosy hues: the stars were gone; a soft azure peeped between -the breaking vapours; the morning air was deliciously fresh; the birds -chirped; a distant watch-dog barked. Otherwise all was silent; and -security seemed to walk the earth. - -"I will go seek the needful dresses," said Clifford. "Your Grace will -await my return, even though my stay, lengthened beyond my expectation, -give some reason for the distrust I read in every eye." - -"It is but too natural," said the prince, "that my kind friends should -suspect you; for myself, I have said the word; I place myself in your -hands: half measures were of no avail. If indeed you are a traitor, -bring Tudor's hirelings here to seize their prey. I cannot fear; I will -not doubt; and, if in my soul any suspicion lurk, my actions shall not -be guided by it. Go; let your return be speedy or otherwise, I await you -here." - -Scarcely had the door closed, when Monina, whose eyes had been fixed on -Clifford's countenance during the whole scene, exclaimed:--"This moment -is our own! Fly, my prince; trust me--I know that bad man; if he find -you here when he returns, you are lost." - -"Hist!" Jane spoke the word, and a dead silence fell upon the anxious -band. The steps of a horse were heard: Monina flew to the casement. "It -is our faithful Irish friend, my lord; it is O'Water." The door was -opened; and each one crowded round the visitant. He uttered a "By the -mischief!" which sounded like a benediction, when he saw the duke of -York, adding, "All is well, all in readiness; I left the Adalid, after -the storm yester evening, in safe anchorage." - -"Oh yes, safety," cried the enthusiastic Spaniard; "safety or -death! Trust not false Clifford--seize the fleeting, precious -opportunity,--O'Water's horse----" - -"Is blown," said Richard; "he cannot carry me." - -"And the ways strangely beset," said the mayor. "Just now I saw a young -gentleman seized, much to his annoyance, by some patrol. He bribed -dearly, but they would not listen--the whole country is alarmed." - -"I will wait for Clifford," continued York; "and trust in Providence. -Some kind friend only bestow a dagger on me: I would not be taken like -an unarmed girl." - -"A tramp of steeds--they are coming, Clifford guides them hither; we -are lost!" cried Lady Brampton. - -"Oh, fly--fly--my liege," said O'Water, "expose not these women to the -assault. Poor Rose Blanche can yet bear you fast and far." - -The sound as of a troop of horse neared. The prince saw O'Water blocking -up the casement, and then draw his sword. Monina, wild with agony, fell -at his feet:--"Fly, my lord, fly for the Lady Katherine's sake: fly for -mine own: must I see you die? I, who have lived--alas! how vainly. Lady -Brampton--beseech--command--he must fly. O, they will be here--to -seize, to murder him!" - -"Here is my dagger, my lord," said O'Water, coolly!--"Defend -yourself--meanwhile--now at our last hour--for surely it is come, Our -Lady recommend us to God's holy grace." - -The gallop of a troop grew yet more distinct; Richard looked round: Jane -was kneeling, her face buried in her hands: Lady Brampton pale, but -resolved, was ready to sacrifice the life she had spent for him. O'Water -had resigned himself to the final act of a life of peril, sealed in his -blood. The lovely Spaniard alone lost all her self-possession; tears -streaming from her uplifted eyes; her arms twined round his knees: to -fly--fly! was the only thought she could express. "I yield," said York; -"throw open the door." O'Water's horse had been led within the hut; he -vaulted on his back; he placed the dagger in his belt. "That way," Lady -Brampton cried, "it leads to the river's side below." - -A scream from Monina followed his swift departure. "He perishes--he -betrays us!" cried O'Water. Richard galloped on not across the field -away from town, but right into danger; there, whence the troop was -certainly approaching. He was lost to view on the instant, in a -straggling lane which stretched out half across the field. A moment -after coming from the other side, unobserved till in the hut, Clifford -entered alone. He bore a large bundle; his steps were cautious and -swift; his look told that he was intent only on the object of his -errand. "I have succeeded beyond my hope. My life on it all is safe. -Where have ye hid the prince? Oh, prithee, fear not, nor trifle: each -second is precious." - -The confused wondering looks of all present replied to him. Clifford -laughed, a short, sarcastic, bitter laugh: and then, with a fiendlike -expression of face, he said, "The prince has done well; and ye have all -done well: and his Grace will thank you anon. Ye grudge me, maybe, the -Duchess Margaret's bounty. She promised largely; 'twere pity to share -the boon among so many. Now mark the event!" - -These words displayed the baseness of his motive, yet vouched for his -sincerity. He threw a menacing glance around, and then quitted the hut; -and with hurried pace hastened across the field towards the town. - - - - -CHAPTER LII - -TREASON - - - Full many a glorious morning: have I seen, - Flatter the mountain tops with sovereign eye, - Kissing with golden face the meadows green; - Gilding pale streams with heavenly alchemy; - Anon, permit the basest clouds to ride - With ugly rack on his celestial face. - - SHAKSPEARE. - - -The duke of York, urged so earnestly to fly, felt that to do so was to -save himself at the expense of his friends, on whom Henry's vengeance -would severely fall, when he found himself balked of his victim. He -consented to leave Jane Shore's abode, with the resolve not of effecting -his escape, but of securing, by surrendering himself, the safety of his -defenceless adherents united under her lowly roof. He directed his -course as he believed into the very centre of danger, entering the -narrow straggling street whence the sound of the advance of the troop of -horse had been heard. He entered the lane; it was empty. The ominous -sounds were still sharp and near; it seemed as if they were in some -street parallel to the one which he threaded. He turned at right angles -into another, to reach the spot: again he turned, led by the baffling -noise, in another direction. It was just four in the morning; there were -but few abroad so early: he saw a monk gliding stealthily from under a -dark archway, and a poor fellow, who looked as if he had slept beneath -heaven's roof, and had not wherewithal to break his fast. True to the -kindly instincts of his nature, Richard felt at his girdle for his -purse; it was long since he had possessed the smallest coin of his -adversary's realm. "I, a prince!" his feeling had been more bitter, but -that his fingers came in contact with his dagger's hilt, and the -conviction of freedom burst with fresh delight upon him. Free, even in -spite of its intents; for the tramp which had gradually grown fainter, -was dying absolutely away. - -They had probably reached the hut: thither he must return. It was no -easy thing to find his way to it, he had so entangled himself in the -narrow lanes, and wretched assemblages of dwellings huddled together on -the outskirts of London. At length they opened before him: there was the -dingy field, there the hut, standing in quiet beneath the rays of the -morning sun, of the opening, summer, soft, sweet day. He was quickly at -its threshold; he entered. Jane was within, alone, seated in her wooden -chair; her hands clasped; her pale face sunk on her bosom: big tears -were gathering in her eyes, and rolling down her faded cheeks unheeded. -Jane's aspect was usually so marble (a miraculous chiselling of resigned -hopelessness), her mien so unbending, that these signs of emotion struck -the prince with wonder and compassion. - -He knelt at her feet and pressed her thin, but little hand to his lips, -saying, "Mother, where are my friends? Mother, bless me before I go." - -She dried the drops raining from her eyes, saying in a voice that -expressed how occupied she was by her own emotion, "I am a sinful woman; -well do these tones remind me of the same: those days are quite, quite -gone, even from the memory of all; but once they were as the present -hour, when so he spoke, and I was lost, and still am lost; for, through -hunger and cold and shame, I love, and cannot quite repent. Will the -hour ever come when I can regret that once I was happy?" - -Many, many sad years had passed since words like these had dropped from -poor Jane's lips; her feelings fed on her, possessed her, but she had -been mute; overflowing now, her accent was calm; she spoke as if she was -unaware that her thoughts framed speech, and that she had an auditor. - -"You have paid a dear penalty, and are surely forgiven," said York, -striving in his compassion to find the words that might be balm to her. - -"Prince," she continued, "some time ago,--I have lost all date; now the -chasm seems nought, now a long eternity; it was when my poor heart knew -nothing of love, save its strong necessity and its delight; methought I -would see your father's fair offspring, for I loved them for his sake. -At the festival of Easter I placed myself near the gate of the royal -chapel: I thought to be unseen. The happy queen held her sons each by -the hand; you were then, as now, his image, a little sportive blue-eyed -cherub. The prince of Wales had his mother's look: her large, dark eye, -her soft, rosy mouth, her queenlike brow; her beauty which had won -Edward, her chaste sweetness, which had made her his wife; my -presence--I thought to conceal it better--was revealed. The queen -turned her face away; there was anguish surely written there, for the -prince darted on me a look of such withering scorn--yes, even he--his -stainless, fair brow was knit, his bright angel's face clouded: the look -sank in my heart. Edward's beautiful, pure child reproved me, hated me: -for three days I felt that I would never see the deluder more: you do -not share his abhorrence; you do not hate the pale ghost of Shore's -wife?" - -Such clinging to the past, such living memory of what was so absolutely -dead to all except herself, awe-struck the prince: "We are all sinners -in the eye of God," he said, "but thy faults are surely forgiven thee, -gentle one: thy tears have washed every trace away, and my brother, my -poor murdered Edward, now blesses thee. Alas! would that I could soften -this last stage of your suffering earthly life." - -"'Tis better as it is," she answered hastily, "once I felt disgrace and -privation keenly; perhaps that may atone. Now, would it were more -bitter, that so I might wean myself from him whose very memory will lose -my soul. You are good, and Our Lady will requite you. Now, listen: the -damsel Monina and Master O'Water have gone towards Southend: your -remaining friends watch for you here. I shall see them again to-night: -meanwhile it is to be feared that Clifford plots vengeance, and you must -fly; you must at every hazard go towards Southend. Beyond the town, on -the lone sands, there is a wooden cross, telling where one escaped -dreadful peril through the might of Him who died on it for us; the -smallest sign, the waving of your cap, will be watched for by the -Adalid, they will send a boat to take you on board. Now swiftly depart: -your life hangs on the hour; this purse will furnish you with means Lady -Brampton left it for you." - -"Bless me, mother, ere I go." - -"Can a sinner's blessing avail? fear rather that God punish me through -you, where my heart is garnered. Oh, may He indeed bless and save you; -and I shall die in peace." - -He kissed her withered hand and was gone; she dragged her failing limbs -to the casement; he was already lost among the straggling tenements that -bounded her field. - -Again York was flying from his foe; again studying to elude pursuit, -with how different feelings. Before, his flight was peremptory, for the -preservation of others, while he blindly longed to deliver himself to -slavery. Now liberty, for its own dear sake, was worth the world to him. -He had tasted to its dregs the misery of captivity, and loathed the very -name; whatever might betide, he would never submit willingly again to -one hour's thraldom. He felt his dagger's hilt; he drew it from the -sheath, and eyed its polished blade with gladness; for eight months he -had been living unarmed, under the perpetual keeping of armed jailors; -what wonder that he looked on this sharp steel as the key to set him -free from every ill. - -He got clear of the town: the open sky, the expanse of summer--adorned -earth was before him. It was the "leafy month of June;" the far-spread -corn-fields were getting yellow; and on their weltering surface played -the shadows of a few clouds, relics of the last night's storm: the sun -was bright, the breeze balmy, already the very foot-paths were dry, and -scarcely from its inmost leaves did any tree shake moisture: yet there -was a freshness in the scene, a lightness in the air, the gift of -tempest. The dazzling sun rose higher, and each island-vapour sank on -the horizon; the garish light clothed all things; the lazy shadows crept -up around the objects which occasioned them, while both object and its -shade seemed to bask in the sunshine. Now overhead the meeting boughs of -trees scarce sufficed to shield him from the penetrating glare; now in -the open path he was wholly exposed to it, as his diminished shadow -clung almost to the horse's hoofs. The birds twittered above; the lazy -mare was stretched basking, while her colt gambolled around; each slight -thing spoke of the voluptuous indolence of summer, and the wafted scent -of hay, or gummy exhalation of evergreens, distilled by the warm noon, -fed with languid sweets every delighted sense. If paradise be ever of -this world it now embowered Richard. All was yet insecure; his White -Rose was far: but nature showered such ecstasy on him that his whole -being was given up to her influence. Latterly the form of man had been -ever before his aching sight under the aspect of an enemy; the absence -of every fellow-creature he hailed with gladness--free and alone, alone -and free! With the pertinacious dwelling on one idea, which is -characteristic of overpowering feeling, this combination of words and -ideas haunted his thoughts, fell from his lips, and made a part of the -soul-subduing rapture now his portion. - -May it be added--we must address the unhappy and imaginative, who _know_ -that the future is so linked with the present as to have an influence -over that present, when we add--that the intensity of the liberated -prince's feelings was wrought even to pain, by its being the last time -that unalloyed delight would ever be his--the last when he might feel -himself the nursling of nature, allied by the bond of enjoyment to all -her offspring. He knew not this himself. Immersed in the sense of all -that he now possessed, he did not pause to reflect whether this were the -last time, that he, the victim of chance and change, might ever see the -waving corn or shadowy trees, or hear the carolling birds, or the -murmurs of the fresh free brooks gurgling round some pendant bough or -jutting stone; but that so it was to be, gave poignancy to his pleasure, -a dreamy halo to the whole scene. - -It would appear, in spite of the precautions taken by his enemy, that -the north bank of the Thames had been neglected. Richard met with no -impediment in his progress. Whenever he caught a sight of the river, he -perceived unusual signs of activity. Little wherries shot hither and -thither on its surface, revealing to him that keen and vigilant search -was being made. Meanwhile he rode on, the broad stream for his guide, -avoiding towns and villages. He ventured to purchase bread at a lone -farm-house--he alighted in a little grove beside a rivulet, to rest his -tired horse, and to refresh himself. The summer heat recalled Andalusia -to his mind; and scenes and objects, quite forgotten, wandered from -their oblivious recesses back into his recollection. "My happy boyhood! -My beloved Spain! Why did I leave the land of beauty, where with -Monina----?" The idea of her whose fate was so inextricably linked -with his, of his bride, who had quitted her palace home to share his -adversity, reproached him. But his imagination could not fix itself on -bleak Scotland, its wild haunts, its capricious king: it could only -build another bower among the folds of the mountains of Andalusia, and -place his White Rose therein. - -Again he pursued his way. The slant beams of the descending sun were yet -more sultry, but it sank swiftly down; now casting gigantic shadows, -bathing the tree-tops in golden dew, and flooding the clouds with -splendour; now it was gone, and the landscape faded into a brown mellow -tint. The birds' last chirp was given, the beetle winged her noisy -flight, the congregated rooks had flown to the belfry of the church, or -to their nests in the churchyard trees; silence and twilight crept up -from the sedgy banks of the river, leaving the pale water alone to -reflect the struggling farewell of day. In a little time the banks -shelved away, giving place to broad yellow sand. Richard ventured to -bend his course along the beach. There was a bark upon the dim tide, -whose progress he had watched since noon, whose flapping or full sails -were the signs by which he foretold the prosperity of his destined -voyage. Now with swelling canvas it walked swiftly over the water. - -He passed Southend. He perceived the tall rough-hewn cross. Two figures -were seated at its foot. He hesitated, but quickly perceiving that one -was a woman, he proceeded onwards. The stars were out; the very west was -dim; in the offing there was a vessel, whose build and tall slender -masts he thought he recognized. The broad expanse of calm ocean was -there, whose waves broke in tiny ripplets on the beach. He reached the -cross. O'Water and Monina saw his approach. The Irishman welcomed him -boisterously, in his own language. Monina uttered a benediction in -Spanish. The scene was solitary and secure. Every danger was past. There -floated the caravel which insured escape, and the stars alone witnessed -their flight. Monina gave her white veil to O'Water, who contrived to -elevate it on the cross. In a few moments the splash of oars was heard, -and a dark speck floated towards them on the waves, from the direction -of the Adalid. "They come; you are safe," murmured his lovely friend; -"this hour repays for all." The boat was already on the beach: a seaman -leaped on shore. "The White English Rose," he said: such was the word -agreed upon; and, hailing it, Monina hurried to embark with her -companions. The little boat was pushed from shore. O'Water gave vent to -his delight in a shout that resembled a yell. Monina crept close to the -duke of York: that he was safe was a truth so dear, so new, that she -forgot everything, save her wish to assure herself again and again that -so it was. At that moment of triumph, something like sadness invaded -Richard: he had quitted the land for which his friends had bled, and he -had suffered--for ever: he had left his Katherine there, where all was -arrayed against him for his destruction. This was safety; but it was the -overthrow of every childish dream, every youthful vision; it put the -seal of ineffectual nothingness on his every manhood's act. - -While each, occupied by their peculiar reveries, were aware only that -they were being borne onwards on the waves, a smaller boat shot athwart -their bows, and a voice exclaimed in Spanish, "Desdichados, estais -allá?" - -"My father--we are betrayed," Monina cried: and she threw her arms -round Richard, as if by such frail guard to shelter him--another -stronger grasp was upon his arm as he endeavoured to rise--a voice, -husky from passion, yet still Clifford's voice, muttered, "The day is -mine--you--she--all are mine!" - -"Thou fell traitor! What ho! De Faro, to the rescue!" already the -mariner had thrown a grappling iron--already the Adalid was in motion -towards them. Clifford strove to draw his sword. York was upon him in -mortal struggle; his keen dagger, unsheathed, uplifted; the boat -lurched--his arm descended, but half the force of the intended blow was -lost, while both fell overboard. The crew rushed to the boat's side to -loosen the grappling iron, which concluded its upset. De Faro, who stood -high on the bows of his own boat, had seized Monina. Now another larger -skiff was seen approaching, "To your oars!" cried the Moor: they shot -swiftly towards the Adalid, and while the sea became alive with craft, -they reached the little caravel, who, turning her canvas to the wind, -dropped down the tide. - - - - -CHAPTER LIII - -DEATH OF CLIFFORD - - - Your love and pity doth the impression fill, - Which vulgar scandal stamp'd upon my brow; - For what care I who calls me well or ill, - So you o'erskreen my bad--my good allow? - - SHAKSPEARE. - - -On the fourth day of her restraint, imprisonment it could hardly be -called. Lady Katherine was brought up to Westminster; she was carried in -a close litter, and no familiar face or accustomed attendant came near. -Her anxiety, her anguish weighed intolerably upon her--sleep had not -visited her eyes; she lived in perpetual terror that each sound was -freighted with fatal tidings. It was in vain that even reason bade her -nourish hope--a stronger power than reason dwelt in her heart, turning -all its yearnings to despair. - -As she approached the city, she thought each step must reveal the truth -of what she was to suffer. Lo! the palace was entered--her habitual -chamber--silence and solitude alone manifested that some change was -even now in its effect; she had no tear? to spend upon her grief; her -changing colour, her quickened respiration showed that every faculty was -possessed by terror. Two hours, each minute stretched to a long, long -century,--two hours passed, when a little scroll was delivered to her; -it came from the queen, and contained these words, "My White Rose! the -tempest has past--leaving, alas! devastation: we yet remain to each -other--come----" - -These expressions spoke the worst to her fear-stricken mind--no -subsequent agony might ever compare to the pang that made her very -life-blood pause in her failing heart at that moment. Had the present -and the future become void for him, to whom she was wedded heart and -soul?--wedded in youth, when our hopes stretch themselves not merely to -to-day and to-morrow, but even to eternity. In this state of human woe, -we do not describe the disheartening and carking sorrows of those who -lag on life's highway--but the swift, poignant, intolerable agonies of -the young, to whom the aspiration for happiness is a condition of being. -The queen had been accustomed to witness and admire Katherine's -self-command and quiet fortitude; she was awe-struck on beholding the -devastation of the last four days, and the expression of wild horror on -her soft features. With feminine instinct she read her heart, her first -words were, "Sweet love, he lives--and he will live--his life is -spared, and we may still hope." - -Tears at last flowed from the mourner's eyes, as she asked, "What then -will be his fate?--Shall I ever see him more?" - -"How can we guess the hidden purposes of the king? By your enforced -solitude you have escaped his scowling brow, his violence, his sarcasms; -again he smiles. My gentle Kate, my sweet, courageous sufferer, hitherto -we have played with the lion's fangs--they are unsheathed in anger -now--let us prepare: he will be here anon." - -The princess desired not to exhibit too humiliating a spectacle of -misery to her cruel foe--she checked her weeping--she endeavoured to -forget the burning agony that tortured her beating heart. "Let him but -live; let me but once more see him;" and the unbidden tears flowed -again. The king soon broke in upon them; his look was haughty even to -insolence: an expression of vulgar triumph was in his eyes, that baffled -the eager scanning gaze of the hapless princess. He said, scoffingly -(and was it in man's nature, or only in Henry's, to look on the sad, but -lovely countenance of his victim, and to mock her woe?), "We -congratulate you, lady, on the return of the gentle Perkin to our good -city of Westminster--do not weep--he is in safe keeping now, very -safe--it is no feathered shoe our Mercury wears this day." - -"Holy Virgin!" cried Katherine, "your grace does not surely mean----" - -"Fear not--he lives," continued Henry, his scorn growing more bitter as -he spoke; "he lives, and shall live, till the White Rose acknowledge on -what base stock she is grafted, or he twist the rope by some new -sleight. Is Perkin's honoured dame satisfied?" - -"Oh, no, no, no; some covert meaning you have; in pity for a woman, -speak." The agony her countenance expressed was the mute echo of the -frightful idea that convulsed her frame. "Oh, let me see him! you have -tormented me too cruelly; even if my worst fears prove true, he suffers -not more than I; and can it be that the young limbs of my own loved -Richard are put to torture!" - -Elizabeth, grew ashy white; the king listened with a sarcastic smile, -saying, "I had not thought of that; you are a silly girl to mention such -things." - -"I do not believe you," exclaimed the princess, "your looks belie your -words; let me but see him afar off, let me catch a glimpse of my -princely love--is he in the Tower?" - -"Neither the Tower, nor any royal palace, detains your lord; he is -taking the air, pleasantly I hope, in the high places of our town. To -finish this war of words, and your incredulity, will you visit your -prince of plotters, and behold him on whom the king of Scotland bestowed -your virgin hand?" - -"See him! Oh, even in death to clasp his decaying limbs were better than -this absence!" - -An indefinable expression passed over Henry's countenance as he replied, -"Be it as you wish; you must hasten, for in an hour the occasion will be -past; it is but a few steps; you shall be attended." - -At last she was to see him; this assurance filled and satisfied her; -there was no place in her heart for any other thought, sinister as were -her torturer's looks. Her eyes grew bright, her cheek resumed its -vermeil tint, never had she looked more lovely; it was a dazzling -beauty; one of those ineffable expressions, which, unless language could -express music, or painting image fire, it is in vain to attempt to -describe: an irradiation of love passed over her countenance; her form; -something like it dwells in Raphael's Madonnas and Guido's Angel of -Annunciation,--Henry was awe-struck, yet did not falter in his purpose; -he let the bright angel go forth on her mission of good and love, to -meet on her way a sight fiends might rejoice over. Human life and human -nature are, alas! a dread, inexplicable web of suffering and of -infliction. - -In Westminster, in sight of the abbey where his ancestors had been -crowned kings, the spectacle, intended to be so opprobrious, was set -forth. Henry, in his angry fear on his escape, in his exultation at his -re-capture, forgot the soft tyranny of Katherine's looks; or rather he -despised himself for the obedience he had yielded to them; and, in the -true spirit of baseness, was glad to revenge on her the ill effects that -had resulted to him through his involuntary enslavement. It was a -triumph to him to disgrace the object of her care, for he was ill-read, -his understanding affording him no key to the unknown language, in that -illuminated page of the history of feminine excellence, which tells the -delight she feels in exhausting her treasures of devoted love on the -fallen, because they need it most: he believed, that to present her -husband to her, under the very infliction of ignominy, would turn her -affection to cold disdain--he permitted her to go. Attended by some of -the body-guard and a gentleman usher, she hastened through the courts of -the palace into the open square: there was assembled a crowd of common -people, hushed to universal silence: at a distance from the centre some -were talking aloud, and the name of "Perkin" was the burthen of their -speech; but pity stilled those nearest to the spot, towards which, to -the surprise and horror of all, she hastened. The crowd instinctively -closed to bar her advance; and, when forced to make way, in spite of the -despotism of the times, the word "Shame" burst from the lips of many, -especially the women. She was agitated by the obstacles, by the numerous -uncourtly eyes turned on her; still she went on, and soon saw-- - -She understood not what--a kind of wooden machine, in which the lord of -her heart sat. There had been a time when pride and royal majesty of -soul had shed such grandeur over York, that, when exposed as a show, he -had excited reverence, not scoffing. Now he was evidently labouring -under great physical suffering; his brow was streaked with mortal -paleness, his cheeks were colourless; his fair hair fell in disordered -ringlets round his youthful but wan countenance; he leaned his head -against the side of the machine: his eyes were half shut; it was not -shame, but suffering, that weighed upon their lids, and diffused an air -of languor and pain over his whole person. Katherine hastened towards -him, she knelt on the unworthy earth at his side, she kissed his chained -hands. "You are ill, my love; my ever dear Richard, what has happened? -for you are very ill." - -Roused by such music from the lethargy that oppressed him, yet still -overcome, he replied, "Yes; and I do believe that all will soon end, and -that I am stricken to the death." - -She grew pale; she called him cruel; asking him how he could dream of -leaving her, who was a part of him, alone in the desolate world. -"Because," he answered with a faint smile, "the world is kind to all, -save me. No taint, dear love, attaches itself to your name; no ill will -mark your fate, when you are no longer linked to such a thing as I. God -has spoken, and told me that this earth is no dwelling for one, who, -from his cradle to this last shame, has been fortune's step-child, and -her despised toy. How often have I been dragged to the utmost verge of -life: I have felt indignation, anger, despair; now I am resigned; I feel -the hand of the Mighty One on me, and I bow to it. In very truth, I am -subdued; I sleep away the weary hours, and death will end them all." - -With every expression of tenderness, Katherine endeavoured to recall him -to life and to herself. She spoke of another escape, which it would be -her care to achieve, of the solitude, of the paradise of love they would -enjoy together. "My poor girl," he replied, "teach your young heart to -seek these blessings apart from me; I were the very wretch Tudor -stigmatises me, could I live under a memory like this. Forget me, my -White Rose; paint with gaudier colours the sickly emblem of my fortunes; -forget that, duped by some strange forgery, you were wedded to--Perkin -Warbeck." - -In spite of himself, large drops gathered in his eyes, swelling the -downcast lids, and then stealing down. Catherine kissed them from his -cheek; a thousand times more noble, royal, godlike, she called him; had -not the best and worthiest suffered ignominious punishment; even our -blessed Lord himself? His own acknowledgment alone could disgrace him; -he must recall the false words wrung from his agony; this last vile act -of his enemy must awaken each sovereign on his throne to indignation; -each would see in him a mirror of what might befall themselves, if -fallen. James, her royal cousin, roused by her, should resent the stigma -affixed to his kinsman. - -"For your own sake, sweet, do so; my soul dying within me is alive again -with indignation, to think that your plighted wedded love is he, who is -exposed to contumely; but for that, methinks I would call myself by that -wretched name I dared pronounce, so that the annals of the House of York -escaped this stain: yet even thus I seem more closely allied to them; -for violent death, treachery, and ill have waited on each descendant of -Mortimer; my grandfather bore a paper crown in shame upon his kingly -brow." - -He was interrupted by the officer, who unclosed the instrument of -disgrace. Richard, weak and failing, was assisted to rise; Katherine -supported him as a young mother her feeble offspring; she twined her -arms round him as his prop, and, in spite of misery, was enraptured once -again to see, to hear, to touch him from whom she had been absent so -long. "This is not well; it must not be; his majesty will be much -displeased," said the chief of the guard, witnessing the compassion her -tender care inspired. "You must return to the palace, lady." - -"One little step," pleaded Katherine; "if I should never see him more, -how should I curse your cruelty! I will not speak, as I half thought I -would to these good people, to tell them that they may well honour him a -princess loves: drag me not away yet--one more good-bye!--farewell, -noble York, Kate's only love;--we meet again; this parting is but -mockery." - -She wept on his bosom; the sound of wailing arose in the crowd; the -prince's eyes alone were dry; he whispered comfort to her; he promised -to live, to baffle his foe again for her sake; the words revived her, -and she saw him depart with hope, with new joy kindled in her bosom. - -There had been another, the public gaze, till Katherine came to draw all -eyes to a newer wonder. An emaciated, pale woman, in a garb of penury, -who knelt, telling her beads, beside York's prison; her face was hid; -but her hands were thin and white to ghastliness; during the last scene -she had sobbed to agony, and now, as the place cleared, went her way -silently, with slow, feeble steps. Many marked her with surprise and -curiosity; few knew that she was the Jane Shore, whose broken heart -whispered misery, as she thought that she beheld King Edward's guilt, in -which she had shared, visited on his son. This cruel lesson of religion -was a canker in her heart, and most true it was, as far as regarded her -royal lover, that his light loves, and careless playing with sacred -ties, had caused the blot of base birth to be affixed to his legitimate -offspring, and so strewed the sad way that led them to untimely death. - -Henry, cruel as he was, had not the courage to encounter his insulted -prisoner on her return. Katherine's feelings were wrought too high for -any display of passion; her anxiety was spent on how she could sooth -York's wounded feelings, and restore his health: it were vain to ask, -she feared; yet, if the king would permit her to attend on him, under -whatever restrictions, they should be obeyed; and this while poor -Elizabeth besought her pardon with tears, for being the wife of her -insolent adversary. She, a proud Plantagenet, was more sorely stung than -the White Rose, by the indignity offered to her house; and she entreated -her not to love her brother less because of this foul disgrace. "So -doing," said the quick-sighted queen, "you fulfil his dearest wish. -While you are Richard's loving wife, he, even he, the fallen and -humiliated, is an object of envy to his majesty, who sought, by making -you witness his ignominy, to detach you from him." - -"How strange a mistake," replied Katherine, "for one so sage as the -king: the lower my sweet Richard falls, the more need he surely has of -me. But that love, such as ours, knits us too indivisibly to admit a -reciprocity of benefit, I should say that it is to make me rich indeed, -to enable me to bestow, to lavish good on my lord; but we are one, and I -but give to myself, and myself receive, if my weakness is of any -strength to him. Dear sister mine, your liege, wise as he may be, is a -tyro in our woman's lore--in the mysteries of devoted love; he never -felt one inspiration of the mighty sprite." - -This was not quite true. For some few days Henry had been so inspired; -but love, an exotic in his heart, degenerated from being a fair, -fragrant flower, into a wild, poisonous weed. Love, whose essence is the -excess of sympathy, and consequently of self-abandonment and generosity, -when it alights on an unworthy soil, appears there at first in all its -native bloom, a very wonder even to the heart in which it has taken -root. The cold, selfish, narrow-hearted Richmond was lulled to some -slight forgetfulness of self, when first he was fascinated by Katherine, -and he decked himself with ill-assorted virtues to merit her -approbation. This lasted but a brief interval; the uncongenial clime in -which the new plant grew, impregnated it with its own poison. Envy, -arrogance, base desire to crush the fallen, were his natural -propensities; and, when love refused to minister to these, it changed to -something like hate in his bosom; it excited his desire to have power -over her, if not for her good, then for her bane. - -The duke of York was imprisoned in the Tower. No further measures were -apparently in action against him. Katherine no longer hoped anything -from her foe; and day and night there lay beneath her eyelids the image -of Richard, wasting and dying in captivity. Something must be done, some -aid afforded him; she was anxious also to learn the details of his -flight, and how again he fell into the hands of his foe. Monina, who in -a thousand disguises had been used to penetrate everywhere, was seen no -more. Still public report informed her of many things. - -It was known, that Sir Robert Clifford, the old spy and traitor of the -White Rose, had become aware of the measures taken by York's adherents -to insure his escape from England. He had followed him down the river, -and by a knowledge of the signs and countersigns of the party, decoyed -him into a boat that was to convey his victim back to his prison-house. -The deceit was discovered, and a mortal struggle ensued on board the -tiny bark; it sunk, and many perished, Clifford among the rest. On the -morrow his body was found upon the beach, stiff and stark; a gaping -wound in his neck showed that the waters alone had not been his foe; in -his clenched hand he grasped a mass of golden hairs, severed by some -sharp implement from the head to which they grew: as if nought else -could liberate his enemy from his hold. There he lay, bold Robin -Clifford, the dauntless, wily boy, hunted through life by his own fell -passions, envy, cupidity, and libertinism; they had tracked him to this -death; his falsehoods were now mute, his deceptions passed away; he -could never more win by his smiles, or stab by his lying words; death -alone had a share in him, death and the cold sands beneath which he was -interred, leaving a name, the mark of scorn, the symbol of treachery. - -They had struggled beneath the strangling waves, Richard and his -adversary. The prince was wounded in the scuffle, and became enfeebled -almost to insensibility before he could sever from his enemy's grasp the -fair locks he clutched--he swam away, as well as he might, and, with -the instinct of self-preservation, made for the shore--he forgot that -England was a wide prison--he only strove to master the fate which beat -him to the ground. He reached the sands--he sought the covert of some -near underwood, and threw himself upon the earth in blind thankfulness; -exhausted, almost inanimate, he lay there, given up only to the sense of -repose, and safety from death, which visited his failing heart with a -strange sense of pleasure. - -The following morning was far advanced, before he could rouse himself -from this lethargy. He looked upon the waters; but the Adalid was no -more to be seen--he was quite alone; he needed succour, and none was -afforded him. Well he knew that every field, lane, dingle, and copse -swarmed with enemies, and he shuddered at the likelihood that unarmed, -and weak as he was, he should fall into their hands. He desired to reach -London again as his sole refuge; and he journeyed, as he hoped, towards -it, all unknowing of the route. No way-worn traveller in savage lands, -pursued by barbarous enemies, ever suffered more than the offspring of -Edward the Fourth amidst the alienated fields of his paternal kingdom. -Cold and rain succeeded to the pleasant summer weather:--during night -he lay exposed to the tempests--during day he toiled on, his limbs -benumbed, his heart wasted by hunger and fatigue; yet never, at the head -of the Scottish chivalry, never in Burgundy or in England, did he feel -more resolute not to submit, but, baffling fortune and his enemy's -power, to save himself in spite of fate. He had wandered far inland, and -knew not where he was--he had indeed passed beyond London, and got up -as high as Barnes. It was the fourth day from that of his escape--he -had tasted little food, and no strength remained in him, except that -which gave energy to his purpose. He found himself on a wide, heathy -common, studded with trees, or desolately open--the rainy day closed, -and a bleak east wind swept over the plain, and curled the -leaden-coloured waters of the river--his love of life, his -determination not to yield, quailed before the physical miseries of his -lot; for some few moments, he thought that he would lie down and die. - -At this time another human figure appeared upon the scene. A Benedictine -lay-brother, who, in the freedom of solitude, in defiance of wind and -rain, trolled a ditty, fitter for a ruffling swaggerer's bonnet, than a -monk's cowl. He started not a little, on perceiving our wanderer leaning -against the scathed trunk of a solitary tree; nor less did he wonder -when he recognized the fallen prince. It was Heron himself, the -magnanimous mercer, who having effected his escape with a well-hoarded -purse, contrived to introduce himself into the house of Bethlem, at -Shene, which was called the Priory. He was a little frightened to -perceive his ancient leader; but pity succeeded to fear; and with many -fair words and persuasions he induced him to permit himself to be -conducted to the Priory. There, since he believed himself to be dying, -he might receive the last sacraments--there perhaps, for, some few -minutes, he might again behold his Katherine. - -Thus was the fugitive again led within the pale of his enemy's power. -The prior, a man esteemed for holiness, did not delay to make his -sovereign acquainted with the capture of his rival. His awe of Katherine -having vanished, Henry was left at liberty to follow the ungenerous -dictates of his grovelling spirit. Many a courtier, true man or false, -counselled the death of the aspiring youth; and they praised their -master's magnanimity, when he rejected this advice, and in lieu exposed -him, whom he knew to be the descendant of a line of kings, to beggarly -disgrace. Thus worn and weak, the ill-fated son of York was made a -public spectacle of infamy. But Henry went a step too far; and, when he -thrust the Scottish princess forward on the scene, he turned defeat to -triumph. - -He was not to die--but rather to pine out a miserable existence--or -had the sage monarch any other scheme? The high-spirited prince was to -be cooped up within the Tower--there, where the earl of Warwick wasted -his wretched life. Did he imagine that the resolved and ardent soul of -Richard would, on its revival, communicate a part of its energy to the -son of Clarence, and that ere long they would be enveloped in one ruin? -Some words had transpired that appeared to reveal such an intention; and -his order to the lieutenant of the Tower, that, without permitting, he -should connive at any covert intercourse between the two--his -recommendation of a noted spy and hireling to a high trust, and the -order this fellow had to bring each day intelligence to the palace from -the prison--spoke loudly of some design; for Henry never did aught in -vain. It was in circulation also among the lower officers in the -fortress, that an attempt to escape was expected on the part of the -prisoners, and that rich reward would attend its discovery. - - - - -CHAPTER LIV - -IMPRISONMENT IN THE TOWER - - - And bare, at once, Captivity displayed, - Stands scoffing through the never-opened gate; - Which nothing through its bars admits, save day - And tasteless food. - - BYRON. - - -The Lady Katherine, no longer trusting the good intentions of the -insolent tyrant, was eager to communicate with her royal cousin of -Scotland, to urge him to save from death or disgrace, if not to effect -the liberation of him to whom he had given her hand. The difficulty of -finding a messenger was great. The queen, all amiable and sorrowing as -she was, shrunk from any act, which, if discovered, would enrage the -king. Where did Monina tarry while her friend was in this strait? Of all -his sometime associates was there not one who would risk all to retard -the last steps of fate. Since York's escape she had been so vigilantly -guarded, that a thousand schemes she had formed for her own evasion -proved abortive at their very outset. - -Help was at length afforded her unexpectedly, when most despairing. -Edmund Plantagenet stood before her--changed indeed from what he had -been; she had not seen him since the siege of Exeter, where he was -wounded; but slight was his bodily hurt in comparison to the death-blow -his mind received. - -Plantagenet was one of those concentrated characters, whose very outward -show of softness and gentleness serves the more to force the texture of -their souls to receive one indelible impression. He had passed a boyhood -of visions, given up to mighty aspirations and engrossing reverie. His -thoughts were stirring as the acts of others; his forest-school had so -tutored him, that he could live in bodily repose, while his mind -ruminated: he could be quickened to hope and fear, to lofty ambition, to -generosity, and devoted courage, feeling in his heart the keenest -impulses--while around him were the mute trees of the wild wood and -pathless glades. He could be satisfied with such dreamy illusions; so -that action with him was never the result of physical restlessness, nor -of youthful emulation, nor of that stirring spirit of life which forces -us to abhor repose. It flowed from an imperious sense of duty; it welled -up from the very sources of his soul. Other men perform the various -parts allotted to them, and yet are something else the while; as is the -actor, even while he struts in the garb of royalty: but Edmund yielded -himself wholly up, and was the mere creature of the thought within. - -To be great and good--great from the good he should effect, was his -boyhood's aspiration. It is probable that, if he had not been subjected -to extraneous influence, he would have devoted himself to religion, and -become a saint or martyr; for his all, his understanding, heart, and -person, would have been given up to the holy cause he espoused. His -being led to King Richard's tent, the night before the battle of -Bosworth Field, gave a new and inextinguishable law to his life. Unknown -duties were imposed. The first and dearest was, to redeem his father's -soul from the guilt of murderous ambition, by elevating his injured -nephew to his original greatness. He devoted himself to his cousin. Soon -he learned to love Richard as the work of his own hands. He had reared -his tender infancy; he had been his tutor in martial exercises, teaching -him to curb the fiery steed, to wield the lance, and, more than all, to -meet danger in the field fearlessly: to be honourable, brave, and kind. -He had led him to war, and shielded him with his own body from the cruel -Moor. If ever they were divided, his thoughts dwelt only the more -carefully with him. Last, he had brought him from glorious combats in -Spain, to conquer his ancestral kingdom, and set him up the rival of a -powerful king--the mark of his vengeance. - -It was all over. Edmund possessed no innate strength to rise from the -blow; he was a mariner on the wide ocean, without compass or rudder. The -universe had one central point for him; that was destroyed, and a total -blank remained. York's first surrender visited him as a death-stroke; he -struggled against it. Enfeebled by his wound, more by despair, he passed -over to Ireland; there he expected to find friends of the White Rose; he -found only enemies of Duke Perkin: men eager to exculpate themselves -from the charges of ill faith or ingratitude, gladly adopted a -phraseology, or a belief, that reduced to dust the golden glories of -poor Edmund's idol. Perkin Warbeck! Oh thou flower of York! thou -nursling of love, though child of calamity, is even thy bright name so -to be tainted? Not by those immediately arrayed by self-interest against -thee; but by, the vulgar crew, ever eager to crush the fallen. There was -no hope in Ireland. Keating, the Prior of Kilmainham, was dead. The earl -of Desmond was reconciled to the English government. Lord Barry had fled -to Spain. The citizens of Cork were busy redeeming, by eager servility, -their mayor's disloyalty. - -Overcome by these sad changes, a malignant fever seized on Edmund: in -addition to every other disappointment, he had the consciousness that -his aid was necessary to his cousin: that his absence was probably -misinterpreted by his friends as cowardly dereliction. York was calling -on him in vain. Monina perhaps suspected his truth. Next to the sun of -his life, the noble Richard, Monina lay nearest his heart. It was a -mixture of many feelings; and even love, subdued by hopelessness, -quickened them to greater intensity. As soon as he could rise from his -couch, he directed his course to England. He arrived in London on the -day of the duke of York's worst disgrace. It was reported to him as the -gossip of the town: at the fatal word a mortal change seized upon his -frame: his limbs were as if struck by palsy; his cheeks fell in; his -hair grew white. On his arrival he had taken up his abode in a monastery -in the habit of a poor pilgrim: the sage monks, who beheld his state, -possessed no leech-craft to administer his cure: he lay with beating -pulses and open eyes, while the work of the grave appeared already in -operation against him: he wasted into a fleshless skeleton. And then -another secret change came over him; he conquered death, and crawled -forth, the ghost of what he was, into the hopeless world. - -He contrived to gain admission to the princess. She did not recognize -him, such was the pale disguise disease had put upon him. His voice, -hollow as from a tomb, was altered; his dark, melancholy eyes, occupying -too large a portion of his face, gleamed from under his streaked and wan -brow. Yet his was a visit of comfort, for he could do her mission to -Scotland, and invite the forgetful James to succour his friend and -kinsman. Edmund listened eagerly to this proposal: a draught of soothing -balm descended into his frame, with the thought that yet all was not -lost. His physical energy almost returned: he hurried to depart--"How -will you traverse this wide kingdom?" asked the lady. "Cannot the Adalid -come as before, to aid and speed you on your way?" - -"The Adalid is sailing on the far ocean sea," replied Plantagenet; "we -are all as dead, in the eyes of De Faro and our Monina." - -"Faithless girl!" - -With a trace of his ancient warmth and sweetness, Edmund entered upon -the gentle maiden's exculpation. He related that a poor fellow lay on -the bed next his in the convent hospital, whom he recognized to be an -Irishman, who had escaped from Waterford, and sailed with them in the -Adalid to Cornwall. From him he heard the tale of what had befallen De -Faro and his child. He heard how the mariner had long haunted the -English coast waiting for an opportunity to carry off the prince; of the -fatal night, when snatching his daughter from the watery peril, he saw -Richard, as he believed, perish in the waves. What more had the Moorish -mariner and his daughter to do with this miserable, guilty island? He -called his men together; he told them his resolve finally to quit the -eastern world for the golden islands of the west, inviting those who -were averse to the voyage to go on shore at once, before the fair wind -that was rising should hurry them into the open sea. The poor Irishman -alone desired to land: before he went he saw the Spanish damsel; he -described her as calm and mild, though there was something unearthly in -her gleaming eyes and in the solemn tone of her voice. "If," she said, -"you meet any of our friends, any who ask for De Faro and his daughter, -if you see Lady Brampton, Lord Barry, or Sir Edmund Plantagenet, tell -them that Monina lives, that she tarries with her father, and tasks -herself to be his comfort and support. We seek the Western Indies; well -may it betide us that we never reach the unknown strand; or we may be -cast away in an uninhabited solitude, where my care and companionship -may stead my dear father much; or I may teach the sacred truths of our -religion to the wild Indians, and speak the dear name of Christ to the -unbaptized of those wilds; or soften, as best I may, the cruel Spaniard, -and save the devoted people from their barbarity. Tell them, whichever -way I look, I perceive a thousand duties to which our great Taskmaster -calls me, and these I live to fulfil, if so my feeble body will permit; -tell them that my only hope is death; that, and that by my obedience to -the Almighty will, I may partly merit to join in Paradise the earthly -angel who now survives there." - -Tears choked further speech; she imprinted her words by a gift of gold. -The boat which had been hailed, came alongside. The man on board, the -sails of the Adalid swelled proudly in the gale; the little caravel ran -lightly along on the top of the roughening waters. In less than two -hours she was out of sight, speeding swiftly over the sea towards the -wild western ocean. - -Plantagenet departed; and the princess was yet more cheered when she -found that no further injury 'was meditated against her lord. -Imprisonment in the Tower was his sole punishment. Her pure, gentle mind -could not divine the full extent of King Henry's villany, nor guess how -he undermined the edifice he claimed praise for not levelling with the -ground. - -Nor could her resigned, patient, feminine spirit conceive the cruel, -biting impatience of his lot that York endured. He had yielded at first -to the overwhelming sense of disgrace, and felt that last, worst emotion -of the injured, which answers the internal question, "What have I done -so to be visited?" in the poet's words,-- - - - "I cannot charge - My memory with much save sorrow--but - I have been so beyond the common lot - Chastened and visited, I needs must think - That I was wicked." - - -But soon his eager, eagle spirit spurned the tame debasing thought: he -resolved again to struggle, and at last to conquer; the fire burned -brighter for its short smouldering; almost with a light heart he -laughed, as he resolved again to endeavour. - -His prison life was more than irksome; it was unendurable. No change, -which is the soul of enjoyment, varied it. No sympathy, the parent of -content, came anear. In his young days he had trod on the verge of -life's wave, watching it recede, and fancying that it would discover -glittering treasures as it retreated into the ocean of eternity: now the -tide ebbed sullenly; the barren sands grew dark; and the expanse before -afforded no hope--what was to be done? - -He was in the Tower, whence he had twice escaped; where the earl of -Warwick was immured, pining in fruitless vegetation, rather than living. -Should he do as he had done, and become a cipher, a forgotten prisoner, -a mere thing to wake and sleep, and be as nothing? The very dog that -guards a cottage-door from nightly harm had more dignity and purpose in -his life than this victim of ambition. The bird that alighted on the -sill of his iron-barred casement, and carried off a crumb for her -nestlings, was an emblem of utility and freedom in comparison, which -Warwick, cut off from all, must weep to mark. How different was -Richard's fate; he had dear friends ready to risk all for him, whose -life's sacrifice he could repay only by being true to himself; he had a -wife, wedded to him in youth's early flower, whose happiness was -unalterably linked to his. He had courage, fortitude, energy; he would -not cast these gifts away, a thankless boon: he valued them at their -price: if death crowned his efforts, it were well; he was a mere toy in -the hands of God, and he submitted; but as a man, he was ready to cope -with men, and though defeated never to be vanquished. Not a month after -his removal to the Tower he had observed his facilities, marked his -instruments, and resolved to enter on his schemes: they were quickened -by other circumstances. - -Warwick heard of his cousin's arrival; and he believed this to be the -signal of his own deliverance. His first chief desire was to have -communication with him. Among his attendants there was one to whom he -could apply; he was a lank, tall fellow, with little understanding and -but one idea--gratitude to the duke of Clarence. This man, called -Roger, and nicknamed Long Roger, his length being his chief distinction, -had been very poor, and burthened besides with several infant children: -accidents and a bad season brought them to the verge of starvation, when -a chance threw him in the way of the duke of Clarence, who got him made -servitor in the Tower. When this unfortunate prince was imprisoned -within its fatal walls. Long Roger underwent a thousand perils to wait -on him by stealth, and to do what service he might. Long Roger had a -prodigious appetite, and his chief delight was to smuggle dainties, -cooked by his Madge, into the prison chamber of the duke. The manner of -Clarence's death, which Roger affirmed to accord with the popular -tradition, alone consoled the faithful sympathizing fellow. Now he had -turned the key for thirteen years on the duke's hapless son: in spite of -his watchful care and proffered cates, he had seen the poor youth -dwindle to a skeleton, when suddenly the progress of delay was checked -by Our Lady: it was a miracle to see Lord Edward grow fat and comely to -look upon, changing his woe-begone looks into gracious smiles: by the -mass, there was witchcraft in it! Warwick often thanked Long Roger, and -told him what he would do when restored to freedom and rank: which will -never be, Roger said, except among the saints in Paradise; unless it -pleased God to remove his majesty, when my lady the queen should fully -know how fervently her cousin prayed for her; and, forsooth, with sweet -prince Arthur, his royal mother would be all-powerful. Long Roger's -visions went not beyond. He never imagined the possibility of effecting -the earl's escape; his limited understanding suggested no relief, save a -bottle of Canary, or bunches of white roses in June, which in fact was -Dame Madge's feminine idea; and often had the simple flowers soothed -Warwick's care. To this man the poor prisoner applied, to enable him to -see and converse with the newly-arrived Richard: two are better than one -to a feast; and, the next time Roger meditated a dainty supper for his -lord, he resolved to endeavour that York should partake it with him as a -guest. - -In his own guileless way, the simple-hearted man began to practise on -and bribe one of his fellows, without whom it had been difficult to -accomplish his desire. Abel Blewet had lately been appointed to his -service: he was nearly a dwarf, with bushy eyebrows and red hair: there -was something of ill omen in his physiognomy, but as the tall yeoman -looked over the head of his comrade, his courage rose: "The -whipper-snapper could not rebuff me," he thought, as he drew himself up -to his full height, and began to propound the mighty deed of conducting -Perkin by mistake to the Lord Edward's chamber, on his return from -vespers. Roger paused suddenly; for, in spite of his stature, he was -appalled by the glance Blewet shot up from under his penthouses of -brows: still he gave a willing assent, and even took upon himself the -chief risk of the undertaking. - -The following evening, while Richard was yet pondering how to commence -his machinations, undecided, though resolved; and while he made up his -mind not to betray his thoughts to the sinister-looking being before -him, he was surprised to find that he was led through an unaccustomed -gallery; and still more on entering the chamber into which he was -introduced, to recognise it as that where he had unexpectedly found -refuge during his last visit to the Tower, and to perceive that Warwick -himself was there expecting him. - -Was this the thin, wasted being he had seen three years before? Had -Warwick been then set free to hunt upon the hills, he had not regained -more flesh and bloom than now that hope had been his only medicine. His -cousin York had inspired him with marvellous confidence; his last -entrance into the formidable Tower, and his speedy exit, had appeared a -miracle to the poor earl, to whom these high walls and sad chambers -formed a world, from which, as from the larger one, death only promised -egress. He had pined and wasted in his appetite to be free, to be -without those gates, beyond that fosse and giant battlements that girded -him in: these portentous, insuperable obstacles were mere cobweb chains -to Richard. He had come in, he had departed, and all as easily, so -Warwick thought, as the unregarded fly, that had perhaps flown from -Westminster, from Elizabeth's chamber, to light upon his cheek. In all -the subsequent tales of York's checks and overthrow, he smiled at the -idea that one born to victory could be thus overcome. He laughed at the -chains Henry had thrown over him; and his transfer to the Tower elated -him with a firm belief that liberty was at hand. Dwelling on these -thoughts, Warwick ceased to be the dead alive; he was cheerful, erect, -elastic in his gait, his complexion glowed with health, while sickness -lingered still on the cheek of the younger Plantagenet, and a more -subdued spirit dwelt in his heart. - -Long Roger beheld the cousins embrace: he heard the earl call him, named -Perkin, his liege, and most dear kinsman: from that moment the -opprobrious name was banished from Roger's lips: he was convinced of -York's truth, and the Lord Edward's friend became an object of reverence -and of love. - - - - -CHAPTER LV - -ATTEMPT TO ESCAPE - - - Gentle cousin, - If you be seen, you perish instantly - For breaking prison. - - No, no, cousin, - I will no more be hidden, nor put off - This great adventure to a second trial. - - TWO NOBLE KINSMEN. - - -Quick on the first greeting followed Warwick's question. "And, noble -cousin, what have you projected? when shall we escape?" - -Richard's being in durance with him, seemed sufficient pledge, that -without delay they should both be free. While York, wearied by -opposition to his mighty foe, just foiled in his endeavours to preserve -his freedom, even when he had attained it, saw giant obstacles in his -path; and, although resolved to endeavour all, was fully conscious of -the fatal end that must wait upon his too probable failure. His reply -was dictated by these feelings; he was averse to drag one so -inexperienced, and so unhappy, into the pit he believed that he was -digging for himself. He besought the earl well to weigh the value he set -upon life; to place the fatal scaffold in prospect; to teach himself to -know what death was, and to be ready to meet it, before he planned -escape from the wily Tudor. Warwick listened with impatient wonder; but -when Richard concluded with affirming, that he himself, in sober -sadness, preferred hazarding all to the remaining in prison, and that he -would be free, the earl's countenance again grew light and gladsome. -"But when, coz--when?" was still his eager question. - -Thus they had changed characters. Warwick, so many years secluded from -the world, was in total ignorance of its ways. Had the Tower-gates been -opened to him, he had trembled to walk forth alone; but restraint had -made him feminine; and with his cousin he would have rushed upon an army -of spears, in sure belief that some unseen aegis would protect him. His -position rendered him timid, indolent, and dependent; but he relied on -Richard, as a woman on her lover. York beheld all things in their clear, -true light; he was aware of every difficulty; of the means he possessed -for overcoming them, and of the hazards he ran in using these means. A -sentiment, born of the highest generosity made him hesitate before he -concerted any plan with Warwick. It was not alone that he was averse to -risking another life; but he felt that his cause would receive advantage -from this link with an undoubted Plantagenet; nay, that, in the prison -itself, the attachment and respect felt towards the son of Clarence, by -some of the very men he meant to use, would serve him. That he should -reap benefit from exposing the ill-fated prince to untried dangers, -revolted his high and independent nature. Warwick had recourse to many -an entreaty and persuasion, ere he brought Richard to consent that their -fortunes should be joined, and that, last of the White Rose, they would -rise or fall together. Still York was obliged to check his cousin's -impatience, and to show that they must slowly work out the end they had -in view. - -To gratify the earl's greedy curiosity, York related his adventures; -they afforded him an inexhaustible fund of surprise and delight. He -sighed over his tale of wedded happiness; and half wondered that angelic -woman, seated high on the throne of loveliness and love, should deign to -devote herself for man. A pang, not of envy, but of regret, on comparing -their fates, shot across him; soon the usual current of feeling -returned; and when he heard that his idolized, lost Elizabeth, was the -friend and companion of the devoted wife of York, his affection for -Richard was increased. Night was far advanced before they separated, and -then only in certain expectation of meeting again. - -York's hopes grew brighter, and he indulged in visions of the future, -which lately had been so blank. He verily believed that he might escape, -though still he doubted whether he should. He remembered the fondness of -the duchess of Burgundy for her brother Clarence, and how she had -deplored the hard destiny of his offspring; he would present that son, -liberated by him, to her. His junction with the prince must revive the -old Yorkists in his favour; this worst blast of fortune might be the -gale to speed him to the harbour of his hopes. The royal cousins met -again and again; nor was it long before their own desires, and Henry's -craft, began to weave that fatal web which entangled them even in the -very mode the hard-hearted king devised. - -Summer was gone: quicker than he was wont, the sun withdrew his -embattled array of light and heat; and cold and tempest, erewhile driven -to mountain fastnesses, or to their own frozen kingdoms in the north, -took courage and force, and broke with wild fury upon the defenceless -world: the bleak winds were their coursers; savagely they yelled and -howled over the land they desolated. First, the growth of flowers was -their prey; the fruits, and then the verdure of the earth, while the -sun, each day retreating, afforded further scope to their inroads. York -resolved not to pass another winter in prison. He had quickly perceived -that his purpose could only be effected by corrupting their guards, and -then all would depend upon the fidelity of these men. His first attempts -were followed by an almost too easy success: good-hearted, dull-headed -Long Roger heard with unreplying credulity the assertions of Warwick, -that Richard must succeed in all he undertook, and readily promised his -aid. Abel Blewet, in spite of his dogged, sinister aspects yielded at -once to the seduction of a promised bribe. Two others, by his advice, -were associated as necessary to their success. Strangeways, a ruffling -drunken fellow, who had been thrice dismissed, but whose pretty wife -each time procured his reappointment; and Astwood, a saving miser, who -lent money to his fellow-servitors on usury. With these instruments the -cousins went to work. Warwick in full belief of success: York, -perceiving treason and discovery close to them, but ready to defy these -bloodhounds to their worst. - -"And now, coz," said Warwick, "in very truth there needs no further -delay. Methinks were the drawbridge down, you would mistrust some gin, -and wait to throw an arch of your own across the moat. Sooth, my lord, I -am a weary of your sloth." - -There was a caressing sweetness in Warwick's voice and manner: an -ignorant, indolent, confiding enthusiasm, so unlike quick-witted -Clifford, or any of Duke Richard's former friends, that he felt a new -emotion towards him--hitherto he had been the protected, served, and -waited on, of his associates, now he played the protector and the -guardian. - -"My gentle cousin," he replied, "even as you trust, so you shall find -me--wait but a little, and all will be past. Yet I grieve to say, where -you see escape, I perceive an ambushment of death; and, though ready to -face the grim skeleton, we must arm ourselves against him. I wish I -could show you even as I see, the dangers that environ us--perhaps you -would shrink; and it is yet time. What do you do? Not only plan escape, -but ally yourself, and give the sanction of your untarnished name, to -one whom Tudor brands as an impostor, and abhors as a rival. His -vengeance will fall heavily for this deed, if he reach you. While a few -years, like the many already gone by, may lead him to his grave, and you -to liberty. I have too often met danger to be frightened by him: and I -endure worse than death, each day I pass of youth, apart my sweet White -Rose. You have no lady-love to beckon you across the path of peril. -Bethink you well, my ever dear lord, will you not regret this prison, -when the cruel axe glitters before your eyes?" - -"Do you refuse then to take me with you?" said Warwick, mournfully. - -"Be the choice yours; to go with me is fraught with danger--to stay--" - -"Hush, cousin!" cried the earl, eagerly, "speak not the ill-omened word. -Stay,--to endure days and nights of guarded doors; to eat viands served -up poisoned by the jailor's touch; to see the sky but through those iron -bars; alas! in my dreams, when heaven and its stars are before me, they -are crossed and paled by those accursed lines. Give me but an hour to -tread earth a free man--or, mark, cousin; sometimes I win good Roger to -lead me to the roof of the White Tower; it is high, and overhangs the -deep, dangerous river--the day you quit my side, I seek that tower, I -leap from its height, and the cold waters shall drink up my being, -rather than I endure another hour my prison-life." - -"My dear, dear cousin," said York, "it is written by the Fates, and I -yield--our fortunes shall be one. A few days now brings the hour; it -will move along the dial; it will become a portion of past time--what -it will leave us, is in the hands of God." - -That hour came--full soon it came--the evening hour which preceded -their escape. Long Roger served supper to the kinsmen, the last they -were to partake within the fated walls. The poor fellow heaved a bitter -sigh, as he waited by his lord's chair. "Thou art downcast, good Roger," -said the earl, "pledge me, my man, in this ruby wine of Burgundy--think -of to-morrow, not of to-night--to-morrow the deed will be done." - -Roger quaffed the proffered bowl--he set it down with another sigh, -almost a groan, adding, "Better drown reason than life in the vat!" Then -recollecting to what he alluded, and before whom, he blushed scarlet to -his very ears, and like a bashful man he made it worse by going on -blunderingly, "I was never handy at these sort of things; it is for all -the world like turning out of a warm bed on a cold snowy morning, only -to think of them--and when they are about,--by the Cross, I thought no -hole far enough or dark enough, when my lord your father--" - -"Roger!" exclaimed Warwick. - -The wine had not decreased the man's terror, but it had opened his -mouth, and taken away his discretion; he continued: "It was an awful -night. We all knew what was going to be done. I am sure, as Thomas -Paulet said, we heard our very hearts beat. Then there was grim-faced -Hobler, who at the judgment might be taken for the born twin of Master -Abel, only he was taller by a span--even he looked uglier, nor spoke -above his breath--'Is he at his prayers?' asked he, and Sir Brakenbury -was as white as the earth itself--it was the beginning of Lent; and the -snow lay three feet deep on it." - -By no uncommon law of our nature, the dread design of the present night -awoke keen recollection in the usually drowsy mind of this man. At -first, with thrilling horror, Warwick interrupted him, but now the very -terrors of the theme he chose assumed an awful charm--he was fascinated -to listen, while his knees knocked together. Richard felt also the magic -of such perilous excitement. - -"Oh, Lord Edward," continued Roger, "these walls have seen fiendly -sights--the blood of many a Plantagenet, York, or Lancaster, is on its -pavement. Was it not in this room that the pious king Saint Henry, as -Father Piers calls him--you will not sleep another night in it, so -there is no harm now, telling you that his poor ghost has been seen on -the battlements coming from this very chamber, where he was murthered." - -The night wind rushed round the massy walls, the autumnal wind, fierce -and howling--York started up. "No more of this unreason, while we need -all our strength, and God's grace to boot, to nerve us to our task. Oh, -ghost of Lancaster! if indeed thou hauntest this spot, where those akin -to me did the foul deed, be thy pious soul propitiated now; many a mass -shall be told for thy repose?" - -Roger crossed himself, and said an Ave; then in his usual voice he -rejoined, Would the thing did not require blood. Master Abel vows by -the saints--'twere better when men make bad oaths to swear by the -fiends--that Sir John must die; old wrinkled Astwood squeaks out, "By'r -Lady, it were not worth while, with only promises for reward, if we have -not the rifling of the lieutenant's private chamber. They are -bloody-minded men, my lord; Mat Strangeways, when he is sober, and I, -fasting or feasting, hold out that we might bind him, and get the keys.' -'Blockhead,' says Master Blewet, saving your presence, 'thou goest the -way to hang us all.'" - -Another goblet had set Roger talking. Warwick had quitted the table. He -threw open the casement: it was very dark, and the wind howled -fearfully--"Oh, iron bars of my prison-house," cried the ill-fated -prince, "can only midnight-murder wrench ye asunder? It is a dread act -to disobey God's word, and lay the soul under mortal sin--must it be -done?" - -"My dear cousin," said York, "do not mistake--a month ago the choice -was yours; now there is no going back. We have no right to draw these -poor men into peril, and then to quarrel at the precaution they take for -their safeties. We said, ay, when the matter was proposed. Again I -repeat the word; they must look to it, who so savagely have driven us to -the fatal pass. When Digby undertook the ungentle task of jailor, he -knew that he must hold it at the hazard of his life." - -"Sir John has ever been kind tome," said Warwick, "forgive the word, my -lord, I am firm now--away with mercy! To win an easy egress from these -murderous walls, I could myself plant the dagger." - -"We are not executioners," interrupted the duke, who felt none of -Warwick's vacillations, now sinking beneath the required tone, now wound -up far above it, and was perfectly calm, though his heart, he scarce -knew why, entertained no hope of success. Warwick believed that he -should win, and mourned the losers in the frightful game. Richard knew -that he might fail, and assuredly would, did he not meet each necessity -and hazard with a dauntless spirit. - -The sound of a bell from a neighbouring convent was brought fitfully by -the wind--"They are ringing matins--there is our signal," cried Roger. - -"And Digby's knell." The door of the chamber opened as Warwick said -these words, and Blewet, with his usual catlike pace, slid in; he walked -straight up to Roger, and casting on him a glance from under his brows, -said only, "Come." - -"Are all at rest?" asked the earl. - -"Two hours agone," said Master Abel, "I have kept myself awake -sharpening my steel:" he touched the handle of a huge butcher's knife -stuck in his girdle, whose glittering blade did credit to his care. -Warwick turned pale and sick. "It will be dulled anon," continued -Blewet. - -"Where are thy comrades?" Richard asked. - -"They wait at the end of the corridor--Master Astwood is counting his -gains. Come, Long Roger." - -Poor Roger followed him to the door, then turning to the princes; "My -royal masters," said he, "if this deed goes ill, and I never see ye -more, by Christ and his Cross, I pray a blessing on ye; if I may pray, -but by the mass I fear I shall never pray, nor sup more." - -They were gone--Warwick strove to look, to be firm, but he grew ashy -white--a door clapped to at a distance made him almost faint. Richard -was pale also; but his hand shook not in the least, as he presented a -cup of wine to his cousin. "Give me water rather," said the earl, -shuddering, "that cup is red--hark--it is his groans!" - -"It is the wind around the turret, where my liege and brother died," -said York, endeavouring to give other thoughts to the poor prince, who -cried,-- - -"It is the hell-born laugh of fiends viewing the deed." With the breeze -indeed came a sound of laughter. "Are we betrayed!" cried York: but the -sound passed away in wailing. Warwick was on his knees--"I cannot -pray," he cried, "a sea of blood is before me." - -"Hush!" - -Steps now approached along the corridor, and Blewet, his stained, -half-wiped knife in his hand, appeared--Again the monosyllable "Come," -was pronounced--fraught with how different a meaning. A life had been -torn from an innocent breast since then by that fell instrument. The -princes, awe-struck, one trembling with dread, the other striving to -quell his horror for a murderer, followed him, as he led through the -gallery--at the end stood Astwood with a bunch of keys--there were no -stains on his hands; he looked anxious, but brightened up when he saw -the prisoners. - -They trod stealthily along. Warwick's faltering steps scarce kept pace -with their conductor's. After passing through many narrow high passages, -they reached a low postern door. Astwood put the key in the lock--the -sound was magical to the fearful earl. "Farewell, old frightful walls," -he cried; "farewell, dark murderous prison-house, the Foul Fiend possess -thee! such is my benison." - -Blewet looked at him--York marked the sarcasm, the scorn of his -glance--the gate meanwhile was opened; at that moment a clash of arms -was heard. "The sentinels at the eastern gate," remarked Abel. - -"God grant it!" cried Warwick, "God grant--yet can it be! and am I -free?" - -He rushed through the open door, intent to seize upon liberty, as -Tantalus on his forbidden feast--his first step beyond the threshold of -his prison was followed by a shriek--almost a woman's shriek, it was so -shrill and piercing. What he quailed before, gave presence of mind to -York--experienced in ills. Whatever the new evil might be, he went out -to meet it calmly. A party of archers and yeomen were drawn up in the -courtyard. "This truly is a mime," he said, "in which one at least wins. -Our good lieutenant is safe; we are lost." - -Grim Sir John had much disliked even this masque of murder. He saw their -seizure with a grin of delight. He abhorred Richard, as the prime mover -of the meditated assassination; but he hated Warwick more, who thus -could lay in ambush for the life of one, who he believed had been a most -courteous and soft-hearted jailor to him--he commanded his myrmidons to -lead the royal kinsmen to the strongest ward-rooms of the Tower, with -dogged, savage joy. - -In dark and separate cells, in solitude and night, these ill-fated -victims of craft and ambition were consigned to biting reflection and -sinister anticipation. Warwick, worn out by the unusual excitement of -the last weeks, by his eager hopes, and overwhelming despair, had no one -thought, but ten thousand thoughts, making a chaos and hell of his poor -heart. Richard felt more for his cousin than for himself. "But for me," -he repeated internally, "he had still been a patient prisoner. Yet to -break prison is not crime capital--he may yet be saved. Elizabeth will -intercede; Tudor, for very shame, cannot do further wrong to one so near -akin, so powerless and unfortunate. For myself:--I am dead already: the -duke of York died, when first I became a slave. So that my memory -survive in my own White Rose's heart--let the victor dispose at his -pleasure of this mere shell of Richard." - - - - -CHAPTER LVI - -THE TRIAL - - - Tempestuous Fortune hath spent all her spite, - And thrilling sorrow thrown his utmost dart - Thy sad tongue cannot tell more heavy plight - Than that I feel and harbour in my heart. - - SPENSER. - - -The morning of the first of November dawned: a cheery day. Men went to -their usual works: the earth, despoiled of her summer garniture, yet -bore the change with sober content; for the sun shone, and soft airs, -despite the coming winter, lightly shook the scant and altered foliage -of the woods:-- - - - All rose to do the task He set to each, - Who shaped us to His ends, and not our own. - And many rose - Whose woe was such, that fear became desire. - - -Among such fate-hunted victims was the duke of York. Hope had died in -his heart; and his few remaining days were only to be spent in -celebrating her dark funeral. Morning opened its eyes on Prince -Richard's dungeon, showing him vanquished by grievous overthrow and -change. To look back through his tumultuous life, to dwell upon its -chances, to think of the many who had suffered for him, were sad but -fitting thoughts, to which he betook himself, till death became lovely -in his eyes. But intermingled with such retrospection were other -memories: his own sweet love was before him, in her tears or smiles; he -looked into her dear eyes, he closed his own, and thrilling kisses -pressed his burning lips, and soft, white arms were round him; at -thought of such he grew impatient of his chains, and the fearful cutting -off from all that awaited him. He began to calculate on the probability -that his life would be spared, and grew cowardly the while; to feed upon -those roseate lips, to drink life from those eyes, to clasp his -beautiful, fond wife, feeling that beyond the circle of his arms nought -existed worthy his desires, became a fierce, impatient hunger, to -gratify which he would call himself impostor, give up fame and -reputation, and become Perkin Warbeck in all men's eyes. - -There was but one refuge from this battle of youth and life with the -grim skeleton. With a strong effort he endeavoured to turn his attention -from earth, its victor woes, and still more tyrant joys, to the heaven -where alone his future lay. The struggle was difficult, but he effected -it: prayer brought resignation, calm; so when his soul, still linked to -his mortal frame, and slave to its instincts, again returned to earth, -it was with milder wishes and subdued regrets. Monina's lovely form -wandered into his mind; she was an angel now, a blessed spirit, he -believed; for, what deceived her, deceived him; and he fancied that he -alone had escaped from the watery perils of that night: she had arrived -there, where he soon should be, in the serene immutability of eternal -life; he began, in the revulsion of his thoughts, to pity those destined -still to exist. Earth was a scathed planet, a roofless, shelterless -home; a wild where the human soul wandered a little interval, tortured -by sharp, cruel storms; lost in thorny, entangled brakes; weary -repining, till the hour came when it could soar to its native -birthplace, and find refuge from its ills in promised Paradise. - -His cell was indeed the haven of peace, compared to the turbid, -frightful atmosphere in which his Katherine lived. Edmund had not -returned; every attempt she made to communicate with Scotland or -Burgundy failed. She had passed a summer of wretchedness, nor could the -tender attention of Elizabeth soothe her. In spite of all, the poor -queen was almost happier than she had ever been; for many years she had -been "the cannibal of her own heart," devouring her griefs in voiceless, -friendless, solitude; her very joys, and they were those of maternity, -were locked up in her own bosom. It was the birth of happiness to share -her griefs with another; that other being so gentle, so wise, and yet so -sensitive, as the fair White Rose, who concealed her own worst pains, to -soothe those of one possessing less fortitude and fewer internal -resources than herself. Yet, while thus she forgot herself, she never -quitted in thought her Richard's side; since the day she had seen him -delivered over to ignominious punishment, pale and ill, he was as it -were stamped on every outward object, an image placed between her and -her thoughts; for, while those were employed apparently on many things, -he, in truth, was their first, last, all-possessing idea, more -engrossing than her own identity. At one time she spent every effort to -obtain an interview with him in prison; and then she learned, through -covert means, of the plots carrying on in the Tower for his escape, -while the name of Warwick, mingling in the tale, roused the latent -feelings of Elizabeth. When the last, worst hour came, it was less -replete with pain than these miserable, unquiet days, and sleepless, -tearful nights; the never-ending, still-beginning round of hours, spent -in fear, doubt, and agonizing prayer. - -After a restless night, the princess opened her eyes upon the day, and -felt even the usual weight at her heavy foreboding heart increased. The -tale was soon told of Richard's attempted escape and failure: "What can -be done?" "Nothing; God has delivered the innocent into the hands of the -cruel; the cruel, to whom mercy is as unknown as, methinks, it is even -to the awful Power who rules our miserable lives." Such words, with a -passionate burst of tears, burst from the timid Elizabeth, whose crushed -and burning heart even arraigned the Deity for the agony she endured. - -Katherine looked on her with sweet compassion, "Gentle one," she said, -"what new spirit puts such strange speech into your mouth, whose -murmurings heretofore were those of piety?" - -"It is a bad world," continued the queen; "and, if I become bad in it, -perchance I shall prosper, and have power to save: I have been too mild, -too self-communing and self-condemning; and the frightful result is, -that the sole being that ever loved me, perishes on the scaffold. Both -will perish, my White Rose, doubt it not. Your own York, and my devoted -only loved Edward. In his prison I have been his dream; he breaks it, -not to find liberty again, but Elizabeth. Wretched boy! knows he not -that he shall never again find her, who roamed with a free spirit the -woodland glades, talking to him of the future, as of a scene painted to -my will; faded, outworn, a degraded slave--I am not Elizabeth." - -"Did you know the dearest truth of religion," replied Katherine, "you -would feel that she, who has been tried, and come out pure, is a far -nobler being than--" - -"I am not pure, not innocent; much you mistake me," said the queen: -"wicked, impious thoughts harbour in my heart, and pollute my soul, even -beyond the hope of mediation. Sometimes I hate my beautiful children -because they are his; sometimes in the dark hour of night, I renounce my -nuptial vow, and lend ready, willing ear to fiendish whisperings which -borrow Edward's voice. I court sleep, because he wanders into my dreams: -and--what do I say, what am I revealing? Lady, judge me not: you -married him you loved, fulfilling thus the best destiny that can be -given in this hard world to woman, whose life is merely love. Though he -perish in his youth, and you weep for him for ever, hug yourself in the -blessed knowledge that your fate is bright as angels: for we reap -celestial joys, when love and duty, twined in sisterly embrace, take up -their abode together within us: and I--but Katherine, did you hear -me?--They perish even as I speak: his cruel heart knows no touch of -mercy, and they perish." - -"They shall not, dearest," said York's White Rose; "it cannot be, that -so foul a blot darken our whole lives. No; there are words and looks and -tones that may persuade. Alas! were we more holy, surely a miracle might -be vouchsafed, nor this Pharaoh harden his heart for ever." - -All her love-laden soul beaming in her eyes, with a voice that even -thrilled him, though it moved him not, the White Rose addressed Henry. -She had yet to learn that a tyrant's smile is more fatal than his frown: -he was all courtesy, for he was resolved, implacable; and she gathered -hope from what proved to be the parent of despair. She spoke with so -much energy, yet simplicity, in the cause of goodness, and urged so -sweetly her debt of gratitude; telling him, how from the altar of their -hearts, prayers would rise to the Eternal, fraught with blessings to -him, that he encouraged her to go on, that still he might gaze on -lineaments, which nobility of soul, the softest tenderness, and exalted -belief in good, painted with angelic hues. At length he replied that his -council were examining witnesses, that her cause depended on facts, on -its own justice; that he hoped report had blackened the crimes of these -rash men; for her sake he sincerely hoped their guilt, as it was -detailed to him, had been exaggerated. - -For a moment the princess was unaware what all this jargon might mean; -his next words were more perspicuous. "Indeed, fair dame, you must -forget this coil: if I consent, for the welfare of my kingdom, to -sacrifice the queen's nearest relative, you also must resign yourself to -a necessity from which there is no appeal. Hereafter you will perceive -that you gain, instead of losing by an act of justice which you -passionately call cruelty: it is mercy, heaven's mercy doubtless, that -breaks the link between a royal princess and a base-born impostor." - -A sudden fear thrilled Katherine: "You cannot mean that he should die," -she cried; "for your own sake, for your children's sake, on whom your -sins will be visited, you cannot intend such murder: you dare not; for -the whole world would rise against the unchristian king who sheds his -kinsman's blood. All Europe, the secret hearts of those nearest to you, -your own knowledge, all proclaim your victim, your rival--to be your -brother, and will brand you a fratricide. You are Lancaster, your -ancestors were kings, you conquered this realm in their name, and may -reign over it in peace of conscience; but not so may you destroy the -duke of York. His mother avouched him, the duchess of Burgundy -acknowledges him; I was given to him by my royal cousin, as to one of -equal rank, and he upholds him. More than all, his princely self -declares the truth; nor can evil counsellors, nor false chroniclers, -stand between you and heaven and the avenging world. You vainly seek to -heap accusation on him you term Crookback's head: time will affix the -worst indelible stain upon you. You cannot, will not slay him." - -What were words to the fixed mind of Henry? A summer breeze, whispering -round a tempest-withstanding watch-towers--he might grow chill at this -echo of the fears his own heart spoke: but still he smiled, and his -purpose was unshaken. It became known that the princes were to be -arraigned for treason: first the unhappy, misnamed Perkin was tried, by -the common courts, in Westminster Hall. When a despot gives up the -execution of his revenge to the course of law, it is only because he -wishes to get rid of passing the sentence of death upon his single -authority, and to make the dread voice of misnamed justice, and its -executors, the abettors of his crime. - -When tragedy arrays itself in the formal robes of law, it becomes more -heart-rending, more odious, than in any other guise. When sickness -threatens to deprive us of one, round whom our heart-strings have -twined--we think inextricably--the skill of man is our friend: if -merciless tempest be the murderer, we feel that it obeys One whose ways -are inscrutable, while we strive to believe that they are good. Groping -in darkness, we teach our hearts the bitter lesson of resignation. Nor -do we hate nor blame the wild winds and murderous waves, though they -have drunk up a life more precious and more beloved than words have -power to speak. But that man's authority should destroy the life of his -fellow-man; that he who is powerful, should, for his own security and -benefit, drive into the darksome void of the tomb one united to our -sun-visited earth by ties of tenderness and love--one whose mind was -the abode of honour and virtue; to know that the word of man could still -bind to its earthly tabernacle the being, voice, looks, thoughts, -affections of our all; and yet that the man of power unlocks the secret -chamber, rifles it of all its treasures, and gives us, for the living -mansion of the soul, a low, voiceless grave:--against such tyranny, the -softest heart must rebel; nor scarcely could religion in its most -powerful guise, the Catholic religion, which almost tore aside for its -votaries the veil between time and eternity, teach submission to the -victims. - -Days flowed on. However replete with event, the past is but a point to -us; however empty, the present pervades all things. And when that -present is freighted with our whole futurity, it is as an adamantine -chain binding us to the hour; there is no escape from its omnipotence -and omnipresence; it is as the all-covering sky. We shut our eyes; the -monster's hollow breath is on our cheek; we look on all sides: from each -his horrid eyes glare on us; we would sleep; he whispers dreams. Are we -intelligible? Will those possessed by present tell us whether any -bondage, any Bastille, can suggest ideas of more frightful tyranny, -misery, than the cruel present, which clings to us, and cannot be -removed. - -"It is so; he attempted to escape, and was discovered; he is low in his -dungeon; his dear eyes are faint from disappointed hope. He will be -tried. Tyranny will go forth in a masque, and with hideous antics fancy -that she mantles with a decorous garb her blood-thirsty acts. He will be -condemned; but he will not die! not die! Oh no, my Richard is -immortal--he cannot die!" - -"My royal cousin, when you gave me to my sweet love, and pledged your -word that in weal or woe I should be his; and I promised myself still -dearer things, to be the guardian angel and tutelar genius of his life; -and took pleasure, fond, foolish girl that I was, in the anticipation of -misfortunes that I should rob of all power to hurt; no thought, among -the many that strayed into futurity, told me of this desertion, this -impotence of effecting good. Alas! how deaf and cruel man is: I could -more easily tear asunder his prison-walls with my hands, and break with -my weak fingers his iron chains, than move one, as liable to suffer and -to die as even his victim, to pity!" - -Elizabeth listened pale and silent to these complaints--bitter as they -were, they were hushed to more heart-rending silence when the hour of -trial came--she should only pray to die, before the word that spoke his -condemnation met her ear. Accustomed as a princess--a high-born and -respected daughter of one most powerful, to be obeyed and served; to -find herself destitute of all influence, seemed to place her in another -planet--it was not men--not her fellow-creatures that were around her; -but fiends who wore the mask of humanity. An uninhabited desert had not -been more solitary than this populous land, whose language she possessed -not; for what is language, if it reach not the heart and move it? - -Richard, the wonder of the time, gathered courage as ill-fortune pressed -more hardly upon him; in the hour of trial he did not quail, but stood -in bold, fearless innocence before the men, whose thoughts were armed -against his life. He was not guilty, he said, for he could not be guilty -of treason. When the indictment was read which treated him as a -foreigner and an alien, the spirit of the Plantagenet flashed from his -eyes, and the very stony-hearted clerk, who read, casting his regards on -him, faltered and stammered, overawed by a blaze of dignity, which, did -we foster antique creeds, we might believe was shed over him by some -such spirit as imparted divine majesty to the person of the king of -Ithaca. Proudly and silently Richard listened to the evidence on his -trial. It touched only on such points as would afterwards be most -material for inculpation of poor Warwick. In the end he was asked what -he had to plead, wherefore judgment should not pass upon him--but he -was bid to be brief, and to beware not to use any language derogatory to -the high and mighty prince Henry king of these realms. A smile curled -his lips at this admonition, and with even a playful air he said, "My -very good lord, I ask for nothing, save that a little mercy be extended -to the memory of my gracious uncle, my lord of Gloucester, who was no -child-murderer." - -At the word he was interrupted, and sentence pronounced. As the -ignominious words were said, Richard, who from the beginning had -abstracted himself in prayer, so that his ears might be as little -wounded as possible, by an unconquerable impulse put his hand where his -sword might have been. Its absence and the clanking of his chains -recalled him to the truth, and he muttered the words, "O basely murdered -York!" in recollection of his unhappy grandfather, to whose miserable -fate he often recurred, as an example of suffering and patience. - -Thus ended the bitter scene; one he had long expected, for which he had -nerved himself. During nearly the whole, his look was as if he were -absent from it. But who could read the secrets of his heart, while his -impassive eyes and lips were no index to the agonies that tortured it? - - - - -CHAPTER LVII - -THE PRISON OF LUDGATE - - - So young to go - Under the obscure, cold, rotting, wormy ground! - To be nailed down into a narrow place; - To see no more sweet sunshine; hear no more - Blithe voice of living thing; muse not again - Upon familiar thoughts, sad, yet thus lost-- - How fearful! - - SHELLEY. - - -"Speak to me, lady, sister, speak! your frozen glances frighten me; your -fingers, as I touch them, have no resistance or life. Dearest and best, -do not desert me--speak but one word, my own White Rose." - -Katherine raised her blue eyes heavenward: as if the effort were too -great, they fell again on the ground, as she said, in a voice so low -that Elizabeth could hardly catch the sound: "I must see him once again -before he dies." - -"And you shall, dearest, I promise you. Cheer up, my love, not to -affright him by looks like these. Indeed you shall see him, and I will -also; he shall know that he has a sister's prayers, a sister's love. -Patience, sweet Kate, but a little patience." - -"Would I could sleep till then!" replied the miserable wife: and she -covered her face with her hands, as if to shut out the light of day, and -sighed bitterly. - -When our purposes are inflexible, how do insurmountable obstacles break -before our strong will; so that often it seems that we are more -inconstant than fortune, and that with perseverance we might attain the -sum of our desires. The queen, the weak, despised, powerless queen, -resolved to gratify this one last wish of her beloved friend. Many a -motive urged her to it; compassion, love, and even self-interest. At -first she almost despaired; while Richard continued in the Tower it was -impossible; but on the twenty-third of November, two days before the -destined termination of his fatal tragedy, on the day of the trial of -poor Warwick, he was removed to the prison of Ludgate. And here, at dead -of night, Henry, being absent inspecting his new palace at Richmond, -Elizabeth, timid, trembling, shrinking now at the last--and Katherine, -far too absorbed in one thought to dream of fear, took boat at -Westminster, and were rowed along the dark, cold tide to Blackfriars. -They were silent; the queen clasped her friend's hand, which was chill -and deathlike. Elizabeth trembled, accustomed to hope for, to seek -refuge in her stronger mind, she felt deserted, now that she, engrossed -by passion, silent and still, the wife of the near prey of death, could -remember only that yet for a little while he was alive. Their short -voyage seemed endless; still the oars splashed, still the boat glided, -and yet they arrived not. Could it last for ever--with one hope ever in -view, never to know that he was dead? The thought passed into -Katherine's mind with the sluggish but absorbing tenacity of intense -grief, and at last possessed it so wholly, that it was with a scream of -fear that she found herself close to shore. - -The necessity of motion restored Katherine to her presence of mind, -while it deprived the queen of the little courage she possessed. -Something was to be said and done: Elizabeth forgot what; but Katherine -spoke in a clear, though unnatural voice, and followed their conductors -with a firm step, supporting the faltering queen. Yet she addressed her -not; her energies were wound up to achieve one thing; more than that it -would have cost her life to attempt. They reached the dark walls of -the prison; a door was unbarred, and they were admitted. The princess -passed the threshold with a quick step, as if overjoyed thus to be -nearer her wish. Elizabeth paused, trembled, and almost wished to turn -back. - -They crossed the high-walled court, and passed through several dark -galleries: it seemed as if they would never arrive; and yet both started -when they stopped at the door of a cell. - -"Does his grace expect us?" asked Katherine. - -The turnkey looked as not understanding; but their guides who was the -chaplain of the jail, answered,-- - -"He does not. Fearful that some impediment might intervene, unwilling to -disturb by a disappointed hope a soul so near its heavenly home, I have -told him nothing." - -"Gently then," said Katherine, "let our speech be low." - -The door opened, and displayed the sou of the proud, luxurious Edward, -sleeping on a wretched mattress, chained to the pavement. The ladies -entered alone. Katherine glided noiselessly to his side; her first act -was to bend down her cheek, till his breath disturbed the ringlet that -rested on it; thus to assure herself that life was within his lips. -Elizabeth fixed her earnest gaze on him, to discover if in aught he -reminded her of the blue-eyed, flaxen-haired bridegroom of Anne Mowbray: -he more resembled a picture of her father in his early manhood; and then -again her aunt the duchess of Burgundy, whom she had seen just before -king Edward's death. He lay there in placid sleep; thought and feeling -absent: yet in that form resided the soul of Richard; a bright casket -containing a priceless gem: no flaw--no token of weakness or decay. He -lived--and at a word would come back from oblivion to her world of -love. A few days and that form would still exist in all its fair -proportion. But veil it quick; he is not there; unholy and false is the -philosophy that teaches us that lurid mockery was the thing we -loved. - -And now he woke, almost to joy; yet sadness succeeded quickly to -rapture. "My poor girl," he said, "weep not for me; weep for thyself -rather; a rose grafted on a thorn. The degraded and disgraced claims no -such sorrow." - -Katherine replied by an embrace; by laying her beautiful head on his -bosom, and listening with forgetful, delicious ecstasy to the throbbings -of his beating heart. - -"Be not unjust to thyself," said a soft, unknown voice, breaking the -silence of the lovers; "be not false to thy house. We are a devoted -race, my brother; but we are proud even to the last." - -"This is a new miracle," cried the prince. "Who, except this sainted -one, will claim kindred with Tudor's enemy?" - -"Tudor's wife; your sister. Do you not remember Elizabeth?" - -As these words were said, Katherine, who appeared to have accomplished -her utmost wish, sat beside him, her arms around him, her sweet head -reposing, her eyes closed. Kissing her soft hair and fair brow, York -disentwined her clasped hands, and rose, addressing the trembling -queen:-- - -"My sister," he said, "you do a deed which calls for blessings from -heaven upon you and yours. Till now, such, was my unmanly spirit, the -stigma affixed to my name, the disgrace of my ignominious death, made me -odious to myself. The weakness of that thought is past; the love of this -sweetest sweet, and your kindness restore me. Indeed, my sister, I am -York--I am Plantagenet." - -"As such," replied the queen, "I ask a boon, for which, selfish as I am, -I chiefly came; my brother will not deny me?" - -"Trifler, this is vanity. I can give nothing." - -"Oh, everything," exclaimed the lady; "years of peace, almost of -happiness, in exchange for a life of bitter loneliness and suffering. -You, my dearest lord, know the celestial goodness of that fair White -Rose; in adversity and peril you have known it;--I, amidst the cold -deceits of a court. She has vowed never to return to her native land, to -bear a questioned name among her peers; or perhaps to be forced by her -father to change it for one abhorred. Though she must hate me as the -wife of her injurer, yet where can she better be than with your sister? -She would leave me, for I am Tudor's queen; bid her stay with, her -lord's nearest kinswoman; tell her that we will beguile the long years -of our too young life with talk of you; tell her that nowhere will she -find one so ready to bless your name as poor Elizabeth; implore her, ah! -on my knees do I implore you to bid her not to leave me, a dead-alive, a -miserable, bereft creature, such, as I was ere I knew her love." - -"What say'st thou, sweet?" asked Richard; "am I yet monarch of that soft -heart? Will my single subject obey the crownless Richard?" - -Katherine stretched out her hand to the queen, who was at York's feet, -in token of compliance: she could not speak; it was a mighty effort to -press the fingers of Elizabeth slightly; who said,-- - -"Before heaven and your dear lord, I claim your promise; you are mine -for ever." - -"A precious gift, my Bess; was it not thus my infant lips called you? I -trust her to you; and so the sting of death is blunted. Yet let not too -fond a lingering on one passed away, tarnish the bright hours that may -yet be in store for her. Forget me, sweet ones; I am nought; a vapour -which death and darkness inhales--best unremembered. Yet while I live I -would ask one question--our victim-cousin, Edward of Warwick?" - -Elizabeth could no longer restrain her tears as she related, that -however weak Warwick might heretofore have seemed, he appeared a -Plantagenet on his trial. He disdained the insulting formalities of law, -where the bitter Lancastrian, Lord Oxford, was the interpreter of -justice; he at once declared himself guilty of plotting to put the -English crown on the head of his cousin, the duke of York. He was -quickly interrupted, and condemned to be beheaded. - -"Generous, unhappy Warwick. Ah! is not life a misery, when all of good, -except ye two angelic creatures, die?" - -The signal was now given that the interview must end. Elizabeth wept. -Katherine, still voiceless, clung closer to her husband; while he nerved -himself to support these gentle spirits with manly fortitude. One long, -affectionate kiss he pressed on the mouth of Katherine; and as her -roseate lips yet asked another, another and another followed; their -lives mingled with their breath. - -"We meet in Paradise, mine only one," whispered York: "through our -Lord's mercy assuredly we meet there." - -He unwound her arms; he placed her in those of Elizabeth, "Cherish, -preserve her. Bless thee, my sister; thee, and thy children. They at -least will, by my death, reign rightfully over this kingdom. Farewell." - -He kissed her hand, and then again the lifeless hand of his wife, who -stood a breathing statue. She had not spoken; no words could utter her -despair. Another moment, and their fair forms were gone; the door of his -cell was closed; and, but for the presence of the God he worshipped, -Richard was left alone to solitude and night. - - - - -CHAPTER LVIII - -CONCLUSION - - - Love is too young to know what conscience is, - Yet who knows not. Conscience is born of Love? - Then, gentle cheater, urge not my amiss, - Lest guilty of my faults thy sweet self prove. - - SHAKSPEARE. - - -Time,[2] we are told by all philosophers, is the sole medicine for -grief. Yet there are immortal regrets which must endure while we exist. -Those who have met with one, with whose every feeling and thought their -thoughts and feelings were entwined, who knew of no divided past, nor -could imagine a solitary futurity, to them what balm can time bring? -Time, the giver of hours, months, and years, each one how barren, -contemptible, and heavy to bear to the bereft! - -There was no consolation for Katherine, which could make her for a -moment forget that her present existence was but the lees of life, the -spiritless remnants of a nectareous draught. But Katherine was gentle, -good, and resigned; she lived on, dispensing pleasure, adored by all who -approached her, and gladly hailing any visitation of happiness which -might reach one whose affections were too fondly linked to the grave. - -Years had passed since the last act of the sad tragedy which destroyed -her dearest hopes. She accompanied the queen of England on a progress -made by her, and they remained one night at Eastwell Place, the seat of -Sir Thomas Moyle. There was a park, and stately pleasure-grounds -belonging to the house, undulating uplands, shady copses, and sweet -running brooks to diversify the scene. A crowd of the noble and the gay -were there, and the royal party was unusually mirthful; fireworks, -masks, and dances were employed; and all joyously gave themselves up to -the spirit of the hour. The chords of a harp, a well-known air, first -awoke in the bosom of the White Rose that languid melancholy, so near -allied to pleasure, so close a neighbour to pain. By degrees memory grew -busy in her brain; she could no longer endure the laughter of her -companions, their sallies, nay, nor their kindness; for Elizabeth -perceived her dear friend's change of countenance, and was approaching, -when Katherine, making her a sign not to remark her, stole away, and -entering a straggling path, wandered on, struggling with the tears, -which the beauty of the evening, and the very hilarity which just before -she had shared, caused to gush warm and fast from her eyes. - -She reached a little streamlet, and was passing forward, when she became -aware of the presence of another in the scene. A labouring man, of -middle age (but his hair was grey and flowed on his shoulders) was -seated on the rustic masonry of a rude fountain, reading; he rose when -he saw the lady, and doffed his hat; she, with the cordial sweetness -that accompanied her slightest acts, gave him an evening benison. Her -voice, her look, her cordial manner moved to its depths a heart lately -hardened against her. As she passed on, the man followed hastily, -"Lady!" he cried. - -It struck the princess that this poor fellow had some request to prefer -to his master, and that he wished to do it through her medium; she -turned with a benevolent smile: "Can I do aught for you, good friend?" - -His voice failed him; he stretched out his hand, which held his book, -she took it: the tiny volume was no stranger to her eyes; as if a ghost -had looked on her lonely watching, she trembled and grew pale, when she -opened it, and saw written in fair characters, by a hand now dust, "La -Rosa Blanca." The rustic knelt before her. - -"Lady, queen!" he cried, "Sole relic of the unforgotten! is it thus that -we meet?" - -"My cousin Edmund!" - -"Hush! breathe not even to the silent woods the unknown word. Fancy not -that I am Plantagenet: for all that was of worth in him you name, died -when the White Rose scattered its leaves upon the unworthy earth." - -"Ah! would that we had all died in that hour," cried Katherine: "why, -when the ungrateful world lost him, did not all the good and true die -also, so that they might no longer suffer!" - -Plantagenet cast a reproachful glance on her, as he said, "Happy indeed -are those who die. O God! when I think of the many and the beloved, who, -a few years ago, were alive around me, and among whose low silent graves -I now walk alone, methinks I am dead; it is but the ghost of him you -knew that lingers upon earth." - -"Yes, they are all gone," said the princess; "all who linked me to the -past, and were portions of my Richard's being. They are gone from before -me. But are they truly no more, or do they live, like you, brooding over -the lost, disdaining to communicate with one who lives but to remember -them? Of the death of several I have heard; but often I have longed with -bitterness to hear of you, and of the Spanish maiden, Monina de Faro." - -"Her gentle soul," replied Edmund; "has flown to join him for whom she -lived and died. It is now two years since I was assured of this. A -friar, whom I had formerly well known, visited Lisbon; and I entreated -him to inquire for De Faro and his child. The commander of the Adalid -was almost forgotten; at last, an old sailor was found, who remembered -that, some years before, he had sailed for the Western Indies, and was -never heard of more." - -"His daughter accompanied him?" - -"In the churchyard of a convent, placed high among the foldings of those -lovely hills which overlook Lisbon, he was shown an humble tomb, half -defaced; her dear, sacred name is carved upon it, and half the date, the -14--, which showed that she died before the century began, in which we -now live.[3] She could not have survived our prince many months; -probably she died before him, nor ever knew the worst pang of all, the -ignominy linked with his beloved memory." - -"And you, my kinsman, how long have you wedded penury and labour in this -obscure disguise?" - -"Penury and labour," said Plantagenet, "are not confined to the humble -occupation I have adopted. I was made poor by the death-blow of my -hopes; and my chief labour is to tame my heart to resignation to the -will of God. Obscure you may indeed call my destination. Would I could -shroud it in tenfold night! Dearer to me is the silence and loneliness -of this spot, where I can for ever commune undisturbed with the past, -than a pomp which is stained by the blood of him whom once I thought we -all loved so well. - -"When--oh, let me name not the frightful thing!--when he was gone for -ever, the whole world was to me but one miserable tomb. I groped in -darkness, misery my mate, eternal lamentation my sole delight. The first -thing that brought peace to my soul, was the beauty of this visible -universe. When God permitted, for some inscrutable purpose, moral evil -to be showered so plentifully over us, he gave us a thousand resources -out of ourselves in compensation. If I mingled with my fellow-creatures, -how dearly should I miss him, who was single among men for goodness, -wisdom, and heaven-born nobility of soul. My heart sickens at the evil -things that usurp the shape of humanity, and dare deem themselves of the -same species: I turn from all, loathing. But here there is no change, no -falling off, no loss of beauty and of good: these glades, these copses, -the seasons' change and elemental ministrations, are for ever the -same--the type of their Maker in glory and in good. The loveliness of -earth saves me from despair: the Majesty of Heaven imparts aspiring -hope. I bare my bosom to the breeze, and my wretched heart throbs less -wildly. I drink in the balmy sweetness of the hour, and repose again on -the goodness of my Creator. - -"Yours is another existence, lady; you need the adulation of the -crowd--the luxury of palaces; you purchase these, even by communing -with the murderer of him who deserved a dearer recompense at your -hands." - -Katherine smiled sadly at these last words, which betrayed the thought -that rankled in her kinsman's mind. "I thank you," she replied, "for -your details. I will not blame you for the false judgment you pass on -me. When years and quiet thought have brought you back from the tempest -of emotion that shakes you, you will read my heart better, and know that -it is still faithfully devoted to him I have lost." - -"Ah! say those words again," cried Plantagenet, "and teach me to believe -them. I would give my right hand to approve your conduct, to love and -reverence you once again." - -"Will you have patience with me then, while I strive to justify myself?" - -"Oh, speak! My life, my soul's salvation, to hang upon your words." - -Katherine raised her blue eyes to the now starry sky, as if to adjure -that to be the witness of her innocent thoughts; and then she said, "We -are all, dear cousin, impelled by our nature to make ourselves the -central point of the universe. Even those, who as they fancy, sacrifice -themselves for the love of God, do it more truly for love of themselves; -and the followers of virtue too often see their duties through the -obscure and deceptive medium which their own single, individual feelings -create. Yet we have one unerring guide; one given us at our birth, and -which He who died on the Cross for us, taught us to understand and to -appreciate, commanding us to make it the master-law of our lives. Call -it love, charity, or sympathy; it is the best, the angelic portion of -us. It teaches us to feel pain at others' pain, joy in their joy. The -more entirely we mingle our emotions with those of others, making our -well or ill being depend on theirs, the more completely do we cast away -selfishness, and approach the perfection of our nature. - -"You are going to answer, perhaps to refute me--do not Remember I am a -woman, with a woman's tutelage in my early years, a woman's education in -the world, which is that of the heart--alas! for us--not of the head. -I have no school-learning, no logic--but simply the voice of my own -soul which speaks within me. - -"I try to forget; you force me back upon myself. You attack; and you -beseech me to defend myself. So to do, I must dwell upon the sentiments -of a heart, which is human, and therefore faulty, but which has neither -guile nor malice in it. - -"In my father's house--and when I wandered with my beloved outcast, I -had no difficulty in perceiving, nor--God was so gracious to me--in -fulfilling my duties. For in childhood I was cherished and favoured by -all; and when I became a wife, it was no wonder that I should love and -idolize the most single-hearted, generous, and kindly being that ever -trod the earth. To give myself away to him--to be a part of him--to -feel that we were an harmonious one in this discordant world, was a -happiness that falls to the lot of few:--defeat, chains, -imprisonment--all these were but shows; the reality was deep in our -hearts, invulnerable by any tyrant less remorseless than death. If this -life were the sum and boundary our being, I had possessed the -consummation and fulfilment of happiness. - -"But we are taught to believe that our existence here is but the -stepping-stone to another beyond, and that 'death is the beginning of -life.' When we reach the summit of our desires, then we fall, and death -comes to destroy. He was lost to me, my glory, and my good! Little could -I avail to him now. The caresses, love, and watchful care, the obedience -and the heart's sacrifice, of a poor thing who groped darkling upon -earth, could avail nought to a spirit in Paradise. I was forced to feel -that I was alone: and as to me, to love is to exist; so in that dark -hour, in the gaspings of my agony, I felt that I must die, if for ever -divided from him who possessed my affections. - -"Years have passed since then. If grief kills us not, we kill it. Not -that I cease to grieve; for each hour, revealing to me how excelling and -matchless the being was who once was mine, but renews the pang with -which I deplore my alien state upon earth. But such is God's will; I am -doomed to a divided existence, and I submit. Meanwhile I am human; and -human affections are the native, luxuriant growth of a heart whose -weakness it is, too eagerly and too fondly, to seek objects on whom to -expend its yearnings. My Richard's last act was to bestow me on his -sister: it were impious to retract a gift made by the dying. We wept -together--how long, and how bitterly!--the loss of our loved one; and -then together we turned to fulfil our duties. She had children; they -became as dear to me as to her. Margaret I cherish as the betrothed -bride of my ever dear cousin, the king of Scotland; and, when I -endeavour to foster the many virtues nature has implanted in the noble -mind of Prince Arthur, I am fulfilling, methinks, a task grateful in the -eyes of Richard, thus doing my part to bestow on the England he loved a -sovereign who will repair the usurper's crimes, and bestow happiness on -the realm. - -"Nor is this all--despise me if you will, but I confess that I regard -others among those with whom I associate, with a clinging affection that -forbids me to separate myself from them. Did I not love the noble and -good, even as he did, while Richard lived? Does he not now, in his -heavenly abode, love them? and must my living heart be stone, because -that dear form is dust which was the medium of my communication with his -spirit? Where I see suffering, there I must bring my mite for its -relief. We are not deities to bestow in impassive benevolence. We give, -because we love--and the meshes of that sweet web, which mutual good -offices and sympathy weave, entangle and enthral me, and force me to -pain and pleasure, and to every variety of emotion which is the portion -of those whom it holds within its folds. - -"I quarrel not with--I admire--those who can be good and benevolent, -and yet keep their hearts to themselves, the shrine of worship for God, -a haven which no wind can enter. I am not one of these, and yet take no -shame therefore: I feel my many weaknesses, and know that some of these -form a part of my strength; the reviled part of our nature being a -portion of that which elevates us to the godlike. My reason, my sense of -duty, my conscientious observance of its dictates, you will set up as -the better part; but I venerate also the freer impulses of our souls. My -passions, my susceptible imagination, my faltering dependence on others, -my clinging to the sense of joy--this makes an integral part of -Katherine, nor the worst part of her. When my soul quits this 'bower of -flesh,' these leaves and flowers, which are perhaps the growth of it, -may decay and die. I know not; as it is, I am content to be an imperfect -creature, so that I never lose the ennobling attribute of my species, -the constant endeavour to be more perfect. - -"I do not blame you, my cousin, for seeking repose in solitude after -much endurance. But unquiet should I feel in the unreplying loneliness -which forms your peace. I must love and be loved. I must feel that my -dear and chosen friends are happier through me. When I have wandered out -of myself in my endeavour to shed pleasure around, I must again return -laden with the gathered sweets on which I feed and live. Permit this to -be, unblamed--permit a heart whose sufferings have been, and are, so -many and so bitter, to reap what joy it can from the strong necessity it -feels to be sympathized with--to love." - - -[Footnote 2: I do not know how far these concluding pages may be deemed -superfluous: the character of the Lady Katherine Gordon is a favourite -of mine, and yet many will be inclined to censure her abode in Henry the -Seventh's court, and other acts of her after-life. I desired therefore -that she should speak for herself, and show how her conduct, subsequent -to her husband's death, was in accordance with the devotion and fidelity -with which she attended his fortunes during his life.] - -[Footnote 3: Richard was put to death in 1499.] - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FORTUNES OF PERKIN WARBECK: *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. 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margin-left: 7em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} -.poem span.i16 {display: block; margin-left: 8em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} -.poem span.i17 {display: block; margin-left: 8.5em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} -.poem span.i18 {display: block; margin-left: 9em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} -.poem span.i19 {display: block; margin-left: 9.5em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} -.poem span.i20 {display: block; margin-left: 10em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} - -/* Transcriber's notes */ -.transnote {background-color: #E6E6FA; - color: black; - font-size:smaller; - padding:0.5em; - margin-bottom:5em; - font-family:sans-serif, serif; } - </style> - </head> -<body> - -<div style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Fortunes of Perkin Warbeck:, by Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online -at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: The Fortunes of Perkin Warbeck:</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:0;'>a romance</p> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: November 16, 2021 [eBook #66749]</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: Laura Natal Rodrigues</div> - -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FORTUNES OF PERKIN WARBECK: ***</div> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> -<img src="images/warbeck2_cover.jpg" width="500" alt="" /> -</div> - - -<h1>THE -<br /> -FORTUNES -<br /> -OF -<br /> -PERKIN WARBECK.</h1> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h5>A Romance.</h5> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<h3>BY THE AUTHOR OF</h3> - -<h2>"FRANKENSTEIN."</h2> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">J'ai veu filz d'Angleterre, Richard d'Yore nommé,</span><br /> -<span class="i0">Que l'on disoit en terre, estinct et consommé,</span><br /> -<span class="i0">Endurer grant souffrance; et par nobles exploitz,</span><br /> -<span class="i0">Vivre en bonne esperance, d'estre Roy des Angloys.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i20"><i>Old French Chronicle.</i></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<h4>LONDON:</h4> - -<h4>G. ROUTLEDGE & CO. FARRINGDON STREET;</h4> - -<h4>NEW YORK: 18, BEEKMAN STREET.</h4> - -<h5>1857</h5> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h4>CONTENTS</h4> -<p class="nind">Chapter -<br /> -<a href="#PREFACE">Preface</a><br /> -<a href="#chap01">Chapter I—THE FLIGHT FROM BOSWORTH FIELD</a><br /> -<a href="#chap02">Chapter II—THE CONFERENCE</a><br /> -<a href="#chap03">Chapter III—ELIZABETH OF YORK</a><br /> -<a href="#chap04">Chapter IV—LADY BRAMPTON</a><br /> -<a href="#chap05">Chapter V—THE INTERVIEW</a><br /> -<a href="#chap06">Chapter VI—LAMBERT SIMNEL</a><br /> -<a href="#chap07">Chapter VII—THE BATTLE OF NEWARK</a><br /> -<a href="#chap08">Chapter VIII—THE DISCOVERY</a><br /> -<a href="#chap09">Chapter IX—THE DECOY</a><br /> -<a href="#chap10">Chapter X—THE ESCAPE</a><br /> -<a href="#chap11">Chapter XI—THE EXILES</a><br /> -<a href="#chap12">Chapter XII—THE CHALLENGE</a><br /> -<a href="#chap13">Chapter XIII—TEMPTATION</a><br /> -<a href="#chap14">Chapter XIV—THE TRAITOR PUNISHED</a><br /> -<a href="#chap15">Chapter XV—THE LANDING AT CORK</a><br /> -<a href="#chap16">Chapter XVI—NEW FRIENDS</a><br /> -<a href="#chap17">Chapter XVII—THE FRENCH COURT</a><br /> -<a href="#chap18">Chapter XVIII—THE TOKEN</a><br /> -<a href="#chap19">Chapter XIX—CLIFFORD'S RESOLVE</a><br /> -<a href="#chap20">Chapter XX—THE CONSPIRACY</a><br /> -<a href="#chap21">Chapter XXI—TREASON</a><br /> -<a href="#chap22">Chapter XXII—HERMAN DE FARO</a><br /> -<a href="#chap23">Chapter XXIII—THE TRAITOR UNMASKED</a><br /> -<a href="#chap24">Chapter XXIV—THE TOWER</a><br /> -<a href="#chap25">Chapter XXV—THE RESCUE</a><br /> -<a href="#chap26">Chapter XXVI—THE EARL OF SURREY</a><br /> -<a href="#chap27">Chapter XXVII—THE LANDING AT HYTHE</a><br /> -<a href="#chap28">Chapter XXVIII—THE PARTING</a><br /> -<a href="#chap29">Chapter XXIX—WELCOME TO SCOTLAND</a><br /> -<a href="#chap30">Chapter XXX—THE COURT OF SCOTLAND</a><br /> -<a href="#chap31">Chapter XXXI—THE MARRIAGE</a><br /> -<a href="#chap32">Chapter XXXII—THE MARCH TOWARDS ENGLAND</a><br /> -<a href="#chap33">Chapter XXXIII—THE ASSASSIN</a><br /> -<a href="#chap34">Chapter XXXIV—DISAPPOINTMENT</a><br /> -<a href="#chap35">Chapter XXXV—THE RETREAT</a><br /> -<a href="#chap36">Chapter XXXVI—TIDINGS FROM IRELAND</a><br /> -<a href="#chap37">Chapter XXXVII—TREACHERY</a><br /> -<a href="#chap38">Chapter XXXVIII—DEPRESSION</a><br /> -<a href="#chap39">Chapter XXXIX—SIEGE OF WATERFORD</a><br /> -<a href="#chap40">Chapter XL—AN ESCAPE</a><br /> -<a href="#chap41">Chapter XLI—ARRIVAL IN ENGLAND</a><br /> -<a href="#chap42">Chapter XLII—RECEPTION IN CORNWALL</a><br /> -<a href="#chap43">Chapter XLIII—MISGIVINGS</a><br /> -<a href="#chap44">Chapter XLIV—A CHALLENGE</a><br /> -<a href="#chap45">Chapter XLV—ARRIVAL AT TAUNTON</a><br /> -<a href="#chap46">Chapter XLVI—A PRISONER</a><br /> -<a href="#chap47">Chapter XLVII—A DILEMMA</a><br /> -<a href="#chap48">Chapter XLVIII—CAPTURE OF KATHERINE</a><br /> -<a href="#chap49">Chapter XLIX—RICHARD SURRENDERS</a><br /> -<a href="#chap50">Chapter L—A PROCESSION</a><br /> -<a href="#chap51">Chapter LI—AN ESCAPE</a><br /> -<a href="#chap52">Chapter LII—TREASON</a><br /> -<a href="#chap53">Chapter LIII—DEATH OF CLIFFORD</a><br /> -<a href="#chap54">Chapter LIV—IMPRISONMENT IN THE TOWER</a><br /> -<a href="#chap55">Chapter LV—ATTEMPT TO ESCAPE</a><br /> -<a href="#chap56">Chapter LVI—THE TRIAL</a><br /> -<a href="#chap57">Chapter LVII—THE PRISON OF LUDGATE</a><br /> -<a href="#chap58">Chapter LVIII—CONCLUSION</a></p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h4><a id="PREFACE">PREFACE</a></h4> - -<p> -The story of Perkin Warbeck was first suggested to me as a subject for -historical detail. On studying it, I became aware of the romance which -his story contains, while, at the same time, I felt that it would be -impossible for any narration, that should be confined to the -incorporation of facts related by our old Chroniclers, to do it justice. -</p> - -<p> -It is not singular that I should entertain a belief that Perkin was, in -reality, the lost duke of York. For, in spite of Hume, and the later -historians who have followed in his path, no person who has at all -studied the subject but arrives at the same conclusion. Records exist in -the Tower, some well known, others with which those who have access to -those interesting papers are alone acquainted, which put the question -almost beyond a doubt. -</p> - -<p> -This is not the place for a discussion of the question. The principal -thing that I should wish to be impressed on my reader's mind is, that -whether my hero was or was not an impostor, he was believed to be the -true man by his contemporaries. The partial pages of Bacon, of Hall, and -Holinshed, and others of that date, are replete with proofs of this -fact. There are some curious letters, written by Sir John Ramsay, laird -of Balmayne, calling himself Lord Bothwell, addressed to Henry the -Seventh himself, which, though written by a spy and hireling of that -monarch, tend to confirm my belief, and even demonstrate that in his -eagerness to get rid of a formidable competitor, Henry did not hesitate -to urge midnight assassination. These letters are printed in the -Appendix to Pinkerton's "History of Scotland." The verses which form the -motto to these volumes, are part of a rhythmical chronicle, written by -two subjects of Burgundy, who lived in those days; it is entitled, -"Recollection des Merveilles, advenues en nostre temps, commencée par -très élégant orateur, Messire Georges Chastellan, et continuée par -Maistre Jean Molinet." -</p> - -<p> -In addition to the unwilling suffrage of his enemies, we may adduce the -acts of his friends and allies. Human nature in its leading features is -the same in all ages. James the Fourth of Scotland was a man of great -talent and discernment: he was proud; attached, as a Scot, to the -prejudices of birth; of punctilious honour. No one can believe that he -would have bestowed his near kinswoman, nor have induced the earl of -Huntley to give his daughter in marriage to one who did not bear evident -signs of being of royal blood. -</p> - -<p> -The various adventures of this unfortunate prince in many countries, and -his alliance with a beautiful and high-born woman, who proved a -faithful, loving wife to him, take away the sting from the ignominy -which might attach itself to his fate; and make him, we venture to -believe, in spite of the contumely later historians have chosen, in the -most arbitrary way, to heap upon him, a fitting object of interest—a -hero to ennoble the pages of a humble tale. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h4><a id="chap01"></a></h4> - -<h4>CHAPTER I -<br /><br /> -THE FLIGHT FROM BOSWORTH FIELD</h4> - - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He seemed breathless, heartless, faint and wan,</span><br /> -<span class="i0">And all his armour sprinkled was with blood,</span><br /> -<span class="i0">And soil'd with dirty gore, that no man can</span><br /> -<span class="i0">Discern the hue thereof. He never stood,</span><br /> -<span class="i0">But bent his hasty course towards the idle flood.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i20">SPENSER.</span> -</div></div></div> - -<p> -After a long series of civil dissension—after many battles, whose -issue involved the fate of thousands—after the destruction of nearly -all the English nobility in the contest between the two Roses, the -decisive battle of Bosworth Field was fought on the 22nd of August, -1415, whose result was to entwine, as it was called, the white and red -symbols of rivalship, and to restore peace to this unhappy country. -</p> - -<p> -The day had been sunny and warm: as the evening closed in, a west wind -rose, bringing along troops of fleecy clouds, golden at sunset, and then -dun and grey, veiling with pervious network the many stars. Three -horsemen at this hour passed through the open country between Hinckley -and Welford in Leicestershire. It was broad day when they descended from -the elevation on which the former stands, and the villagers crowded to -gaze upon the fugitives, and to guess, from the ensigns they bore, to -which party they belonged, while the warders from the near castle -hastened out to stop them, thus to curry favour with the conqueror; a -design wholly baffled. The good steeds of the knights, for such their -golden spurs attested them to be, bore them fast and far along the Roman -road, which still exists in those parts to shame our modern builders. It -was dusk when, turning from the direct route to avoid entering Welford, -they reached a ford of the Avon. Hitherto silence had prevailed with the -party—for until now their anxiety to fly had solely occupied their -thoughts. Their appearance spoke of war, nay, of slaughter. Their cloaks -were stained and torn; their armour was disjointed, and parts of it were -wanting; yet these losses were so arbitrary, that it was plain that the -pieces had been hacked from their fastenings. The helm of the foremost -was deprived of its crest; another wore the bonnet of a common soldier, -which ill accorded with the rest of his accoutrements; while the third, -bareheaded, his hair fallings on his shoulders, lank and matted from -heat and exercise, gave more visible tokens of the haste of flight. As -the night grew darker, one of them, and then another, seemed willing to -relax somewhat in their endeavours: one alone continued, with -unmitigated energy, to keep his horse at the same pace they had all -maintained during the broad light of day. -</p> - -<p> -When they reached the ford, the silence was broken by the hindmost -horseman; he spoke in a petulant voice, saying:—"Another half mile at -this pace, and poor Flœur-de-Luce founders; if you will not slacken -your speed, here we part, my friends. God save you till we meet again!" -</p> - -<p> -"Evil betide the hour that separates us, brother!" said the second -fugitive, reining in; "our cause, our peril, our fate shall be the same. -You, my good lord, will consult your own safety." The third cavalier had -already entered the stream: he made a dead halt while his friends spoke, -and then replied:—"Let us name some rendezvous where, if we escape, -we may again meet. I go on an errand of life and death: my success is -doubtful, my danger certain. If I succeed in evading it, where shall I -rejoin you?" -</p> - -<p> -"Though the event of this day has been fatal to the king," answered the -other, "our fortunes are not decided. I propose taking refuge in some -sanctuary, till we perceive how far the earl of Richmond is inclined to -mercy." -</p> - -<p> -"I knew the earl when a mere youth, Sir Humphrey Stafford," said the -foremost rider, "and heard more of him when I visited Brittany, at the -time of King Louis's death, two years ago. When mercy knocks at his -heart, suspicion and avarice give her a rough reception. We must fly -beyond sea, unless we can make further stand. More of this when we meet -again. Where shall that be?" -</p> - -<p> -"I have many friends near Colchester," replied the elder Stafford, "and -St. Mary boasts an asylum there which a crowned head would not dare -violate. Thence, if all else fail, we can pass with ease to the Low -Countries." -</p> - -<p> -"In sanctuary at Colchester—I will not fail you. God bless and -preserve you the while!" -</p> - -<p> -The noble, as he said these words, put spurs to his horse, and without -looking back, crossed the stream, and turning on the skirts of a copse, -was soon out of sight of his companions. He rode all night, cheering his -steed with hand and voice; looking angrily at the early dawning east, -which soon cast from her cloudless brow the dimness of night. Yet the -morning air was grateful to his heated cheeks. It was a perfect summer's -morn. The wheat, golden from ripeness, swayed gracefully to the light -breeze; the slender oats shook their small bells in the air with -ceaseless motion; the birds, twittering, alighted from the full-leaved -trees, scattering dew-drops from the branches. With the earliest dawn, -the cavalier entered a forest, traversing its depths with the hesitation -of one unacquainted with the country, and looked frequently at the sky, -to be directed by the position of the glowing east. A path more worn -than the one he had hitherto followed now presented itself, leading into -the heart of the wood. He hesitated for a few seconds, and then, with a -word of cheer to his horse, pursued his way into the embowering thicket. -After a short space the path narrowed, the meeting branches of the trees -impeded him, and the sudden angle it made from the course he wished to -follow, served to perplex him still farther; but as he vented his -impatience by hearty Catholic exclamations, a little tinkling bell spoke -of a chapel near, and of the early rising of the priest to perform the -matin service at its altar. The horse of the fugitive, a noble -war-steed, had long flagged; and hunger gnawed at the rider's own -heart, for he had not tasted food since the morning of the previous day. -These sounds, therefore, heard in so fearless a seclusion, bore with -them pleasant tidings of refreshment and repose. He crossed himself in -thankfulness; then throwing himself from his horse (and such change was -soothing to his stiffened limbs), he led him through the opening glade -to where a humble chapel and a near adjoining hut stood in the bosom of -the thicket, emblems of peace and security. -</p> - -<p> -The cavalier tied his horse to a tree, and entered the chapel. A -venerable priest was reading the matin service; one old woman composed -his congregation, and she was diligently employed telling her beads. The -bright rays of the newly-risen sun streamed through the eastern window, -casting the chequered shadow of its lattice work on the opposite wall. -The chapel was small and rustic; but it was kept exquisitely clean: the -sacred appurtenances of the altar also were richer than was usual, and -each shrine was decked with clusters of flowers, chiefly composed of -white roses. No high praise, indeed, was due to the rude picture of the -Virgin of the Annunciation, or of the Announcing Angel, a representation -of whom formed the altar-piece; but in barbaric England, in those days, -piety stood in place of taste, and that which represented Our Lady -received honour, however unworthy it might be of the inspiress of -Raphael or Correggio. The cavalier took his disornamented casque from -his head, placed it on the ground, and knelt reverentially on the bare -earth. He had lately escaped from battle and slaughter, and he surely -thought that he had especial motive for thanksgiving; so that if his -lips uttered a mere soldier's "Ave," still it had the merit of fervour -and sincerity. -</p> - -<p> -Had he been less occupied by his own feelings, he might have remarked -the many glances the priest cast on him, who dishonoured his learning -and piety by frequent mistakes of language, as his thoughts wandered -from his breviary, to observe with deep attention his unexpected -visitor. At length the service ended: the old dame rose from her knees, -and satisfied her curiosity, which she had excited by many a look -askance, by a full and long gaze on the cavalier. His hewn armour, torn -cloak, and, unseemly for the sacred spot, the dread stains on his -garments and hands, were all minutely scanned. Nor did his personal -appearance escape remark. His stature was tall, his person well knit, -showing him to be a man of about thirty years of age. His features were -finely moulded, his grey eyes full of fire, his step had the dignity of -rank, and his look expressed chivalrous courage and frankness. The good -woman had not been long engaged in surveying the stranger, when her -pastor beckoned her to retire, and himself advanced, replying to the -soldier's salute with a benedicite, and then hastily inquiring if he -came from the field. -</p> - -<p> -"Even so, father," said the cavalier; "I come from the field of the -bloody harvest. Has any intelligence of it travelled hither so speedily? -If so, I must have wandered from the right road, and am not so far on my -journey as I hoped." -</p> - -<p> -"I have only heard that a battle was expected," said the priest, "and -your appearance tells me that it is over. The fortunes, nay, perhaps the -life of a dear friend are involved in its issue, and I fear that it is -adverse—for you fly from pursuit, and methinks, though stained with -dust and blood, that emblem on your breast is the White Rose." -</p> - -<p> -The warrior looked on the old man, whose dignity and language were at -variance with his lowly destination; he looked partly in wonder, and -partly to assure himself of his questioner's sincerity. "You are weary, -Sir Knight," added the monk, whose experienced eyes had glanced to the -golden spurs of his visitant; "come to my hermitage, there to partake of -such refreshment as I can bestow. When your repast is ended, I will, by -confidence on my part, merit yours." -</p> - -<p> -This invitation was that of worldly courtesy, rather than the rustic -welcome of a recluse monk. The cavalier thanked him cordially, adding, -that he must first provide food and water for his horse, and that -afterwards he would gratefully accept his host's invitation. The old man -entered with the spirit of a soldier into his guest's anxiety for his -steed, and assisted in purveying to its wants, ingratiating himself -meanwhile with its master, by discovering and praising scientifically -its points of beauty. The poor animal showed tokens of over fatigue, yet -still he did not refuse his food, and the cavalier marked with joy that -his eye grew brighter and his knees firmer after feeding. -</p> - -<p> -They then entered the cottage, and the soldier's eye was attracted from -more sacred emblems by a sword which was suspended over a picture of the -Virgin:—"You belong to our Chivalry!" he exclaimed, while his -countenance lighted up with joyful recognition. -</p> - -<p> -"Now I belong to the holy order whose badge I wear," the monk replied, -pointing to his Benedictine dress. "In former days I followed a brave -leader to the field, and, in his service, incurred such guilt, as I now -try to expiate by fasting and prayer." -</p> - -<p> -The monk's features were convulsed by agitation as he spoke, then -crossing his arms on his breast, he was absorbed in thought for a few -moments, after which he raised his head and resumed the calm and even -serene look that characterized him. "Sir Knight," said he, motioning to -the table now spread for the repast, "I have but poor fare to offer, but -a soldier will not disdain its meagreness. My wine I may praise, as -being the produce of a generous vintage; I have kept it sealed, to open -it on occasions like the present, and rejoice that your strength will be -recruited by it." -</p> - -<p> -Bread, fruits, cheese, and a flagon of the wine, which merited the -giver's eulogium, composed the fugitive's breakfast, whose fatigue -required cordial and repose. As he was occupied by his repast, his host -eyed him with evident agitation, eager yet fearful to question him on -the subject of the battle. At length he again asked, "You come from the -field on which the forces of the king and of the earl of Richmond met?" -</p> - -<p> -"I do." -</p> - -<p> -"You fought for the White Rose, and you fly?" -</p> - -<p> -"I fought for the White Rose till it was struck to the ground. The king -has fallen with his chief nobility around him. Few Yorkists remain to -mourn the success of the Lancastrians." -</p> - -<p> -Deep grief clouded the old man's countenance, but accustomed to subdue -his feelings, as one on whom, being stricken by an overwhelming misery, -all subsequent disasters fall blunted, he continued with greater -calmness: "Pardon me, noble gentleman, if I appear to ask an indiscreet -question. You are of lordly bearing, and probably filled a place near -the royal person. Did you hear, on the night before last, aught of the -arrival of a stranger youth at the king's tent?" -</p> - -<p> -The knight eyed the old man with a quick glance, asking, in his turn, -"Are you, then, the foster-father of King Richard's son?" -</p> - -<p> -"Did you see my boy?" cried the priest. "Did his father acknowledge -him?—Where is he now?—Did he enter the ranks to fight and fall -for his parent?" -</p> - -<p> -"On the night of which you speak," said the stranger, evading the -immediate question, "the king placed his son's hand in mine, as I vowed -to protect and guard him if ill befell our party, as it has befallen." -</p> - -<p> -"Surely some presentiment of evil haunted the king's mind." -</p> - -<p> -"I do believe it; for his manner was solemn and affecting. He bade the -youth remember that he was a Plantagenet, and spoke proudly of the -lineage from which he sprung. The young esquire listened intently, -looking at his father with such an ingenuous and thoughtful expression, -that he won my heart to love him." -</p> - -<p> -"Now bless thee, Sir Knight, whoever thou art, for this praise of my -poor Edmund. I pray you, hasten to tell me what more passed." -</p> - -<p> -The cavalier continued his account; but his manner was serious, as if -the conclusion of his tale would afflict his auditor. He related how, on -quitting the royal tent, he had led Edmund Plantagenet to his own, -there to converse with him awhile, the better to learn whether his -bearing and speech showed promise of future merit. King Richard had -enjoined his son to return to his seclusion early on the following -morning; but as soon as he entered his conductor's tent, he knelt to him -and asked a boon, while tears gathered in his eyes, and his voice was -broken by the fervour of his desire. The noble was moved by his -entreaties, and promised to grant his request, if it did not militate -against his honour and allegiance. "It is for honour that I speak," said -Plantagenet; "I am older in years than in seeming, for already I number -twenty summers; and, spite of my boyish look, I am familiar with martial -exercises, and the glorious promise of war. Let me draw my sword for my -father to-morrow—let me, at your side, prove myself a worthy -descendant of the conquerors of France! Who will fight for King Richard -with greater courage, fidelity, and devotion, than his acknowledged and -duteous son?" The cavalier yielded to his noble yearnings. Clothed in -armour he entered the ranks, and hovered a protecting angel near his -parent during the bloody contest. And now, as his venerable guardian -watched with trembling eagerness the countenance of his guest while he -told his tale, and the stranger, with bitter regret, was about to relate -that he had seen Plantagenet felled to the ground by a battle-axe, quick -steps, and then a knocking, was heard at the cottage door. The stranger -started on his feet, and put his hand upon his sword; but a bright smile -illuminated the monk's face, as the very youth of whom they spoke, -Edmund Plantagenet, rushed into the apartment. His soiled garments and -heated brow spoke of travel and fatigue, while his countenance wore an -expression of wildness and even of horror. He started when he saw the -stranger, but quickly recognized him as his new friend. "Thank God!" he -cried, "that you, my dear lord, have not fallen into the hands of, the -sacrilegious usurper! It is my father's spirit that has saved you for -his son's sake, that I may not be utterly abandoned and an orphan." -</p> - -<p> -With milder accost he bent his knee to his holy guardian, and then -turned to answer the cavalier's questions of how he had escaped death -from the blow he had received, and what new events had occurred since he -had quitted the field early on the preceding day?—while the monk -chid him for his disobedience to his father's commands, in having -mingled with the fray. The eyes of Plantagenet flashed fire at this -reproach.—"Could I know that my father's crown and life," he -exclaimed impetuously, "depended on the combat, and not bring to his aid -my weak arm? God of Heaven! had there been five hundred true as I, we -might all have fallen round him: but never, never, should I have seen -the sight which last night I saw—nor heard the sounds I last night -heard!" -</p> - -<p> -The youth covered his face with his hands, and the boiling tears -trickled between his fingers. "Tell me," cried the noble, "what has -happened?—and swiftly tell me, for I loiter here too long." -</p> - -<p> -Almost suffocated by emotion, Plantagenet related, that when he -recovered from the trance into which the fearful blow he had received -had thrown him, the earl's camp-followers were busy among the slain: and -that he had seen the body of King Richard—of his father—thrown -half-naked across a mule, thus to be borne to be exposed to the public -gaze and mockery in Leicester, where, but the day before, he had ridden -with the royal crown on his head, the acknowledged sovereign of England. -And that crown, base, ill-bartered bauble, having been found in the tent -by Lord Stanley, he had brought and placed on Richmond's head, while the -soldiers, with one acclaim, hailed him Henry the Seventh, King of -England. -</p> - -<p> -The last words more than the others, for the death of his royal master -was already known to him, moved the knight:—"Is this the end of our -hopes?" he cried. "Am I then too late? Farewell, my friends! -Plantagenet, I shall never forget my oath to the king; I shall become, I -fear, an outcast and a soldier of fortune, even if I escape worse fate; -but claim when you will, and it shall be yours, whatever protection I -can afford you." -</p> - -<p> -"Yield, then. Lord Lovel," said the youth, "to my first request. You are -in peril, let me share it; permit me to accompany you. If you refuse, my -plan is already formed; I repair to the earl of Lincoln, whom King -Richard named his successor, and offer myself as a soldier in his -attempt to discrown the usurping Henry, and to raise again the White -Rose to its rightful supremacy." -</p> - -<p> -"To the earl of Lincoln—the successor of Richard—to him you -would repair? It is well—come with me now, and I will present you -to that nobleman. If your foster-father consents, bid adieu to this -seclusion for a time, and accompany me to London, to new -contests—to the combat of right against might—to success and -honour, or to defeat and death!" -</p> - -<p> -The sun had risen high when, having taken leave of the venerable monk, -who would not oppose his pupil's gallant spirit of enterprise, Lord -Lovel and young Plantagenet threaded the forest paths, which, by a safer -and a shorter route than the highway, took them on their road to London. -For a time they led their horses with difficulty through the entangled -thicket, when at last reaching the open road, they mounted, and Lord -Lovel, who was desirous of estimating the abilities and disposition of -his companion, entered into conversation with him. They first conversed -on the sad changes which were the work of the eventful day of battle; -afterwards the cavalier led Edmund to speak of himself, his early life, -his acquirements, and his hopes. -</p> - -<p> -When Plantagenet was but ten years old his mother died, and her last -request to the father of her boy, founded on a deep knowledge of the -world, was, that her son might be educated far from the court, nor be -drawn from the occupations and happier scenes of private life, to become -a hanger-on of princes and nobles. There was a man, a gentleman and a -knight, who had been a partizan of the White Rose, and who had fought -and bled for it in various battles between the duke of York and Henry -the Sixth. In one of these, the misery of the times, and horrible -consequences of civil dissension, caused him unwittingly to lift his -armed hand against his twin brother, nor did he discover the mistake -till, with his dying voice, that brother called on him to assist him -against his slayer. A life of seclusion, penance, and prayer, alone -blunted his sense of remorse, and quitting the world, he retired to a -monastery, where after due noviciate he took vows, and then shrinking -from commerce with his kind, followed by visions that spoke for ever to -him of his unnatural crime, he retreated to the forest of -Leicestershire, to dwell alone with his grief and his repentance. -</p> - -<p> -His retreat was known to many of his friends, and chance had brought the -duke of Gloucester at one time to visit him; when the ancient warrior -rejoiced with enthusiasm at the exaltation of the party to which he was -attached. The death of the mother of Edmund had the effect of softening -the duke's heart, of making for a short interval worldly cares and -objects distasteful to him, and of filling him with a desire of -seclusion and peace. If he was unable to enjoy these himself, he -resolved that at least his child should not be drawn by him into the -thorny path of rivalship and ambition. His mother's last injunction -strengthened this feeling; and the duke, visiting again the hermit of -the wood, induced him to take charge of Edmund, and bringing him up in -ignorance of his real parentage, to bestow such education on him as -would enable him to fill with reputation an honourable, if not a -distinguished station in society. This order of things was not changed -by Richard's exaltation to the crown. On the contrary, the dangers he -incurred from his usurpation made him yet more anxious to secure a -peaceful existence for his offspring. When, however, his legitimate son, -whom he had created prince of Wales, died, paternal affection awoke -strong in his heart, and he could not resist his desire of seeing -Edmund: a memorable visit for the priest-bred nursling of the forest! It -gave him a link with society, with which before he had felt no -connexion: his imagination and curiosity were highly excited. His -revered friend, yielding to his eager demands, was easily enticed to -recur to the passed scenes of an eventful life. The commencement of the -wars of the two Roses, and their dreadful results, furnished -inexhaustible topics of discourse. Plantagenet listened with breathless -interest, although it was not till the eve of the battle of Bosworth, -that he knew how indissolubly his own fortunes were linked with those of -the house of York. -</p> - -<p> -The events of the few last days had given him a new existence. For the -first time, feeling was the parent of action; and a foregoing event -drove him on to the one subsequent. He was excited to meditate on a -thousand schemes, while the unknown future inspired him with an awe that -thrilled his young heart with mingled pain and pleasure. He uttered his -sentiments with the ingenuousness of one who had never been accustomed -to converse with any but a friend; and as he spoke, his dark and -thoughtful eyes beamed with a tempered fire, that showed him capable of -deep enthusiasm, though utter want of knowledge of the world must make -him rather a follower than a leader. -</p> - -<p> -They rode on meanwhile, the noble cavalier and gentle squire indulging -in short repose. The intense fatigue Edmund at first endured, seemed to -be subdued by the necessity of its continuance, nor did it prevent him -from conversing with Lord Lovel. He was anxious thoroughly to understand -the immediate grounds of the earl of Richmond's invasion, and to -ascertain the relative position of the remaining chiefs of the White -Rose: "Where," he asked, "are Edward the Fourth's children?" -</p> - -<p> -"The elder of these," Lord Lovel replied, "the Lady Elizabeth, is, by -direction of her uncle, at Sheriff Hutton, in Yorkshire." -</p> - -<p> -"And where are the princes? Edward, who was proclaimed king, and his -younger brother?" -</p> - -<p> -"They were long imprisoned in the Tower. Young Edward died there more -than a year ago." -</p> - -<p> -"And the Duke of York?" -</p> - -<p> -"He is supposed to have died also: they were both sickly boys." -</p> - -<p> -Lord Lovel said these words in a grave voice, and suspicion would have -been instilled into any but the unsuspecting Edmund, of some covert -meaning. After a short pause, he continued:—"the question of the -succession stands thus. Your father, the duke of Gloucester, threw the -stigma of illegitimacy on King Edward's children, and thus took from -them their right of inheriting the crown. The attainder of the duke of -Clarence was considered reason sufficient why his children should be -excluded from the throne, and their uncle, in consequence, became, by -right of birth, king of England: his son he created prince of Wales. We -submitted; for a child like Edward the Fifth could scarcely be supported -against an experienced warrior, a man of talent, a sage and just king, -but at the expense of much blood. The wounds inflicted by the opposing -houses of York and Lancaster were yet, as the late successful rebellion -proves, unhealed; and had the Yorkists contended among themselves, they -would yet sooner have lost the supremacy they so hardly acquired: -Richard therefore received our oaths of allegiance. When his son died, -the question of who was the heir to the crown became agitated; and the -king at first declared the earl of Warwick, the son of the duke of -Clarence, to be his successor. It was a dangerous step—and the -imprudent friends of the young earl made it more so—to name him to -succeed, who, if he were permitted at any time to wear the crown, might -claim precedence of him who possessed it. Poor Warwick paid the penalty -of youth and presumption: he is now a prisoner at Sheriff Hutton; and -John de la Poole, earl of Lincoln, son of Richard's sister, and by the -removal of the children of his elder brothers, his heir by law was -nominated to succeed his uncle. I am now proceeding to him. I am -ignorant of the conduct he will pursue; whether he will make head against -this Lancastrian king, or——. Lincoln is a noble cavalier; a -man whom bright honour clothes; he is brave, generous, and good. I shall -guide myself by his counsels and resolves; and you, it appears, will -follow my example." -</p> - -<p> -After a pause, Lord Lovel continued: "After the death or disappearance -of his princely nephews, the king, wishing to confirm his title, was -ready to take the stigma thrown on their birth from his brother's -daughters, and to marry his niece, the Lady Elizabeth. Her mother at -first resisted, but the prospect of seeing her children restored to -their rights, and herself to her lost dignity, overcame her objections, -and the princess yielded a willing consent. Meanwhile, the Yorkists, who -joined the earl of Richmond, extorted from him a vow that he would make -King Edward's daughter his queen; and even the Lancastrians, thinking -thus to secure a king of their own, are eager for this union: yet the -earl hates us all so cordially that he was hardly brought to consent. -Should he, now that he has declared himself king, evade his promise, the -children of Elizabeth Woodville will suffer the stain of illegitimacy; -but if the marriage has place, and this unhappy race is restored to -their honours and rights, our self-named sovereign may find that his own -hands have dug the pit into which he will fall." -</p> - -<p> -A long silence succeeded to these explanations. The last expression used -by Lovel inspired Edmund with wonder and curiosity; but the noble -pressing his horse to a swifter pace, did not hear his observations, or -hearing them, replied only by saying, "Three hours' good riding will -bring us to London. Courage, Plantagenet! slacken not your speed, my -good boy; soft ease will follow this hard labour." -</p> - -<p> -The young moon in its first quarter was near its setting when they -arrived at London. They approached from Edgware: without entering the -town, they skirted its northern extremity, till Lord Lovel, checking his -horse, remarked to his companion, that he judged it fitting to delay -approaching the residence of the earl of Lincoln, until the setting of -the moon and subsequent darkness secured them from observation. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h4><a id="chap02"></a></h4> - -<h4>CHAPTER II -<br /><br /> -THE CONFERENCE</h4> - - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i12">Yes, my good Lord,</span><br /> -<span class="i0">It doth contain a king: King Richard lies</span><br /> -<span class="i0">Within the limits of yon lime and stone.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i20">SHAKSPEARE.</span> -</div></div></div> - -<p> -The earl of Lincoln, declared by Richard the Third, heir to the crown, -did not join the royal forces, nor appear at the battle of Bosworth. -This distinguished prince was a man of singular abilities and strength -of mind, which chivalrous generosity adorned with a lustre superior even -to that which he derived from his high rank. Lord Lovel was possessed of -knightly courage, untarnished honour, and gentlemanly accomplishment. To -these military and graceful qualities Lincoln added the wisdom of a -statesman and the moral energy resulting from inflexible principle. He -felt himself responsible to mankind and to all posterity for his actions. -He was brave—that was a virtue of the times; but he was just, -in a comprehensive sense of the word, and that exalted him above them. -His manly features did not so much wear the stamp of beauty, though, -like all the offspring of the House of York, he was handsome, as of the -best quality of man, a perception of right, and resolution to achieve -that right. -</p> - -<p> -Lord Lincoln disapproved decidedly of the usurpation of his uncle, -Richard the Third, over the children of Edward the Fourth. He allowed -that the evidence was strong in favour of that king's former marriage, -and their consequent illegitimacy; but he said, that Elizabeth Woodville -had so long been held queen of England, and her children heirs to the -crown, that it was impossible to eradicate the belief of the English -people, that their allegiance was due to him who had been proclaimed -even by his uncle, Edward the Fifth. Even if they were put aside, the -attainder passed against the duke of Clarence was an insufficient reason -to deprive his son of his lawful inheritance. He saw England wasted, and -her nobility extirpated by civil contest; and he perceived the seeds of -future strife in the assumption of the crown by the duke of Gloucester. -When the son of Richard the Third died, and the earl of Warwick was -named his successor, the superior right of the nephew before the -reigning uncle became so eminent a subject of discussion, that the king -was obliged to recall his declaration, and to confine the young prince -in a castle in Yorkshire. The earl of Lincoln, then seven and twenty -years of age, was next named. He remonstrated with his uncle privately; -but fear of dividing the House of York against itself, and a disdain to -make common cause with the dowager queen's relations, made him outwardly -submit; but his plan was formed, and secretly all his efforts tended -towards the restoring the children of Edward to their paternal rights. -</p> - -<p> -The boys were sickly. Edward the Fifth, irritated by the extinction of -the hopes which the intrigues of his mother had kept alive in his -breast, wasted by imprisonment in the Tower, and brooking with untamed -pride the change from a regal to a private station, pined and died. -Richard, duke of York, was between ten and eleven; a sprightly, -ingenuous boy, whose lively spirit wore out his frame, and this, added -to confinement and attention to his dying brother, brought him also near -the grave. It was on the death of Edward, that the earl of Lincoln -visited the Tower, and saw young Richard. The accounts given by the -attendants of his more than a child's devotion to his brother, his -replies full of sportive fancy, his beauty, though his cheek was faded -and his person grown thin, moved the generous noble to deep compassion. -He ventured, under the strong influence of this feeling, to remonstrate -warmly with his royal uncle, reproaching him with needless cruelty, and -telling him how in fact, though not in appearance, he was the murderer of -his nephews, and would be so held by all mankind. Richard's ambition was -satisfied by the success of his measures to obtain the crown; but his -fears were awake. The duke of Buckingham was in arms against him—the -queen and her surviving relatives were perpetually employed in exciting -discontents in the kingdom. Richard feared that if they obtained the -person of his nephew, he would be turned into an engine for his -overthrow; while to obtain possession of him was the constant aim of -their endeavours. He earnestly desired to reconcile himself to the -queen, and to draw her from the sanctuary in which she had immured -herself—she refused all his offers, unless her son was first placed -in her hands. -</p> - -<p> -His head, ripe with state plots, now conceived a scheme. He consented -that Lincoln should take the duke of York under his charge, if he would -first engage to keep his removal from the Tower, and even his existence, -a secret from his enemies. Lincoln made the required promise; the young -prince was conveyed to a country seat belonging to the earl, and -Richard, in furtherance of his plan, caused a rumour to go abroad that -he also was dead. No one knew with whom this report originated. When, to -assure themselves, various nobles visited the Tower, the boy was no -longer there. The queen gave credit to the tale. At this moment, Richard -set on foot a negotiation of marriage with the eldest daughter of Edward -the Fourth, the Lady Elizabeth. The partizans of the earl of Richmond -sought to ensure the success of his enterprise by the same means: and -while little Richard grew in health and happiness in his country -retreat, his own nearest and most attached relatives were giving away -his inheritance—his uncle unwittingly laid the foundation-stone of -the reputation of cruelty and murder ever after affixed to him; and his -mother, endeavouring to exalt her daughter, and to restore herself to -her lost station in the kingdom, sealed the fatal decree that first -deprived her son of his rights, and afterwards of his life. -</p> - -<p> -On the evening that Lord Lovel and Edmund Plantagenet entered London, -the earl of Lincoln remained waiting intelligence from the field, in a -palace he inhabited not far from Tottenham Court, a secluded habitation, -surrounded by a garden and a high wall. This was an irksome situation -for a warrior; but though his uncle loved, he distrusted him: his -projected marriage with the Lady Elizabeth would probably cause him -again to be father of an heir to the crown, and knowing that Lincoln -possessed, in the young duke of York, a dangerous rival, he refused to -allow him to take up arms against Richmond. Lord Lincoln was alone, -pacing his large and vaulted hall in deep and anxious meditation. He, -who with conscience for his rule, takes, or endeavours to take, the -reins of fate into his own hands, must experience frequent misgivings; -and often feel that he wheels near the edge of a giddy precipice, down -which the tameless steeds he strives to govern may, in an instant, hurl -him and all dependent upon his guidance. The simple feeling of -compassion, arising from the seeing childhood lose its buoyancy in undue -confinement, had first led the princely noble to take charge of his -young cousin. Afterwards, when he beheld the boy grow in health and -years, developing the while extraordinary quickness of intellect, and a -sweet, ingenuous disposition, he began to reflect on the station he -held, his rights and his injuries; and then the design was originated on -which he was now called to act. -</p> - -<p> -If Richard gained the day, all would stand as before. Should he be -defeated—and that second sense, that feeling of coming events, which -is one of the commonest, though the least acknowledged of the secret -laws of our nature, whispered the yet unrevealed truth to him—who -then would assume England's diadem, and how could he secure it for its -rightful owner, the only surviving son of Edward the Fourth? All these -reflections coursed themselves through his brain, while, with the zeal -of a partizan, and the fervour of one wedded to the justice of his -cause, he revolved every probable change of time and fortune. -</p> - -<p> -At this moment a courier was announced: he brought tidings from the -field. As is usual on the eve of a great event, they were dubious and -contradictory. The armies faced each other, and the battle was -impending. The doubts entertained on both sides, as to the part that -Lord Stanley would take, gave still a greater uncertainty to the -anticipations of each. -</p> - -<p> -Soon after the arrival of this man, the loud ringing at the outer gate -was renewed; and the trampling of horses, as they entered the court, -announced a more numerous company. There was something in the movements -of his domestics that intimated to the earl that his visitor was of -superior rank. Could it be the king, who had fled; conquered, and a -fugitive? Could such terms be applied to the high-hearted Richard? The -doors of the hall were thrown open, and the question answered by the -entrance of his visitant: it was a woman; and her name, "Lady Brampton!" -in a tone of wonder, burst from the noble's lips. -</p> - -<p> -"Even I, my good lord," said the lady; "allow me your private ear; I -bring intelligence from Leicestershire. All is lost," she continued, -when the closing of the door assured her of privacy; "all is lost, and -all is gained—Richard is slain. My emissaries brought swift -intelligence of this event to me at Northampton, and I have hastened -with it hither, that without loss of time you may act." -</p> - -<p> -There was a quickness and a decision in the lady's manner, that checked -rather than encouraged her auditor. She continued: "Vesper hour has long -passed—it matters not—London yet is ours. Command instantly -that Richard the Fourth be proclaimed king of England." -</p> - -<p> -Lord Lincoln started at these words. The death of his uncle and -benefactor could not be received by him like the loss of a move at -chess; a piece lost, that required the bringing up of other pieces to -support a weak place. "The king is slain," were words that rang in his -ears: drowning every other that the lady uttered with rapidity and -agitation. "We will speak of that anon," he replied; and going to the -high window of his hall, he threw it open, as if the air oppressed him. -The wind sighed in melancholy murmurs among the branches of the elms and -limes in the garden: the stars were bright, and the setting moon was -leaving the earth to their dim illumination. "Yesternight," thought -Lincoln, "he was among us, a part of our conversation, our acts, our -lives; now his glazed eyes behold not these stars. The past is his: with -the present and the future he has no participation." -</p> - -<p> -Lady Brampton's impatience did not permit the earl long to indulge in -that commune with nature, which we eagerly seek when grief and death -throws us back on the weakness of our human state, and we feel that we -ourselves, our best laid projects and loftiest hopes, are but the -playthings of destiny. "Wherefore," cried the lady, "does De la Poole -linger? Does he hesitate to do his cousin justice? Does he desire to -follow in the steps of his usurping predecessor? Wherefore this delay?" -</p> - -<p> -"To strike the surer," replied Lincoln. "May not I ask, wherefore this -impatience?" -</p> - -<p> -Even as he spoke, steps were heard near the apartment; and while the -eyes of both were turned with inquietude on the expected intruder, Lord -Lovel entered: there was no triumph, no eager anticipation on his -brow—he was languid from ill success and fatigue. Lincoln met him -with the pleasure of one who sees his friend escaped from certain death. -He was overjoyed to be assured of his existence; he was glad to have his -assistance on the present emergency. "We know," he said, "all the evil -tidings you bring us; we are now deliberating on the conduct we are to -pursue: your presence will facilitate our measures. Tell me what other -friends survive to aid us. The duke of Norfolk, the Staffords, Sir -Robert Brakenbury, where are they?" -</p> - -<p> -Lovel had seen the duke fall, the Staffords had accompanied his flight; -uncertainty still hung over the fate of many others. This detail of the -death of many of their common friends, subdued the impetuosity of the -lady, till an account of how Richard himself had fought and been slain -recalled her to their former topic of discussion; and, again, she said, -"It is strange that you do not perceive the dangers of delay. Why is not -the king proclaimed?" -</p> - -<p> -"Do you not know," asked Lord Lovel, "that the king is proclaimed?" -</p> - -<p> -Lady Brampton clasped her hands, exclaiming, "Then Richard the Fourth -will wear his father's crown!" -</p> - -<p> -"Henry the Seventh," said Lovel, "possesses and wears the English crown. -Lord Stanley placed the diadem on the head of the earl of Richmond, and -his soldiers, with one acclaim, acknowledged him as their sovereign." -</p> - -<p> -"This is mere trifling," said the lady; "the base-born offspring -Lancaster may dare aspire so high, but one act of ours dethrones him. -The Yorkists are numerous, and will defend their king: London is yet -ours." -</p> - -<p> -"Yes," replied Lincoln, "it is in our power to deluge the streets of -London with blood, to bring massacre among its citizens, and worse -disaster on its wives and maidens. I would not buy an eternal crown for -myself—I will not strive to place that of England on my kinsman's -head—at this cost. We have had over-much of war: I have seen too many -of the noble, young, and gallant, fall by the sword. Brute force has had -its day; now let us try what policy can do." -</p> - -<p> -The council these friends held together was long and anxious. The lady -still insisted on sudden and resolute measures. Lord Lovel, a soldier in -all his nature, looked forward to the calling together the Yorkists from -every part of the kingdom. The earl, with a statesman's experience, saw -more of obstacle to their purpose in the elevation of Henry the Seventh -than either of his companions would allow; the extreme youth of the duke -of York, the oblivion into which he had sunk, and the stain on his -birth, which was yet unremoved, would disincline the people to hazard -life and fortune in his cause. Henry had taken oath to marry his sister, -the Lady Elizabeth, and when thus the progeny of Edward the Fourth were -freed from the slur under which they now laboured, the whole country -would be alive to the claims of his only son. It was necessary now to -place him in safety, and far away from the suspicious eyes of his -usurping enemy. That morning Lord Lincoln had brought him up from his -rural retreat to the metropolis, and sheltered him for a few hours under -safe but strange guardianship. He was left at the house of a Flemish -money-lender well known at court. It was agreed that Lord Lovel should -take him thence, and make him the companion of his journey to -Colchester, where they should remain watching the turn of events, and -secretly preparing the insurrection which would place him on the throne. -Lady Brampton was obliged to proceed immediately northwards to join her -husband; the north was entirely Yorkist, and her influence would -materially assist the cause. The earl remained in London; he would sound -the inclinations of the nobility, and even coming in contact with the -new king, watch over danger and power at its fountain-head. One more -question was discussed: Whether the queen, Elizabeth Woodville, should -be made acquainted with the existence of her son. All three, from -various reasons, decided in the negative. A personal enmity existed -between the widow of Edward the Fourth and Lady Brampton: her party was -detested by the two nobles. It would be more popular with the nation, -they thought, if her kinsmen, whose upstart pretensions were the object -of the derision and scorn of the old aristocracy, had no part in -bestowing the crown on the heir of the House of York. Time wore away -during these deliberations; it was past midnight before the friends -separated. Lord Lovel presented his young friend, Edmund Plantagenet, to -the earl, and recommended him to his protection. Refreshment was also -necessary after Lovel's fatiguing journey; but he was so intent on -accomplishing his purpose, that he wasted but a few minutes in this -manner, and then being provided with a fresh horse from Lincoln's -stables, he left the palace to proceed first to the present abode of -Richard of York, and afterwards, accompanied by him, on his road to -Essex. -</p> - -<p> -Lord Lovel threaded his way through the dark narrow streets of London -towards Lothbury. The habitation of the money-lender was well known to -him, but it was not easily entered at past midnight. A promised bribe to -the apprentice who hailed him from the lofty garret-window, and his -signet-ring sent in to his master, at length procured admission into the -bedchamber of Mynheer Jahn Warbeck. The old man sat up in his bed, his -red cotton night-cap on his head, his spectacles, with which he had -examined the ring, on his nose; his chamber was narrow and dilapidated, -his bed of ill condition. "Who would suppose," thought Lovel, "that this -man holds half England in pawn?" -</p> - -<p> -When Warbeck heard that the errand of Lovel was to take from him his -princely charge, he rose hastily, wrapping a robe round him, and opened -a small wainscoat door leading into a little low room, whence he drew -the half-sleeping and wondering boy. There was a rush taper in the room, -and daylight began to peep through the crevices of the shutters, giving -melancholy distinctness to the dirty and dismantled chamber. One ray -fell directly on the red night-cap and spectacles of old Jahn, whose -parchment face was filled with wrinkles, yet they were lines of care, -not of evil, and there was even benevolence in his close mouth; for the -good humour and vivacity of the boy had won on him. Besides, he had -himself a son, for whom he destined all his wealth, of the same age as -the little fellow whose plump roseate hand he held in his own brown -shrivelled palm. The boy came in, rubbing his large blue eyes, the -disordered ringlets of his fair hair shading a face replete with -vivacity and intelligence. Mynheer Jahn was somewhat loth to part with -the little prince, but the latter clapped his hands in ecstasy when he -heard that Lord Lovel had come to take him away. -</p> - -<p> -"I pray you tell me, Sir Knight," said old Warbeck, "whether -intelligence hath arrived of the victory of our gracious sovereign, and -the defeat of the Welsh rebels." -</p> - -<p> -Richard became grave at these words; he fixed his, eyes inquiringly on -the noble: "Dear Lord Lovel," he cried, "for I remember you well, my -very good lord, when you came to the Tower and found me and Robert -Clifford playing at bowls—tell me, how you have fought, and whether -you have won." -</p> - -<p> -"Mine are evil tidings," said Lord Lovel; "all is lost. We were -vanquished, and your royal uncle slain." -</p> - -<p> -Warbeck's countenance changed at these words; he lamented the king; he -lamented the defeat of the party which he had aided by various advances -of money, and his regrets at once expressed sorrow for the death of -some, and dread from the confiscation of the property of others. -Meanwhile, Richard of York was full of some thought that swelled his -little breast; taking Lovel's hand, he asked again, "My uncle, Richard -the Third, is dead?" -</p> - -<p> -"Even so," was the reply; "he died nobly on the field of battle." -</p> - -<p> -The child drew himself up, and his eyes flashed as he said -proudly,—"Then I am king of England." -</p> - -<p> -"Who taught your grace that lesson?" asked Lovel. -</p> - -<p> -"My liege—my brother Edward. Often and often in the long winter -nights, and when he was sick in bed, he told me how, after he had been -proclaimed king, he had been dethroned; but that when our uncle died he -should be king again; and that if it pleased God to remove him, I should -stand in his place; and I should restore my mother's honour, and this he -made me swear." -</p> - -<p> -"Bless the boy!" cried Warbeck, "he speaks most sagely; may the saints -incline my lord, the earl of Lincoln, to do his royal cousin justice!" -</p> - -<p> -"Your grace," said Lovel, "shall hear more of this as we proceed on our -journey. Mynheer Jahn, the earl bade me apply to you; you are to repair -to him before noon; meanwhile, fill this long empty purse with gold -coins. He will be my guarantee." -</p> - -<p> -"Lend me the money," cried the little duke, "I will repay you. We will -repay you, when we have our crown." -</p> - -<p> -This was an inducement not to be resisted. Warbeck counted out the gold; -the boy with light steps tripped down the creaking old staircase, and -when Lovel had mounted, taking his hand, he sprung in the saddle before -him. The fresh morning air was grateful to both, after the close -chambers of the Fleming. The noble put his horse to a quick trot, and -leaving London by a different road from that by which he had entered, -took his way through Romford and Chelmsford to Colchester. -</p> - -<p> -The news of the earl of Richmond's victory and assumption of the crown -reached London that night. The citizens heard it on their awakening. The -market people from the west related it to those who came in from the -east; but it had not hitherto travelled in that direction. Lovel knew -that the storm was behind him, but he outrode it; on the evening of the -second day he was safe in sanctuary at Colchester. His young charge was -lodged at a farm-house belonging to a tenant of Sir Humphrey Stafford. -They all awaited impatiently for the time when the earl of Lincoln would -put a period to their confinement, by informing them that the hour was -arrived when they might again take arms against the upstart Lancastrian -king. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h4><a id="chap03"></a></h4> - -<h4>CHAPTER III -<br /><br /> -ELIZABETH OF YORK</h4> - - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Small joy have I have being England's queen.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i20">SHAKSPEARE.</span> -</div></div></div> - -<p> -Henry the Seventh was a man of strong sense and sound understanding. He -was prudent, resolute, and valiant; on the other hand, he was totally -devoid of generosity, and was actuated all his life by base and bad -passions. At first the ruling feeling of his heart was hatred of the -House of York—nor did he wholly give himself up to the avarice that -blotted his latter years, till the extinction of that unhappy family -satisfied his revenge, so that for want of fuel the flame died away. -Most of his relatives and friends had perished in the field or on the -scaffold by the hands of the Yorkists—his own existence had been in -jeopardy during their exaltation; and the continuance of his reign, and -even of his life, depended on their utter overthrow. Henry had a mind -commensurate to the execution of his plans: he had a talent for seizing, -as if instinctively, on all the bearings of a question before him; and a -ready perception of the means by which he might obviate difficulties and -multiply facilities, was the most prominent part of his character. He -never aimed at too much, and felt instantaneously when he had arrived at -the enough. More of cruelty would have roused England against him; less -would have given greater hopes to the partizans of his secreted rival. -He had that exact portion of callousness of heart which enabled him to -extricate himself in the admirable manner he did from all his -embarrassments. -</p> - -<p> -It is impossible to say what his exact views were, when he landed in -England, an I made head against Richard the Third. His right of -succession, even through the House of Lancaster, was ill-founded, and -probably he would scarcely have dared to decorate his brows with the -royal circlet but for the happy boldness of Stanley, and the enthusiasm -felt by his soldiers in the hour of victory, which had bestowed it on -him. Once a king, as it was impossible, without risk of life, to sink to -a private station, he did not hesitate, but bent every energy of his -mind to the contriving the means to seat himself firmly on his -newly-acquired throne. -</p> - -<p> -The illegitimacy of Edward the Fourth's children had removed them from -the succession. But though no doubt was entertained as to the fact of -Edward having married Lady Eleanor Butler, yet Henry had the taint of -illegitimacy on his own race; and, moreover, Elizabeth Woodville having -so long filled the station of queen of England, the public voice went in -her favour, and the majority of the English people looked upon the tale -which deprived her children of their rights, as a contrivance of their -usurping uncle. What then was to become of them? Edward the Fifth was -dead: of this fact there was no doubt. It had been rumoured that the -duke of York had not long survived his brother. To ascertain the truth -of this report, Henry dispatched one of his most staunch adherents to -the Tower. The boy was not there; but a mystery hung over his fate which -did not quite assure the new king of his death. Henry feared that he was -in the hands of the Yorkists, and this dread gave fresh vigour to his -distrust and abhorrence of the partizans of the White Rose. He formed a -scheme to defeat their projects; he caused it to be disseminated that -both the princes had been found dead—murdered—in the Tower. -</p> - -<p> -The competitors for the crown, whose claims ranked next, were the -daughters of Edward the Fourth. Henry immediately saw the necessity of -agreeing to the treaty entered into by the countess of Richmond, for his -marriage with the eldest of these princesses. He hated to owe his title -to the crown to any part of the House of York; he resolved, if possible, -to delay and break the marriage; but his own friends were urgent with -him to comply, and prudence dictated the measure; he therefore promised -to adopt it—thus effectually to silence the murmurs of the party of -the White Rose. -</p> - -<p> -But if the young duke of York reappeared meanwhile, it would be -necessary not to repeal the Act of Parliament that cast a stigma on his -birth. If the children of Elizabeth Woodville and Edward the Fourth were -debarred from the crown, the earl of Warwick was the next heir. He was -confined, by Richard the Third, at Sheriff Hutton, in Yorkshire. He was -the especial object of Henry's fear, and now he commanded him to be -brought from his northern prison to the Tower of London, to be kept a -close prisoner in that melancholy and ill-fated place. There was one -other rival, the earl of Lincoln, named by Richard to succeed him; but -his pretensions came so far behind the others, and he enjoyed so high a -reputation for sagacity and virtue, that Henry believed it best to let -him alone for the present, only surrounding him with spies; and -resolved, on the first note of danger, to destroy him. -</p> - -<p> -Fortune smiled on the new sovereign. The disappearance of the two -children from the Tower caused the Yorkists to settle their affections -on the young Elizabeth. She was at Sheriff Hutton, waiting impatiently -for her union with her uncle; now she received commands to proceed to -London, as the affianced bride of that uncle's conqueror. Already the -common talk ran on the entwining of the two Roses; and all the adherents -of her family, who could gain access, recommended their cause to her, -and entreated her, in the first days of power, not to forget her -father's friends, but to incline the heart of her husband to an -impartial love for the long rival houses of Lancaster and York. -</p> - -<p> -Two parties arrived on the same day at Sheriff Hutton, on the different -missions of conducting the Lady Elizabeth and the earl of Warwick to -London. On the morning of their departure they met in the garden of -their abode to take leave of each other. Elizabeth was nineteen years -old, Warwick was the exact age of her brother, Edward the Fifth; he was -now sixteen. -</p> - -<p> -"We are about to travel the same road with far different expectations," -said Warwick. "I go to be a prisoner; you, fair cousin, to ascend a -throne." -</p> - -<p> -There was a despondency in the youth's manner that deeply affected this -princess. "Dear Edward," she replied, clasping his hand; "we have been -fellow-prisoners long, and sympathy has lightened the burthen of our -chains. Can I forget our walks in this beauteous park, and the love and -confidence we have felt for each other? My dearest boy, when I am queen, -Esther will claim a boon from Ahasuerus, and Warwick shall be the chief -noble in my train." -</p> - -<p> -She looked at him with a brilliant smile; her heart glowed with sisterly -affection. She might well entertain high anticipations of future power; -she was in the pride of youth and beauty; the light spirit of expected -triumph lighted up her lovely face. She was about to become the bride of -a conqueror, yet one whose laurels would droop without her propping; she -was to be queen of her native land, the pearly clasp to unite the silken -bond with which peace now bound long discordant England. She was unable -to communicate this spirit of hope to her desponding friend; he gazed on -her beauty with admiration and deep grief, asking, with tearful eyes, -"Shall we ever meet again?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes! in London, in the court of Henry, we shall again be -companions—friends." -</p> - -<p> -"I go to the Tower, not to the court," replied Warwick, "and when those -gloomy gates close on me, I shall pray that my head may soon repose on -the cold stone that pillows my cousin Edward. I shall sleep uneasily -till then." -</p> - -<p> -"Fie, cousin!" said Elizabeth; "such thoughts ill beseem the nearest -kinsman of the future queen of England. You will remain but a short time -in the Tower; but if you nurse thoughts like these, you will pine there -as you did before I shared your prison here, and the roses with which my -care has painted your cheeks, will again fade." -</p> - -<p> -"Wan and colourless will my cheek be ere your bright eyes look on it -again. Is it not sufficient grief that I part from you, beloved friend!" -</p> - -<p> -A gush at once of sorrow, of affection, of long suppressed love, -overpowered the youth. "I shall think of you," he added, "in my -prison-house; and while I know that you regret my fate, I cannot be -wholly a wretch. Do you not love me? And will you not, as a proof, give -me one of these golden hairs, to soothe poor Warwick's misery? One -only," he said, taking from braided locks the small gift he demanded, "I -will not diminish the rich beauty of your tresses, yet they will not -look lovelier, pressed by the jewelled diadem of England, than under the -green chaplet I crowned you with a few months past, my Queen of May!" -</p> - -<p> -And thus, the eyes of each glistening with tears, they parted. For a -moment Warwick looked as if he wished to press his cousin to his heart; -and she, who loved him as a sister, would have yielded to his embrace: -but before his arms enfolded her, he started back, bent one knee, -pressed her hand to his lips, his eyes, his brow, and bending his head -for an instant towards the ground, sprang up, and rushed down the avenue -towards the gate at which his guard awaited him. Elizabeth stood -motionless, watching him till out of sight. The sun sparkled brightly on -a tuft of wild flowers at her feet. The glittering light caught her eye. -"It is noon," she thought; "the morning dew is dry; it is Warwick's -tears that gem these leaves." She gathered the flowers, and, first -kissing them, placed them in her bosom; with slow steps, and a sorrowing -heart, she re-entered the castle. -</p> - -<p> -The progress of the Lady Elizabeth from Sheriff Hutton to London was -attended by every circumstance that could sustain her hopes. She was -received with acclamation and enthusiasm in every town through which she -passed. She indeed looked forward with girlish vanity to the prospect of -sharing the throne with Henry. She had long been taught the royal -lesson, that with princes, the inclinations are not to bear any part in -a disposal of the hand. Her imagination fed on the good she would do for -others, when raised to the regal dignity; the hope of liberating -Warwick, and of fulfilling her mother's wishes in conferring benefits on -various partizans of the White Rose, filled her bosom with the purest -joy; youth, beauty, and the expectation of happiness, caused the measure -of her content to overflow. With a fluttering heart she entered London: -small preparation had been made to receive her, and she was immediately -conducted to her mother's abode at the Tower Royal, in the parish of -Walbrook. The first check her hopes received arose from the clouded brow -of the queen, as she embraced her daughter, and welcomed her arrival. -Many fears in truth occupied the thoughts of the illustrious widow. She -could not forget her sons; and the mystery that hung over the fate of -the younger pressed heavily upon her. It was now the eighteenth of -October, and the preparations for the coronation of Henry were in great -forwardness; Parliament had recognized his title without any allusion to -the union with the heiress of the House of York. She had endeavoured to -fathom his purposes, and to understand his character. She knew that he -entertained a settled hatred for the White Rose, and that his chief -pride lay in establishing himself on the throne, independent of the -claim he might acquire by his marriage with the Lady Elizabeth. The -common people murmured, the Yorkists were discontented,—the neighbour -stage before they should break out into open rebellion. Thus dark clouds -interposed before the sun of peace, which had been said to have risen on -the event of the battle of Bosworth Field. -</p> - -<p> -Henry the Seventh was crowned on the thirtieth of October. The queen -looked on this ceremony as the downfall of her hopes. Housed by this -fear, she entered into a sea of intrigue, in which, after all, she had -no certain aim, except that of re-animating the zeal of the Yorkists, -and of exciting such discontent in the public mind, on the postponement -of her daughter's marriage, as to force Henry to consent to an immediate -union. The gentle Elizabeth had meanwhile submitted patiently to her -destiny. She dismissed regality from her thoughts, and devoted herself -to her mother; recreating herself in the society of her sisters, and now -and then contemplating the faded leaves she had brought from Sheriff -Hutton, and lamenting the fate of Warwick. She had learned to fear and -almost to hate Henry; and, but for the sake of her suffering party, to -rejoice that he had apparently relinquished his intention of marrying -her. -</p> - -<p> -The dissatisfaction manifested by the English people forced Henry to -comply with the universal wish entertained of seeing the daughter of -Edward the Fourth on the throne; yet it was not until the beginning of -January that the princess received intimation to prepare for her -nuptials. This prospect, which had before elated, now visited her -coldly; for, without the hope of influencing her husband, the state of a -queen appeared mere bondage. In her heart she wished to reject her -uncourteous bridegroom; and once she had ventured to express this desire -to her mother, who, filled with affright, laid aside her intrigues, -devoting herself to cultivate a more rational disposition in her -daughter. Henry paid the doomed girl one visit, and saw little in her -except a bashful child; while his keener observation was directed -towards the dowager queen. She, with smooth brow and winning smiles, did -the honours of reception to her future son-in-law—to her bitter foe. -The cold courtesy of Henry chilled her; and a strong desire lurked under -her glossy mien, to reproach the usurper with his weak title, to set up -her daughter's claim in opposition to his, and to defy him to the field. -As soon as Henry departed, her suppressed emotions found vent in tears. -Elizabeth was astonished: she knelt before her, caressed her, and asked -if all were not well now, since the plighted troth had passed between -her and the king. -</p> - -<p> -"Has it passed?" murmured the queen; "and is your hapless fate decided? -Why did I not join you at Sheriff Hutton? Why did I not place your hand -in that of your noble cousin? Ah, Warwick! could I even now inspire you -with my energy, you would be free in arms; and England to a man would -rise in the cause of Edward the Sixth, and my sweet Elizabeth!" -</p> - -<p> -The colour in the princess's cheeks varied during the utterance of this -speech; first they flushed deep red, but the pale hue of resolution -succeeded quickly to the agitation of doubt. "Mother," she said, "I was -your child; plastic clay in your hands; had you said these words two -hours ago, Warwick might have been liberated—I perhaps happy. But you -have given me away; this ring is the symbol of my servitude; I belong to -Henry. Say no word, I beseech you, that can interfere with my duty to -him. Permit me to retire." -</p> - -<p> -On the eighteenth of January her nuptials were celebrated. -</p> - -<p> -The forbidding manners of Henry threw a chill over the marriage -festival. He considered that he had been driven to this step by his -enemies; and that the chief among these, influenced by her mother, was -Elizabeth herself. The poor girl never raised her eyes from the moment -she had encountered at the altar the stern and unkind glance of the -king. Her steps were unassured, her voice faltering; the name of wife -was to her synonymous with that of slave, while her sense of duty -prevented every outward demonstration of the despair that occupied her -heart. -</p> - -<p> -Her mother's indignation was deeper, although not less veiled. She could -silence, but not quell, the rage that arose in her breast from her -disappointment; and there were many present who shared her sentiments. -As far as he had been able, Henry had visited the Yorkists with the -heaviest penalties. An act of attainder had been passed against the duke -of Norfolk, Lord Lovel, the Staffords, and all indeed of note who had -appeared against him. Those with whom he could not proceed to -extremities, he wholly discountenanced. The Red Rose flourished bright -and free—one single white blossom, doomed to untimely blight, being -entwined with the gaudier flowers. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h4><a id="chap04"></a></h4> - -<h4>CHAPTER IV -<br /><br /> -LADY BRAMPTON</h4> - - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">My noble queen, let former grudges pass,</span><br /> -<span class="i0">And henceforth I am thy true servitor.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i20">SHAKSPEARE.</span> -</div></div></div> - -<p> -Meanwhile the Yorkists were impatient for action. The existence of -Prince Richard was a secret to all save Lincoln and Lovel—even the -Staffords were kept in ignorance; their purpose, therefore, was merely -to put down the Lancastrians, and to raise their own party, with Warwick -or Lincoln at their head; they cared not which, so that they got a king -who would, in his turn, uproot the Red Rose. Lincoln would consent to no -decisive step; but from the day of his cousin's marriage, all his -emissaries and friends were on foot to cause insurrectionary movements -in the kingdom, rousing in the old Yorkists their ancient party spirit, -and inspiring the young with hopes of future aggrandizement and victory. -</p> - -<p> -As the spring advanced, Henry sent the young queen, with her mother and -sisters, and the countess of Richmond, to hold her court at Winchester, -while he resolved on a progress through the northern counties of -England, the most affected towards the House of York, to endeavour, by -the royal presence, to awaken affection towards the reigning sovereign. -He passed the festival of Easter at Lincoln, and there he heard that -Lord Lovel and the two Staffords had escaped from sanctuary. The sound -of insurrection is fearful to a newly-anointed king; but as no -explanation was given to their movements, and no name of import mingled -in the tale, he felt less perturbation at this intelligence. As he -proceeded on his journey, the affair took a more serious aspect. The -Staffords advanced to besiege Worcester; and Lovel, with an increasing -army of three or four thousand men, was in the neighbourhood of York. -</p> - -<p> -Sir Edward Brampton joined the forces of Lord Lovel, and he and Lady -Brampton again met. The history of this lady was singular. Ten years -before the time of which we write, being then eighteen, she married, and -attended the court of Edward the Fourth. She had talent and vivacity; -her dark laughing eyes, the animation of her countenance, her gay and -<i>naïve</i> manners, attracted her sovereign; and she was soon -distinguished as one whose advancement, if so it might be called, to the -highest influence over him, depended on her own choice between honour -and such preferment. She did not hesitate; but her rejection won Edward -as much as her beauty. A kind of friendship, kept up under the -chivalrous phraseology of the day, was established between them, that -gave, perhaps, more umbrage to the queen than a less avowed connection -would have done. All was open; and if the good humour of her young rival -never permitted her to assume haughtiness, there was something even more -revolting in her girlish assumptions of power and consequence. The queen -hated and affected to despise Lady Brampton; Lady Brampton felt that she -injured the wife of Edward the Fourth. At first she had earnestly sought -to gain her favour, but when rebuffed, she resorted to the weapons of -youth, beauty, and wit, and set at defiance the darkened brow of -Elizabeth. Ten years had passed since then. -</p> - -<p> -Edward the Fourth died, and under Richard the Third Lady Brampton -returned to her natural place in society; nay, the vivacity of speech -with which she defended the rights of his nephews, made him absolutely -discountenance her. In her days of pride she had refused every mark of -favour from Edward, thus to place their avowed friendship far above the -petty intrigues of the courtiers. It might have been thought that the -queen and her rival would now, on the grounds of affection for Edward's -children, have leagued together; but, on the contrary, the mother -expressed contempt and indignation at the presumption of Lady Brampton -in assuming a personal interest in her children, and that lady too well -remembered how often her manner and speech must have offended the queen -to make any vain attempt at reconciliation. The earl of Lincoln and Lady -Brampton had always been friends; her liveliness amused him, her -integrity and real goodness of heart won his esteem. Her passionate love -for the princes in the Tower had caused him, when he withdrew thence the -young Richard, whose ill-health demanded constant feminine attentions, -to confide him to her charge; thus she alone became possessed of the -secret of his existence, and now with Lord Lovel she debated how best -his interests could be furthered. -</p> - -<p> -Lord Lincoln feared by rash measures to endanger the safety of his -nephew. He desired to place him on the throne, but he preferred bringing -him up in freedom and obscurity to any ill-judged attempt that might -throw him into his enemy's hands, and make him prisoner for life. His -plans were all laid upon this principle; he commanded Lord Lovel, who -submitted wholly to him, not to breathe the name of the son of Edward -till he had gained a decided advantage over the reigning sovereign. If -victorious, he might set up the royal standard and proclaim Richard the -Fourth, while the earl, still in London, would call together all the -Yorkists, and, in the absence of the king, seize, in his nephew's name, -upon the capital of the kingdom. If Lord Lovel's attempt proved -unsuccessful, it was decided that the prince should escape immediately -to the Continent, there to remain till some new insurrection was -organized; for, though cautious, he was resolute, and he had determined -never to relinquish his purpose, but to excite rebellion and discontent -against Henry till the rightful heir possessed his own. -</p> - -<p> -These plans were in contradiction to Lady Brampton's views, but she was -obliged to submit. Her quick woman's wit discovered her another danger. -The absolute silence observed concerning the young prince, then only -eleven years of age, might in the end cast a doubt over the justice of -his pretensions, and she told Lord Lovel, that if, after a failure, -Richard quitted England, he must first be seen and acknowledged by his -mother. She resolved, therefore, on immediately going to Winchester to -prepare Elizabeth for the reception of her son; and Lord Lovel, who -agreed in the wisdom of this proposal, promised, at all hazards, that -ere leaving the kingdom the duke of York should cross the country to -that town, whence, by Southampton, he might escape to France. While, -therefore. Lord Lovel increased his army, and marched in high hopes -towards York, Lady Brampton proceeded southward, meditating the safest -and best manner of introducing herself to the queen. -</p> - -<p> -There was a man, Richard Simon, or Symond, who afterwards figured in the -chronicles, that had long been secretly concerned in the course of -events. He was the son of a tenant of Sir John Gray, and had been the -playmate of the Lady Elizabeth Gray's elder children. His love of books, -his sedentary habits, and quick wit on matters of learning, led those -interested in his fate to consider him fitted for the church, and -therefore, he took priest's orders. But his mind, though not attuned to -action in its noblest sense, was not one that could remain at rest. He -loved power; he was sagacious, astute, and intriguing: when the Lady -Gray became queen, he being still too young for high promotion, -preferred an unnoticed but influential situation near her person to more -lucrative employ, which would remove him from the pleasures and dignity -of the court. When Edward died, he devoted himself to the service of his -royal patroness, and hardly escaped being imprisoned for life by -Richard, when the latter was most exasperated against the -queen dowager's relations. From that time Richard Simon found full -occupation for his plotting head, in endeavouring to bring about the -overthrow of the usurping Gloucester, and to raise the hopes of Henry -the Seventh, who requited ill his active zeal: and now again he busied -himself in exalting the queen's party. He looked the man he was—a -prier into secrets—one who conducted the drama of life by back-stairs -and tell-tale valets: his small grey eyes were quick to discern the -meaning of each smile or frown; his young brow was already wrinkled -through care and thought; craft lurked in the corners of his lips; and -his whispering voice betokened habitual caution. He continued to hover -near the queen; now despatched to sound some Yorkist, now closeted to -discuss some expression of the king's, in which to find a secret -meaning. Repose was the thing he hated: and for ever with some plan on -foot, some web to weave or unravel, he was seen with brows a little -elevated by self-conceit, with a courtly bend of the body, and -insinuating address, now assuring a Lancastrian of the perfect -satisfaction of the queen, now whispering to a Yorkist a tale of slights -and injuries practised by King Henry against his consort and her -friends. All the communication that had taken place between Elizabeth -Woodville and the earl of Lincoln had been carried on through this man, -though each knew not that he communicated to the other what either said. -But Lincoln respected his undeviating fidelity towards his patroness, -and valued his talents. It was to this man that Lady Brampton addressed -herself on her arrival at Winchester, to procure for her a private -audience with the queen. Her dark hints respecting the insurrection of -Lovel and the Staffords excited his curiosity, yet he experienced more -difficulty than he expected in bringing the royal dowager to consent to -receive her rival. When our days of prosperity are fled we cling fondly -to all that reminds us of their brightness, and turn with augmented -distaste from every thing that marred their splendour. Elizabeth loved to -remember herself as the chosen bride of Edward, and any circumstance -that spoke of his inconstancy, or detracted from the entireness of her -influence over him, then inspired her with indignation, now with -abhorrence. It required all Simon's dexterity to allay her anger, and -excite her curiosity, sufficiently to induce her to admit her rival to -her presence. -</p> - -<p> -It was at the hour of vespers that the priest introduced Lady Brampton -into the queen's cabinet. Elizabeth was assured that she had secrets of -importance to communicate, and she designed by affability to win her to -a full disclosure of them. Yet her heart and manner grew cold as she -entered the closet where the lady and her guide already were, and -bending her head slightly, she said, "The Lady Brampton desired an -audience with me—I grant it." -</p> - -<p> -With all her vivacity and consciousness of the importance of her -disclosures, the lady felt herself awed and chilled; and the memory of -Edward came across her, who had before shielded her from such -unkindness, and filled her eyes with tears. A long pause ensued; the -queen looked as in expectation, and Richard Simon, who had retired to an -embrasure of a window, was about to come forward, when Lady Brampton, -conquering her emotion, said, "Your grace is the happy mother of the -queen of England, and the hope of an heir, which you now entertain, may -make my intelligence distasteful." -</p> - -<p> -"Say on," replied Elizabeth, haughtily; "I listen to your words." -</p> - -<p> -The lady felt much inclined not to say another word, but assuming almost -equal coldness of manner, she continued, "Would your grace prefer that -your fair daughter should still bear the sceptre, or that Richard the -Fourth should wrest it from the husband's grasp?" -</p> - -<p> -Now indeed the queen started, and cried impetuously, "I charge you, -trifle with me no longer! Explain your words; who would supplant my -child?" -</p> - -<p> -"Her brother," Lady Brampton replied; and seeing the queen lost in a -mixture of amazement and terror, she added, "The Duke of York still -lives: he is now, I trust, at the head of forces sufficient to enforce -his rights. In a few days England will acknowledge him as sovereign." -</p> - -<p> -In reply to these words, spoken with rapidity, as if they were pregnant -with supreme delight to their auditress, the queen with an angry look, -said, "I shall league with no plotters to establish an impostor." -</p> - -<p> -"Beware," said Lady Brampton, indignantly; "let your majesty bethink -yourself before you consign your son to misery and an early grave. Will -his mother be his chief enemy?" -</p> - -<p> -"Who vouches for him?" -</p> - -<p> -"Himself! He is the very Edward who once was yours: his young features -are but the miniature mirror of his royal father; his princely grace, -his wit, his courage, are all derived from him." -</p> - -<p> -"I must see the boy," said the queen, "to end at once this silly masque. -How do you pretend that he escaped form the Tower?" -</p> - -<p> -The independence and sensibility of Lady Brampton's disposition would -not permit her to answer a question asked thus ironically. Had she -looked at the queen, she might have seen, by her change of countenance, -that it was nearly all put on by the jealous instinct that would not -permit her to acknowledge herself under so great an obligation to her -rival. Lady Brampton turned to Simon, saying, "I am ready to depart, Sir -Priest; I see her grace sorrows that the same cold bed does not entomb -Richard of York and Edward the Fifth. Poor prince! My Lord of Lincoln -counselled well, and I was to blame in not acting on his advice." -</p> - -<p> -"Stay," cried Elizabeth, "speak again. Is the earl of Lincoln a party to -this tale?" -</p> - -<p> -"Your majesty insults me," said the lady; "I came here to please a -mother's ear by assurances of her son's safety, and to conduct the -tempest-tost fortunes of this ill-starred boy into the safe harbour of -maternal love. I came with a full heart and an ardent desire to serve -you; no other motive could have led me hither. You receive me with -disdain; you dismiss me with contumely. I fear that so much you hate me, -that, for my sake, your heart is steeled against your princely son. But -as you already know so much as to make it necessary that you should know -all, I will hasten to London, and intreat the noble De la Poole to -communicate with you, and to avert a mother's enmity from her child. I -take my leave." -</p> - -<p> -She was about to depart; but Simon, who knew that a feud between the -prince's partizans must ruin his cause, entreated her to remain; and -then addressing the queen, tried to soothe her, for she was pacing the -rushes of her chamber in excessive agitation. "Peace, good friend," said -she, "I will speak to Lincoln; I will ask him why I, who was deemed by -his honoured uncle fit partaker of his councils, am kept by him in -ignorance of the alleged existence of this poor boy? Even now he might -be sitting on the throne, had I been consulted: instead of this, to what -has this distrust brought him? He is a crownless king, a fugitive -prince, branded as an impostor; a seal is put on his fate, which nothing -probably will ever remove. I, even I, have called my son, if such he be, -a counterfeit!" -</p> - -<p> -Maternal tenderness touched to the quick the royal lady's heart, and she -wept. Lady Brampton was all impulse and goodness of disposition: she -felt that Elizabeth had wronged her, but in a moment she forgave the -offence; she advanced, and kneeling at her feet, touched her hand -gently, as she said, "Let not your grace judge too harshly of our -proceedings. We poor faulty human beings, hurried hither and thither by -passion, are for ever jostling against and hurting each other, where -more perfect natures would coalesce, and thus succeed where we fail. -Forgive, forget the past; it cannot now be changed. Forgive the earl, -who, long bound by an oath to his uncle Gloucester, could only save your -son's life by feigning his death. Forgive the humblest of your servants, -even myself, who acted under his commands, and who now, in disobedience -to them, attempts to bring the royal exile to his mother's arms. Would -that my humility could appease your displeasure, and that you would -acknowledge me your faithful follower. My life should be at the disposal -of you and the princely York." -</p> - -<p> -Lady Brampton, full of vivacity, energy, and even of imperiousness, had -so much grace in her manner and sweetness in her voice, when she laid -these keen weapons aside to assume those of gentleness and love, that -she was irresistible. The queen, at once softened, stretched out her -hand, which the lady pressed respectfully to her lips; then, as friends -bent on one design, they conversed unreservedly together. Lady Brampton -entered into long details concerning the past history of the duke of -York, and the schemes then on foot for his advancement. This was not -their sole interview; they met again and again, and mutual affection -confirming the link which the fate of Richard caused to exist between -them, the queen named the Lady Brampton one of her ladies, and -henceforth they lived together under the same roof. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h4><a id="chap05"></a></h4> - -<h4>CHAPTER V -<br /><br /> -THE INTERVIEW</h4> - - - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">England, farewell! thou, who hast been my cradle,</span><br /> -<span class="i0">Shalt never be my dungeon or my grave.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i20">SHELLEY.</span> -</div></div></div> - -<p> -The historical account of Lord Lovel's insurrection is contained in a -few words. While the two Staffords besieged Worcester, this nobleman -advanced against Henry in York. The duke of Bedford was sent against -him, who published a general pardon, for all the rebels who should -submit. The soldiers of Lord Lovel had no powerful watch-word to insure -their union; the existence of Edward the Fourth's son was a profound -secret; they were therefore easily induced to abandon an almost nameless -cause; and in three weeks Lord Lovel found himself with only one hundred -adherents, or rather personal friends, who at his earnest entreaty -disbanded, while he, chiefly bent on saving the life of his princely -charge, felt greater security in being left singly with him. -</p> - -<p> -He had promised to traverse England, and to conduct him to Winchester; -but the hot pursuit on foot forced him to delay this journey. Meanwhile -a present refuge was to be sought. He had a stanch friend in a zealous -Yorkist, Sir Thomas Broughton, who resided in Lancashire, to whose -residence he directed his steps. Still, even during this short journey, -great precaution was necessary. Lord Lovel and his charge travelled -disguised, avoiding highroads and great towns. On the second evening, -when the red aspect of the setting sun threatened an inclement night, -they took shelter in a lone cot, on one of the wild moors of that -county. -</p> - -<p> -A long habit of personal attendance had instilled into Lovel's mind a -parental affection for the little prince. They had journeyed far that -day, and Richard was overpowered by fatigue; his friend strewed for him -a bed of leaves—he stretched himself on it, and quickly fell into -a sound sleep, while the noble kept up the fire he had lighted, and -paced the hut, revolving in his mind a thousand schemes. It was a chill -February evening; and, as night came on, a thick sleet beat against the -windows, while the wind, sweeping over the wide health, howled round the -miserable shepherd's cot. Some time passed thus, and fear in Lovel's -mind gave place to the sense of security, inspired by the desolation of -the spot and the inclemency of the elements. He needed rest, and as soon -as he had thrown himself on the ground, drowsiness overpowered -him—the wind sang a wild lullaby to both the sleepers. -</p> - -<p> -Though still lost to the outer world, a change passed over Lovel's -countenance—again his features relaxed into sleep, and again -expressed disquietude. The tramp of horses' feet was around the -hut—voices mingled alien sounds with the raging blast;—at -last a loud knocking at the door caused the noble at once to start on -his feet wide awake. Richard still slept on. Lord Lovel cautiously -withdrew into the shadow behind the door, listening intently to divine -the motives of these unwelcome intruders. He felt assured that they were -emissaries of Henry, who had traced him hither; he endeavoured to form -in his mind some plan of conduct to save the duke, whom he was about to -awaken and put on his guard, when a woman's voice struck upon his ear. -The knocking at the door was changed into a violent beating, the rude -hinges gave way, and it swung back. The fugitive's heart beat quick; it -was a moment full of fate; such a one as, when passed, we seem to have -concentrated a life into its small space. The man that entered calmed -his fears; low in stature, broadly built, a cloak lined with furs added -to his bulk, and a Flemish hat completed his peaceable appearance; -though he was too much muffled to show his face. Glancing at Lovel a -look which was, doubtless, intended to convey reproach, he muttered some -words in a foreign guttural language, and went back to his companions. -Two women now entered, both enveloped in furs. One stepped lightly on, -and drew the bench, which had lately pillowed the head of Lovel, closer -to the fire, while the other, bending under the burthen in her arms, -approached slower, and sitting down on the seat prepared for her, threw -back her cloak, and discovered that she bore in her arms a sleeping -child, about six years of age. The first, meanwhile, disencumbered -herself of her rich furs, and then leaning over the child, kissed its -little hands, and regarded its sleeping form with mingled anxiety and -tenderness, speaking to the other in a foreign dialect, evidently about -the risk the poor babe had run from exposure to the weather. Lovel -remained a mute spectator; he resolved not to come forward till he -should see who their male attendants were. After a brief interval the -first intruder again entered; he threw off his cloak, and looking round -with keen eyes, the fugitive discovered the well-known features of a -friend. His heart now relieved, his countenance lighted up, and he -stepped forward, saying: "Mynheer Jahn Warbeck, God be with you! you -travel on a stormy night." -</p> - -<p> -"And you, Lord Lovel," replied the money-lender, angrily, "are -sufficiently discourteous to wanderers at suck a season. Why even vipers -are harmless during a storm." -</p> - -<p> -"But fair weather returns, and they again find their sting. I might bare -my own breast, but—" he pointed to the bed of leaves, on which, in -spite of the tumult, young Richard still slept. -</p> - -<p> -Warbeck started: but before he could reply, one of his companions turned -to speak to him, and a conversation ensued, begun in Dutch, and -continued in French, concerning the circumstances which had divided them -from their attendants, and their fatiguing wanderings during the storm. -A small saddlebag was produced by Warbeck, containing a few provisions. -A bed for the sleeping child was formed, and the travellers sat round -the fire, enjoying their simple fare. From time to time the fair blue -eyes of the younger lady, who was evidently the mistress, and the other -an attendant, turned to look on the chivalric form and manly beauty of -Lovel; a few smiling observations escaped her in her native language, -which Warbeck answered drily and succinctly. The bench on which the lady -sat was soon sacrificed for firing—the cloaks of the party were -dried, and the women, wrapt in them, sought repose on the bare ground, -which was the sole flooring of the hut, the younger drawing to her bosom -the sleeping child. Lovel and Warbeck kept silence, till the deep breathing -of their companions showed that they slept: then, in reply to the -Fleming's questions, Lovel related the history of the last months, and -at the conclusion frankly asked his advice and assistance in -accomplishing his design of conveying the duke of York to Winchester. -Warbeck looked thoughtful on this demand, and after a pause said, "I -cannot say wherefore this unfortunate prince excites so strong an -interest in me; for in truth my heart yearns towards him as if he were -akin to me. Is it because he bore for a time my poor boy's name?" -</p> - -<p> -Warbeck paused; his hard features were strongly marked by grief—"I -and my sister," he continued, "crossed the country to visit my Peterkin, -who was ill—who is lost to me now for ever." -</p> - -<p> -A pause again ensued: the young soldier respected too much the father's -grief to interrupt it. At length the Fleming said, "Lord Lovel, I -will—I trust I can—save Duke Richard's life. My sister is -kind-hearted; and the silence you have observed concerning the very -existence of King Edward's son makes the task more easy. Madeline is -about to return to her own country; she was to have taken my Peterkin -with her. Let the prince again assume that name: it shall be my care to -escort him in this character to Winchester; and at Portsmouth they may -embark, while you follow your own plans, and take refuge with the -friends you mention in these parts." -</p> - -<p> -As Warbeck spoke, Lovel motioned to him to observe his sister, who, -unable to sleep, was observing them with attention. "Madeline does not -understand our English," said her brother; "but it were well that she -joined our counsels, which may continue in French. I have your leave, my -lord, to disclose your secret to her? Fear her not: she would die rather -than injure one hair of that poor child's head." -</p> - -<p> -On Warbeck's invitation, the lady rose; and he, taking her hand, led her -to the low couch of the duke of York. Sleep and gentle dreams spread an -irradiation of beauty over him: his glowing cheek, his eyes hardly -closed, the masses of rich auburn hair that clustered on a brow of -infantine smoothness and candour, the little hand and arm, which, thrown -above his head, gave an air of helplessness to his attitude, combined to -form a picture of childish grace and sweetness, which no woman, and that -woman a mother, could look on without emotions of tenderness. "What an -angelic child," said the fair sister of Warbeck, as she stooped to kiss -his rosy cheek; "what a noble-looking boy. Who is he?" -</p> - -<p> -"One proscribed," said the cavalier; "one whom he who reigns over -England would consign to a dungeon. Were he to fall into the hands of -his enemies, they might not, indeed, dare not cut him off violently; but -they would consume and crush him, by denying him all that contributes to -health and life." -</p> - -<p> -"Can this sweet boy have enemies?" cried the lady: "Ah! if he have, has -he not friends also to guard him from them?" -</p> - -<p> -"With our lives!" he replied, emphatically; "but that is a small -sacrifice and a useless one; for, to preserve him we must preserve -ourselves. My life,—such acts deserve no record,—I have, and -will again and again expose for him; but the will to save him is not -enough without the power; and that power you possess, lady, to a far, far -greater extent than I." -</p> - -<p> -"The will I have most certainly," said the fair one, regarding the boy -with anxious tenderness. "Command me, sire chevalier; my power, small as -I must believe it to be, and my will, shall unite to preserve this sweet -child." -</p> - -<p> -Warbeck disclosed briefly to his sister the secret of young Richard's -birth, and detailed his plan for his safe journey to Winchester; nay, -and after that, for his crossing the sea, and continuing to personate, -in Flanders, the nephew of Madeline, if so his royal mother deemed -fitting, till the moment should arrive, when the schemes of his -partizans being crowned with success, he could be restored to his -country and his birthright. The fair Fleming joyfully assented to this -proposition, and entered cordially into the details. Lovel was profuse -of thanks: so suddenly and so easily to be relieved from his worst -fears, appeared like the special interposition of some guardian saint. -His heart overflowed with gratitude; and his glistening eyes gave token -of greater thanks than even his emphatic words. Madeline felt all the -excitement of being actively employed in a deed of benevolence: her calm -features were animated with an angelic expression. The discussion of -details demanding the coolest prudence and most vigilant observation, -long occupied them: and the lady brought a woman's tact and keen -penetration to arrange the crude designs of her brother. All was -rendered smooth; every obstacle foreseen and obviated; every pass of -danger reconnoitered and provided for. When, at last, their plans were -perfected, the lady again returned to her hard couch to seek repose: for -some time the cavalier and the Fleming kept watch, till they also, in -such comfortless posture as they might, stretched on the bare ground, -yielded to drowsiness; and grey morning found all the dwellers in the -sheep-cot sunk in profound sleep. Fear, charity, hope, and love, might -colour their dreams; but quiet slumber possessed them all, driving care -and thought from the heart and brain, to steep both in oblivion of all -ill. -</p> - -<p> -When Madeline awoke in the morning, the first sight that met her eyes -was the lovely boy she had promised to protect, playing with her -dark-eyed girl, who displayed all the ecstasy of childish glee with her -new playmate. Madeline was a blonde Fleming, with light blue eyes and -flaxen ringlets—she was about five-and-twenty years of age; an -expression of angelic goodness animated her features, bestowing on them -an appearance of loveliness, which of themselves they did not possess. -It could hardly be guessed, that Richard's playmate was the daughter of -the fair-haired Fleming: but the husband of Warbeck's sister was a -Spaniard, and the child resembled her father in everything except the -soft mouth and sweet smile, which was all her mother's: her large full -dark eyes gave to her infantine face a look of sensibility far beyond -her years. The little girl ran to her mother when she awoke; and -Madeline caressed both her and the prince with the greatest tenderness. -They stood at the door of the cottage; the early sun shone brightly on -the hoar frost that covered the moor; the keen air was bracing, though -cold; the morning was cheerful, such as inspires hope and animation, a -lively wit to understand, and a roused courage to meet difficulties. -</p> - -<p> -Madeline turned from the glittering scene to look on her young -charge—his eyes were fixed on her face. "How beautiful and good you -look," said the boy. -</p> - -<p> -"I am glad that you think me good," replied the lady, smiling; "you will -have less fear in trusting yourself with me: your noble friend has -confided your grace to my care, if, indeed, you will condescend to live -with me, and be as a son to me. I have just lost a little nephew whom I -fondly loved; will you supply his place, and take his name?" -</p> - -<p> -"Fair cousin," said the prince, caressing his kind friend as he spoke, -"I will wait on you, and serve you as no nephew ever served. What name -did your lost kinsman bear? Quickly tell me, that I may know my own, and -hereafter call myself by it." -</p> - -<p> -"Perkin Warbeck," said Madeline. -</p> - -<p> -"Now you mock me," cried Richard: "that has long been my name; but I -knew not that it gave me a claim to so pretty a relation." -</p> - -<p> -"This courtly language," replied the lady, "betrays your grace's -princeliness. What will our Flemish boors say, when I present the -nursling of royalty as mine? You will shame our homely breeding, Duke -Richard." -</p> - -<p> -"I beseech you, fair mistress," said Lovel, who now joined them, "to -forget, even in private, such high-sounding titles. It is dangerous to -play at majesty, unaided by ten thousand armed asserters of our right. -Remember this noble child only as your loving nephew, Perkin Warbeck: -he, who well knows the misery of regal claims unallied to regal -authority, will shelter himself gladly and gratefully under the shadow -of your lowly bower." -</p> - -<p> -And now, as the wintry sun rose higher, the travellers prepared for -their departure. Warbeck first left them to find and to dismiss his -domestics, who would have been aware of the deception practised in the -person of Richard. He returned in a few hours for his sister. The duke -and Lord Lovel then separated. The intervening time had been employed by -the noble in schooling the boy as to his future behaviour, in recounting -to him his plans and hopes, and in instructing him how to conduct -himself with his mother, if indeed he saw her; for Lovel was ignorant -how Lady Brampton had succeeded at Winchester, and how far it would be -possible to bring about an interview between the queen and her son. At -length Warbeck returned; the travellers mounted, and Lord Lovel, -watching from the cottage door, beheld with melancholy regret the prince -depart: the long habit of intercourse, the uncertain future, his high -pretensions, and his present state, had filled the cavalier with moody -thoughts, unlike his usual sanguine anticipations, and energetic -resolves. "This is womanly," at last he thought, as the reflection that -he was alone, and had, perhaps, seen his beloved charge for the last -time, filled his eyes with unwonted tears. "To horse! To my -friends!—There to plan, scheme, devise—and then again to the -field!" -</p> - -<p> -Days and weeks passed, replete with doubt and anxiety to the queen and -her enthusiastic friend at Winchester. Each day, many, many times, Lady -Brampton visited the cathedral to observe whether the silver heart was -suspended near the altar, which she had agreed with Lord Lovel should be -the sign of the duke's arrival. The part Elizabeth Woodville had to play -meanwhile was difficult and painful—she lived in constant intercourse -with the countess of Richmond; the wishes and thoughts of all around -were occupied by the hope of an heir to the crown, which the young queen -would soon bestow on England. The birth of a son, it was prognosticated, -would win her husband's affection, and all idea of future disturbance, -of further risings and disloyalty, through the existence of this joint -offspring of the two Roses, would be for ever at an end. While these -hopes and expectations formed, it was supposed, the most flattering and -agreeable subject of congratulation for the dowager queen, she remained -sleepless and watchful, under the anticipation of seeing her fugitive -son, the outcast and discrowned claimant of all that was to become the -birthright of the unborn child. -</p> - -<p> -At length the unwearied cares of Lady Brampton were rewarded; a small -silver heart, bearing the initials of Richard, duke of York, was -suspended near the shrine; and as she turned to look who placed it -there, the soft voice of Madeline uttered the word of recognition agreed -upon; joy filled Lady Brampton's heart, as the brief answers to her -hurried questions assured her of Richard's safety. The same evening she -visited, in disguise, the abode of Warbeck, and embraced, in a transport -of delight, the princely boy, in whose fate she interested herself with -all the fervour of her warm heart. She now learnt the design Lord Lovel -had of placing Richard in safety under Madeline's care in Flanders, -until his friends had prepared for him a triumphant return to England. -She concerted with her new friends the best mode of introducing Richard -into his mother's presence; and it was agreed that, early on the -following morning, Madeline and the duke should seek one of the small -chapels of the cathedral of Winchester, and that Elizabeth should there -meet her son. With an overflowing heart, Lady Brampton returned to -communicate this intelligence to the royal widow, and to pass with her -the intervening hours in oft-renewed conjectures and anticipations -concerning the duke of York. -</p> - -<p> -To modern and Protestant England, a cathedral or a church may appear a -strange place for private assignations and concealed meetings. It was -otherwise in the days of our ancestors, when, through similarity of -religion, our manners bore a greater resemblance than they now do to -those of foreign countries. The churches stood always open, ready to -receive the penitent, who sought the stillness of the holy asylum the -more entirely to concentrate his thoughts in prayer. As rank did not -exempt its possessors from sin nor sorrow, neither did it from acts of -penitence, nor from those visitations of anguish, when the sacred temple -was sought, as bringing the votarist into more immediate communication -with the Deity. The queen dowager excited, therefore, no suspicion, -when, with her rosary formed of the blessed wood of Lebanon encased in -gold in her hand, with Lady Brampton for her sole attendant, she sought -at five in the morning the dark aisle of the cathedral of Winchester, -there to perform her religious duties. Two figures already knelt near -the altar of the chapel designated as the place of meeting; Elizabeth's -breath came thick, her knees bent under her, she leaned against a -buttress, while a fair-haired boy turned at the sound. He first looked -timidly on her, and then, encouraged by the smile that visited her -quivering lips, he sprung forward, and kneeling at her feet, buried his -face in her dress, sobbing, while, bending over him, her own tears fell -on his glossy hair. Lady Brampton and Madeline retired up the aisle, -leaving the mother and child alone. -</p> - -<p> -"Look up, my Richard," cried the unfortunate widow; "look up, son of -King Edward,—my noble, my outcast boy! Thou art much grown—much -altered since I last saw thee. Thou art more like thy blessed father -than thy infancy promised." She parted his curls on his brow, and looked -on him with the very soul of maternal tenderness. "Ah! were I a -cottager," she continued, "though bereft of my husband, I should collect -my young ones round me, and forget sorrow. I should toil for them, and -they would learn to toil for me. How sweet the food my industry procured -for them, how hallowed that winch their maturer strength would bestow on -me! I am the mother of princes. Vain boast! I am childless!" -</p> - -<p> -The queen, lost in thought, scarcely heard the gentle voice of her son -who replied by expressions of endearment, nor felt his caresses; but -collecting her ideas, she called to mind how brief the interview must -be, and how she was losing many precious moments in vain exclamations -and regrets. Recovering that calm majesty which usually characterized -her, she said: "Richard, arise! our minutes are counted, and each must -be freighted with the warning and wisdom of years. Thou art young, my -son! but Lady Brampton tells me that thy understanding is even -premature; thy experience indeed must be small, but I will try to adapt -my admonitions to that experience. Should you fail to understand me, do -not on that account despise my lessons, but treasure them up till thy -increased years reveal their meaning to thee. We may never meet again; -for once separated, ten thousand swords, and twice ten thousand dangers -divide us perhaps for ever. I feel even now that it is given to me to -bless thee for the last time, and I would fain to the last be the cause -of good to thee. I have lived, ah! how long; and suffered, methinks, -beyond human suffering; let the words I now utter live in thy soul for -ever; my soul is in them! Will not my son respect the sacred yearnings -of his mother's heart?" -</p> - -<p> -Touched, penetrated by this exordium, the tearful boy promised attention -and obedience. Elizabeth sat on a low tomb, Richard knelt before her; -one kiss she imprinted on his young brow, while endeavouring to still -the beating of her heart, and to command the trembling of her voice. She -was silent for a few moments. Richard looked up to her with mingled love -and awe; wisdom seemed to beam from her eyes, and the agitation that -quivered on her lips gave solemnity to the tone with which she addressed -her young auditor. -</p> - -<p> -She spoke of his early prospects, his long imprisonment, and late -fortunes. She descanted on the character of Henry Tudor, describing him -as wise and crafty, and to be feared. She dwelt on the character of the -earl of Lincoln and other chiefs of the house of York, and mentioned how -uneasily they bore the downfall of their party. No pains, no artifice, -no risk, she said, would be spared by any one of them to elevate an -offspring of the White Rose, and to annihilate the pretensions and power -of Lancaster. "Still a boy, unmeet for such contest, noble blood will be -shed for you, my son," she continued; "and while you are secluded by -those who love you from danger, many lives will be spent for your sake. -We shall hazard all for you; and all may prove too little for success. -We may fail, and you be thrown upon your own guidance, your unformed -judgment, and childish indiscretion. Alas! what will then be your fate? -Your kinsmen and partizans slain—your mother broken-hearted, it may -be, dead!—spies will on every side environ you, nets will be spread -to ensnare you, daggers sharpened for your destruction. You must oppose -prudence to craft, nor, until your young hand can wield a man's weapon, -dare attempt aught against Henry's power. Never forget that you are a -king's son, yet suffer not unquiet ambition to haunt you. Sleep in -peace, my love, while others wake for you. The time may come when -victory will be granted to our arms. Then we shall meet again, not as -now, like skulking guilt, but in the open sight of day I shall present -my son to his loyal subjects. Now we part, my Richard—again you are -lost to me, save in the recollection of this last farewell." -</p> - -<p> -Her own words fell like a mournful augury on her ear. With a look of -agonized affection she opened her arms, and then enclosed in their -circle the stripling form of her son. She pressed him passionately to -her heart, covering him with her kisses, while the poor boy besought her -not to weep; yet, infected by her sorrow, tears streamed from his eyes, -and his little heart swelled with insupportable emotion. It was at once -a sight of pity and of fear to behold his mother's grief. -</p> - -<p> -Lady Brampton and Madeline now drew near, and this effusion of sorrow -passed away. The queen collected herself, and rising, taking Richard's -hand in hers, with dignity and grace she led him up to the fair Fleming, -saying "A widowed mother commits to your protection her beloved child. -If heaven favour our right, we may soon claim him, to fill the exalted -station to which he is heir. If disaster and death follow our attempts, -be kind to my orphan son, protect him from the treachery of his enemies; -preserve, I beseech you, his young life!" -</p> - -<p> -Madeline replied in a tone that showed how deeply she sympathized in the -queen's sorrows, while she fervently promised never to desert her -charge. "Now depart," said Elizabeth; "leave me, Richard, while I have -yet courage to say adieu!" -</p> - -<p> -Elizabeth stood watching, while the forms of the prince and his -protectress disappeared down the dark aisle. They reached the door; it -swung back on its hinges, and the sound, made as it closed again, -reverberated through the arched cathedral. The unfortunate mother did -not speak; leaning on her friend's arm she quitted the church by another -entrance. They returned to the palace in silence; and when again they -conversed, it was concerning their hopes of the future, the schemes to -be devised; nor did the aching heart of Elizabeth relieve itself in -tears and complaints, till the intelligence, received some weeks -afterwards of the safe arrival of the travellers in France, took the -most bitter sting from her fears, and allowed her again to breathe -freely. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h4><a id="chap06"></a></h4> - -<h4>CHAPTER VI -<br /><br /> -LAMBERT SIMNEL</h4> - - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Such when as Archimago him did view,</span><br /> -<span class="i2">He weened well to work some uncouth wile;</span><br /> -<span class="i0">Eftsoon untwisting: his deceitful clew,</span><br /> -<span class="i2">He 'gan to weave a web of cunning guile.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i20">SPENSER.</span> -</div></div></div> - -<p> -The birth of Arthur, prince of Wales, which took place in the month of -September of this same year, served to confirm Henry Tudor on the -throne, and almost to obliterate the memory of a second and resisting -party in the kingdom. That party indeed was overthrown, its chiefs -scattered, its hopes few. Most of the principal Yorkists had taken -refuge in the court of the duchess of Burgundy; the earl of Lincoln only -ventured to remain, preserving the appearance of the greatest privacy, -while his secret hours were entirely occupied by planning a rising in -the kingdom, whose success would establish his cousin Richard duke of -York, the fugitive Perkin Warbeck, on the throne. The chief obstacle -that presented itself was the difficulty of exciting the English to any -act of rebellion against the king, without bringing forward the young -prince as the principal actor on the scene. The confirmed friendship -between the queen and Lady Brampton had produced a greater degree of -intercourse between the former and the earl; but their joint counsels -had yet failed to originate a plan of action; when chance, or rather the -unforeseen results of former events, determined their course of action, -and brought to a crisis sooner than they expected the wavering purposes -of each. -</p> - -<p> -Richard Simon had quitted Winchester to fulfil his duties as priest in -the town of Oxford. No man was better fitted than Simon to act a -prominent part in a state-plot. He was brave; but the priestly garb -having wrested the sword from his hand, circumstances had converted that -active courage, which might have signalized him in the field, to a -spirit of restless intrigue; to boldness in encountering difficulties, -and address in surmounting them. To form plans, to concoct the various -parts of a scheme, wedging one into the other; to raise a whirlwind -around him, and to know, or to fancy that he knew, the direction the -ravager would take, and what would be destroyed and what saved in its -course, had been from youth the atmosphere in which he lived. Now absent -from the queen, he was yet on the alert to further her views, and he -looked forward to the exaltation of her son to the throne as the -foundation-stone of his own fortunes. In what way could this be brought -about? After infinite deliberation with himself, Simon conceived the -idea of bringing forward an impostor, who, taking the name of Richard of -York, whose survival, though unattested, was a current belief in the -kingdom, might rouse England in his cause. If unsuccessful, the safety -of the rightful prince was not endangered; if triumphant, this -counterfeit would doff his mark at once, and the real York come forward -in his place. -</p> - -<p> -In the true spirit of intrigue, in which Simon was an adept, he resolved -to mature his plans and commence his operations before he communicated -them to any. He looked round for a likely actor for his new part, and -chance brought him in contact with Lambert Simnel, a baker's son at -Oxford. There was something in his fair complexion and regular soft -features that was akin to York; his figure was slight, his untaught -manners replete with innate grace; he was clever; and his beauty having -made him a sort of favourite, he had grown indolent and assuming. His -father died about this time, and he was left a penniless orphan. Simon -came forward to protect him, and cautiously to point out the road to -fortune without labour. The youth proved an apt scholar. To hear speak -of princes, crowns, and kingdoms as objects in which he was to have an -interest and a share, dazzled his young eyes. He learnt speedily every -lesson the priest taught him, and adopted so readily the new language -inculcated, that Simon became more and more enamoured of his scheme, and -sanguine as to its results. The next care of Simon was to confirm, in -the partizans of the House of York, the suspicion they already -entertained of the existence of its noblest scion; he despatched -anonymous letters to the chief nobles, and it became whispered through -the country, though none knew the origin of the tale, that the surviving -son of Edward the Fourth was about to appear to claim the crown. The -peaceful sighed to think that the White and Red Roses would again be -watered by the best blood of England. The warlike and ambitious, the -partizans of York, who had languished in obscurity, walked more erect; -they regarded their disused armour with complacency, for war and tumult -was then the favourite pastime of high-born men. -</p> - -<p> -It was at this period that, through the intervention of Lady Brampton, -Sir Thomas Broughton, a most zealous Yorkist and chief friend of Lord -Lovel, was introduced to the dowager queen's presence, then residing in -London. He came full of important intelligence. He had been roused from -his usual repose by one of Simon's anonymous letters, which hinted at -the existence of the duke of York, and counselled a drawing together of -such forces as would be willing to support him; Lord Lovel was with him, -and at the name of Richard at once prepared for action. He was busied in -raising adherents in the south, sending Sir Thomas to London, that he -might there receive the commands of the prince's mother. Scarcely had he -entered the metropolis, when in one of its narrowest alleys he was -accosted by Richard Simon, who had earnestly besought him to obtain an -audience for Simon himself from the queen; acknowledging that he was the -author of the reports and commotions, and that he had important secrets -to disclose. -</p> - -<p> -All this inspired the queen with the deepest disquietude. She readily -arranged with Sir Thomas the desired interview, which, at Simon's -request, was to take place that very night, and agreed that he should -enter the palace by a private door. Lady Brampton giving him admittance. -Broughton departed; and Elizabeth, disturbed and agitated, counted the -hours impatiently which must intervene before the riddle was explained. -</p> - -<p> -Even this interval was full of wonder. A report was circulated, which -soon reached the palace, that the earl of Warwick, in endeavouring to -escape from the Tower in a boat, had fallen into the river, and was -drowned before assistance could be afforded. Such was the current tale; -but many suspected that the king was privy to a more guilty termination -of his unhappy prisoner, of whose death none entertained a doubt. This -circumstance added to the queen's impatience—life was bound up in the -event of the next few hours. -</p> - -<p> -The time arrived—all was quiet in the palace (the queen inhabited -Tower Royal); and the royal dowager and her friend prepared for their -visitor. At the signal given, the door was opened; but Simon came not -alone; the earl of Lincoln, Lord Lovel, Sir Thomas Broughton, and an -unknown youth—it was Edmund Plantagenet—entered. The tale of -the imposture of Lambert Simnel was disclosed, and with it a change of -plan, the result of the death of Warwick. Simnel's age and appearance -accorded better with this prince than with his younger cousin. It were -easy to spread abroad that the report of his death was a fiction -contrived by the king; that he had escaped, in fact, and was in arms. If -a more sinister fate had befallen him, guilt would impose silence on his -murderer; if the attempt failed, no evil would occur; if successful, he -would give instant place to the superior claims of the duke of York. -</p> - -<p> -Lincoln unfolded these schemes with sagacity and deliberation, and the -queen eagerly adopted his ideas as he disclosed them. It was also the -earl's suggestion that Simnel should first appear in Ireland. The duke -of Clarence had been lieutenant there, and was much beloved throughout -the island. Through neglect and forgetfulness all the counsellors and -officers appointed by Clarence had been unremoved by the new government, -and might easily be induced to favour his persecuted son. The duchess of -Burgundy was also to be applied to; and counsel was held as to who -should be informed of the truth—who deceived in this hazardous -attempt. Night wore away, while still the conspirators were in -deliberation; they separated at last, each full of hope—each teeming -with gallant resolution. Henceforth the false smile or ill-concealed -frown of their enemy was indifferent to them; their good swords were -their sure allies; the very victory gained by Henry at Bosworth raised -their expectations; one other battle might give them again all that then -they lost. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h4><a id="chap07"></a></h4> - -<h4>CHAPTER VII -<br /><br /> -THE BATTLE OF NEWARK</h4> - - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Within these ten days take a monastery;</span><br /> -<span class="i0">A most strict house; a house where none may whisper,</span><br /> -<span class="i0">Where no more light is known but what may make you</span><br /> -<span class="i0">Believe there is a day; where no hope dwells,</span><br /> -<span class="i0">Nor comfort but in tears.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i20">BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER.</span> -</div></div></div> - -<p> -With the consciousness of this plot weighing on her mind, Elizabeth -Woodville continued her usual routine of life, and made a part of the -court of Henry the Seventh. She had long been accustomed to pass from -one evil to the other, and to find that when one cause for unhappiness -died away, it gave instant place to another. She felt, with all the -poignancy of a mother's disappointed pride, the situation of her -daughter. Neglect was the lightest term that could be applied to the -systematized and cold-hearted tyranny of Henry towards his wife. For not -only he treated her like an unfavoured child, whose duty it was to obey -without a murmur, and to endeavour to please, though sure of being -repulsed. At the same time that he refused to raise her above this state -of degradation, he reproached her with the faults of maturity, and -stung her womanly feelings with studied barbarity. He taunted her with -her attachment, to her family and its partizans; spoke with triumph of -its overthrow; and detailed with malignant pleasure every severe -enactment passed by himself against the vanquished Yorkists. Then, -again, he accused her of participating in her parent's intrigues; and -though proud of the son she had given him, as the heir of his crown, he -divided, as much as possible, the infant from the mother, under the -avowed though ridiculous pretence of preventing her from inculcating -principles of rebellion towards his liege and father. -</p> - -<p> -This last blow sunk deep. She had hitherto borne his harshness meekly, -sustained by the hope of overcoming his flinty nature by softness and -yielding. She had anticipated that the fresh enmity conceived against -her on the event of Lord Lovel's rebellion would be entirely allayed by -her pretty Arthur, whose birth was solemnized by many rejoicings. But -when she found this last hope fail, every expectation of good died away -with it. Among other acts of duty, she had for a long time pursued a -system of self-denial, deeming it a breach of duty to complain of her -husband, even to her mother. But this mother, acquainted with the -secrets of the human heart, and desirous of detaching her entirely from -her husband, exerted all the influence that one experienced and firm can -exercise over the young and vacillating: she brought her to lament her -situation, and to complain of each fresh token of the king's disregard. -The barrier of self-restraint once broken through, the sympathy and -remonstrances of her parent emboldened her to such a change of conduct -towards Henry, as at first excited his surprise, then his contempt. The -many rumours afloat concerning the existence of the duke of York served -also to rouse his angry mood. If at first he appeared somewhat -complaisant towards his mother-in-law, it was from an endeavour to put -her off her guard, and to attract or surprise her confidence on the -point which lay nearest his heart; but when he found that his attacks -were vain, his undisguised arrogance and her ill-concealed resentment -produced scenes, disgraceful in themselves, and agonizing to the wife -and daughter who was their witness. -</p> - -<p> -At this moment, when suspicion was abroad—the Lancastrians fearful, -the Yorkists erect with renewed hopes—like the bursting of a -thunderstorm came the intelligence of the appearance of the earl of -Warwick in Dublin, his enthusiastic reception there, the rising of the -people in his favour, and the menaces held out by him of his intention -to wrench the sceptre of England from the hand of him who held it. -</p> - -<p> -Henry alone heard these momentous tidings with contempt. The earl of -Kildare, lord-lieutenant of the kingdom, had received the pretender with -princely honours; yet the very circumstance of a false son of Clarence -being supported by the Yorkists was the occasion of satisfaction to him; -his only fear arose from the probable mystery covered by these designs. -He was angry at the disloyalty manifested; but it was in a distant -province, and so came not home to him. There appeared no falling off, no -disturbance among his English subjects. Still caution and policy were -the weapons he best loved to wield; and he despatched several spies to -Ireland, to endeavour to fathom the extent and nature of the rebellion. -The chief among them was his own secretary, Frion, a Frenchman—a -crafty and experienced implement. He succeeded in bringing back -irrefragable proof that the dowager queen mingled deeply in the plot. -</p> - -<p> -Henry hated Elizabeth Woodville. He considered that it was principally -through her restless scheming that he had been forced to marry the -portionless (her detested claim to his crown her only dower) daughter of -York, instead of forming an union with a foreign princess; perhaps Mary -of Burgundy, or Anne of Britanny, either of whom would have brought gold -to his coffers, or extensive domains to his empire. He hated her, -because he deeply suspected that she was privy to the existence of a -formidable rival to his state. He <i>knew</i> that the young duke of York -had not died in the Tower. In every way she was his enemy; besides that -linked to her ruin was the sweet idea of confiscation, one ever -entertained with delight by the money-loving king. -</p> - -<p> -He assembled a council in his palace at Shene, which stood near where -Richmond now stands. The chiefs of the English nobility were his -counsellors. The duke of Buckingham, son of him who first favoured, and -then rose against Richard the Third. The lords Dawbeny and Broke, who -had been raised to the peerage for their services in the same cause. -Lord and Sir William Stanley, men to whom Henry principally owed his -crown. Others there were of high rank and note; but the king paid most -attention to two priests: John Morton, bishop of Ely, and Richard Fox, -bishop of Exeter, were his private advisors and friends, as well as -public counsellors. Morton had watched over his interests while in -exile; he first had excited the duke of Buckingham to revolt, and -hatched the plot which placed Richmond on the throne. -</p> - -<p> -The council held was long and solemn, and the results brought about more -by insinuation than open argument, were different from those expected by -most of the persons present. First it was resolved that a general pardon -should be proclaimed to the insurgents. No exceptions were to be made; -those persons then in the very act of setting up his adversary were -included; for as, by the second decree, that the real earl of Warwick -should be shown publicly in London, the deception would become manifest; -if indeed they were deceived, it was thought more politic to reclaim -them by clemency, than by severe measures to drive them to despair. -</p> - -<p> -The third and last enactment was levelled against the queen dowager. -Many of the council were astonished to hear it proposed, that she should -forfeit all her goods and lands, and be confined for life in a convent, -for having consented to the marriage of her daughter and Richard the -Third, while the ready acquiescence of the king and his chief advisers -made them perceive that this measure was no new resolve. These three -decrees passed, the council separated, and Henry returned to -Westminster, accompanied by Sir William Stanley. To him he spoke openly -of the treason of the queen: he even ventured to say, that he was sure -that some mystery lurked beneath; he commissioned Stanley, therefore, to -notify the order of council to her majesty; but at the same time to show -her, that disclosure, and reliance on the king, would obtain her pardon. -Sir William Stanley was a courtier in the best sense of the term; a man -of gentle manners; desirous of doing right, easily excited to -compassion, but ambitious and timid; one in truth than whom none could -be more dangerous; for his desire to please those immediately before -him, led him to assume every appearance of sincerity, and perpetually to -sacrifice the absent to the present. -</p> - -<p> -Elizabeth heard, with utter dismay, the sentence passed against -her;—courage was restored only when she found that her freedom could -be purchased by the confession of her son's existence, and place of -abode. She repelled Stanley's solicitations with disdain; answered his -entreaties with an appeal to his own feelings, of how far, if such a -secret existed, it were possible that she, a mother, should intrust it -to the false and cruel king. Stanley speedily found his whole battery of -persuasion exhausted; he withdrew in some wonder as to what the real -state of things might be, and full of the deepest compassion. She had -indeed scarcely veiled the truth to him; for, calling to mind the fate -of the wretched Margaret of Anjou, she asked him, whether, like her, she -should expose the young orphan York to the fate of the Lancastrian -Prince Edward. But Stanley shrunk from being privy to such disclosures, -and hastily withdrew. -</p> - -<p> -Henry had not exhausted all his hopes: glad as he was to wreak his -vengeance on the queen, and to secure her possessions to himself, he was -not so blind as not to see that the knowledge of her secret were a far -greater prize. His next implement was her eldest son, the marquess of -Dorset. Lord Dorset had been so active in his opposition to Richard the -Third, and had done such good service to his adversary, that Henry -overlooked his near kindred to the queen dowager, regarding him rather -as the representative of his father. Sir John Gray, who had fallen in -the cause of Lancaster. He became indeed a sort of favourite with the -king. Dorset was proud, self-sufficient, and extravagant, but his -manners were fascinating, his spirit buoyant, and Henry, who was -accustomed to find the storms of party lowering like winter over his -domestic circle, found relief only when Dorset was present. The present -occasion, however, called forth other feelings in the haughty noble; he -might be angry with his mother's plotting, but he was more indignant at -the severity exercised against her; and far from furthering Henry's -designs, he applauded her resistance, and so irritated the king, that it -ended by his sudden arrest, and being committed to the Tower. -</p> - -<p> -And now all hope was at an end for the unhappy lady. The various acts of -her tragic history were to close in the obscurity and poverty of a -convent-prison. Fearful that her despair would lead her to some deed -that might at least disturb the quiet and order he loved, Henry had -resolved that no delay should have place, but that on the very morrow -she should be conveyed to Bermondsey. She was to be torn from her -family—her five young daughters, with whom she resided. The heartless -tyrant was callous to every pang that he inflicted, or rejoiced that he -had the power to wound so deeply one whom he abhorred. Lady Brampton was -with her to the last; not to sustain and comfort her; the queen's -courage and firmness was far greater than that of her angry friend; she -pointed out the hope, that the cruelties exercised towards her might -animate the partisans of York to greater ardour; and tears forced -themselves into her eyes only when she pictured Richard, her victorious -sovereign and son, hastening to unbar her prison doors to restore her to -liberty and rank. The night was spent in such discourses between the -ladies. With early dawn came the fated hour, the guard, the necessity -for instant departure. She disdained to show regret before Henry's -emissaries; and with one word only to her friend—"I commit <i>him</i> -to your guidance," she yielded to her fate; submitting to be torn from all -she loved, and, without an expressed murmur, entered the litter that bore -her singly to her living grave. -</p> - -<p> -The same sun that rose upon the melancholy progress of Elizabeth -Woodville towards Bermondsey, shone on a procession, more gaudy in -appearance, yet, if that were possible, more sad at heart. This was the -visit, ordered by the king, of the earl of Warwick to St. Paul's -Cathedral; thus to contradict to the eyes of all men the pretender in -Ireland. Warwick had spent a year in the Tower, in almost solitary -imprisonment. Hopeless of freedom, worn in health, dejected from the -overthrow of all the wild schemes he had nourished at Sheriff Hutton, -linked with the love he bore his cousin, the Lady Elizabeth, now queen -of England, he could hardly be recognized as the same youth who had been -her companion during her residence there. He was pale; he had been -wholly neglectful of his person; carking sorrow had traced lines on his -young brow. At first he had contemplated resisting the order of being -led out as a show to further his enemies' cause: one futile and vague -hope, which could only have sprung up in a lover's heart, made him -concede this point. Perhaps the court—the queen would be there. -</p> - -<p> -He met several noble friends, commanded by Henry to attend him; for it -was the king's policy to surround him with Yorkists, so to prove that he -was no counterfeit. Alas! -</p> - -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">"These cloudy princes, and heart-sorrowing peers,"</span> -</div></div> - -<p> -assembled like shadows in the dim abyss, mourning the splendour of the -day for ever set. They entered the cathedral, which stood a heavy Gothic -pile, on a grassy mound, removed from all minor edifices. There was a -vast assemblage of ladies and knights; all looked compassionately on -this son of poor murdered Clarence, the luckless flower, brought to -bloom for an hour, and then to be cast into perpetual darkness. The -solemn religious rites, the pealing organ, the grandeur of the church, -and chequered painted light thrown from the windows, for a moment filled -with almost childish delight the earl's young heart; that this scene, -adapted to his rank, should be so single and so transient, filled his -soul with bitterness. Once or twice he thought to appeal to his noble -friends, to call on them to resist the tyrant—Elizabeth's husband. -His heart chilled at the idea; his natural timidity resumed its sway, and -he was led back to the prison-fortress, despairing, but unresisting. -</p> - -<p> -Yet, at this hour, events were in progress which filled many hearts with -hope of such change as he would gladly hail. On the news of the queen's -arrest. Lord Lincoln had departed with all speed to Flanders, to his -aunt, the duchess of Burgundy, to solicit her aid to attack and overcome -the enemy of their vanquished family. The Lady Margaret, sister of -Edward the Fourth of England, and wife of Charles the Rash of Burgundy, -was a woman distinguished by her wisdom and her goodness. When Charles -fell before Nancy, and his more than princely domains descended into the -hands of his only child, a daughter—and the false Louis the Eleventh -of France, on one hand, and the turbulent Flemings on the other, -coalesced to rend in pieces, and to prey upon, the orphan's -inheritance—her mother-in-law, the Lady Margaret, was her sage and -intrepid counsellor; and when this young lady died, leaving two infant -children as co-heirs, the dowager duchess entirely loved, and tenderly -brought them up, attending to their affairs with maternal solicitude, -and governing the countries subject to them with wisdom and justice. This -lady was warmly attached to her family: to her the earl of Lincoln and -Lord Lovel resorted, revealing the state of things—how her nephew, -young Richard, was concealed in poor disguise in French Flanders, and -how they had consented to Richard Simon's plots, and hoped that their -result would be to restore her brother's son to the throne of their -native land. -</p> - -<p> -The duchess of Burgundy possessed a proud and high spirit. The abasement -in which her niece, the Lady Elizabeth, was held by the earl of -Richmond; she, the real giver of his crown, not having herself been -crowned; the rigour exercised towards the Yorkist chiefs, many of whom -had been her defenders and friends in time of flight and defeat; the -calumnies heaped on the various members of her royal house; made a -prospect of displanting Henry, and of revenge, grateful to her. She -acceded to the earl's request, gave him an aid of two thousand Germans, -led by Martin Swartz, a man of family and note in Germany, providing -them with vessels to take them to Ireland, and blessing their expedition -with her best and earnest wishes. -</p> - -<p> -On their arrival in Dublin, a gay and brilliant scene was acted, which -raised the enthusiasm of the Irish, and spread a glory round the -impostor they supported. The exhibition of the real earl of Warwick had -produced no effect in Ireland; Thomas Geraldine, earl of Kildare, -asserted that Henry had brought forward a counterfeit, and Lambert -Simnel lost no credit among them. He was proclaimed king of England; he -was crowned by the bishop of Meath with a diadem taken from an image of -the Blessed Virgin; a parliament was convoked in his name, and every -measure taken to insure his power in Ireland, and to gather together -forces wherewith to invade the sister island. -</p> - -<p> -The English lords felt far more anxiety than their allies in the result -of this insurrection. Although it had been disregarded by the Irish, the -effect produced in England by the visit of Warwick to St. Paul's was -such as Henry had anticipated, and the counterfeit in Ireland found few -supporters among the Yorkists. Still it was necessary to end as they had -begun: to acknowledge the imposture, so to bring forward the young son -of Edward, would have been to all appearance too barefaced a cheat. -Lovel, as a gallant soldier, was ready to spend his blood in any -enterprise that promised to advance the White Rose; but he, as well as -the earl of Lincoln, mingling sad memories of the past with careful -forethought, looked forward to the result of Richard Simon's contrivance -with well-founded dread. Still they entertained no thought of retreat, -but mustered their forces, and counselled with their associates for the -furtherance of the cause. On the 4th of June, Lambert Simnel, under the -name of Edward the Sixth, with his, so called, cousin De la Poole, Lord -Lovel, and their constant attendant young Edmund Plantagenet, the Lords -Thomas and Maurice Geraldine, with their force of savage scarce-armed -Irish, and Martin Swartz, with his German auxiliaries, landed at the -pile of Foudray, in Lancashire, where they were soon after joined by Sir -Thomas Broughton, who brought some few English to fight and die for this -unhappy conspiracy. -</p> - -<p> -Henry was prepared for their arrival: to gain grace in his subjects' -eyes, he first made a pilgrimage to Our Lady of Walsingham, and then, -proceeding to the midland counties, held council to know whether it were -best to encounter his foes out of hand, or to let them drag on; so to -weary them by delay. A number of nobles and their followers joined the -king, and it was agreed among them to press forward, before the enemy -should gather force in England. Henry had a further view in this: he -could not tell how far the secret of their plot, which he felt assured -was the design to advance the young son of Edward, was divulged among -the Yorkists, and how far believed; as yet the enterprise bore no ill -guise for him, having at its head a manifest impostor; so he hastened -onward to crush it utterly, before it assumed a more fearful -form. The earl of Lincoln, eager to try the fortune of battle, -advanced also on his side, and the rival armies drew nigh each other at -Newark-upon-Trent. The king pitched his tents three miles beyond the -town; and on the same night the earl encamped at Stoke, but a few miles -distant. And now, after a reign of two years, as he had forced King -Richard to fight for his crown against him, an adventurer and an invader -in his realm, did Henry Tudor find himself in his adversary's position, -about to risk life and kingdom on one cast of the die against troops as -ill-assorted but as desperate and brave as his had been. Henry felt in -his heart's core the thrilling pang, which a conviction that all is in -the hands of fortune must ever impart to a human being who is her slave. -He felt that his crown was but an usurpation, that his anointed and -sacred head claimed no reverence from these enemies; he was degraded in -his own eyes from being a sceptred king upheld by the laws, to a wild -adventurer, his good sword his right; a fierce but disciplined anger -filled his heart; his brows were bent, his voice was attuned to -harshness, his thoughts were conversant with overthrow and death. The -hour was come; he was impatient for its passing, and he led forth his -troops, all well-appointed English soldiery, in such hope as the sight -of a noble army might well inspire, in such dread as was the natural -offspring of the many chances and changes that had occurred to the -sovereigns of England during the late struggles. -</p> - -<p> -The earl of Lincoln cherished still mightier fears; yet there was more -of calm and dignity in his meditations than in the impatient misgivings -of Henry. His heart sickened at the idea of battle and bloodshed: he -felt himself responsible for the lives of all: and, while this nerved -his heart to courage, it took rest from his eyes, and planted sorrow -deep in his manly breast. The morrow! oh, the morrow! hours full of -fate! whose looks forward and sees in the morrow the crown or ruin of -the hopes of many, may well pray the swift-pacing hours to lag, and -night to remain for ever as a spell to stop the birth of time. -</p> - -<p> -But the morrow came; a day of slaughter and captivity for the Yorkist -party. The battle was hard fought; the German auxiliaries were veteran -soldiers, who spared neither blows nor blood; their leader, Martin -Swartz, for valour, for strength, and for agility of body, was inferior -to none among the warlike captains of those times. The Irish, though -half-naked and ill-armed, fought with desperate bravery. In vain; the -valour of Henry's soldiers was equal, their discipline and numbers -superior. First the noble Lincoln fell, and his comrades were -slaughtered around him, avenging his death. The Lords Geraldine, Swartz, -and Sir Thomas Broughton, were found among the slain; Lord Lovel was -never heard of more; the young Edmund Plantagenet, struck in the side by -a dart, lay for dead upon the ground. Richard Simon and his -false-seeming pupil were among the prisoners. -</p> - -<p> -Such was the event of the last attempt of the Yorkists to raise the -bruised White Rose to its old supremacy. All of high rank and power that -owned this symbol were gone; Lincoln, the best column of its fortunes, -was destroyed; nothing remained, save the orphan prince, the royal -exile, a boy of thirteen years of age, brought up as the child of a -Flemish money-lender. To hide himself in safe obscurity was his only -wisdom, till time should give strength to his arm, sagacity to his -plans, and power to his acts; happy if he could find any concealment -sufficiently obscure, to baffle the discernment of Henry, and to save -him from the arts of those whom he would employ to discover and seize on -him. -</p> - -<p> -Henry again felt himself secure on his throne: he deeply lamented the -death of Lincoln, as he had hoped to learn from him the secret of the -conspiracy. He found in Lambert Simnel the mere tool of others, and in -contempt made him a scullion in his kitchen, so to throw derision on the -attempt which had been made to exalt him. He dealt otherwise with -Richard Simon. In the secrecy of his prison, every art was practised to -induce him to make a full confession. Simon played a dastardly and a -double part, half revealing, half disguising the truth. Henry became -assured that his rival, the duke of York, survived, and he was led in -some sort to guess at the place of his abode. He had promised liberty to -Simon when the young prince should be in his hands; meanwhile he was -imprisoned in the monastery in which he was fated to close his -existence. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h4><a id="chap08"></a></h4> - -<h4>CHAPTER VIII -<br /><br /> -THE DISCOVERY</h4> - - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Our king he kept a false stewarde,</span><br /> -<span class="i2">Sir Aldingar they him call;</span><br /> -<span class="i0">A falser stewarde than he was one,</span><br /> -<span class="i2">Served not in bower nor hall.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i20">OLD BALLAD.</span> -</div></div></div> - -<p> -Whoever writes concerning the actions of the men of the olden time, must -sadden the reader by details of war, descriptions of fields of battle, -narrations of torture, imprisonment, and death. But here also we find -records of high virtues and exalted deeds. It is at first sight strange -that men whose trade was murder, who habitually wore offensive weapons, -whose chief happiness was derived from the glory they acquired by -inflicting misery on others, should be among those who live in our -memories as examples of what is most graceful and excellent in human -nature. Too great security destroys the spirit of manhood, while the -habit of hazardous enterprise strengthens and exalts it. It was not -because they destroyed others, that the warriors of old were famous for -honour, courage, and fidelity; but because, from some motive springing -from the unselfish part of our nature, they exposed themselves to danger -and to death. -</p> - -<p> -It was at times such as these that friendship formed the chief solace of -man's life. The thought of his lady-love supported the knight during his -wanderings, and rewarded him on his return; but the society of his -brothers in arms shortened the weary hours, and made peril pleasure. -Death, the severer of hearts and destroyer of hope, is, in its actual -visitation, the great evil of life—the ineffaceable blot, the -tarnisher of the imagination's brightest hues; but if he never came, but -only hovered, the anticipation of his advent might be looked upon as the -refiner of our nature. To go out under the shadow of his dark banner, -hand in hand, to encounter a thousand times his grim likeness; to travel -on through unknown ways, during starless nights, through forests beset -with enemies, over mountains, whose defiles hid him but to assure his -aim; to meet him arrayed in his full panoply on the field of battle; to -separate in danger; to meet on the verge of annihilation; and still, -through every change, to reap joy, because every peril was mutual, every -emotion shared, was a school for heroic friendship that does not now -exist. In those times, also, man was closer linked with nature than now; -and the sublimity of her creations exalted his imagination, and elevated -his enthusiasm—dark woods, wild mountains, and the ocean's vast -expanse, form a stage on which, when we act our parts, we feel that -mightier natures than our own witness the scenes we present, and our -hearts are subdued by awe to resignation. -</p> - -<p> -Edmund Plantagenet, the forest-bred son of Richard the Third, the late -companion of the illustrious Lincoln and gallant Lovel, lay long -insensible on the field of battle, surrounded by the dead—he awoke -from his swoon to the consciousness that they lay strewed around him -dead, whom he had worshipped as heroes, loved as friends. Life became a -thankless boon; willingly would he have closed his eyes, and bid his -soul also go on her journey to the unknown land, to which almost all -those to whom he had been linked during his past existence had preceded -him. He was rescued by a charitable friar from this sad state—his -wound was dressed—life, and with it liberty, restored to him. After -some reflection, the first use he resolved to make of these gifts was to -visit the young duke of York at Tournay. -</p> - -<p> -Edmund's mind, without being enterprising, was full of latent energy, -and contemplative enthusiasm. The love of virtue reigned paramount in -it; nor could he conceive happiness unallied to some pursuit, whose -origin was duty, whose aim was the good of others. His father, his -ambition and his downfall, were perpetual subjects for reflection; to -atone for the first and redeem the last, in the person of his nephew, -became, in his idea, the only fitting end of his life. Fostering this -sentiment, he speedily formed the determination of attaching himself to -the exiled duke of York: first, to devote himself to the preserving and -educating him during childhood—and secondly, to fight and die for -him, when the time was ripe to assert his rights. -</p> - -<p> -During his hazardous journey to Flanders, Edmund was supported by that -glowing sensation which borrows the hues and sometimes the name of -happiness; it was an ecstatic mood that soared above the meaner cares of -life, and exalted him by the grandeur of his own ideas. Self-devotion -is, while it can keep true to itself, the best source of human -enjoyment: there is small alloy when we wholly banish our own wretched -clinging individuality, in our entire sacrifice at the worshipped -shrine. Edmund became aware of the value of his own life, as he planned -how in future he should be the guardian and protector of his unfriended, -peril-encircled orphan cousin. A religious sentiment of filial love also -influenced him; for thus he could in some sort repair the wrongs -committed by his father. There was much in Edmund's temperament that -might have rendered him a mere dreamer. The baser ends of common men -possessed no attractions for him; but a lofty purpose developed the best -points of his character. -</p> - -<p> -It was early dawn, when, a month after the battle of Stoke, Plantagenet, -in pursuance of his design, arrived at the cottage of Madeline de Faro, -where, under the lowly name of Perkin Warbeck, dwelt the noble scion of -the house of York. It was a lovely spot—trees embowered the cot, -roses bloomed in the garden, and jessamine and woodbine were twined round -the porch. The morning breeze and rising sun filled the atmosphere with -sweets. Already the cottagers were enjoying its fragrance, and Edmund, -as he alighted, beheld the object of his journey—the fair-haired -stripling prince and his protectress Madeline. Edmund was -one-and-twenty, but his brow was more bent, his eye more thoughtful, his -cheek more pale and sunk than befitted his age; it was only when he -smiled that frankness displayed solemnity, and those who conversed with -him were ever eager to call forth those smiles, which, like sunbeams -that chase the shadows on a green hill-side, made darkness light. -Confidence readily springs up between the open-hearted and good; and -Edmund and the inhabitants of the cottage found no impediment to entire -reliance on each other. Madeline was overjoyed that her young charge -should find manly guardianship in his cousin, and mentioned how often -her fears had been awakened on his account, and how suspicions had got -abroad concerning him among the citizens of Tournay. -</p> - -<p> -Madeline, the sister of the Fleming, John Warbeck, was married to a -Spaniard in the service of Portugal. In those days, just previous to the -discovery of America by Columbus, while that illustrious man was -offering his unesteemed services at Lisbon, the Portuguese were full of -the spirit of enterprise and maritime adventure. Each year new vessels -were sent southward along the unexplored shores of Africa, to discover -beyond the torrid zone a route to India. Hernan de Faro was a -mariner—it was during one of his voyages to Holland that he had seen -and married Madeline, and he left her in her native country, while he -pursued his fortunes down the Golden Coast as far as the Cape of Good -Hope. He had been absent longer than she had anticipated, and each day -might bring the wanderer back, when he purposed taking her with him to -his native Spain. What, then, must become of Richard? Plantagenet saw at -once the necessity of visiting the court of Burgundy, and of placing her -nephew at the disposition of the Duchess Margaret. -</p> - -<p> -The young prince was now fourteen—he had shot up in height beyond -his years, beautiful in his boyhood, and of greater promise for the -future. His clear blue laughing eyes—his clustering auburn -hair—his cheeks, whose rosy hue contrasted with the milk-white of -his brow—his tall and slender but agile person, would have -introduced him to notice among a crowd of strangers. -</p> - -<p> -His very youthful voice was attuned to sweetness. If Edmund found the -Lady Margaret lukewarm, he need only lead the noble boy into her -presence to interest her in his favour. Richard heard with tearful eyes -of the imprisonment of his mother, and the slaughter of his kinsmen and -friends. His heart for the moment desired vengeance; he would himself -seek his aunt of Burgundy, and aided by her, attack the usurper. With -difficulty he permitted his cousin to depart alone; but he was obliged -to yield, and Plantagenet set out for Brussels, promising a speedy -return. -</p> - -<p> -About a week after Edmund's departure, another visitor arrived at the -cottage of the exile. A violent storm had overtaken Duke Richard and his -constant companion, Madeline's daughter, in one of their wanderings in -the fields near Tournay. As they stood for shelter under a half-ruined -building, a traveller came to share the asylum. He was a Frenchman—a -Provençal by his accent; for he immediately entered into conversation -with them. As he is a man spoken of in the Chronicles, he shall receive -his name at once; this apparently chance-traveller was Frion, Stephen -Frion, King Henry's secretary. He had been employed to search out the -young prince by such tokens as Richard Simon had given, and chance had -caused him to fall in with Edmund, whom he had before remarked in -attendance on the earl of Lincoln. Easily guessing that Edmund's journey -might have connection with his own, he tracked him to Tournay, and then -by some untoward chance lost sight of him. The indefatigable spy had -spent the last week in a particular survey of every spot round the town -and in the neighbouring cities, to discover his lost clue. Overtaken by -a storm on his return from Lisle, he suddenly found himself under a shed -with a youth whose appearance at once excited his strongest curiosity. -</p> - -<p> -What Frion loved beyond all other things was power and craft. He had -been a subject of the poetical King René of Provence; but, despatched -on some occasion to Louis the Eleventh, he entered into the service of -that monarch, whose subtlety and faithlessness were a school of wisdom -to this man. On one subject did he love to dwell—the contrast -between Charles of Burgundy and Louis of France; the first commencing -his reign by combating and vanquishing the latter, and dying miserably -at last by a traitor's hand, his armies cut to pieces, his domains the -unresisting prey of his rival; while Louis, by serpent ways, by -words—not deeds—gained every point, won every follower, and -established his rule at last over the greater part of the wide -territories of the fallen duke. In a minor way Frion aimed at imitating -Louis; but he was naturally more fiery and rash. He had visited Italy -also, and studied there the wiles and cruelties of the Italian lords; -crossing back to Marseilles, he had been seized by corsairs and carried -to Africa:—here he put in practice some of his lessons, and -contrived to make himself a favourite with his Mahometan master, who -afterwards crossed to Spain to serve under the Moorish king of Granada. -Frion was quickly distinguished for his sagacity in the divided counsels -of this distracted kingdom, and became the trusty adviser of him called -Boabdil el Chico. When this unfortunate sovereign was taken prisoner by -the Spaniards, Frion was a chief mediator between them and the Sultana -Ayza. At the court of Ferdinand and Isabella he met several Frenchmen, -who awakened in his heart a keen desire to revisit his native country. -He took advantage of an embassy thither from the court of Spain, to -fulfil his wishes, but arrived at Plessis only in time to witness Louis' -death. Two years afterwards he was found in the train of the earl of -Richmond—the future secretary, spy, and favourite of Henry the -Seventh—now travelling by his order to find, seize, or destroy, -the last blossom of the uprooted White Rose. -</p> - -<p> -Frion was rather handsome in appearance, with bright black eyes and dark -hair, a complexion embrowned by the sun, a look of gaiety—unless when -controlled by the will of a superior, he was always laughing—a quiet -kind of sarcastic laugh; he looked not the man Cæsar would have feared, -except that his person was rather inclined to leanness; but he was -active and well versed in martial exercises, though better in clerkly -accomplishments. His early youth had been chiefly employed in copying -poetry for King René—he wrote beautifully, and his small white hands -were the objects of his own very great admiration. Such was his outward -look; he had stores of science and knowledge within, which he seldom -displayed, or, when necessary, let appear with all the modesty of one -who deemed such acquirements were of little worth—useful sometimes, -but fitter for a servitor than his lord. No words could describe his -wiliness, his power of being all things to all men, his flattery, his -knowledge of human nature, his unparalleled artifice, which, if it could -be described, would not have been the perfect thing it was: it was not -silken, it was not glossy, but it wound its way unerringly. Could it -fail—the rage and vengeance to follow were as certain as dire, for, -next to love of power, vanity ruled this man; all he did was right and -good, other pursuits contemptible and useless. -</p> - -<p> -Such was the serpent-spirited man who contrived to partake Richard's -shelter; he eyed him keenly, he addressed him, and the prince replied to -his questions about an asylum for the night, by a courteous invitation -to his home. "The boy speaks not like a cotter: his eye beams with -nobleness. What a freak of nature, to make one in appearance a king's -son, the plodding offspring of a rude Fleming!" As these thoughts passed -through Frion's mind, the truth came not across him; and he even -hesitated for a moment whether he should not, now the storm had passed, -pursue his way: but his garments were wet, the ways miry, night at hand. -At a second thought he accepted the invitation, and leading his horse, -he accompanied the youthful pair to their cottage home. -</p> - -<p> -Madeline, unsuspicious of one obviously a Frenchman, received him -without fear, and after a fire had dried the visitor's dress, they sat -down to a frugal supper. Frion, according to his usual manner, strove to -please his hosts. His gay discourse, the laughable, yet interesting -accounts he gave of various adventures that had befallen him, made all -three—the fair Madeline the ardent princely boy, and the dark-eyed -daughter of de Faro—sit in chained attention. When he heard that -Madeline was united to a Spaniard, he spoke of Spain, of Granada and the -Moorish wars; Richard's eyes flashed, and the dark orbs of the girl -dilated with wonder and delight. -</p> - -<p> -At length he spoke of England, and his words implied that he had lately -come thence. "How fares the poor island?" asked the youth; "such stories -of its tyrant reach us here, that methinks its fields must be barren, -its people few." -</p> - -<p> -"Had you been my comrade, young master, through merry Kent," said Frion, -"you would speak in another strain. Plenty and comfort, thanks to King -Harry and the Red Rose, flourish there. The earth is rich in corn, the -green fields peopled with fat kine, such as delight yon islanders. 'Give -an Englishman beef and mustard,' says our French proverb, 'and he is -happy;' they will find dearth of neither, while the sage Henry lives, -and is victorious." -</p> - -<p> -"Yet we are told here," cried the youth, "that this Welsh earl, whom you -call king, grinds the poor people he has vanquished to the dust, making -them lament him they named Crookback, who, though an usurper, was a -munificent sovereign." -</p> - -<p> -These words from a Fleming or a Frenchman sounded strange to Frion; the -doubt, which he wondered had not before presented itself, now came -full-fledged, and changed at its birth to certainty; yet, as the angler -plays with the hooked fish, he replied, "I, a stranger in the land, saw -its fair broad fields, and thought their cultivators prosperous; I heard -that the king was victorious over his foes, and deemed his subjects -happy. Yet, I bethink me, murmurs were abroad, of taxes and impositions. -They spoke, with regret, of the White Rose, and scowled when they said -that Elizabeth of York was rather a handmaiden in her husband's palace, -than queen of fertile England." -</p> - -<p> -"Now, were I an English knight, with golden spurs," said the stripling, -"I would challenge to mortal combat that recreant Tudor, and force him -to raise fair Elizabeth to her fitting elevation: woe the while, all -England's good knights are slain, and the noble Lincoln, the last and -best of all, has perished!" -</p> - -<p> -"You speak unwisely and unknowingly, of things you wot not of," said -Madeline, alarmed at the meaning glance of Frion; "good nephew Perkin, -your eyes see not even the English white cliffs, much less can your mind -understand its dangerous policy." -</p> - -<p> -"Nay, dear mother," remarked her little daughter, "you have told me that -the noble earl and the good Lord Lovel had been kind guardians to my -cousin Peterkin: you chid him not when he wept their death, and you may -suffer him to reproach their foe." -</p> - -<p> -"I know nothing of these lords," said Frion, "whose names are a -stumbling-block to a Frenchman's tongue. But methinks it is well for us -that they aim at each other's hearts, and make booty of their own -provender, no longer desolating the gay fields of France with their iron -hoofs." -</p> - -<p> -And now, since that he had found him whom he sought, Frion talked again -of other matters, and, as before, his smooth and gay discourse gained -him pleased auditors. At length, the peaceful cottagers retired to rest, -and Frion sunk to sleep under their hospitable roof, after he had -thought of various plans by which he might possess himself of the -prince's person;—the readiest and safest way was to entice him to -accompany him alone some little space, no matter how short: he trusted -to his own skill to draw him still further and further on, till he -should be put on board the boat that would ferry him to his own revolted -England. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h4><a id="chap09"></a></h4> - -<h4>CHAPTER IX -<br /><br /> -THE DECOY</h4> - - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Gilderoy was a bonnie boy,</span><br /> -<span class="i2">Had roses tull his shoone;</span><br /> -<span class="i0">His stockings were of silken soy,</span><br /> -<span class="i2">With garters hanging doon.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i20">OLD BALLAD.</span> -</div></div></div> - -<p> -It was a simple scheme, yet with the simple simplicity succeeds best. A -new face and talk of distant lands had excited York beyond his wont. He -could not rest during the long night, while the image of his disastrous -fortunes haunted him like a ghost. "Were I the son of a falconer or -hind," he thought, "I could don my breastplate, seize my good cross-bow, -and away to the fight. Mewed up here with women, the very heart of a -Plantagenet will fail, and I shall play the girl at the sight of blood. -Wherefore tarries Sir Edmund, our gentle coz? If he be a true man, he -shall lead me to danger and glory, and England, ere she own her king, -shall be proud of her outcast child." -</p> - -<p> -To a mind thus tempered—heated like iron in a smith's -forge—Frion, on the morrow, played the crafty artisan, fashioning -it to his will. He and the prince rose early, and the secretary prepared -for immediate departure. As he hastily partook of a slight repast, he -renewed the conversation of the preceding night, and like the Sultaness -Scheherezade (perhaps he had heard of her device among the Moors), he -got into the midst of the quarrels of El Zagal and El Chico, the kings -of Granada, at the moment it was necessary for him to hasten -away—"Good youth," said he, "I play the idle prater, while mine -errand waits for me—lead me to the stable, and help me to saddle -my nag; if you will serve me as a guide to Lisle, you will do a good -deed, and I will reward it by finishing the strange history of the -Moorish kings." -</p> - -<p> -The horse was quickly in order for departure. "I will but say good day -to ray kinswoman, and go with you," said Richard. -</p> - -<p> -"That were idle," replied the secretary, "the sun has hardly peeped out -from his eastern window, and dame Madeline and her dark-eyed daughter -sleep; we kept them waking yesternight; they will scarce have risen ere -you return." -</p> - -<p> -The duke suffered himself to be persuaded—with his hand on the neck -of the horse, he strode beside his tempter, listening to his cunning tales -of Moorish ferocity and Christian valour. The walls of Lisle at length -appeared—"Here we part," said the duke, who remembered the caution -given him, never to enter these border towns, where the English nobles -often resided for a space, and the appearance of the gallant stripling, -and his close resemblance to other members of the princely house of -York, might beget suspicion and danger. -</p> - -<p> -"Wherefore this haste, Sir Perkin?" said Frion; "cooped up under a -thatched roof from Lent to Shrovetide, methinks you should be glad to -stretch your chain. I remain brief space in yonder walls; leave me not -till I depart." -</p> - -<p> -"Who told you I was cooped up?" said the prince, hastily; "if I am -chained, the key of my fetters is in my own hand." -</p> - -<p> -"Put it swiftly in the wards then, and cast away the heavy iron; come on -with me, to where thou shalt ruffle bravely with satin-coated squires." -</p> - -<p> -Frion judged his prize already won, and almost threw aside his usual -caution. Richard liked not the expression his sharp black eye assumed, -nor the wrinkling of his brow; he began to wonder what there had been in -this man so to allure him into friendly converse; now that in a familiar -tone he invited him to continue his companion, his haughty spirit -revolted. "Good sir," said he, "I now have done a host's duty by you. I -saved you from a storm, restored you to your road—yonder path, shaded -by poplars, leads at once to the town's gate—farewell!" -</p> - -<p> -"I am but an unmeet comrade for you, gay gentleman," said Frion; "pardon -me if I have said aught unfitting the cottager of Tournay to hear. I now -go to the noble knight, the Sire de Beverem, and I would fain have shown -him what striplings these swamps breed; methought his gilt palace were -fitter dwelling than yonder hut for one, who, if his face lie not, -aspires to nobler acts than weeding a garden or opening a drain. Come, -my lord,—how tript my tongue? but your eye is so lordly that the word -came of itself—gentle youth, trust yourself with one, who loves to -see the fiery youngster amid his mates, the gallant boy looked on with -love and favour by the noble and valiant." -</p> - -<p> -Prudence whispered to Richard that this was dangerous sport; pride told -him that it were unfit, nameless, and ushered thus, to appear before the -high-born; but thoughtless youth urged him on, and even as Frion spoke, -at a quick pace they approached the town-gate. The Sire de Beverem too, -whom the wily Frenchman named, had been favoured by Edward the Fourth, -and was his guest in London—"Let the worst come, and it were well to -have made such a friend. I will bear myself gallantly," thought York, -"and win the good knight's smile; it may profit me hereafter. Now I -shall see how the world goes, and if any new device or fashion have -sprung up among our chivalry, that I may seem not quite untaught when I -lead the sons of my father's friends to the field. Be it as you please," -he said to his seducer, "before now my hand has grasped a foil, and I -will not shame your introduction." -</p> - -<p> -Frion went forward conning his part; he felt that his task was not so -easy as he had imagined: the boy was wild as a bird, and so gave in to -the lure; but, like a bird, he might away without warning, and speed -back to his nest ere his wings were well limed. It was many miles to the -coast: Frion's resolution had been hastily formed. The Lord Fitzwater, a -partisan of Henry, was then sojourning at Lisle. He had been to -Brussels, and on his return towards Calais a sickness had seized him, -which forced him to remain some weeks under the roof of the Sire de -Beverem; he was recovering now, and on the eve of his departure; without -confiding the whole secret to him, the papers and tokens Frion bore must -vouch that the king would thank any of his lieges who should aid him in -bringing by force or decoy a pretended son of the traitor earl of -Lincoln (for thus Frion resolved to name his victim) to the English -shores. -</p> - -<p> -Yet the decoyer had a difficult part to play; there was a quickness in -the prince's manner which made him fear that, if his intentions changed, -his acts would not lag behind; and though he did not betray suspicion, -he was so perfectly alive to everything said and done, that any -circumstance of doubt would not fail immediately to strike him. Although -they had hitherto discoursed in French, yet it was certain that his -native English had not been forgotten by him; nay, the appearance of the -Lord Fitzwater's attendants, their livery, their speech, must awaken the -prince's fears, and confound the wiles of his enemy. Frion pondered on -all these obstacles, as he rode gently through the narrow streets of -Lisle; at length they reached the abode of the French noble, and here -Frion halted; while the duke, beginning to be ill-satisfied with the -part he played, and his promised presentation by such a roan, almost -resolved to break from him here and to return; shame of appearing feeble -of purpose alone prevented him. At last, passing through the court-yard -up a dark and massy staircase, he found himself in a hall, where several -men at arms were assembled, some furbishing pieces of armour, others -engaged in talk, one or two stretched along the benches asleep: pride -awoke in the youth's breast, he had gone too far to retrace his steps, -and he resolved to bear himself gallantly towards the noble to whom he -was about to be presented: yet, pausing for a moment, "My memory," he -thought, "leads me far a-field, or some of these men bear English -badges, and their wearers seem grey-eyed Englishmen." Frion meanwhile, -selecting with quick tact one of the followers of the Sire de Beverem -who chanced to be among these men, requested an instant introduction to -Lord Fitzwater, using such golden arguments that the man, half afraid of -being called on to divide the spoil, motioned him quickly to follow, -and, passing through a suite of rooms, as he approached the last, he -said, "He is there, I will call his page." "It needs not," said Frion; -"await me here, Sir Perkin," and pushing forward, to the astonishment of -the attendant, entered unannounced to the baron's presence: Richard -thought he heard a "By St. Thomas!" uttered as the door closed hastily; -but some Englishman might be with the French noble, and though a -momentary wonder crossed him, no doubt of Frion's integrity was -awakened. -</p> - -<p> -"By Saint Thomas!" exclaimed Lord Fitzwater, as Frion almost burst into -his apartment, "what rude varlet is this? Are serfs so used to enter a -baron's chamber in France?" -</p> - -<p> -"Most noble sir," said Frion, "if in three words, or, if you refuse me -these, if in one eye-glance, I do not satisfy you, bid your men beat me -with staves from the door. I am here in King Henry's service." -</p> - -<p> -"God save him!" said the noble, "and you, sir knave, from the fate you -name, which will be yours undoubtedly, if you do not give me good reason -for your ill-mannered intrusion." -</p> - -<p> -Frion looked round. Except the baron there was no one in the room, save -a stripling of about sixteen years. The lad, though short in stature, -was handsome; yet there was a look that indicated the early development -of qualities, which, even in manhood, detract from beauty. He seemed -conversant in the world's least holy ways, vain, reckless, and selfish; -yet the coarser lines drawn by self-indulgence and youthful sensuality, -were redeemed in part by the merry twinkling of his eye, and the ready -laugh that played upon his lips. "My words are for your ears alone, my -lord," said Frion, "and be assured they touch your liege nearly." -</p> - -<p> -"Go, Robert," said Fitzwater, "but not further than the ante-chamber." -</p> - -<p> -"There is one there," said Frion, anxiously: "he must not quit it—he -must not escape, nor learn in whose hands he is." -</p> - -<p> -"Your riddles, sir, ill please me," replied the noble. -</p> - -<p> -"Look at this paper, my lord, and let it vouch for the heavy import of -my business." -</p> - -<p> -Lord Fitzwater recognized his royal master's signature, and with an -altered tone he said, "Leave us, Robert; tarry not in the ante-chamber, -but bear my greeting to my noble host, and ask him, when I may, at his -best leisure, pay my thanks to him and my kind lady. I depart to-morrow -at dawn; and mark, speak not to the stranger who waits without." -</p> - -<p> -The youth made obeisance, and departed. A piece of tapestry hung before -the door, which, together with the massy boards themselves, prevented -any sound from piercing to the other side; the lad was about to proceed -on his errand, when curiosity prompted him to look on the stranger, with -whom he was commanded not to parley. Richard stood in the embrasure of -one of the windows, but turned quickly as the folding-door shut with no -gentle sound; his candid brow, his bright blue eyes, his frank-hearted -smile, who that had ever seen could forget them? nor were the traits of -the other's countenance less marked, though less attractive. The words -burst at the same instant from either—"My Lord of York!" "Gentle -Robin Clifford." -</p> - -<p> -"My prison playfellow," cried the prince; "this for me is a dangerous -recognition. I pray you be wise, and—as you were ever—kind, -and keep my secret close." -</p> - -<p> -"Alas! my lord," said Robert, "you have opened your hand, and let the -winged fool fly unwittingly, if you think it has not been discovered by -yonder false loon. Know you where you are?" -</p> - -<p> -"Then I am betrayed! I see it, feel it. Farewell, Robin, my fleet legs -will outrun their slow pursuit." -</p> - -<p> -"Nay, an' that were possible," said Clifford; "but it is not; let me -better advise your highness; trust me you shall be free; but hark, they -come; I must not be found here. Show no suspicion; yield to your fate as -if you knew it not, and confide in me; my hand on it, this night you are -at liberty." -</p> - -<p> -Clifford quitted the apartment by the opposite door, while Frion entered -from the other, beckoning the duke to approach. He took him by the hand, -and led him to Lord Fitzwater, who started back when he saw him, and was -about to exclaim; but Frion, in French, addressing him as the Sire de -Beverem, entreated his kind favour for Perkin Warbeck, the gallant youth -before him. The baron evidently was ill-pleased at the part he had -consented to play; he said a few words with an ill grace, and bidding -Perkin welcome, promised him favour, and permission for the present to -remain in his abode. Richard saw through the flimsy disguise which the -Englishman threw over his native speech, though he did not know who his -receiver was; but, feeling that it was best to follow his young friend's -counsel, he replied, also in French, that, at his guide's invitation, he -had eagerly sought an interview with the renowned Sire de Beverem; that -the honour done him would be deeply engraven in his heart; that on some -future occasion he would gratefully avail himself of his offers; but, at -the present time, he had left his home without intimating any intention, -of a prolonged absence, and that he owed it to a kind kinswoman, not to -disquiet her by delaying his return. He prayed the noble to dismiss him -therefore, craving leave only to attend him some other day. -</p> - -<p> -"Be it so," said Fitzwater; "to-morrow at dawn you shall depart hence; -but you must not refuse my proffered hospitality. I shall introduce you -to my household as one who ere long will be admitted into it, and show -my friend. Sir Lalayne, who is now here, what gentle boors our Flanders -breeds." -</p> - -<p> -"I can return to-morrow, my good lord," Richard began; but the noble not -heeding him, added, "Stay till my return; I now go to hear mass," and -passed hastily from the chamber. -</p> - -<p> -The prince's first impulse was to reproach Frion's knavery, assert his -freedom, and, ere any measures had been taken to secure his person, to -quit his new prison. But he did not know how deep-laid the plot might -be; he was inclined to think that all was prepared for his reception and -safe custody, so that any open attempt to regain his liberty would be -resisted by force; while, through the assistance of his friend Clifford, -he might hope to escape, if, giving in to the stratagem, he took -occasion by the curb, and forced it to his purpose. "Are you mad," said -Frion, "my rustic, that you resist the proffers of a high and powerful -man of your native land?" -</p> - -<p> -Richard wondered, when he beheld Frion's sneer and crafty glance, how he -had not mistrusted him from the moment he beheld him; the double meaning -of his words, and the familiar tone in which they were uttered, grated -him like a personal insult. He repressed the angry reply rising to his -lips, and said, "It seems I must submit, yet I should be beholden to you -if you contrived an excuse, and lent me your horse, that I might ride -back and inform Dame Madeline. To-morrow I might return." -</p> - -<p> -Frion opposed this intention, and led the prince to a chamber at some -distance from any other, at the end of a corridor, saying, "that it had -been assigned to him;" and after a short conversation left him. Richard -heard the shooting of the bolt as the door closed; "Son of King Edward," -he thought, "thy folly disgraces thy parentage; thus at once to have run -into the gin. Yet I am of good cheer, and my heart tells me that I shall -relate the merry tale of my escape to Madeline and my sweet coz, and dry -this night the tears my disappearance has caused them to shed." It soon -appeared, by the long absence of his betrayer, that it was not intended -to continue the farce longer; but that, from the moment he had entered -that chamber, he was in treatment as well as in fact a prisoner. After -several weary hours had elapsed, his blithe spirit began to sink; he -reflected that Clifford had probably promised more than he could -perform; but courage awoke with the sense of danger; he resolved to be -true to himself, and to effect his escape singly, if he could gain no -assistance. "Men have ears and hearts," he thought, "and I can work on -these; or they may be neglectful while I am on the alert, and I can -profit by their carelessness. In all forms my fortune may take, I will -not fail to myself; and there is small danger in any change for a true -man. With my light spirit and resolved will, I could, I doubt not, -persuade an armed band to make way for me, or open prison bolts with -charming words, though my witchcraft be only that of gentle courtesy, -moulding with skilful hand the wax of soft humanity." Pacing the -apartment, he continued these meditations, imagining every circumstance -that might and would arise, and how he was to turn all to the best -advantage. He framed persuasive speeches, wily answers to ensnaring -questions, cautious movements, by which he might withdraw himself from -the hands of his enemies; and while he thus occupied himself, his eyes -gleamed, and his cheeks glowed, as if the moment of action had come, and -his life and liberty depended on instant deed. -</p> - -<p> -At two hours past noon the door was unclosed, and a servant entered -bearing food; impatient to begin his plans of escape, Richard was about -to speak to him, when, in the doorway, he beheld the slight, stunted -figure of Clifford, whose forefinger was pressed on his lips, and who, -after exchanging one glance with his friend, cast aside his stealthy -expression of countenance, entering with a half-swaggering look, and -saying, in French, "My lord, young sir, has sent me on a pleasant -embassage, even that of dining with your pageship, saying, two boys like -us were better and merrier together, than in the great hall with the -arrogant serving-men." Richard felt no great appetite; but taking the -tone from his friend, he thanked him, and they fell to on the viands. -"Now, kind Thomas," said Clifford, "of your bounty bring us a stoup of -wine; the day is rainy, and we cannot abroad; so ray gossip and I will -tell long stories over our bottle, and lay some plan of merry mischief -which you and your fellows may in good time rue." -</p> - -<p> -The domestic obeyed; nor till the wine was brought, the servant fairly -dismissed, and the door closed, did Clifford put aside the character he -had assumed of a stripling page, in a noble master's abode, entertaining -a stranger visitant of his own years. At length, when they were quite -alone, the merry boy put his hands to his sides and indulged in so gay a -peal of laughter, that the prince, who at first stared in wonder, at -last caught the infection, and laughed too, while tears from -superabundant glee streamed down their cheeks. Once, twice, and thrice -did Richard check himself, and turn seriously to inquire the cause of -this merriment; and Clifford strove to answer; but laughter bubbling up -choked his voice, and both again yielded in accord to the overpowering -fit. At last gasping, holding their sides, and by degrees commanding -their muscles, the duke said, "I would ask you, friend Robin, what this -means? But at the word, lo you! your very voice is lost. Now, prithee, -feel half as weary as I do of this folly, and you will be as grave as -tumbledown Dick. Do you remember the simpering fellow we made good sport -of in the Tower?" -</p> - -<p> -"You have broken the spell, my lord," said Clifford; "that word suffices -to make me as grave as Brakenbury himself, when he looked on your -brother's corpse. Ah dear, your highness, the name of the Tower is worse -than a raven's croak! God and St. Thomas preserve you from ever getting -the other side of its moat!" -</p> - -<p> -"Amen, Robin, with all my heart," said Richard; "a shudder runs through -my limbs down to my finger tips, making the skin on my head creep, when -I think there is any chance of my passing long years in those dreary -cells, with their narrow deep windows; the court-yards, which the sun -seldom visits; the massy dark walls, whose black stones seemed to frown -angrily if our childs' voices were ever heard in sport." -</p> - -<p> -"There your cousin, my lord of Warwick, pines out his melancholy days," -replied Clifford; "and that is your destined abode. My grandfather was -slain by Queen Margaret's side, and stained the Red Rose with a -blood-red dye, falling in its cause. Your father and his brothers did -many a Clifford much wrong, and woe and mourning possessed my house till -the line of Lancaster was restored. I cannot grieve, therefore, for the -exaltation of the earl of Richmond; yet I will not passively see my -playmate mewed up in a cage, nor put in danger of having his head laid -on that ungentle pillow in Tower Yard. The daughter of Warwick, our -Edward's affianced bride, your crookbacked uncle's wife, loved my pranks -and nurtured my youth; and by her good leave, many a mirthful hour I -spent in the dark place you name. May neither of us ever see it more!" -</p> - -<p> -"You will, then, assist my escape?" asked Richard. -</p> - -<p> -"As faithfully, gossip Dickon, as God his grace shall await me at the -last day! And now I will tell you a merry tale." -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h4><a id="chap10"></a></h4> - -<h4>CHAPTER X -<br /><br /> -THE ESCAPE</h4> - - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i6">—It is thy merit</span><br /> -<span class="i0">To make all mortal business ebb and flow</span><br /> -<span class="i0">By roguery.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i20">HOMER'S HYMN TO MERCURY.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And then, with you, my friends, and the old man,</span><br /> -<span class="i0">We'll load the hollow depth of our black ship,</span><br /> -<span class="i0">And row with double strokes from this dread shore.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i20">THE CYCLOPS.</span> -</div></div></div> - -<p> -Notwithstanding the promise Clifford made of a merry tale, both he and -his auditor looked grave as he commenced. Richard expected, with some -anxiety, an explanation from his friend, and the other assumed the -self-consequence resulting from having achieved a victory. No two beings -ever displayed, in their way, a greater contrast than these youths. The -prince was many inches taller than his companion, and his slim make -promised increase of height. His brow was smooth as infancy, candid as -day; his bright blue eyes were lighted up with intelligence, yet there -was a liquid lustre in them that betokened tenderness; nor did his lips, -that nest of the heart's best feelings, belie his eyes. They were full, -a little curled, can we say in pride, or by what more gentle word can we -name a feeling of self-elevation and noble purpose, joined to -benevolence and sweetness? His oval cheeks were rounded by the dimpled -chin, and his golden hair clustered on a throat of marble whiteness, -which, as the white embroidered collar thrown back over the doublet, -permitted the outline to be seen, sustained his head as the Ionic flute -rears its graceful capital. Clifford was shorter, but firm set and more -manlike in form, his grey eyes were bright or dull as his soul spoke in -them; his brow slightly scowled, pending over, and even thus early, -lines were delved in it, hardly seen when he was in repose, but which, -as he spoke, showed deep and distorted; his smile was tinctured by a -sneer, his voice attracted no confidence, yet Richard now hung intently -on it as he spoke: -</p> - -<p> -"When I returned from doing my lord's bidding, I found him moving about -the room, more like a parched pea than a stately noble; for now he stood -still, and then shot off with a quick step, showing every sign of being -ill at ease. Now, boy as I am, for I can number but sixteen summers, my -lord more than loves me, he trusts me, and not without cause—for -when at hazard—but my story will be too long—enough that ere -now I have done him service. Had I not known the cause of his disquiet I -should have asked it, but, believing myself fully aware of what this all -meant, I went to my post, and busied myself in making some flies for -angling, seeming most intent upon my work. My lord stood over me, and -twice or thrice fetched a sigh, and then strode away, and came again, -saying, "I am a fool, a dolt—the king can mean no ill to this -lad—and yet—" I cannot tell you how long this indecision -lasted, while I patiently toiled at a fly of green and gold, bright as -those which trouts love to snap at in clear streams during May. At -length he asked me, 'Robin, did you mark the boy that stood in the -ante-chamber?' 'Aye, my good lord!' 'And what thought you of him?' -'Thought, my lord?' I spoke inquiringly, for it suddenly came across me -that he did not know you, and it was not for me to betray your secret. -'Aye,' he replied, 'thought? Does he resemble any one you ever knew? Of -what country do you divine him to be?' 'These Flemings are -sandy-haired,' I said, 'yet he does not look of Flanders. Methinks he -seems English born.' -</p> - -<p> -"'You are right,' said he, 'English he is confessedly. This Frion calls -him a natural son of De la Poole—of the late Earl of Lincoln. He -says that he has knowledge of a secret treasure concealed by his father -before this last rebellion, and the king wishes to get him into his -hands, thus to secure the gold. The tale is not unlikely, for the Tudor -ever loved the glitter—nay, the very dust of the precious -metal,—and the boy resembles strangely the House of York. Yet, I -care not for the task put upon me of kidnapping a child, and of -betraying him into his enemy's hands—perhaps of delivering him up -a prisoner for life, for the sake of—— Poor fellow! if he -know aught of a concealed treasure, in God's name, let him confess it -while on this side the fatal channel that now divides him from tyranny -or death.' 'Let me deal with him,' I said, 'let me throw out some toy, -such as is this gold and green thread to a silly fish, and learn the -truth; if he discovers the hiding-place of this so coveted coin, we may -spare him the trouble of his enforced journey.' 'I know not that,' -answered my patron; 'Master Frion is earnest for his safe keeping; and -no one is nearer our liege's inner wishes than this Provençal, who -served him in exile, and who followed him in his expedition thence; and -yet there is a noble daring in the boy, a mountain freshness in his -cheek, a springy freedom in his gait, that it were a thousand pities to -fetter and limit within narrow prison bounds.' Seeing that my lord was -thus favourably inclined, I used all my poor eloquence to urge him -further, and at last brought him to consent that I should converse with -you; learn, if possible, your secret; inform you of your danger, and -advise you to escape. One only difficulty remained: my lord had promised -this master secretary that none should be admitted to talk with you; but -when the subtle fiend, the double-dealing Frenchman entered, I told him -with a long visage, that our noble host, the Sire de Beverem, had heard -that we were carrying off by force a Fleming; and that, considering his -hospitable mansion stained by the act, he had commanded strict watch to -be kept on the morrow, that if any of the English suite were unwilling -to go, or appeared in durance, he should be rescued. It was advisable -therefore, that you should be kept in good-humour till fairly beyond the -gates of Lisle; and this my wisdomship offered to do, if admitted to -parlance with you. You look grave, sir prince, but had you seen Frion's -sage look of hesitation, and heard his many exhortations that I would by -no means betray my knowledge of who you really were; and how I, with a -bow, careful as if my curls were white from years, promised discretion, -you would laugh as I did, when, the mime over which I played before the -servitor, I doffed my page's seeming equality, and in duteous phrase to -his highness of York, offer my best services to liberate him." -</p> - -<p> -"That seems already done," said Richard; "usher me to the Lord -Fitzwater. I will declare myself to him; his compassion already -excited——" -</p> - -<p> -"Would then be cool as snow at Christmas. Wise young sir, Baron -Fitzwater wears the blushing Rose; and for him there is wormwood in the -name of York. Now, as a chance offshoot of the white thorn, he only sees -in you a harmless boy, whom it were sin to injure; but give yourself a -name whose very echo would bring St. Albans, Tewkesbury, Bosworth Field, -and a thousand scaffolds streaming with his kinsmen's blood before him, -and without remorse he would let Frion have his will of you. Even I, -Duke Richard, I am sprung from those who fell for Lancaster——" -</p> - -<p> -"Enough," replied the prince, haughtily. "I am content to stand alone, -to achieve my freedom singly, or to submit to my fate." -</p> - -<p> -"Not so, my noble, playmate," said the other. "I will not offer you my -knee, my oath, my sword, for my allegiance belongs to the anointed King -of England; but, I beseech you, suffer Robin Clifford to assist -high-born Plantagenet to escape from a prison or from death; permit him -to pay, if not the duty of a subject, yet that of a loving friend to the -former companion of his childish sports." -</p> - -<p> -Richard listened somewhat sullenly to these offers; he ill brooked the -thought that any of English parentage should, knowing who he was, refuse -to acknowledge him for his liege: but Clifford would not be refused; -while it was hardly worth while to contend with his light spirit, which -appeared incapable of a serious or profound idea. After a short -resistance, therefore, the duke entered willingly into a discussion of -the best means of effecting his escape in such a way, that he should -have several hours the start of Frion, and be distant from danger before -his seducer could discover that he was not still safe in his hands. -</p> - -<p> -In the midst of this discussion, Frion suddenly entered. The stake for -which he played was too momentous to trust it wholly to the stripling -page, and distrust of the wily boy entered also into his calculations; -he broke in, therefore, not only unannounced, but with such stealthy -quiet as showed that he meant to pounce on his victim unawares. The -youths sat, their stools drawn close; Clifford was leaning forward -earnestly propounding his schemes, and Richard listened, his whole soul -in his countenance. Frion was close upon them before he was perceived by -either, his eyes glimmering with their usual suspicious look. The -artless Richard started, and would with a conscious mien have drawn -back; but Clifford, more used to the wiles and watchfulness of others, -and his own double mode of action, continued to speak in the same tone -the same words, without moving a muscle. The prince wondered, and -regained his self-possession; not from entering into the deceit of his -companion, but from the haughty sentiment of his own dignity, which even -in danger refused to cower. -</p> - -<p> -Clifford had been saying—"I will hence to the sire: a word to him of -whose secretary this Provençal is, and insinuation that he is now on a -secret expedition to the Flemish towns, will awaken his curiosity; he -will send for him; fortunately the good knight speaks so slow that a -mass can be said while he is introducing the subject of his inquiries; -as each word expires, he pauses while a requiem might be sung for its -death; our antagonist will writhe and—" and a glance askance informed -the speaker that this man was at his side: he continued—"and strive -vainly to escape; the heavy weight will be too much for him, he must -submit. Such feints suit well us boys who have not strength nor skill -for more declared warfare. To-morrow's dawn I will practise with you in -the court of the castle ere you depart. But, indeed, my gossip, you must -promise to be at Calais on the sixteenth, when we shall see a combat of -good knights fit for royal princesses to look on. And now, fair sir, -farewell; here is your friend. The Sire de Beverem commanded my presence -at this hour. If I see you not again to-night, the saints have you in -their keeping!" -</p> - -<p> -When Clifford, with his pagelike vivacity, ran from the room singing a -gay romance, Frion felt himself embarrassed; and more so when Richard -said,—"My guest, it is hard, after giving you harbourage last night, -that I should be forced, whether I will or not, to tarry here, leaving -my kinswoman in dread and doubt. Make you my excuse to the chevalier, -and delay me no longer, I beseech you." -</p> - -<p> -Frion, without directly replying, said, "Anon I will speak of that; -meanwhile, I have news for you." And he entered into a long account of -an expected sedition in Flanders, and how the Sire de Beverem had -promised to enlist Perkin Warbeck in his particular troop, when with -courage and good fortune, he could not fail to rise. While he was -talking, one of the men-at-arms of the noble entered, and notified to -Frion that his lord desired an instant interview with him. The secretary -hastened to obey; he thought that good fortune itself provided this -excuse for him to escape from his victim, and resolved not again to -present himself before him. He was scarcely gone when Clifford returned. -"Now quick," he cried, "down the back staircase! My own steed stands -saddled for you; ride fast and far—but whither—whither do you -intend to go?" -</p> - -<p> -"In the first place, to Dame Madeline's cottage." -</p> - -<p> -"That were midsummer madness," cried Clifford; "Frion will never rest -till he ensnares his bird again; nay, though I trust he will not -discover your escape till to-morrow morning, that part of my scheme may -fail; and his papers from the king are such, that my lord could not -refuse to aid him, I pray you set space and cloudy mystery between you." -</p> - -<p> -"It shall be so. Probably I shall seek refuge at Brussels; but I must -see my gentle guardian and my sweet cousin, calm their fears, and bid -them farewell." -</p> - -<p> -They had descended a narrow winding staircase; Clifford unlocked a -postern, opening on a dark alley. A small light-limbed horse stood -without, held by a stout, almost gigantic fellow. "Here, Bryan," said -Clifford, "this is the smuggled article of which I spoke. Convey it in -safety to the gate; once without, the road is known. How now, sweeting! -you sit your steed as if you were used to this gear—in truth thou art -a false one—yet take care—fold your cloak thus. Not one kiss -ere we part?" He sportively snatched the prince's hand, and pressing it to -his lips, continued, "No weeping, lovely: my merry heart hates tears like -verjuice. The blessed Virgin protect you; I must in. Remember, in every -ill, Robert Clifford is your fast, your sworn friend. Look at her, -Bryan; one would swear by her bearing it were a beardless page, and not -a long-haired girl; remember, though gamesome, she is gentle, and -respect her on your life." -</p> - -<p> -Laughing at his own deceits, the guileful boy re-entered the mansion; -nor could Richard avoid smiling at the merry and ready subterfuges which -his friend had at command on every occasion. Brian demurely held the -rein, and hardly hazarded a look or covert joke, as, with a pace that -put the pony to a trot, he led the prince through the narrow streets to -the western gate. The youth breathed freely when, after having passed -the hollow sounding drawbridge, he saw the dark wall of the town behind -him, and before, the green plain. In his haste he scarcely bestowed a -benison on his guide; but snatching the rein from his hand, and with the -other throwing some money at his feet, and exclaiming, "Beware of -prating, as thou art willing to save thyself from the whipping-post!" he -impatiently struck his unarmed heel against the horse's sides, and -bounded swiftly forward. Bryan picked up the angels, and told them -slowly, as he said "I meant to have paid myself in other coin; but, by -St. Julian, she rides more like a trooper than a gentle dame—and her -speech—Master Robert has before now entrusted a damsel to my -guidance, but they ever spoke me lovingly, with 'fair Sir,' and 'sweet -Bryan!' Forsooth, Flemish girls ruffle more like pranksome pages than -soft-cheeked wenches." -</p> - -<p> -The thought of his conductor had passed as swiftly from the prince's -thoughts, as he made the ground fly from under his horse's hoof. He was -aware that he did neither the safest nor best thing in seeking, like a -hunted hare, the form from which he had been roused in the morning; but -the desire of calming Madeline's anxiety, and imprinting a farewell kiss -on the sweet lips of her daughter, prevented him from altering his first -purpose. The night was cloudy and very dark, but the road was known to -him, and he continued at full speed till a voice, calling aloud, -attracted his attention—the words could not be mistaken—his own -name, "Perkin Warbeck!" sounded through the night. His first thought -was, that he was pursued, but reflection told him that assuredly his -pursuers would not halloo to him, while any sent in search of him by -Madeline, might naturally so try to stop him as he rode so fast through -the dark. He checked his speed, therefore, and in a few moments a -cavalier, a stranger was at his side, mounted on a tall black horse; his -form seemed gigantic, and little else could be discerned; the stranger -spoke to him in French, with a foreign accent. He asked him, "Are you -not he they call Perkin Warbeck?" This address was sufficiently -startling; and the youth haughtily replied, "My name imports not to you, -while to me this interruption is unseasonable." -</p> - -<p> -"Enough; you go towards the cottage of Madeline de Faro: I follow your -highness thither." -</p> - -<p> -Richard grasped the small poniard which hung from his belt; yet how -could he, a child, contend with the tall and muscular form beside him? -"Whoever thou art," he cried, "and whoever I may be, follow me not; I am -no serf to be seized and carried back to his suzerain. Depart in God's -name, that the fingers of neither may receive an ill stain!" -</p> - -<p> -"Thou art a gallant boy!" cried the stranger, as placing his hand on the -youth's arm, his most gentle touch was felt as an iron vice pressing on -his flesh: "Pardon, my lord, the interference of one unknown to you, -though I will not call myself a stranger. I am Hernan de Faro, the -husband of Dame Madeline; now stay not your speed, while we hasten to -relieve her thousand fears. I am come in search of you." -</p> - -<p> -The heart of Richard warmed towards his new friend; he felt, that with -him on his side, he might defy Frion, Fitzwater, and all their -followers; for there was something in De Faro's mien, which spoke of a -thousand combats, and as many victories; his deep voice out-roared the -elements; his hand might arrest a wild horse in mad career. When they -arrived at the wicket entrance to the cot, he lifted the boy from the -saddle, as a child would handle a toy, and shouted aloud in his own -language, "Viva el Duque de Inglatierra y el Marinero, Hernan de Faro." -</p> - -<p> -The dangers Richard had run, and the delight she experienced in seeing -him, when again under her roof, stopped all Madeline's reproaches. "Is -he not worthy all my fears?" she said to her husband, who stood eyeing -the boy as he caressed his daughter. De Faro stretched out his hand, -saying, "Will you, Señor Don Ricardo, accept my services, and my vow to -protect you till the death, so help me the Blessed Virgin and the Holy -Trinity." -</p> - -<p> -De Faro was a mariner who had sailed in the service of the king of -Portugal, along the unsounded shores of Africa, and sought beyond the -equator a route to the spicy Indian land. His dark skin was burnt to a -nearly negro die; his black curled hair, his beard and moustachios of -the same dusky hue, half hid his face; his brow somewhat lowered over -eyes dark as night; but, when he smiled, his soft mouth and pearly -teeth, softened the harshness of his physiognomy, and he looked gentle -and kind. Every nerve, every muscle, had been worn and hardened by long -toilsome navigation; his strong limbs had withstood the tempest, his -hands held unmoved the cordage, which the whirlwind strove vainly to -tear from his grasp. He was a tower of a man; yet withal one, to whom -the timid and endangered would recur for refuge, secure of his -generosity and dauntless nature. He heard the story of Richard's -dangers; his plan was formed swiftly: he said, "If you choose, Sir -Prince, to await your foes here, I am ready, having put these girls in -safety, to barricade the doors, and with arquebus and sword to defend -you to the last: but there is a safer and better way for us all. I am -come to claim my Madeline and our child, and to carry them with me to my -native Spain. My vessel now rides off Ostend. I had meant to make -greater preparation, and to have laid up some weeks here before we went -on our home-bound voyage; but, as it is, let us depart to-night." -</p> - -<p> -The door suddenly opened as he spoke—Madeline shrieked—Richard -sprang upon his feet, while De Faro rose more slowly, placing himself -like a vast buttress of stone before the intruder. It was Clifford. -</p> - -<p> -"All is safe for the night," he cried; "your grace has a few hours the -start, and but a few; dally not here!" -</p> - -<p> -Again the discussion of whither he should fly was renewed, and the duke -spoke of Brussels—of his aunt. "Of poison and pit-falls," cried -Robert; "think you, boy as you are, and, under pardon, no conjuror, that -the king will not contrive your destruction?" -</p> - -<p> -Probably self-interested motives swayed Clifford; but he entered warmly -into De Faro's idea of hastening to the sea-coast, and of sailing -direct for Spain. "In a few years you will be a man—in a few -years——" -</p> - -<p> -"Forgotten! Yes—I may go; but a few months shall mark my return. I go -on one condition; that you, Clifford, watch for the return of my cousin, -Sir Edmund, and direct him where to find me." -</p> - -<p> -"I will not fail. Sir Mariner, whither are you bound?" -</p> - -<p> -"To Malaga." -</p> - -<p> -And now, urged and quickened by Clifford, who promised to attend to all -that this sudden resolve left incomplete, the few arrangements for their -departure were made. Favoured by night, and the prince's perfect -knowledge of the country, they were speedily on their way to Ostend. -Clifford returned to Lisle, to mark and enjoy Frion's rage and -Fitzwater's confusion, when, on the morrow, the quarry was found to have -stolen from its lair. Without a moment's delay, the secretary followed, -he hoped, upon his track: he directed his steps to Brussels. A letter -meanwhile from Ostend, carefully worded, informed Clifford of the -arrival and embarkation of his friends; again he was reminded of -Plantagenet; nor had he long to wait before he fulfilled this last -commission. -</p> - -<p> -Edmund had found the Lady Margaret glad to receive tidings of her -nephew; eager to ensure his safety and careful bringing-up, but -dispirited by the late overthrow, and deeply grieved by the death of the -noble and beloved Lincoln: no attack could now be made; it would be -doubly dangerous to bring forward the young Richard at this juncture. -She commissioned Plantagenet to accompany him to Brussels that she might -see him; and then they could confer upon some fitting plan for the -privacy and security of his future life, until maturer age fitted him to -enter on his destined struggles. -</p> - -<p> -Edmund returned with brightened hopes to Tournay, to find the cottage -deserted, his friends gone. It may easily be imagined that this -unexpected blank was a source of terror, almost of despair to the -adventurer. He feared to ask questions, and when he did propound a few, -the answers only increased his perplexity and fears. It was not until -his third hopeless visit to the empty dwelling, that he met a stripling -page, who, with an expression of slyness in his face, spoke the -watch-word of the friends of York. Edmund gladly exchanged the -countersign, and then the boy asked him, whether he called himself -cousin to the fugitive duke of York, laughing the while at the -consternation his auditor exhibited at the utterance of this hidden and -sacred word: "You come to seek your prince," he continued, "and wonder -whither he may be flown, and what corner of the earth's wilderness -affords him an abode. He is now, by my calculations, tossing about in a -weather-beaten caravel, commanded by Hernan de Faro, in the Bay of -Biscay; in another month he may anchor in the port of Malaga; and the -dark-eyed girls of Andalusia will inform you in what nook of their sunny -land the fair-haired son of England dwells. The king is defeated, Master -Frion balked, and Lord Fitzwater gone on a bootless errand: the White -Rose flourishes free as those that bloom in our Kentish hedges." -</p> - -<p> -Without waiting for a reply, but with his finger on his lip to repel -further speech, the youth vaulted on his horse, and was out of sight in -a moment. Edmund doubted for some time whether he should act upon this -singular communication. He endeavoured to learn who his informant was, -and, at last, became assured that it was Robert Clifford, a young -esquire in Lord Fitzwater's train. He was the younger son of the Lord -Clifford who fell for Lancaster, at the battle of St. Alban's. By birth, -by breeding, he was of the Red Rose, yet it was evident that his -knowledge was perfect as to the existence of the duke of York; and the -return of Lord Fitzwater and King Henry's secretary to Lisle, -disappointed and foiled, served to inspire confidence in the information -he had bestowed. After much reflection, Plantagenet resolved to visit -Paris, where he knew that the brother of Madeline, old John Warbeck, -then sojourned; and, if he did not gain surer intelligence from him, to -proceed by way of Bordeaux to Spain. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h4><a id="chap11"></a></h4> - -<h4>CHAPTER XI -<br /><br /> -THE EXILES</h4> - - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A day will come when York shall claim his own;</span><br /> -<span class="i0">Then York be still awhile, till time do serve.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i20">SHAKSPEARE.</span> -</div></div></div> - -<p> -The further Edmund journeyed from the late abode of his lost cousin, the -more he felt displeased at the step he had taken; but on his arrival in -Paris his uncertainty ended. Warbeck had received intimation of the -hurried embarkation of his sister, and here also he found Lady Brampton, -whose husband had taken refuge in Paris after the battle of Stoke. Like -the queen dowager, the fate of Margaret of Anjou's son haunted this -lady, and she warmly espoused the idea of bringing the duke of York up -in safe obscurity, until his own judgment might lead him to choose -another line of action, or the opposing politics of Europe promised some -support to his cause. She agreed to repair herself to Brussels, to take -counsel with the duchess, to use all her influence and arts, and, as -soon as time was ripe, to proceed herself to Spain to announce it to the -prince. Meanwhile, Plantagenet, following his former purpose, would take -up his abode with Richard in Spain; teach him the science of arms, and -the more difficult lessons of courage, self-command, and prudent -conduct. In pursuance of this plan, Edmund lost no time in going to -Bordeaux, whence he embarked for Malaga, and following his friend's -steps, arrived shortly after him at the retreat De Faro had chosen among -the foldings of the mountains on the borders of Andalusia.<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> -</p> - -<p> -De Faro's was a singular history. In those days, that park of Andalusia -which comprised the kingdom of Granada, was the seat of perpetual wars, -and even when armies did not meet to deluge its fertile plains and -valleys with their blood, troops led by noble cavaliers and illustrious -commanders overran its districts in search of plunder and glory. During -one of these incursions, in the year 1452, some impulse of religion or -humanity made a Spanish soldier snatch from a couch in the country-house -of a noble wealthy Moor, already half consumed, an infant hardly a year -old; the band was already in full retreat, and, fortunately, this -incident took place on the very frontiers of Granada, or the benevolence -of the soldier would hardly have been proof against the trouble his -little charge occasioned him. Toiling up the mountains on their return -to the kingdom of Jaen, they entered the little town of Alcala-la-Real, -where, on the side of the mountainous road, rose the walls of a -monastery. "How better," thought the soldier, "save the soul of this boy -than by giving him to the monks?" It was not, perhaps, the present they -would most readily have selected, but compassion and piety forbade them -to refuse it: the little Moor became a Christian by the name of Hernan, -and was brought up within the sacred precincts of the convent. Though -the monks were able to make a zealous Catholic of their nursling, they -did not succeed so well in taming his fiery spirit, nor could they -induce him to devote himself to the inactive and mortifying life of a -priest. Yet he was generous and daring, and thus acquired their -affection; next to being a recluse vowed to God, the vocation of a -soldier for the faith, in the eyes of these holy men, was to be -selected. Hernan advancing in life, and shooting up into strong and -premature manhood, was recommended by the abbot to his cousin, the -illustrious Don Rodrigo Ponce de Leon, marquess of Cadiz. He fought -several times under his banners, and in the year 1471 entered with him -the kingdom of Granada, and was wounded at the taking of Cardela. In -this last action it was, that a sudden horror of taking up arms against -his countrymen sprung up in Hernan's breast. He quitted Spain in -consequence; and, visiting Lisbon, he was led to embrace a sea-faring -life, and entered the marine service of the king of Portugal; at one -time, visiting Holland, where he sought and won the hand of Madeline: -and afterwards, with Bartholomew Diaz, he made one of the crew that -discovered the Cape of Good Hope. He sailed with three vessels, one of -which lost company of the others, and its crew underwent various and -dreadful perils at sea, and from the blacks on land: after nine months -they again fell in with their companions, three sailors only remaining. -One of these was Hernan de Faro; his skill, valour, and fortitude, had -saved the vessel; he was exalted to its command, and now, in safer -voyage over seas more known, he had freighted it with the fugitives -from Tournay. -</p> - -<p> -During all his wanderings, even in the gay and rich Portugal, Hernan -turned with fond regret to his mountain home. To its rugged peaks, its -deep and silent dells; its torrents, its verdure, its straggling and -precipitous paths; its prospect over the rich and laughing Vega of -Granada. He had promised himself, after weary toils, a long repose in -this beloved spot; and hither he now led his wife, resolving to set up -his tent for ever in the land of his childhood, his happy childhood. It -was a strange place to choose, bordering on Granada, which at that time -was as lists in which Death and Havock sat umpires. But the situation of -Alcala-la-Real preserved it secure, notwithstanding its dangerous -neighbourhood. It was perched high upon the mountain, overlooking a -plain which had been for many years the scene of ruthless carnage and -devastation, being in itself an asylum for fugitives—a place of rest -for the victor—an eagle's nest, unassailable by the vultures of the -plain. -</p> - -<p> -Here, then, Plantagenet found his cousin; here, in lovely and romantic -Spain. Though defaced and torn by war, Andalusia presented an aspect of -rich and various beauty, intoxicating to one whose life had been spent -in the plains of England, or the dull flats of Flanders. The purple -vineyards; the olive plantations clothing the burning hill-side; the -groves of mulberry, cork, pomegranate, and citron, that diversified the -fertile vegas or plains; the sweet flowing rivers, with their banks -adorned by scarlet geranium or odoriferous myrtle, made this spot Nature's -own favoured garden—a paradise unequalled upon earth. On such -a scene did the mountain-home of the exiles look down. Alcala, too, had -beauties of her own. Ilex and pine woods clothed the defiles of the -rugged Sierra, which stretched far and wide, torn by winter torrents -into vast ravines; variegated by a thousand intersecting lines, formed -by the foldings of the hills; the clouds found a home on the lofty -summits; the wandering mists crept along the abrupt precipices; -alternate light and shadow, rich in purple and golden hues, arrayed each -rocky peak or verdant slope in radiance all their own. -</p> - -<p> -All this fair land had been under the dominion of the Moors. Now, town -by town, stronghold by stronghold, they had lost it; the riches of the -land belonged to the Christians, who still, by military conquest or -policy, pressed the realm of the Moorish sovereign into a narrower -compass; while, divided in itself, the unhappy kingdom fell piecemeal -into their hands. De Faro was a devout Catholic; but, with all his -intrepidity, more humanity than belonged to that age warmed his manly -heart. He remembered that he was a Moor: whenever he saw a Moslem -prisoner in chains, or a cavalgada of hapless women driven from their -native towns to slavery, the blood in his veins moved with instinctive -horror; and the idea that among them might pine and groan his parents, -his own relatives, burned like living coal in his breast. He had half -forgotten this when he came to Alcala, bringing his wife and child, and -resolved to set up here his home; but when, in the succeeding spring, -the Spanish army assembled on the frontiers of Murcia, and swept on -towards the south—when deeds of Moorish valour and Moorish suffering -reached Alcala—when the triumph of the Christians and their ravages -were repeated—the gallant mariner could endure no longer. "It is a -fruitless struggle," he said; "Granada must fall; and God, who searches -hearts, knows that his victory will be dear to me when the cross floats -from the towers of the Alhambra. But I cannot behold the dark, -blood-stained advances of the invader. I will go—go where man -destroys not his brother, where the wild winds and waves are the armies we -combat. In a year or two every sword will be sheathed; the peace of -conquest will reign over Andalusia. One other voyage, and I return." -</p> - -<p> -He went without fear, for Alcala appeared a safe retreat, and left his -family spectators of the war. What a school for Richard! Edmund rejoiced -that he would be accomplished in knightly exercise in the land of -chivalry; but he was not prepared for the warlike enthusiasm that sprung -up in his cousin's heart, and even in his own. It was the cause of God -that armed the gentlemen of Spain, that put daring into the politic -Ferdinand's heart, and inspired with martial ardour the magnanimous -Isabella. The veteran cavaliers had lost many relatives and companions -in arms, in various defeats under the rocky castles, or within the -pathless defiles of Andalusia; and holy zeal possessed them to avenge -their deaths, or to deliver those who pined in bondage. The younger -knights, under the eye of their sovereigns, emulated each other in -gallantry and glory. They painted war with pomp, and adorned it by their -virtues. -</p> - -<p> -Not many months before, the earl of Rivers, with a band of Englishmen, -aided at the siege of Loxa, and distinguished himself by his undaunted -bravery; his blunt but gay humour; his eager emulation with the Spanish -commanders. The duke of York heard, with a leaping heart, his mother's -brother's name. Had he still been there; but no, he had returned to fall -in affray in Britany, the victim of Tudor's heartless desertion—this -circumstance had given distinction and honour to the name of Englishmen; -nor did Edmund feel inclined to lower the national character by keeping -away from the scene of glory. What was to be done? York was a mere boy; -yet when Plantagenet spoke of serving under one of the illustrious -Catholic chieftains, York said, "I follow you; I will be your squire, -your page, your stirrup-boy; but I follow!" -</p> - -<p> -In 1489 the siege of Baza was formed. It was defended with desperate -valour by the Moors, while every noble Spaniard capable of bearing arms -assembled in Ferdinand's camp, which glittered in silks and gay -caparisons; yet the very luxury of the warriors was ennobled by their -valour. The sallies on the part of the besieged were furious; the -repulse they sustained, determined and successful. When closely hemmed -in, the Moors relaxed in their desperate efforts. The younger Christian -cavaliers used the leisure so afforded them to unite in making -incursions in the surrounding country, to cut off supplies, and to -surprise the foraging-parties of the enemy. Two youths became -conspicuous in these exploits; both proclaimed their English origin. One -bore a knight's golden spurs (Edmund had been knighted on the eve of the -battle of Stoke by the earl of Lincoln), and boasted of his royal, -though illegitimate, descent; the other, a beardless, fair-haired, -blooming boy, was nameless, save by the Christian appellation of -Ricardo, to which was added the further designation of El Muchacho, from -his extreme youth. It was a lovely yet an awful sight to behold this -pair. The elder, whose dark eyes and dun complexion gave him a greater -resemblance to his southern comrades, never lost sight of his young -friend; side by side, his shield before Richard's breast, they went to -the field. When Edmund would otherwise have pressed forward, he hung -back to guard his cousin; and when the boy was hurried forward in the -ardour of fight, still his kinsman's gaze was on him—his sword -protecting him in every aspect of danger. If the stripling were -attacked, Edmund's eyes flashed fire, and mortal vengeance fell upon his -foe. They became the discourse of the camp; and Plantagenet's modesty, -and Richard's docility in all, save avoiding peril, advanced them still -further in the favour of the grave, courteous Spaniards. "Art thou, -then, motherless?" Isabel asked; "if thou art not, thy gentle parent -must pass many wakeful nights for thee!" At length, in one skirmish, -both the youths got surrounded by the foe. Richard's young arm, wearied -by the very sword he bore, gave ineffectual blows. Forgetting that he -left himself unguarded, Edmund rushed between him and his assailant; -others came to their assistance; but Plantagenet was already struck to -the ground; and for many weeks York forgot even the glorious emulation -of arms, while watching over his best and dearest friend. Meanwhile Baza -surrendered; and the cousins returned to Alcala, to Madeline and her -fair child; and domestic peace succeeded to the storms of war. Richard -loved Madeline as his mother; her daughter was his sister, his angel -sister, whose tenderness and heroism of character commanded deep -affection. -</p> - -<p> -Monina de Faro was, even in childhood, a being to worship and to love. -There was a dreamy sweetness in her countenance, a mystery in the -profound sensibility of her nature, that fascinated beyond all compare. -Her characteristic was not so much the facility of being impressed, as -the excess of the emotion produced by every new idea or feeling. Was she -gay?—her large eyes laughed in their own brightness, her lovely -countenance became radiant with smiles, her thrilling voice was attuned -to lightest mirth, while the gladness that filled her heart overflowed -from her as light does from the sun, imparting to all around a share of -its own essence. Did sorrow oppress her?—dark night fell upon her -mind, clouding her face, oppressing her whole person, which staggered -and bent beneath the freight. Had she been susceptible of the stormier -passions, her subtle and yielding soul would have been their unresisting -victim—but though impetuous—wild—the slave of her own -sensations, her soft bosom could harbour no emotion unallied to -goodness: and the devouring appetite of her soul, was the desire of -benefiting all around her. Her countenance was the mirror of her mind. -Its outline resembled those we see in Spanish pictures, not being quite -oval enough for a northern beauty. It seemed widened at the forehead, to -give space for her large, long eyes, and the canopy of the darkly -fringed and veined lid: her hair was not black, but of a rich sunny -chesnut, finer than carded silk, and more glossy; her skin was delicate, -somewhat pale, except when emotion suffused it with a deep pink. In -person, she was not tall, but softly rounded; and her taper, rosy-tipped -fingers, and little feet, bespoke the delicate proportion that moulded -her form to a beauty, whose every motion awakened admiration and love. -</p> - -<p> -With these companions Richard passed the winter. The following spring -brought war still nearer to the English exiles—Baza had fallen; -one of the kings of Granada, surnamed El Zagal, the Valiant, had -submitted to the Spaniards: and now Ferdinand commanded his former ally, -Boabdil el Chico, to deliver up to him proud Granada, the loved city of -the Moors. Poor Boabdil, whose misfortunes had been prophesied at his -birth, and whose whole career had been such as to affix to him the -surname of el Zogoybi, or the Unfortunate, was roused from his state of -opprobrious vassalage by this demand, and followed up his refusal by an -inroad into the Christian country, near Jaen. Count de Tendilla, a -veteran warrior of high reputation and brilliant exploits, commanded -this district. His headquarters were in the impregnable fortress of -Alcala-la-Real itself; and when the cry came, that the Moors had passed -his border, he resolved to stoop from his eagle's eyrie, and to pounce -upon the insolent foe, as they returned from their incursion. He chose -one hundred and fifty men, and lay in ambush for them. Plantagenet was -of the number, and our young warrior also; though with sage entreaties -Edmund, and with tears Madeline, had besought him to stay. The count -succeeded to his wish—the Moors fell into his toils—few -escaped slaughter or capture: but while the Christian hero exulted in -victory, a messenger, pale with horror, spent with weariness, came to -tell that a band of Moors had taken advantage of his absence, to fall -upon Alcala. Indignation and fury possessed the noble captain; he left -half his troop to protect his spoil, and with the rest, all weary as -they were, he hurried back to Alcala, eager to fall upon the marauders -before they should have secured their prey in a neighbouring fortress. -Edmund and Richard were among the foremost; their rage could only be -calmed by the swiftness with which they returned to deliver or avenge -their friends. The sun was sinking in the west when they arrived at the -foot of the Sierra. At first Tendilla desired that his wearied troop -should repose; but several stragglers among the enemy, perceiving them, -gave the alarm to their comrades, who, laden with booty, were preparing -to depart. Harassed as the Christians were, they had no choice, while -their position, on the lower ground, rendered their attack very -disadvantageous. But nothing could check their fury: with loud cries and -flashing weapons they fell upon the enemy, who, burthened by their prey -and wearied by their very outrages, could ill resist men fighting to -avenge their desolated hearths. Still, so accustomed to war, so innately -brave was every soldier on either side, that the combat was long and -sanguinary. Night, the swift-walking darkness of the nights of the -south, came suddenly upon the combatants: the casques of one party, and -the turbans of the other, were scarce perceptible, to guide the -scimitar, or to serve as an aim for the arquebus. The discomfited Moors, -leaving their booty, dispersed along the defiles, and, forgetful of -their prisoners, availed themselves of the obscurity to make good their -flight. Alcala was retaken; and through the shadows of night, husbands -and fathers called aloud on their wives and children to tell them if -they were safe, while many a sound of woman's wail arose over the corpse -of him who had died to save her. -</p> - -<p> -The troop, diminished in number, was drawn up the following morning in -the square of Alcala. "Where," asked the count, "are my two English -soldiers? I saw the elder leading five others across a steep -mountain-path, so as to fall on the enemy's rear; it was a sage measure, -and succeeded well. Ricardo I beheld contending with two bearded Moors, -who held in their fierce grasp a young and fainting girl. I sent Diego -to his rescue: Diego, they say, was slain: night prevented me from -knowing more: have both these strangers fallen? I would pay them a -Spaniard's thanks for their aid—a knight's praise for their -gallantry." -</p> - -<p> -Alas! both thanks and praise would have visited their ears coldly. They -had forgotten Tendilla, his troop, the very Christian cause, in the -overwhelming calamity that had befallen them. Assisted by Diego, who was -cut down in the conflict, Richard had delivered Monina; and, forcing his -way through the enemy, now already scattered, clambered with her in his -arms to their mountain abode: he was guided towards it by the glaring -light of the flames that destroyed it. Meanwhile, the fight still raged; -York placed Monina in safety, and returned to share its perils. -</p> - -<p> -The peace of desolation that came with the morning united the cousins; -and they sought the ruins of their home, and their miserable friend, -whose broken and harrowing tale recorded how Madeline had fallen a -victim to the savage cruelty of the enemy, as she strove to defend her -daughter from impending slavery. -</p> - -<p> -This was the result of Moorish wars—death and misery. Richard's young -heart had bounded to the sound of trump and clarion; and he returned to -hear the melancholy bell that tolled for death. Their very home was in -ruins; but it was long before, amidst deeper woe, they remembered to -lament the destruction of many papers and hoarded objects, the relics -and the testimonies of Richard's royal descent. -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="nind"><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a>I had originally entered more at large on a description of -Andalusia, and the history of the conquest of Granada. The subsequent -publication of Mr. Washington Irving's very interesting work has -superseded the necessity of this deviation from the straight path of my -story. Events which, in their romantic detail, were before only to be -found in old Spanish folios, are now accessible to every English reader, -adorned by the elegance of style, and arranged with the exquisite taste, -which characterize the very delightful "Chronicle of the Conquest of -Granada."</p></div> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h4><a id="chap12"></a></h4> - -<h4>CHAPTER XII -<br /><br /> -THE CHALLENGE</h4> - - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ah! where are they who heard in former hours</span><br /> -<span class="i0">The voice of song in these neglected bowers?</span><br /> -<span class="i18">They are gone!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i20">MOORE.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The chain is loos'd, the sails are spread,</span><br /> -<span class="i2">The living breath is fresh behind;</span><br /> -<span class="i0">As with dews and sunrise fed,</span><br /> -<span class="i2">Comes the laughing morning wind.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i20">SHELLEY.</span> -</div></div></div> - -<p> -This was a gloomy lesson for these young and affectionate beings; they -consoled one another, and wept as they consoled. At first Monina -despaired; her ceaseless laments and unassuaged grief appeared to -undermine her very life; but, when she marked the sorrow she -communicated, when she heard Richard exclaim, "Oh! for spring and -battle, when I may avenge Monina's grief, or die! Death is a thousand -times preferable to the sight of her woe!" and felt that the fate and -happiness of those about her depended on her fortitude: she forced -smiles back to her lips, and again her sweet eyes beamed, undimmed by -tears. -</p> - -<p> -Spring came at last, and with it busy preparation for the siege of -Granada; troop after troop defiled through Alcala, bearing the various -ensigns of the noble commanders; the Count Tendilla, leaving his -mountain nest, united himself to the regal camp before the devoted city; -Isabella joined her royal husband accompanied by her children. Where -women looked on the near face of war, even the timid were inspired to -bear arms. The reputation the English warrior youths had gained forbade -inglorious ease, even had they not aspired with their whole hearts for -renown; yet Plantagenet looked forward with reluctance to the leading -forth his brave, dear cousin to new dangers; divided between pride in -his valour, satisfaction at his thus being schooled to arms, and terror -from the perils to which he would be exposed in a war, on the side of the -enemy, of despair and fury—his thoughtful eyes rested on the young -prince's glowing cheek, his unsullied youth; if wound or fatal hurt -maimed his fair proportion, how should he reply to his widowed mother's -agony? If, snapt like a poor flowret, he fell upon the death-strewn -Vega, what tale should he report to the ardent Yorkists? None! At least -he should be pierced only through him, and Edmund's corse would rampart -his heart, even when he had died to save him. -</p> - -<p> -Thus they again appeared in the Spanish army, and were hailed as among -its ornaments. Whatever desperate enterprise kindled the young Spaniards -to heroic frenzy, found the English pair among their numbers. At the -beginning of the siege, the Moors, few in numbers, and often defeated, -cheated victory of its triumph by various challenges to single combat, -where many a Spaniard fell: their frays resembled, in the splendour of -their armour and their equipments, the stately ceremonial of the -tournaments, but they were deadly in the event. Ferdinand, sure of -victory, and reluctant to expose the noble youth of his kingdom to -needless peril, forbade these duels; and the Moors enraged, multiplied -their insults and their bravadoes, to draw their enemies to the field; -nor lost any opportunity of committing the defence of their beloved city -to the risk of battle, rather than the slow progress of famine. One -memorable engagement took place on occasion of the visit of Queen -Isabella to the hamlet of Zubia, there to obtain a nearer view of -beautiful Granada. The Moors seeing the Spanish troops in array before -their walls, came out to attack them; a battle was fought under the very -eyes of the queen, wherein it was the good fortune of Richard to make so -gallant a figure, that on the very spot the Count Tendilla conferred on -him the honour of knighthood. -</p> - -<p> -Proud was the young duke of York, and eager to paint his maiden shield -with worthy device; he was now nearly eighteen, boyish in aspect, yet -well-knit in person, and accustomed to the fatigue of arms. He no longer -burst on his foes, like an untrained dog, seeking only to slay: there -was forethought in his eye, and a most careful selection of worthy and -valorous opponents. Edmund still was to be found within a javelin's -throw of him; but he no longer feared his untaught rashness, as before -he had done. -</p> - -<p> -In July occurred the conflagration of the Christian camp. The day -following, Ferdinand led forth his troops to make a last ravage among -the gardens and orchards, the emerald girdle of Granada. During the -fray, it was the young duke's chance to throw his javelin so as to slay -on the spot a veteran Moor, whose turban having fallen off, exposed him -thus. His companion in arms, a tall fierce Moslem, rushed forward to -fell the insolent youth; others interposed. Still the Moor kept his eye -upon his boyish foe; a thousand times he threw his dart; twice or thrice -he rushed on him with uplifted scimitar: the battle racked among the -orchard-paths and flowery hedges of the thickly-planted gardens, and -ever some obstruction thwarted the infidel. Plantagenet had marked his -rage and his purpose; he watched him keenly, and the fierce Gomelez -boiled with impatient indignation, as some impediment for ever baffled -his design. His last effort was to fling an arrow, which stuck in the -ground quivering at Richard's feet: a label was affixed—"Dog and -infidel," thus was the cartel worded—"if thou hast courage, meet me -at dawn at the Fountain of Myrtles." -</p> - -<p> -The following morning, at the hour when Plantagenet was wont to see his -cousin, the prince was absent. Noon approached; the troops reposed after -the battle of the day before, or were employed in clearing the dark -ruins of the camp: some thoughtless project might occupy the duke: some -excursion to the other side of Granada. The shades of evening gathered -round the lofty towers, and dimmed the prospect of its Vega: still -Richard came not. Sad, anxious night drew near. Edmund roved through the -camp, questioning, seeking; at last, on the morrow he heard the report, -that the previous evening a cavalier had seen Almoradi Gomelez issue -from a little wood half a league from the city, and ride towards a -postern; that he was galloping up to him, when he saw the Moor totter in -his saddle, and at last fall from his horse; before succour could come, -he died. His last words only spoke of the Fountain of Myrtles; in agony -of spirit, for Gomelez had surely stricken to death his stripling foe, -ere he left the place of combat, Edmund hurried to the spot; the herbage -round the fountain was trampled and torn, as by horses' hoofs. It was -moistened, but not with water; a bank, thickly overgrown with geraniums, -bore the print of a man's form, but none was there. -</p> - -<p> -Monina had been left in Alcala-la-Real, a prey to fear, to gaze from the -steep summit on the plain, whereon, beyond her sight, was acted the real -drama of her life; to question the wounded, or the messengers that -visited Alcala, and to address prayers to the Virgin, were the sad -varieties! of her day. In the midst of this suspense, two unexpected -guests visited her abode—her father, and an Irish chieftain; a -Yorkist, who came to lead the duke from his Spanish abode, to where he -might combat for his lost crown. De Faro had not heard of the death of -Madeline; and with awe his child beheld the tears that bedewed his -rugged checks at this sad termination of his ocean-haunting vision. He -embraced his daughter—"Thou wilt not desert me; we will leave this -fated spot: and thou, Monina, will sail for ever with thy father on the -less barbarous sea." -</p> - -<p> -De Faro's companion was named Lord Barry. He was baron of Buttevant, in -the county of Cork, and allied to the Geraldines, chiefs of that soil. -He had fought at Stoke, and been attainted by Henry; so that he was -forced to wander a banished man. Eager to reinstate himself, every -Yorkist plot numbered him among its warmest partizans. He had for some -time resided either at Paris or at Brussels, where he often held counsel -with Lady Brampton. Weary of delay, he at last stole back to Ireland, to -see whether his noble kinsmen there would abet and rise in favour of the -duke of York. He came away, proud and delighted with his success; -promises of service for the White Rose had been showered on him—his -eloquence and enthusiasm conquered even Lady Brampton. War also seemed -impending between France and England; if that were once declared, every -objection would be obviated. At any rate, the times seemed so fair, that -she agreed with Lord Barry to visit the present home of the young -English prince; and, as if to further their designs. Sir Edward Brampton -was at that moment requested by the Archduke Maximilian to undertake a -private embassy to Lisbon. Thither they had sailed, and now, leaving -this lady in Portugal, Lord Barry had continued his voyage to Andalusia, -with the intention of returning again to Lisbon, accompanied by the -promise and hope of the house of York. He met De Faro in the port of -Malaga: the name was familiar to him. They journeyed together to -Alcala-la-Real. -</p> - -<p> -Lord Barry was all eagerness that the English prince should immediately -join Lady Brampton at Lisbon. It was agreed that they should proceed -thither in De Faro's caravel. The mariner abhorred the name of warfare -between Spaniard and Moor; and Madeline's death only added poignancy to -this sensation. He would not look on the siege of Granada. While the -Irish noble and Monina proceeded to the camp to prepare the cousins, he -returned to Malaga to bring round his vessel to the nearer port of -Almeria. Lord Barry and the fair Moor commenced their journey on the -morning of a most burning day; they wound down the steep declivities of -the Sierra, and entered upon the bright blooming plain. Noon with all -its heat approached. They rested under a grove of mulberries, reposing -by a brook, while Lord Barry's horse and Monina's mule were tied to the -nearest shrubs. Slight accidents are the wires and pullies on which the -machinery of our lives hang. Stung by flies, the noble horse grew -restive, broke his rein, and galloped away; through the thick shade his -master pursued, till tramp of feet and crackling of branches died on -Monina's ear. A quarter of an hour, half an hour passed, when on her -solitude came a Moorish voice, an exclamation in the name of Allah, and -the approach of several men whom already she painted as enemies. To take -to her mule, to ride swiftly through the grove, was the impulse of her -fear; and, when again silence gave her token of security, she found that -she had lost her way. It was only after many vain attempts that she -extricated herself from the wood, and then perceived that she had -wandered from the direct road to Granada, whose high towers were visible -at a distance. The burning July noon-day sun scorched her. Her mule -lagged in his pace. As a last effort, she sought a plantation of elms, -not far distant. The grateful murmur of flowing waters saluted her ears -as she approached. For a few minutes more she was exposed to the glaring -sunshine, and then entered the cool umbrage of the trees—the soft -twilight of woven leaves and branches; a fountain rose in the midst, and -she hastened to refresh herself by sprinkling herself with cool waters. -Thus occupied, she thought she was alone in this sequestered nook, when -a crash among the underwood startled her: the mule snorted aloud, and -from the brake issued a mare caparisoned with saddle and bridle. She had -lost her rider; yet her distended nostrils, the foam that flaked her -sides, the shiver that made her polished skin quiver, spoke of recent -contest or flight. She looked on her—could it be? She called her -"Daraxa," and the animal recognized her voice; while, in answer to the -dreadful surmises that awoke in her heart, a low groan was heard from -the near bank. Turning, she beheld the form of a man lying on the -herbage; not dead, for he groaned again, and then stirred, as if with -returning sense. Quick as lightning, she was at his side; she unlaced -his helmet, nor did she need to look at his pallid countenance to be -assured of what she already knew, that Richard of England lay there, but -for her help, expiring. She filled his helm with water, and sprinkling -it over him, he opened his eyes, and groaning again, strove to clasp his -head with his unnerved hand. With light fairy fingers she released him -from his coat of mail, and saw on his right sight side a mass of -congealed blood, which his faintness had made cease to flow from his -wound, bearing that it would bleed again as he revived, she bound it -with his scarf and her own veil, and then gave him water to drink; after -which he showed still more certain signs of recovery. -</p> - -<p> -It was wonder to him to find himself alive, when already he had believed -the bitterness of death to be passed; still greater wonder was it to -behold his own sweet Monina, like a spirit of good, hovering over to -recover him. He tried to raise himself, and she bent down to support -him, resting his head on her gentle heart; he felt its beating, and -blest her with a thousand soft thanks and endearing names. Though the -wound in his side was deep, yet now that the blood was staunched, it did -not seem dangerous. The immediate cause of his swoon was a stunning blow -on his head, which had beat in the iron of his helm, but inflicted no -further injury. It was long, however, before he could move; and the -evening shades had made it almost night, before he could sit his horse -and slowly quit the wood. Wishing to conduct him to where they might -find succour, Monina directed his steps to a village, east of the grove. -They had hardly ridden half a mile, when Richard felt dizzy; he faintly -called her to his side—she received him as he fell, and, supporting -him to a bank, called aloud in agony, in hopes that some wandering -soldier or peasant might be near to aid them. It happened to her wish; -several countrymen, who had been carrying fruit to the Christian camp, -passed them—she conjured them, in the Virgin's name, to assist a -soldier of the faith, a crusader in their cause. Such an appeal was -sacred in their ears; they contrived, with the poles and baskets in -which they had carried their fruit, covering them with a part of their -habiliments and the saddle-cloths of the animals, to form a sort of -litter, on which they placed Richard. Monina followed on foot, clasping -his hand; the men led the horses: and thus they proceeded up the -mountains to a village about two leagues from Granada, where every house -was open to them. The prince was permitted to repose in the habitation -of the Alcalde, and the deep sleep into which he soon fell was a dear -assurance to his friend's anxious heart, of the absence of danger, and a -promise of speedy recovery. -</p> - -<p> -Yet the night that began so well with the patient, wore a less -prosperous appearance towards the conclusion. Monina sat beside his -couch, and perceived with alarm symptoms of pain and fever. According to -the custom of the time, she had acquired some little skill in surgery; -this, when the wound came to be dressed, made her acquainted with its -irritated and dangerous appearance. As the heat of the day came on, the -prince's sufferings increased. In this little village there was neither -physician nor medicaments necessary for the emergency; and the place -itself, low-built, hedged in by mountains, and inhabited by peasants -only, was ill suited for the patient. She resolved that he should that -night be removed to a town on the eastern side of the mountains, -overlooking the plain bordering the sea. A litter was prepared; and she, -fatigued by her journey, and by long and painful solicitude, yet walked -beside it, listening to his low breathing, catching the smallest sound -he made in complaint or questioning. Before she quitted the village, she -employed a peasant to seek Plantagenet, and convey to him intelligence -of the actual state of his friends. -</p> - -<p> -After three days of fear and anxious care, the wound began to heal, and -Richard became convalescent. Who could tell, during the long hours that -composed those days and nights, the varying emotions that agitated poor -Monina? That he should die, was a thought in which, in its extent and -reality, she never indulged: but an awful fear of what of suffering the -coming hours might produce, never for a moment slept within her. She spent -long intervals of time kneeling by his couch—her soft fingers on -his pulse, counting the rapid vibration—her cool hand alone tempered -the burning of his brow; and often, supported by her, he slept, while -she remained in the same position, immovable. The very pain this -produced was a pleasure to her, since it was endured for him who was the -idol of her innocent and pure thoughts; she almost lamented when he no -longer needed her undivided attention: the hours she gave to repose came -like beggars following in a procession of crowned heads; they were no -longer exalted by being devoted to him. -</p> - -<p> -After the lapse of three anxious days he grew rapidly better, and at -evening-tide enjoyed at the open casement the thrilling sweetness of the -mountain air. How transporting and ineffable are the joys of -convalescence!—the calm of mind—the voluptuous -langour—the unrebuked abandonment to mere pleasurable -sensation—the delight that every natural object imparts, fill -those hours with a dream-like, faint ecstasy, more dear to memory than -tumultuous joy. Monina sat near him, and it was dangerous for their -young hearts thus to be united and alone in a fairy scene of beauty and -seclusion. Monina's ardent spirit was entranced by delight at his -recovery: no thought of self mingled with the single idea that he was -saved—saved for youth, for happiness, and for his long-lost -rights. Darkness crept around them, the clumps of chesnut trees grew -more massy and indistinct—the fire-fly was alive among the defiles -of the hills—the bat wheeled round their humble dwelling—the -heavy-winged owl swept with huge flapping wings out of the copse. "Are -ye here?" were the first sounds that broke the silence; it was the voice -of Edmund. Monina sprung up, and glad to disburthen her full heart, -welcomed with an embrace this beloved friend. "Guardian angel of our -lives," he cried; "you are destined at all times to save us!" Dear, -soothing expressions, which then, formed the joy, long afterwards the -master-impulse of her fervent and devoted spirit. -</p> - -<p> -Each told their tale; the one of hazard and mischance, the other of -agonizing inquietude. For Richard, Edmund had feared; but when, wearied, -terrified, and in despair, Lord Barry had brought intelligence of -Monina's disappearance from the streamlet's side where he had left her, -and of a distant view he had caught of Moorish horsemen who took refuge -in Granada—heaven seemed at once to empty on him its direst curses, -and his fate was sealed with misery for ever. -</p> - -<p> -The peasant dispatched by Monina had delayed; not for three days did he -deliver her letter to Plantagenet, who still, trembling in recollection -of his past terror, and what might have been the ultimate event of the -prince's wound, departed on the moment for ——. -</p> - -<p> -And now farewell to Spain! to romantic Spain, to Moorish and Christian -combat, to the gay fields of the Vega, to the sunny mountains of -Andalusia! De Faro's caravel, true to its appointment, arrived at -Almeria. They embarked; their immediate destination was Lisbon; but -their thoughts were fixed on the promised termination of their -wanderings. Soon they would bend their course far away to the islands -of the turbid Northern sea, where nature veils herself in clouds, where -war assumes a sterner aspect, and the very virtues of the inhabitants -grow stubborn and harsh from the struggle they make to be enabled to -bear the physical ills of existence. -</p> - -<p> -Farewell to Spain! to boyhood's feats, to the light coursing of shadows -as he ran a race with the swift-footed hours. A kingdom calls for -Richard! the trials of life attend him, the hope of victory, the -fortitude of well-endured defeat. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h4><a id="chap13"></a></h4> - -<h4>CHAPTER XIII -<br /><br /> -TEMPTATION</h4> - - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">To England, if you will.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i20">SHAKSPEARE.</span> -</div></div></div> - -<p> -A thousand recollections and forgotten thoughts revived in Richard's -bosom when he saw his childhood's friend, the Lady Brampton. He was -reminded of his sufferings in the Tower, of his noble cousin Lincoln, of -her maternal tenderness, when under her care he quitted the gloomy -fortress, his brother Edward's tomb. His mother's last embrace again -thrilled through his frame, and Lovel's parting blessing; what sad -changes had chanced since last he saw her! Sad in all, but that he, then -a boy, had sprung up into the riper age of youthful prowess. -</p> - -<p> -Even with the banished prince we must recur to the state of affairs in -the north of Europe. The French king, Charles the Eighth, had directed -all his attempts to the subjugation of Britany, which was now under the -dominion of the youthful Anne, its orphan duchess. The English nation -espoused her cause, watched with jealousy and indignation the progress -of the French arms, and clamoured loudly for war in her support. Henry, -on the contrary, was obstinately bent upon peace, though he took -advantage of his subjects' appetite for war, to foist subsidies upon -them, which were no sooner collected than his armaments were disbanded, -and an ambassador, sent on a mission of peace, was substituted for the -herald ready apparelled for defiance. This could not last for ever. -French policy triumphed in the marriage of Charles the Eighth with Anne -of Britany; and that duchy became finally annexed to the crown of -France. England was roused to indignation; the king, forced to listen to -their murmurs, promised to invade the rival kingdom the following -spring; a benevolence was granted him; all his acts tended to the -formation of an expedition, which was the best hope of York. -</p> - -<p> -Lord Barry was urgent against delay, while the English partisans wished -that Richard's landing in Ireland, and Henry's in France, should be -consentaneous. Nay, they had deeper views. Ireland, since Simnel's -defeat, appeared but a forlorn hope, and they fostered the expectation -of being able to make England itself the scene of their first attempt, -so soon as its king should be fairly engaged in hostilities on the other -side of the Channel. The duke himself, eager as he was to begin his -career, warmly supported this project; communication with the North was -slow meanwhile, and months wore away—not fruitlessly. Richard gained -in every way by the delay; his knowledge of English affairs grew -clearer; his judgment formed; his strength, weakened by the events of -the summer, was restored during the repose and salubrious coolness of -the winter months. -</p> - -<p> -Accident furthered their designs; a visitor arrived from England, who -brought with him accounts so encouraging, that hope blossomed into -certainty in the hearts of the warm-hearted followers of York. But ere -we introduce this new and seemingly important personage, we must return -awhile to England, to speak of Henry's suspicions, his fears, his artful -policy. -</p> - -<p> -All that Frion had achieved through his abortive attempt, had been but -to ascertain the existence of the duke of York, and to spread still -wider the momentous secret; so that Henry, suspicious and irritated, -received him on his return with anger, resenting his failure as the -result of treachery. Frion had been dismissed; and now years passed -over, without the occurrence of any circumstances that spoke of the -orphan heir of the English crown. The king brooded over the secret, but -spoke of it to no one. The royal youth grew to his imagination, as in -reality he did, passing from boyhood to almost man's estate. Yet, when -Henry reflected on the undisturbed state he had enjoyed for years, on -the firmness with which he was seated on the throne, and the strong hold -he had acquired through the lapse of time on his subjects' minds, he -sometimes thought that even Richard's friends would advise him to -continue in an obscurity, which was, at least, void of danger. -Nevertheless, whenever there had been a question of attacking France, -the feeling that his rival was ready to come forward, and that, instead -of a war of invasion, he might have to fight for his own crown, -increased his unwillingness to enter on the contest. -</p> - -<p> -Now rumours were afloat—none knew whence they came, from France or -Ireland—of the existence of King Edward's younger son, and that he -would speedily appear to claim his succession. Henry, who was accustomed -to tamper with spies and informers, was yet the last to hear of a -circumstance so nearly affecting his interests. The name of Lady -Brampton at length reached him, as being abroad on a secret and -momentous expedition. This name had made a considerable figure in -Richard Simon's confessions; it was connected with Lincoln, Lovel, the -dowager queen, all whom the Tudor feared and hated. Yet he paused before -he acted; his smallest movement might rouse a torpid foe; he only -increased his vigilance; and, from past experience knowing that to be -the weak point, he dispatched emissaries to Ireland, to learn if any -commotion was threatened, any tale rife there, that required his -interference. As the time approached when it was expected that the -English prince would declare himself, the policy of his friends greatly -changed; and, far from maintaining their former mysterious silence, the -circumstance of his abode in Spain, and the expectation of his speedy -appearance in Ireland, made, during the winter of 1491-92, a principal -topic among such of the native nobility as the earl of Desmond had -interested in his cause. Henry's spies brought him tidings beyond his -fears; and he saw that the struggle was at hand, unless he could arrest -the progress of events. Meanwhile, he continued to defer his war with -France; he felt that would be the signal for his enemy's attack. -</p> - -<p> -As he reflected on these things, a scheme developed itself in his mind, -on which he resolved to act. The enemy was distant, obscure, almost -unknown; were it possible to seize upon his person where he then was, to -prevent his proposed journey to Ireland, to prepare for him an -unsuspected but secure prison—no cloud would remain to mar his -prospect; and, as to the boy himself, he could hope for nothing better -than his cousin Warwick's fate, unless he had preferred, to the -hazardous endeavour of dethroning his rival, a private and innocuous -life in the distant clime where chance had thrown him. This was to be -thought of no more: already he was preparing for the bound, but ere he -made it, he must be crushed for ever. -</p> - -<p> -In those times, when recent civil war had exasperated the minds of men -one against the other, it was no difficult thing for a Lancastrian king -to find an instrument willing and fitting to work injury against a -Yorkist. During Henry's exile in Brittany, he had become acquainted with -a man, who had resorted to him there for the sole purpose of exciting -him against Richard the Third! he had been a favourite page of Henry the -Sixth, he had waited on his son, Edward, prince of Wales, that noble -youth whose early years promised every talent and virtue; he had -idolized the heroic and unhappy Queen Margaret. Henry died a foul death -in the Tower; the gracious Edward was stabbed at Tewkesbury; the royal -Margaret had given place to the widow Woodville; while, through the -broad lands of England, the sons of York rioted in the full possession -of her wealth. Meiler Trangmar felt every success of theirs as a -poisoned arrow in his flesh—he hated them, as the mother may hate -the tiger whose tusks are red with the life-blood of her -first-born—he hated them, not with the measured aversion of a -warlike foe, but the dark frantic vehemence of a wild beast deprived of -its young. He had been the father of three sons; the first had died at -Prince Edward's feet, ere he was taken prisoner; another lost his head -on the scaffold; the third—the boy had been nurtured in hate, bred -amid dire curses and bitter imprecations, all levelled against Edward -the Fourth and his brothers—his mind had become distorted by the -ill food that nurtured it—he brooded over the crimes of these men, -till he believed that he should do a good deed in immolating them to the -ghosts of the murdered Lancastrians. He attempted the life of the -king—was seized—tortured to discover his accomplices: he was -tortured, and the father heard his cries beneath the dread instrument, -to which death came as a sweet release. Real madness for a time -possessed the unhappy man, and when reason returned, it was only the -dawn of a tempestuous day, which rises on the wrecks of a gallant fleet -and its crew, strewn on the dashing waves of a stormy sea. He dedicated -himself to revenge; he had sought Henry in Brittany; he had fought at -Bosworth, and at Stoke. The success of his cause, and the peace that -followed, was at first a triumph, at last almost a pain to him. He was -haunted by memories which pursued him like the hell-born Eumenides; -often he uttered piercing shrieks, as the scenes, so pregnant with -horror, recurred too vividly to his mind. The priests, to whom he had -recourse as his soul's physicians, counselled him the church's -discipline; he assumed the Franciscan habit, but found sackcloth and -ashes no refuge from the greater torture of his mind. This man, in -various ways, had been recalled to Henry's mind, and now he selected him -to effect his purpose. -</p> - -<p> -To any other he would have feared to intrust the whole secret; but the -knowledge that the destined victim was the son and rightful heir of King -Edward, would add to his zealous endeavours to crush him. Besides that -Trangmar had a knowledge of the fact, from having been before employed -to extract in his priestly character this secret from a Yorkist, Sir -George Neville, who had been intrusted by Sir Thomas Broughton. Everything -yielded in this wretch's mind to his hatred of York; and he scrupled not -to hazard his soul, and betray the secrets of the confessional. Neville -fortunately was informed in time of the danger that menaced him, and had -fled; while Trangmar, thunderstruck by the magnitude of his discovery, -hastened to reveal it to the king. It were long to detail each act of -the crafty sovereign, and his scarcely human tool. By his order, the -friar introduced himself to the dowager queen, at Bermondsey, with a -plausible tale, to which she, in spite of her caution, was induced to -give ear, and intrusted a message by him, as he said that he was on his -way to Spain, to seek and exhort to action the dilatory prince. He then -departed. Henry had rather to restrain than urge his furious zeal. The -scheme projected was, that Richard should be entrapped on board a -vessel, and brought with secrecy and speed to England, where he might be -immured for life in some obscure castle in Wales. Trangmar promised that -either he would accomplish this, or that the boy should find a still -more secret prison, whence he could never emerge to disturb the reign of -Henry, or put in jeopardy the inheritance of his son. -</p> - -<p> -Such was the man who, in the month of April, 1492, following Lady -Brampton's steps, arrived at Lisbon, and found to his wish the prince -there also, and easy access afforded him to his most secret counsels. He -brought letters from the dowager queen, and some forged ones from other -partisans of York, inviting the prince, without application to any -foreign sovereigns, or aid from distant provinces, at once to repair to -England, and to set up his standard in the midst of his native land, -where, so these letters asserted, the earl of Surrey and many other -powerful lords anxiously awaited him. All this accorded too well with -the wishes of the little conclave not to insure assent; nay, more, when -Trangmar urged the inexpediency of the duke's being accompanied by such -notorious Yorkists as Plantagenet and Lady Brampton, it was suddenly -agreed that Richard should embark on board a merchantman, to sail with -the next fair wind for England, while his friends dispersed themselves -variously for his benefit. De Faro, in his caravel, was to convey Lord -Barry to Cork. Plantagenet resolved to visit the duchess of Burgundy, at -Brussels. Lady Brampton departed for the court of France, to engage the -king at once to admit young Richard's claim, and aid him to make it -good. "You, sweet, will bear me company;" and Monina, her whole -soul—and her eyes expressed that soul's devotion to Richard's -success—remembered, starting, that the result of these consultations -was to separate her from her childhood's companion, perhaps, for ever. -As if she had tottered on the brink of a precipice, she shuddered; but -all was well again. It was not to be divided from the prince, to remain -with Lady Brampton, to proceed to Paris with her; on his earliest -triumph to make a part of it, and to join his court in London. All these -words, king, victory, and court, wove a golden tissue before the ardent -girl's eyes; she had not yet -</p> - -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">"Lifted the painted veil which men call life;"</span> -</div></div> - -<p> -as a child who chases the glories of the west, she knew not that night -was falling upon her, while still she fancied that she advanced towards -the ever-retreating splendour of the sky. -</p> - -<p> -Lady Brampton and Plantagenet trembled, as they committed their beloved -charge to other hands; they importuned Trangmar with their -injunctions—their entreaties, their thousand last words of care and -love—the friar heard, and smiled assent to all. Monina had need of -all her courage for the hour, which she knew not that she dreaded till it -came. He was going; the truth flashed suddenly upon her—he, from whom -since childhood she had scarcely been absent for a day. So blind had she -been to her own sensations, that it was not until he leaped into the -boat, and put off from shore, that she became aware of the overwhelming -tide of grief, disquiet, almost of despair, that inundated her heart. -Where was her gaiety, her light, ethereal spirit flown? Why lagged the -hours thus? Why did ceaseless reverie seem her only refuge from -intolerable wretchedness? -</p> - -<p> -She had one other solace; she was still with his friends, whose whole -thoughts were spent upon him; his name enriched their discourse; the -chances of his voyage occupied their attention. Little knew they the -strange and tragic drama that was acting on board the skiff that bore -afar the idol of their hopes. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h4><a id="chap14"></a></h4> - -<h4>CHAPTER XIV -<br /><br /> -THE TRAITOR PUNISHED</h4> - - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">This friar boasteth that he knoweth hell,</span><br /> -<span class="i0">And God it wot that is but litel wonder;</span><br /> -<span class="i0">Friars and fiends ben but litel asonder.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i20">CHAUCER.</span> -</div></div></div> - -<p> -Richard meanwhile sailed fearlessly, with treachery for his nearest -mate. Trangmar had at once exhibited audacity and prudence in the -arrangement of his plan. He had made no great preparation, nor confided -to any the real object of his intents. His only care had been, that the -duke should sail on board an English vessel; and chance had brought into -the Tagus one whose captain was inclined to the party of Lancaster. He -also contrived to have two hirelings of his own engaged on board as part -of the crew, who knew that it was their employer's design to carry to -England a prisoner for the king. He was besides provided with a warrant -from Henry, empowering him to seize on his rebel subject—the name a -blank, for the monk to fill up—alive or dead. The paper ran thus; so, -in case of struggle, to afford warranty for his darker purpose. -</p> - -<p> -Richard was now a prisoner. The vessel belonging to any country is a -portion of that country; and the deck of this merchantman was virtually -a part of the British soil. The prince, not heeding his position, was so -far from fearing his enemy's power, that he felt glad to find himself -among his countrymen. He looked on the weather-beaten countenances of -the honest sailors, and believed that he should find friends and -partisans in all. He spoke to Trangmar of his purpose of declaring -himself, and gaining them over; making this tiny offshoot of wide -England his first conquest. Trangmar had not anticipated this. He was -ignorant of the versatile and active spirit of the youth with whom he -had to deal; nor had he, by putting himself in imagination in the -prince's place, become aware how the project of acquiring his own was -his sleepless incentive to every action, and how he saw in every event a -stepping-stone in the prosecution of his enterprise. He started at the -proposal, and in his own heart said, "I must lose no time; that which I -thought to do next week, were better done to-morrow." With Richard he -argued against this measure: he showed how the captain was bound to the -present English government by his fortunes; how far more likely it was -that, instead of gaining him and his crew, he would be made a prisoner -by them, and delivered up to his enemy. Richard lent no great credence -to this, but he yielded to the authority of the elder and the priest. -</p> - -<p> -It was not in the power of his wily adversary to prevent him from -ingratiating himself in the hearts of all around him. Besides his -gentleness, his unaffected sympathy, and noble demeanour, his gay and -buoyant spirit was congenial to the reckless sailors, who, during the -dead calm that succeeded their first day's sail after quitting the -Tagus, were glad of amusement to diversify their monotonous lives. He -interceded with their captain when any fault was committed; he learned -their private histories, promised his assistance, and scattered money -among them. Sometimes he called them around him to teach him their art, -discoursing about the stars, the magnet, the signs of the weather; he -climbed the shrouds, handled the ropes, became an adept in their -nautical language. At other times he listened to tales of dreadful -shipwrecks and sailors' hardships, and recounted in turn De Faro's -adventures. This made them talk of the new African discoveries, and -descant on the wild chimeras or sage conclusions of Columbus, who at -last, it was said, was to be sent by the sovereigns of Spain in quest of -the western passage to India, over the slant and boundless Atlantic. All -this time, with flapping sails, they lay but a short distance off the -mouth of the Tagus; and Trangmar, impatient of delay, yet found it -prudent to postpone his nefarious purpose. -</p> - -<p> -After the calm had continued for nearly a week, signs of bad weather -manifested themselves; squalls assailed the ship, settling at last in a -gale, which grew into a tempest. Their little vessel was decked, yet -hardly able to resist the lashing waves of the Bay of Biscay. A leak, -which had shown itself even during the calm, increased frightfully; the -men were day and night employed at the pumps, exposed to the beating -rain, and to the waves, which perpetually washed the deck, drenching -their clothes and bedding; each hour the wind became more furious, dark -water-spouts dipping into the boiling sea, and churning it to fury, -swept past them, and the steep sides of the mountain-high billows were -ready at every moment to overwhelm them. Their tiny bark, which in these -days would scarcely receive a more dignified name than a skiff, was -borne as a leaf on the stream of the wind, its only safety consisting in -yielding to its violence. Often at the worst the men despaired. The -captain himself, frightened at the danger—and, strange inconsistency, -still more fearful of the ruin that must attend him if his vessel were -wrecked—lost all presence of mind. The prince displayed, meanwhile, -all his native energy; he commanded the men, and they obeyed him, -looking on him as a superior being; when, by following his orders, the -progress of the leak was checked, and the tossed bark laboured less -among the surges. "Sailors have short prayers," he said; "but if they -are sincere ones, the saints will not the less intercede for us before -God. Join me, my men, in a pious vow. I swear, by our Lady's precious -name, to walk barefoot to her nearest shrine the first land we touch, -and there to make a gift of incense and candles at her altar. This, if -we escape; if not, here is Father Meiler, a holy Franciscan, to give us -short shrift; so that, like devout Catholics, we may recommend our souls -to the mercy of Jesus. And now to the pump, the ropes; bring me a -hatchet—our mast must overboard." -</p> - -<p> -Three days and nights they worked unremittingly; the lull that then -succeeded was followed by another tempest, and the exhausted mariners -grew desperate. They had been borne far into the Atlantic, and now the -wind shifting, drove them with the same fury into the Bay of Biscay. -Every moment in expectation of death, the heart of Trangmar softened -towards his victim in spite of himself; he was forced to admire his -presence of mind, his unvanquishable courage; his light, yet gentle -spirit, which made him bear up under every difficulty, yet pity those -who sunk beneath, cheering them with accents at once replete with -kindness and fearless submission to the decree of Providence. Feeling -the crew bound to him as his natural subjects, he extended towards them -a paternal love, and felt called upon to guard and save them. After, for -a fortnight, they had thus been the sport of the elements, the gale -decreased; the violent breakers subsided into one long swell, which bore -them into a sheltered cove, in the wild coast that surrounds the Bay of -Biscay. The men disembarked, the vessel was drawn up; all hands were -employed in unlading and repairing her. "Ye do ill," said Richard; "do -you not remember our vow? Doubtless some village is near which contains -a shrine where we may pay it." -</p> - -<p> -This piety was in accord with the spirit of the times; and the men, -rebuked, revered still more the youth who had saved them in danger, and -who now in safety paid, with religious zeal, the debt incurred towards -their heavenly patroness. A little village lay secluded near the creek, -and above it, on a high rock, was a chapel dedicated to Saint Mary of -the Ascension, erected by a noble, who had vowed such offering on -escaping, as the prince of England had, from death on those perilous -seas. Bareheaded, barefooted, bearing lights, following the Franciscan -who led the way, the crew of the St. George proceeded towards the -shrine. Next to the Blessed Virgin, Richard claimed their gratitude; and -after due Aves had been said at the altar, still in the sacred place -they gathered round him, offering their property and their lives, -imploring him to accept from them some pledge of their thankfulness. The -heart of the outcast sovereign swelled within him. "I reign here, in -their breasts I reign," was the thought that filled his bright eyes with -a dew springing from the fulness of his soul. With a smile of triumph he -looked towards Father Meiler, as if to appeal to his judgment, whether -now he might not declare himself, and claim these men's allegiance. He -was startled by the dark and even ferocious expression of Trangmar's -countenance. His coarse brown Franciscan dress, belted in by a rope; the -cowl thrown back, displaying the monkish tonsure; the naked feet: these -were symbols of humility and Christian virtue, in strong contrast with -the deep lines of his face, and the glare of his savage eyes. He met the -glance of his victim, and became confused, while the prince in wonder -hastened to ask what strange thoughts occupied him, painting his visage -with every sign of fierce passion. -</p> - -<p> -"I was thinking," said Trangmar, hesitating; "I was deliberating, since -God has cast us back on the land, whether it were not wiser to continue -our journey through France, bidding farewell to the perils of the ocean -sea?" -</p> - -<p> -"That will I not," cried the prince. "Father Meiler, I watched you -during the storm; you acted no coward's part then; why do you now?" -</p> - -<p> -"When danger is near, I can meet it as a man of courage," said Trangmar; -"when it is far, I can avoid it like a prudent one." -</p> - -<p> -"A good clerical distinction, fit for a monk," replied the duke; "but I, -who am a cavalier, father, love rather to meet danger, than to avoid it -like a woman or a priest." -</p> - -<p> -"Insulting boy!" cried Meiler; "dare you taunt me with cowardice? That I -was a soldier ere I was a monk, some of your race dearly rued!" -</p> - -<p> -Before these words were fully uttered, Trangmar recollected himself; his -voice died away, so that his last expression was inaudible. The duke -only beheld his burst of passion and sudden suppression of it, and said -gently, "Pardon me, father; it is my fault that you forgot the respect -due to me. I forgot the reverence meet from youth to age—most meet -from a sinful boy to a holy monk." -</p> - -<p> -"I thank your highness," said the friar, "for recalling to my memory a -truth that had half escaped it. Henceforth be assured that I will not -forget that you are the undoubted offspring of the earl of March—of -Edward of England." -</p> - -<p> -Fate thus urged this wicked and miserable man to his fiend-like purpose. -Awakened again to deadly vengeance, he resolved to delay no longer; to -trust no more to chance: he saw now all the difficulties of his former -scheme of taking his enemy a prisoner to England; and this soothed his -conscience as he recurred to more fatal designs. During the short delay -that intervened before they again put out to sea, he watched an -opportunity, but found none. At length they weighed anchor; and with a -favourable wind, bore down the coast of France. The time was come, he -surely thought: for during this long voyage he could frame an -opportunity; during some dark night, when the ship sailed cheerily -before a fair breeze, he would engage the prince in engrossing talk -concerning the conduct he should pursue when in England, taking -advantage of his victim's incautiousness to allure him near the brink, -and then push him overboard. His single strength was more than a match -for his slight adversary; but to render his scheme doubly sure, he would -have the two men in his pay near him, to assist, in the case of -struggle, and vouch for his innocence if he were accused of foul play. -</p> - -<p> -It is the fortune of those hurried into crime by violent passion, that -they can seldom find accomplices as wicked as themselves. Thus was it -with Trangmar. The men whose assistance he relied upon, the enthusiasm -of their fellow-sailors for their noble passenger. After they had again -set sail, the wind blowing gently from the south, bore them onwards with -a favourable navigation, till, shifting a few points eastward, it began -to freshen. It was then that the Franciscan, not wholly betraying his -purpose, but hinting that their presence would be necessary, ordered his -men to contrive that the rest of the crew should be below, and they near -at hand, while he that night should be alone with Richard upon deck. One -of the men replied by stoutly declaring that if any evil was threatened -the prince, he would not be a party in it. "You possess King Henry's -warrant," he said, "to make this Fitzroy a prisoner. I will not oppose -his majesty's command. You have him safely; what would you more?" -</p> - -<p> -The other apparently yielded an assent to his employer's commands, and -then found a speedy opportunity to warn Richard of his danger A veil -fell from the prince's eyes. "Surely I knew this before," he thought; -"ever since I was in Saint Mary's Chapel, I must have known that this -dastard monk was my enemy. I am indeed betrayed, alone, friendless, on -board an English vessel, surrounded by an English crew. Now let the -trial be made, whether simple honesty be not of more avail than cruelty -and craft. But first let me fathom the full intention of this man, and -learn whether he have a worse design than that of delivering me over -defenceless to my adversary. It cannot be that he would really murder -me." -</p> - -<p> -The breeze had rather sunk towards sunset, but it arose again with the -stars; the vessel's prow struck against the light waves, and danced -gaily on through the sea. One man stood at the helm; another, one of the -friar's hirelings, loitered near; the other kept out of the way. Still, -beneath the thousand stars of cloudless night, the little bark hurried -on, feeling the freshening of the wind; her larboard beam was deep in -the water, and close at the deck's leeward edge, Meiler and his intended -victim paced. One thoughtless boy, high among the shrouds, whistled in -answer to the winds. There was at once solitude and activity in the -scene. "This is the hour," thought Richard; "surely if man's sinful -heart was ever touched with remorse, this man's may now. God's throne, -visible in all its beauty above us—beneath, around, the awful roaring -waters, from which we lately so miraculously escaped." He began to speak -of England, of his mother, of the hopes held out to him by his -companion; eager in his desire of winning a traitor to the cause of -truth, he half forgot himself, and then started to find that, ever as he -walked, his companion got him nearer to the brink of the slant, slippery -deck. Seized with horror at this manifestation of the worst designs, yet -scarcely daring to credit his suspicions, he suddenly stopped, seizing a -rope that swung near, and steadying himself by winding his arm round it, -an act that escaped his enemy's observation, for, as he did it, he -spoke: "Do you know, Father Meiler, that I suspect and fear you? I am an -inexperienced youth, and if I am wrong, forgive me; but you have changed -towards me of late, from the kind friend you once were. Strange doubts -have been whispered: do you reply to them. Are you my friend, or are you -a treacherous spy?—the agent of the noble Yorkists, or Henry Tudor's -hireling murderer?" -</p> - -<p> -As he spoke, the friar drew still nearer, and the prince recoiled -farther from him: he got on the sheer edge of the deck. "Rash boy!" -cried Trangmar, "know that I am no hireling: sacred vengeance pricks me -on! Son of the murderer! tell me, where is sainted Henry? where Prince -Edward? where all the noble martyrs of his cause? where my brave and -lost sons? There, even where thou shalt be: quick, look back, thy grave -yawns for thee!" -</p> - -<p> -With the words he threw himself furiously on the prince: the stripling -sprung back with all the force lent him by the rope he held, and pushed -at the same time Trangmar violently from him, as he cried aloud on the -sailors, "What, ho! treason is among us!" A heavy splash of the falling -Meiler answered his call: the strong man was cast down in his very -pride; the waters divided, and sucked him in. In a moment the crew were -on deck; Trangmar's hireling, scared, cried out, "He is King Henry's -prisoner! seize him!" thus increasing the confusion. The friar, his -garments floating, now appeared struggling among the waves; a rope was -thrown to him; the vessel sped on meanwhile, and it fell far short; -Richard, horror-struck, would have leapt in to save his enemy; but the -time was gone. One loud shriek burst on the ear of night, and all was -still; Trangmar, his misery, his vengeance, and his crimes, lay buried -in the ocean's hoary caves. -</p> - -<p> -What explanation could follow this tremendous incident? The prince spoke -of his life attacked; the men of the warrant their master had for his -seizure: what was his crime none knew. "That will I declare freely," -said the royal youth; "that unhappy man has sealed my truth by his -death. In my childhood I was nurtured in a palace, and bore the title of -the duke of York. Edward the Fourth was my father, Edward the Fifth my -brother." -</p> - -<p> -"Why this is foulest treason," cried the trembling captain. -</p> - -<p> -"Ay, or fairest loyalty; speak, my friends; which of you will lay hands -on your liege, on Richard the Fourth of England?" -</p> - -<p> -The reckless and ignorant sailors, riotously and with one acclaim, swore -to die for him; but their commander shuddered at the peril that beset -him: while his men were hanging round their idolized prince, he retired -with his mate to lament the ugly chance of Trangmar's death, and to -express terror at the very name of York. If the captain was a -coward-friend of Tudor, the mate was a sturdy Lancastrian; he -recommended his chief to seize the boy, and convey him a welcome gift to -his sovereign; the clamours of the delighted crew showed that this was -vain advice. He had said to them, with all the ingenuousness of youth, -"My life is in your hands, and I know that it is safe." Yet, when they -spoke of seizing their unwilling commander, and of delivering the vessel -in his hands, he said, "My good friends, I will not make lawless acts -the stepping-stones to my throne; it is grief enough for me that my -young hands have unwittingly destroyed the life of one who, not as an -armed knight, but in holy garb set himself against me. I myself will -persuade your captain to do me all the service I require." -</p> - -<p> -This poor man was willing enough to hear what he called reason; at first -he would fain have entreated Richard to suffer himself to be carried a -prisoner to England; and, when he found his discourse vain, he yielded -timid obedience to York's wishes, in spite of the lowering brow of his -mate: thus, at least, his cargo would be saved, and his crew preserved -from mutiny. Richard simply requested to be set on shore in Cork -harbour, suddenly relinquishing every thought of England, now that he -saw the treachery that awaited him there, and recurring to the former -plans of Lord Barry. In Ireland, in the county of the Desmonds, he -should find friends, adherents, almost prepared for his arrival; and -there also, if Barry forgot not his promise, this stanch partisan would -speedily join him: the captain gladly assented to any project that did -not force him to land this dangerous pretender on the English shores. -</p> - -<p> -For one week they ran before the wind; and Ireland, far and low, was -discernible on the horizon; the dear land of promise to the weary exile, -the betrayed, but high-hearted prince: during this short navigation it -had required all his fortitude to banish from his mind the image of the -friar struggling in the waves, of a man precipitated in the very act of -crime "unhouseled, unanointed, unannealed," into the life-quenching -waters. Besides all other expectations, Richard longed to get on shore, -that in a confessional he might lift this burthen of involuntary guilt -from his soul. -</p> - -<p> -At length the iron-bound coast was right ahead; the ponderous rocky jaws -of the creek were open, and they sailed up Passage, past beautiful and -woody islands, under forest-crowned hills, till they cast anchor before -the picturesque and hill-set city of Cork, whose quay was crowded by -multitudes, gazing on the newly-arrived vessel. -</p> - -<p> -The duke of York stood on the prow of his skiff, reflecting on the first -step he ought to take. He knew little of Ireland, and that little had -been gleaned from Lord Barry: he heard from him of its warlike chiefs, -its uncivilized septs, and English settlers, scarce less wild, and quite -as warlike as its aboriginal inhabitants. He called to mind the names -most familiar to him—the earl of Kildare, abettor of Simnel, pardoned -by Henry, and continued in his office of Lord Deputy; the earl of -Desmond, whom Lord Barry had particularly interested in his favour, who -affected the state of an Irish chieftain, or rather king, and who, in -his remote abode in Munster, disdained to attend the Dublin parliament, -or to make one of the lawful governors of the land. Other names he -remembered of less note: Plunket, the lord chief justice, whom, with -infinite reluctance, Henry had pardoned; Keating, prior of Kilmainham, -who had been constable of Dublin Castle, and who, ejected from his -office after the battle of Stoke, had saved himself by flight, and was -now concealed in an abbey near Buttevant. Much, however, of what he had -heard, escaped his memory; and he stood on the threshold of this unknown -land, vainly seeking in his recollection for the dim and shadowy forms -which were to guide him in the new and unexplored world before him. -Another reflection also presented itself: Lord Barry had quitted Ireland -the year before, and communication there had been none since then—Was -Kildare still deputy? did incursions of the natives, or turbulence among -themselves, occupy the lords of the Pale? Should he find a band of -nobles and their followers ready to assist him, or the motley population -of a barbarous wild, whose sole ideas were internal struggles for power, -whose watchwords for enterprise were names and things in which he had no -portion? -</p> - -<p> -In a hurried manner, York resolved on his plan of action. He had, on -their approach to land, arrayed himself in gay and rich apparel. The -Spain from which he came was parent of this act: there embroidery, -housings inlaid with gold, and arms encrusted with jewels, formed the -pride of the high-born cavaliers. He stood prepared to land; he thanked -the captain for his enforced courtesy; he held out his hand to the crew, -who gathered round him with their prayers and blessings. "My own!" was -his first thought as he set his foot on shore: "Hail, realm of my -fathers! Hear the vow of the fugitive who claims your sway! Justice, -mercy, and paternal love, are the gifts with which I will repay your -obedience to my call; your submission to my rule." -</p> - -<p> -"Heave the anchor, and away!" thus spoke the captain of the craft he had -left. -</p> - -<p> -"For England; to warn our king of this springal's insolent presumption," -said the mate. -</p> - -<p> -"To any quarter of the wide world, save England," replied the timid -captain: "Would you have me run my neck into the noose for not having -clapped under hatches this mercurial spark? Master mate, learn from an -old sailor, that the best you can do with kings and grandees, is to have -nought to do with them." -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h4><a id="chap15"></a></h4> - -<h4>CHAPTER XV -<br /><br /> -THE LANDING AT CORK</h4> - - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">Then Paridell, in whom a kindly pride</span><br /> -<span class="i2">Of gracious speech, and skill his words to frame</span><br /> -<span class="i2">Abounded, being glad of so fit tide</span><br /> -<span class="i0">Him to commend to them, thus spake, of all well eyed.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i20">SPENSER.</span> -</div></div></div> - -<p> -Cork was an asylum for civilization in the centre of a savage district. -The cautious burghers, made wealthy by trade, and ever in fear of -incursions from the surrounding septs, kept the strictest guard upon -their city, as if they had a continual siege laid to it. They forbade -all intercourse or intermarriage between those within and without the -walls, till every citizen became linked together by some sort of -kindred. It is true, that the country around was peopled to a great -degree by English lords; but they were the degenerate English, as they -were styled, who imitated the state and independence of the native -chiefs. Such was the earl of Desmond, of the family of the Geraldines, -who ruled as a king over Munster, and with whom the Barrys, the De -Courcys, the Barrets, and the Mac Carthys, Mac Swineys, and other native -chiefs, were connected by marriage, or struggling with him for -"chieferie" in the mutable chance of war. -</p> - -<p> -There was no appearance of timidity in the frank and assured aspect of -the unfriended adventurer, as, without entering the city, but merely -passing through its suburbs, he proceeded to the cathedral church. It -was twelve o'clock on the 24th of June, the feast of Saint John the -Baptist; and high mass was celebrating. The duke of York entered the -church—his soul was filled with pious gratitude for his escape -from the dangers of the sea, and the craft of his enemies; and, as he -knelt, he made a vow to his sainted patroness, the Virgin, to erect a -church on the height which first met his eyes as he approached shore, -and to endow a foundation of Franciscans—partly, because of all -monkish orders they chiefly venerate her name, partly to atone for his -involuntary crime in the death of Meiler Trangmar, who wore that habit. -The appearance of this young, silken-suited, and handsome cavalier, drew -the eyes of Erin's blue-eyed daughters:—the men whispered together -that he must be some Spanish grandee or English noble; but wherefore, -unannounced and unattended, he came and knelt in their church before the -shrine of Saint Finbar, was matter of vague conjecture. The congregation -passed out; then, impelled by curiosity, formed a wide semicircle round -the gates of the cathedral, watching the motions of the graceful -stranger. Master John Lavallan, the mayor, John O'Water, the wealthiest -citizen, and former mayor of the town, and other rich burghers, stood -close to the Round Tower within the walls of the Garth, in expectation -of being addressed by their distinguished visitor. The duke of York cast -a quick glance around; and then, as the mayor advanced, the youth -stepped forward to meet him. The citizen, as one habituated to exercise -hospitality, bade the knight welcome, beseeching him to honour his abode -with his presence, and to command his services. The duke frankly -accepted the invitation, and descended with the mayor into the main -street, where that officer resided; and here again Richard was made -welcome to the city of Cork. -</p> - -<p> -It was a gala day at the mayor's; and now, at the dinner hour, twelve -o'clock, the long tables groaned under the weight of viands, and round -the hospitable board were seated the principal families of the town. No -questions were asked the visitor—his golden spurs bespoke his -honourable rank; he was placed at the right hand of Lavallan; and, while -the clatter of knives and trenchers went on, he was only remarked by the -younger guests, who gazed, even to the injury of their appetites, on his -burnished ringlets, his fair open brow, his bright blue eyes, and smile -of courteous affability: but time went on; the dishes were carried away, -the goblets placed; when the mayor, rising, drank welcome to the -stranger, and asked, if no reason forbade him to reply, his name and -mission. Already Richard had become acquainted with most of the -countenances of his entertainers—that is, of those nearest him; for, -far through the long hall, almost out of sight, the table extended, -crowded by city retainers, and a few of the mere "Irishry," whose long -hair and loose saffron-coloured mantles contrasted with the doublet, -hose, and trimmed locks of the townsmen. Those near him bore the latter -character, though their vivacious glances and quick gestures were more -akin to the inhabitants of the south, among whom he had been accustomed -to live, than to the steady, dull demeanour of English traders. -</p> - -<p> -When Lavallan drank to the stranger, every eye turned to the object of -the toast, Richard arose—his plumed cap was doffed; his shining hair, -parted on his brow, clustered round his throat; his sunny countenance was -full of confidence and courage—"Sir Mayor," he said, "my most kind -entertainer, and you, my friends, men of Cork, may the grateful thanks -of the homeless adventurer be as kindly received by you, as they are -gladly paid by him. Who am I? you ask. Wherefore do I come? My name is -the best in the land; my coming is to claim your aid, to elevate it to -its rightful place of pride and honour. Were I craven-hearted, or you -less generous, I might dread to declare myself; but fear never entered -the heart of a Plantagenet; and, when, unreservedly, I place my life in -your hands, will you betray the trust?" -</p> - -<p> -A murmur quickly hushed, the sound of suppressed emotion, as the winds -of thought passed over the minds of those around, for an instant -interrupted the speaker— -</p> - -<p> -"Neither is my name nor lineage unknown to you," he continued: "you -honour both and have obeyed them; will you refuse to submit to me, their -descendant and representative? Did you not vow fealty to Richard duke of -York, who, driven from his own England by false Lancaster, found refuge -and succour here? Was not Clarence your ruler, and Edward of England -monarch of your isle? In the name of these, in the name of the White Rose -and Mortimer and Plantagenet—I, the son of Edward the Fourth, the -victim of my uncle Gloster's treachery, and low-born Tudor's usurpation; -I, named in my childhood duke of York and lord of Ireland, now, if -rightly styled, Richard the Fourth of England, demand my lieges of Cork -to acknowledge my rights, to rise in my cause. I, a prince and an -outcast, place myself in their hands, through them to be a fugitive for -ever, or a king." -</p> - -<p> -Had Richard planted this scene, with deep insight into the dispositions -of those with whom he had to deal, he could not have projected a better -arrangement. They had learned of his existence from Lord Barry, and were -prepossessed in his favour. Their fiery hearts were lighted at the -word—his name, with a thousand blessings attached to it, rang through -the hall: by means of the servants and followers at the lower end of the -table, it reached the outer apartments and avenues of the mansion-house; -while, with a kind of exalted rapture, the mayor and his guests hung -over their new-found prince. The citizens began to gather without, and -to call aloud for the White Rose of England; the day was finished in -festal tumult; the mayor led forth his princely visitor—he was hailed -lord of Ireland with one acclaim. Some elders, who had known his -grandfather, or had been followers of the duke of Clarence, and others -who, visiting England, had seen Edward the Fourth were struck by the -likeness he bore to his progenitors, and enthusiastically touched for -his truth. To see and hear the mad exultation of the moment, an -uninterested spectator must have thought that a messenger from heaven -had arrived, to bestow liberty on the groaning slaves of some -blood-nurtured tyrant. The duke was installed in the castle with -princely state, a town-guard appointed him, and the night was far -advanced, before he was permitted to repose, and wondering to collect -his thoughts, and feel himself an acknowledged sovereign in the first -town of his alienated dominions in which he had set foot. -</p> - -<p> -The morrow brought no diminution to the zeal of his partizans. The first -measure of the day was his attending high mass, surrounded by the mayor -and citizens; when the holy ceremony was finished, he took oath on the -Gospels, that he was the man he had declared himself. The eager people -clamoured for him to assume the name of king; but that he said he would -win with his good sword, nor, till he possessed its appanage, assume a -barren title: he was the duke of York, until at Westminster he received -his paternal crown. -</p> - -<p> -From the church the mayor and citizens attended his council at the -Castle, and here Richard more fully explained to them the projects of -Lord Barry, his hopes from the earl of Desmond, and his wish to attach -to his cause the earl of Kildare, Lord Deputy of Ireland. He learned the -changes that had taken place but a month or two before: some suspicion -having entered Henry's mind, the earl of Kildare had been dismissed from -his high office, and Walter, archbishop of Dublin, substituted in his -room. The baron of Portlester, who had been treasurer for forty years, -was obliged to resign in favour of a Butler, hereditary and bitter -enemies of the Geraldines, while the exaltation of Plunket, from the -office of chief justice to that of chancellor, only proved that he was -entirely gained over to the Lancastrians. The acts of this new -government tended to mortify the late deputy, who bore ill his own -degradation and the triumph of his enemies. On various occasions brawls -had ensued; and when Sir James of Ormond wished to place a creature of -his own in a castle over which Kildare claimed seignory, the latter -defended it by arms. This turbulent state of things promised fair for -the adventurer: and his first deed was to despatch letters to the earls -of Kildare and Desmond, soliciting their assistance, setting forth the -ready zeal of the city of Cork, and the promises and attachment of Lord -Barry, whom he daily expected to see arrive. -</p> - -<p> -In all that the English prince did, nothing spoke louder for him to his -Irish friends than his fearless confidence, and artless, yet not -undignified reliance on their counsels. He had gained a warm friend in -the former mayor, O'Water, a man reverenced throughout Munster. In his -youth he had served in the army, and his spirit was hardly yet tamed to -the pacific habits of a burgher. He was sixty years of age; but he bore -his years lightly, and remembered but as the occurrence of yesterday the -time when the duke of York, grandfather of young Richard, was lord of -Ireland. He had attached himself particularly to his person, and -followed him to England, returning to his own country after his patron's -death. He saw in the descendant of his chief, his rightful lord, to -refuse obedience to whom was a sin against the laws of God and man. He -fervently swore never to desert him, and despatched emissaries on all -sides to spread the tidings of his arrival, and excite the partizans of -the White Rose to his active assistance. -</p> - -<p> -When the letters were written, council held, and a course of conduct -determined on, still the caravel of De Faro did not appear, and Richard -grew weary of his state of indolence. A week passed; and during the -second, at the conclusion of which, the answers from the noble -chieftains were expected, the duke of York announced to O'Water his -intention of visiting Buttevant, the seat of Lord Barry, where, in the -Abbey of Ballybeg, he hoped to find the abbot of Kilmainham; a man who, -in exile and poverty, exercised great influence over the Irish Yorkists. -He had been insolent and cruel towards his enemies when in power, but he -was endowed with popular qualities for his followers; while among his -friends, he was valued for his boldness, sagacity, and undaunted -courage. His career had been turbulent; he had supported himself against -his sovereign by acts of lawless violence, till, obliged at last to -yield, he found himself, in his old age, a poor brother in a distant -monastery, obliged, for safety's sake, to veil his lofty pretensions in -the obscurest guise. Lord Barry had offered him an asylum in the Abbey -of Ballybeg; venerating, with the blind admiration of a soldier, the -learning and craft of the priest, conjoined, as it here was, to -dauntless courage. O'Water, on the contrary, disliked the subtle prior, -and endeavoured to dissuade the prince from the journey; but he spurned -the city laziness, and in spite of his friends' entreaties, and their -fears for his safety among the followers of Desmond, Barry, and -Macarthy, departed on his intended visit, attended only by Hubert Burgh, -the foster-brother of Lord Barry. -</p> - -<p> -The way from Cork to Buttevant was not far, but more desolate than -Granada during the Moorish war. Summer and the sun adorned that smiling -land, casting a verdurous mantle over her deep wounds, painting the rude -visage of war with brilliant hues. The forests, dark hills, and -uncultivated wilds of Munster, showed nakedly the deep traces of the -sovereign ill. But lately this neighbourhood had been the seat of war -between the earl of Desmond and the chief of the Macarthys; the latter -had fallen in battle, but his brother and Tanist had succeeded to him, -and was already gathering together his sept for a more desperate -struggle. Never in Spain had Richard seen such wild, strange figures, as -crossed his path during this short journey; whether it were the native -kern, wrapt in his mantle, disguised by his <i>glibb</i>, or long shaggy -hair, or the adherents of Desmond, who affected the state of an Irish -chieftain, whose leather-quilted jackets, long saffron-coloured shirts, -cloaks and shaggy moustachios, riding without stirrups, bearing spears, -formed objects not less uncouth and savage; the very women bore a -similar appearance of incivilization. And as a comment on such text, -Burgh told, as they rode, the history of the late wars of Desmond with -O'Carrol, prince of Ely, and with Macarthy; and, a still more dread -tale, the incursion of Murrogh-en-Ranagh, an O'Brien; who, rising first -in Clare, spread through the country, overrunning Munster, and bold from -success, advanced into eastern Leinster. All these accounts of battle -were interwoven with tales of feuds, handed down from father to son, of -the natural hatred of the native chiefs to the lords of English origin; -interspersed with such strange wild tales, where the avowedly -supernatural was intermingled with deeds of superhuman prowess and -barbarity, that the English born prince, nursling of romantic Spain, -felt as if he were transplanted into a new planet, and stopped the -speaker at each moment, to obtain some clearer explanation, or to have -interpreted words he had never before heard, the names of customs and -things found only in this land. -</p> - -<p> -Thus entertained, the way to Buttevant, or as the Irish called it, -Kilnemullagh, which was about twenty miles, seemed short. One thing was -evident in all these details, that it was easy to rouse the English -lords in Ireland to any act of turbulence and revolt; but that it would -be difficult nevertheless for their ill-armed followers, and -undisciplined bands, to compete with the soldiery of England. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h4><a id="chap16"></a></h4> - -<h4>CHAPTER XVI -<br /><br /> -NEW FRIENDS</h4> - - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Sisters, I from Ireland came.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i20">COLERIDGE.</span> -</div></div></div> - -<p> -The duke, immediately on his arrival at the Castle of Buttevant, -despatched Hubert Burgh to the prior of Kilmainham, with a message from -himself and a token from Lord Barry, announcing his intention of -visiting him at the abbey the next day. But Keating feared thus to draw -the eyes of some enemy upon him, and appointed a meeting in a secluded -dell, near the bank of the Mullagh, or Awbeg, the river which Spenser -loves to praise. Early in the morning Richard repaired alone to this -rural presence-chamber, and found Keating already there. Hearing of the -priest's haughty pride, Richard, with a sensation of disgust, had -figured a man something like the wretched Trangmar, strong of limb, and -with a ferocious expression of countenance. Keating appeared in his -monk's humble guise; his light eyes were still lively, though his hair -and beard were snowy white; his brow was deeply delved by a thousand -lines; his person short, slender, bent; his step infirm; his voice was -silver-toned; he was pale, and his aspect in its lower part sweetly -serene. Richard looked with wonder on this white, withered leaf—a -comparison suggested by his frail tenuity; and again he almost quailed -before the eager scrutiny of the prior's eye. A merchant at a Moorish -mart he had seen thus scan a slave he was about to purchase. At length, -with a look of great satisfaction, the monk said, "This fits exactly; -our friends will not hesitate to serve so goodly a gentleman. The -daughter of York might in sooth mistake thee for a near kinsman. Thou -comest from Portugal, yet that could not have been thy native place?" -</p> - -<p> -Richard started. This was the first time he had heard an expression of -doubt of his veracity. How could he reply? His word alone must support -his honour; his sword must remain sheathed, for his injurer was a -priest. Keating caught his haughty glance, and perceived his mistake. It -was with an effort that he altered his manner, for he exchanged with -pain a puppet subject to his will, for a man (prince or pretender) who -had objects and a state of his own to maintain. "Pardon the obscure -vision of an old man," he said; "my eyes were indeed dim not to see the -true marks of a Plantagenet in your appearance. I was but a boy when -your princely grandsire fell; nor has it been my fortune to visit -England or to see your royal father. But the duke of Clarence honoured -me with his friendship, and your cousin De la Poole acknowledged my zeal -in furthering his projects. I am now neither prior nor commander; but, -poor monk as I am become, I beseech your highness to command my -services." -</p> - -<p> -This swift change of language but ill satisfied the pride of Richard, -and in reply, he briefly recounted such facts as established his right -to the name he claimed. The noble artlessness of his tone conquered the -priest's lurking suspicions: in a more earnest manner he besought the -duke's pardon; and a cordial intercourse was established between them. -</p> - -<p> -The place where they met was secluded and wild; a bower of trees hid it -from the view of the river, and an abrupt rock sheltered it behind. It -was apparently accessible by the river only, and it was by its bank that -the duke and prior had arrived. Nothing could equal the picturesque -solitude around them. The waving of the leafy boughs, the scream of the -water-fowl, or the splashing they made as they sprung from among the -sedge and darted across the stream, alone interrupted the voiceless -calm; yet, at every moment, in his speech, Keating stopped, as if -listening, and cast his keen eyes, which he libelled much in calling -dim, up the steep crag, as if among its herbage and shrubs some dreaded -spy or expected messenger might appear. Then again he apologized to the -duke for having selected this wild spot for their interview. A price, he -observed, had been set upon his head, and his only safety lay in -perpetual watchfulness and never-sleeping caution. "My zeal in your -highness's cause," he added, with a courtier smile, "cannot be deemed a -strange frenzy, since your success will not only assure my restoration -to the dignity of which I have been unjustly deprived, but prevent an -old man from perpetually dreaming of the sword of the slayer, or the -more frightful executioner's axe." -</p> - -<p> -Again the prior fixed his eyes on a fissure in the rock, adding, "I had -appointed to meet one in this place before your message was communicated -to me—and in good time; for, methinks, the object of your visit may -be furthered by the intelligence I hope soon to receive. Your highness -must have heard at Cork of the war carried on by the great earl of Desmond -and a native sept of this region. Macarthy, their chief, fell during the -struggle, but his successor and Tanist mustered his broken forces to -avenge him. The earl is impatient of this resistance, for his presence -is necessary in Thomond to drive the O'Carrols from that district. At -his invitation he and Macarthy meet this day to parley but a few miles -hence. I was to have made one among them, but a boding raven told me -that danger was abroad." -</p> - -<p> -The tidings of the near presence of the earl of Desmond were unexpected, -and most welcome to the duke. He immediately resolved not to lose the -golden hour. He eagerly asked where the meeting was to be, and how -speedily he might reach the spot. -</p> - -<p> -As he was thus earnestly expressing his desire, a slight rustling caught -the prior's ear: he looked up; a human form hovered as in mid-air, -scarcely, as it were, alighting on the precipitous rock; quickly, but -cautiously, it threaded its steep and tortuous path. A large mantle was -wrapt round the mountaineer, a large white kerchief enveloped the head -in the manner of a turban, yet the prince caught the outline of a female -figure, which soon descended to the little plain on which they stood, -and advanced towards them; she was evidently very young, but -weather-worn even in youth: her wild, picturesque dress concealed the -proportions of her form; her large white sleeves hid her arm, but the -emaciated appearance of her face and hands, and bare feet, struck -Richard with pity. She seemed astonished at seeing him, and spoke to his -companion in the language of the country, which he did not understand: -the prior's face darkened as she spoke: there dwelt on it a mixture of -disappointment and ferocity, of which it could hardly have been deemed -capable by one who had hitherto seen it only bland and smiling; swiftly, -however, he dismissed these indications of passion, and addressed the -prince calmly. "I cannot go," he said; "my time is still to be deferred, -though it shall not be for ever lost. How does your courage hold? if you -are not afraid of going alone with a guide whose very dialect is a -mystery to you, through a country torn by opposing factions; if you do -not fear presenting yourself friendless to a haughty noble, who deems -himself sovereign in this domain, I will contrive that, ere four hours -elapse, you shall find yourself in Desmond's presence." -</p> - -<p> -"Fear!" the prince repeated. His eyes glanced with some contempt on the -priest's cowl, which alone could suggest pardon for such a thought; yet -he checked himself from any angry disclaiming of the accusation, as he -said, "Whatever in my presumption I may hope, sage forethought tells me -that I walk a road strewn with a thousand dangers, leading, it may be, -to an early death. Not for that will I deviate one furlong from my path. -Sir Prior, where is the guide you promise?" -</p> - -<p> -Keating, after a few minutes' reflection, instead of replying, conversed -again with the girl, and then addressed the duke: "This hapless child is -a victim of the wars; she was born far hence, and is the last surviving -of my foster-sister's once blooming family. Her mother saved my life. -This child, barefoot as she is, guided me hither. Is not a Keating -fallen, when he cannot give succour to an offspring of his fosterer's -house? And she, poor girl! she has walked far for me to-day; but she -will not slacken in her toil when I bid her proceed. She shall be your -guide, and your grace may rely upon her; the dog you fed from its birth -were less faithful. Now, at the hour of noon, Desmond meets Macarthy of -Muskerry, on Ballahourah. But for the bogs and streams that cross your -path, it is not far; at the worst, you can reach Mallow, where the earl -will lie to-night. It is best not to delay; for, if there is peace in -Munster, very speedily Desmond will be on his way to Thomond." -</p> - -<p> -This was a fresh spur to Richard. He accepted the proffered guide, who -listened attentively to Keating's instructions given in her native -tongue. He followed the girl but a short distance ere he looked back; -the prior was gone; the solitude of the wild crags and shrubs alone met -his eye. Meanwhile his companion stepped forward, motioning him to -follow. They plunged into the brake; the sun rose high; the birds winged -their glad flight among the trees. Now toiling up a steep, now wading a -stream, now entangled in a thicket, now stepping lightly over boggy -earth: now meditating on Andalusia, and now wondering at his present -position, Richard followed his swift and silent guide through the wild -country between Buttevant and Mallow. -</p> - -<p> -Already the meeting between the earl of Desmond and Macarthy, the chief -of Muskerry, was at an end. They parted with fair words and exasperated -thoughts. The native lord could ill brook the settler's haughty -assumptions; nor Geraldine endure the obstinate pride of the conquered -native. Still their relative positions enforced a peace. -</p> - -<p> -They had separated, and after a hasty repast, spread on the heathy side -of Ballahourah, the earl proceeded towards Mallow. He was surrounded by -warriors, who all claimed the Geraldine name, and who variously -distinguished themselves as the White Knight, the Knight of Kerry, and -the Knight of the Glen. There was Lord Fermoy, his father-in-law, and -others of the Roches. Nor did all the native chiefs absent themselves. -One sister of the earl had married Macarthy Reagh; another, an O'Brien, -whose daughter had intermarried with an O'Carrol—all this in defiance -of the English law, which forbade such alliances, through which, the -father of the present earl was beheaded in the year 1467. Their antique -costume, tight truise, saffron tunics, and flowing robes, distinguished -them from the Saxons; yet these had not followed the fashions of the -times, but dressed in the garb used by the courtiers of Edward the -Third. -</p> - -<p> -Maurice, tenth earl of Desmond, was brave even to a proverb. He loved -war, and deemed himself rather king of Desmond, than a chief of English -descent. To extend and secure his possessions, rendering them at once -independent of his sovereign and of the native chieftains, was the aim -of his life. He now meditated the invasion of Thomond; but Macarthy's -angry demeanour showed that he must not be left unchecked in his rear. -"Where is my cousin Barry—where the lord of Buttevant—the -chief of the Barrymores? Flying before a slip of parchment indited in -far London, as if my sword held not better sway in these regions than a -Parliament attainder! Were he here, the O'Carrolls should hear the -thunder of my arms ere this moon waned. Muskerry could make no gathering -in the vales, while Barry sat on his perch at Buttevant." -</p> - -<p> -The earl had time to waste in thought, as he was borne along—at the -age of fifteen, pushing rashly forward in an assault, he received a -wound in his leg, which lamed him for life, so that he was carried about -in a litter, and went by the name of Claudus; yet he was not deemed the -less an experienced and gallant warrior. With the virtues of a chieftain -he possessed the defects: Munster was his world; his universe was -peopled by the Geraldines, the Macarthys, the Barrys, Donegans, -Barrets, Roches, O'Briens, O'Carrolls, and the rest; he disdained his -noble brethren of the pale. He considered it a mark of distinction to be -exempted by a law from attendance of Parliament and the government of -the land; he saw in the king of England, not his monarch, but the -partizan of Ormond, and therefore an enemy. This, and an ancient -alliance, linked him to the cause of the English outcast prince, who -solicited his aid; he had replied favourably to his request; but his -interests and the conquest of a kingdom must be delayed, while he -subdued the half-naked septs who insulted his power. -</p> - -<p> -While thus busied, reflecting upon the events of the day, the earl sat -silent and thoughtful. Suddenly, at a turn in the road, he called on his -followers to stop; his eye lighted up,—he saw two horsemen swiftly -approaching—Lord Barry was the foremost rider. Forgetting his -lameness in his joy, the noble warrior almost threw himself from the -litter, as he cried, "Jesu speed you, my loving cousin! spur on! spur -on! remember your badge, <i>Boutez en avant</i>! No enemy ever turned -his back on your sword to avoid, so eagerly as my arms will open to -receive you! Were you bound for Mallow?" -</p> - -<p> -"No, my noble coz," replied Lord Barry, "I am for Kilnemullagh; an -eaglet I have nursed has winged its way thither, and I fear may suffer -injury in my absence; for he is young, and his pinions all untried." -</p> - -<p> -"Leave him to his fate, my lord," said the earl; "if he be a faithful -bird he will find his way back to his fosterer; meanwhile the king of -eagles, thy cousin Desmond himself, has need of thee." -</p> - -<p> -"One word, dear Maurice, will explain the greater duty that I owe my -princely fowl. The White Hose of England, missing him, loses all; you, -I, each, and every one of us, are his servants and must become his -soldiers." -</p> - -<p> -"Cousin," replied Desmond, "one son of York made my father, whose soul -God assoilzie! Lord Deputy; another chopped off his head—so much for -the White Rose! Still I allow this new Lancastrian king is a bitterer -enemy: he is a friend of the Butlers, whom the fiend confound. We will -first subdue the O'Carrolls, humble the Macarthys, take Coollong from -Clan Cartie Reagh, and root out the Desies; and then, when we are kings -of Munster, in good hour let us march with your duke of York, and set -our foot on the necks of the Butlers in Dublin." -</p> - -<p> -The earl spoke with rapidity and energy; all Munster spread before Lord -Barry's mind—city, town, stronghold, held by ancestral enemies; and -it was wonderful what a change was wrought in his mind by his cousin's -eloquence, and the names of all these sons of Erin, with each of whom he -had a mortal quarrel. He agreed, therefore, to go with the earl to -Mallow that evening, postponing his visit to Buttevant till the -following day. -</p> - -<p> -Such were the wise counsels that stayed the mighty power Barry had -promised York should rise at his name to vanquish England. It was better -thus; so the royal boy thought himself, when, welcomed by Desmond at -Mallow, he looked round on kern and gallowglass, hearing a language that -was not English, viewing their strange attire and savage countenances. -"It is not thus, my England, that I will seize on you. Your own nobles -shall place the crown on my head; your people wield the sword that will -injure only our common enemy. Shall I make a Granada of my native land, -and shed Christian blood, better spilt in the cause of God against -infidel dogs?" -</p> - -<p> -When the earl of Desmond found that the prince, whom he regretted to -receive with such cold hopes, was well content, nothing doubting that -the good-will of the English would prove a better ally than the spears -of the Irish, he conceived a sudden affection for him. It was no wonder; -for the ingenuousness of untarnished youth is ineffably winning; and -here it was added to a quick wit, a grace and gallantry, that shone as a -vision of light in this wild region. -</p> - -<p> -A few days brought still greater satisfaction to all parties. An embassy -had arrived in Cork from the king of France to the duke of York to -invite him to Paris. Desmond would not relinquish his guest: he carried -him to his noble seat at Ardfinnin; and thither repaired in due time the -messengers from Charles the Eighth. -</p> - -<p> -The chief of these was our old friend Frion, besides a Frenchman called -Lucas, and two Englishmen, Stephen Poytron and John Tiler. The duke was -not well pleased with the selection of Frion; but, while this man by his -singular arts of insinuation made good his cause, Barry showed how in -two points his cause was benefitted by him. First, that having been -secretary to Henry, he knew many secrets, and was acquainted with many -circumstances that might be turned to use; and, secondly, that his very -attempt to entrap the prince was a proof that he was fully aware of who -he was; that he would prove a useful link between Perkin Warbeck, -Richard Fitzroy, and the duke of York; that he need be no more trusted -than was deemed expedient; but that meanwhile it were good to entertain -him with fair words. Richard yielded; and Frion made good use of this -standing-room by which he meant to move the world. Master of the arts of -flattery, cunning and wise, he so ingratiated himself with the duke, and -afterwards with his other friends, that by degrees he was admitted to -their confidence; and at last succeeded in his chief wish, of becoming -follower, secretary, counsellor, he called himself friend, of the -English prince. -</p> - -<p> -Urged by the earl of Desmond and Lord Barry, and sufficiently inclined -in his own mind, the duke accepted the French king's invitation, and -prepared to cross to France. On the very eve of his departure, he was -surprised by a visit from John O'Water, of Cork. This warm-hearted old -man had conceived a paternal love for the royal youth. He came to -recommend his return to Cork—his taking up a kind of regal residence -there—the not deserting a nook of his kingdom which acknowledged him. -He came too late:—already the prince was on board the vessel in -Youghall Harbour which was to convey him away. "One day you will return -to us, my lord," said O'Water; "a future day will afford us opportunity -to prove our zeal. I am old; I had given up public life: but I will take -to the oar again. John O'Water will once more be mayor of Cork, and his -right beloved Sovereign shall command him in his service." -</p> - -<p> -The good man departed; with blessings, thanks, and glad prognostics, -Desmond and Barry also took leave of him. The wind was fair, the sea -smooth: before morning they lost sight of the hospitable shores of -Ireland, and turned their thoughts from its quarrels, its chieftains, -its warm hearts, and kind reception, to the civilized land of France, -and the more influential protection promised by its king to the royal -adventurer. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h4><a id="chap17"></a></h4> - -<h4>CHAPTER XVII -<br /><br /> -THE FRENCH COURT</h4> - - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Long die thy happy days before thy death;</span><br /> -<span class="i0">And, after many lengthened hours of grief,</span><br /> -<span class="i0">Die neither mother, wife nor England's queen!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i20">SHAKSPEARE.</span> -</div></div></div> - -<p> -The voyage of the duke of York was easy and auspicious. He repaired to -Paris; and all the exiled Yorkists, to the number of one hundred -gentlemen, instantly gathered round him, offering him their services, -and forming his court, Charles assigned him magnificent apartments in -the Tuileries, and appointed a guard of honour, under the command of the -lord of Concressault, who, as was the case with every one who approached -him, soon became warmly attached to the princely youth. Having just -concluded a peace with Britany by marrying its young duchess, the king -of France found himself in so prosperous a state at home, that he began -to look abroad for wars, and resolved to invade Naples, to whose crown -he had a claim. Meanwhile, the utmost splendour and gaiety reigned in -Paris:—balls, tournaments, and hunting-parties, succeeded one to the -other; now to celebrate a marriage—now to grace the entrance of some -noble gentleman into the order of knighthood. Charles was an amiable -prince—his queen a beautiful and spirited lady—the duke of -Orleans an accomplished and adventurous cavalier. They all vied in acts of -courtesy and kindness towards their royal visitor. There was an -innocence in Richard's vivacity, an ingenuousness in his reliance on -their protection, that particularly captivated the chivalrous Orleans -and the fair Queen Anne. How changed the scene from the wilds of Ireland -and the semi-barbarous halls of the Desmond! The courtly and soft grace -of the French, different from the dignity of the Spaniard, was -irresistible to the inexperienced youth. It seemed to him that his -standard was set up here for ever. No change could sully the fair favour -of these illustrious friends. All young as he was, to be treated as -rightful king of England by this potent government satisfied for the -moment his ambition. He and his English friends welcome everywhere, all -honoured—himself beloved—were the ascendant star in -Paris. O'Maurice of Desmond! O'Barry, and good, honest—hearted -O'Water!—though still he acknowledged your kindness, how did your -uncivilized hospitalities fade before the golden splendour of King -Charles's court! -</p> - -<p> -York might by the sober be blamed for yielding to the current, for -setting his swelling canvas with the favouring wind—exulting. It was -a boy's blindness; the unsuspiciousness of inexperience; the fault lay in -the falsehood; and that was not his. -</p> - -<p> -On the sixth of October Henry the Seventh landed at Calais; on the -nineteenth he sat down before Boulogne, with sixteen hundred -men-at-arms, and twenty-five thousand infantry. Charles could not much -fear the tardy operations of his foe; but the name of an English -invasion, so associated with defeat and disaster, was portentous to the -French: besides, Charles was eager to prepare for his Italian wars. Thus -disposed, peace was easily brought about. One only obstacle presented -itself. Henry insisted that the newly-arrived duke of York should be -delivered up to him; Charles rejected the proposition with disdain: the -negotiations were suspended, and the French king grew uneasy: it was no -pleasant thing to have thirty or forty thousand of those English in the -kingdom, who had disputed it inch by inch, at the expense of so much -misery and slaughter, with his grandfather. Their king was averse to -war; but the body of the army, the nobles, and leaders, ardently desired -it: some intrigue, some accident, might light up a train to be quenched -only by seas of blood; and all this for a prince, in whom, except that -he was gallant and unfortunate, Charles took no concern. -</p> - -<p> -Richard, basking in the noon-day of regal favour, of a sudden felt a -cloud spread athwart his sunshine, and a chill take place of the glowing -warmth. The complaints of his followers, principally of Lady Brampton, -opened his eyes; for the king and princes, on the eve of betraying him, -were in manner kinder than ever. First, Queen Anne asked this lady, if -it were not the duke's intention to repair to Flanders, to claim the -support of the Lady Margaret. It seemed as if nothing was to be spoken -of but Brussels, the Low Countries, Maximilian of Austria, and, above -all, the virtues and sagacity of the illustrious widow of Charles the -Rash. In youth we are slow to understand the covert language of -duplicity. Frion was next put in requisition; he arrived in Paris after -ten days' absence, with an invitation to her so-named nephew from the -duchess of Burgundy; and when, from the disinclination of the French to -an act of glaring inhospitality, and of the English so to pain the -confiding spirit of their prince, he was still kept darkling, suddenly -one night his friend, the sire de Concressault, visited him. He brought -many sugared words from his sovereigns; but the end was, that their ever -dear friend, and most honoured guest, the duke of York, would render -them special pleasure, if, for some short time, he would visit Brussels. -The fiery spirit of youth blazed forth at a dismission, still more when -Concressault added, that horses were already prepared, and everything -arranged for his immediate departure. To qualify this insult, -Concressault could best bring his own warm, affectionate feelings. He -loved the English prince, and by the frankness of his explanations, -soothed him, while he made the wound deeper, by showing whence it was -directed, and that Henry Tudor's was the master-hand. -</p> - -<p> -This name calmed York by elevating his thoughts above the actual evil. -"It is well, my lord: I shall obey," he said; "I had forgotten myself; -and your monarch's kindness was an opiate to my unripened purpose. I -might have lived his happy truest; reigning over the English hearts -around me, forgetful, like Dan Ulysse of old in the Lotus land, of my -native isle, and rightful kingdom, I thank my enemy he has not permitted -this: his insults rouse me; his injuries place the sword in my hand; on -him fall the harm." -</p> - -<p> -The French sovereigns did all they could to salve this ill-favoured -wound. The duke of Orleans visited York at the moment of his departure; -his English partizans were loaded with presents; he quitted France; and, -on the day following, the treaty of peace with England was signed. -</p> - -<p> -Pride, indignation, and heroic resolve sustained the duke under this -insult; but violent, angry emotion was foreign to his disposition, and -only kept alive in his bosom at the expense of much suffering. How -gladly he took refuge from these painful sensations in the gratitude and -affection inspired by his noble aunt. Margaret had never seen him; the -earl of Lincoln, Lady Brampton, Lovel, Plantagenet, and others were -vouchers for his truth; still his first unsupported appearance in -Ireland, and his long absence in Spain, engendered doubts, not in her -mind, but in Maximilian and other nobles and counsellors around her. She -replied to their arguments, but they remained unconvinced; at once, -therefore, to justify her acknowledgment of him in their eyes, and to -force them to the same credence as herself, she caused his first -audience to be a solemn one, nor gave him a kinswoman's reception until -he had proved his right to it. -</p> - -<p> -He, who has heard some one falsely traduced and vilely calumniated, and, -if not quite believing the detraction, yet impelled by it to some -distaste of its object, and when that object appeared, radiant in -innocence, attended by the dignity of truth and conscious worth, at once -has yielded to the evidence of sense, will have some understanding of -what passed in the mind of Margaret of Burgundy. None could resist the -frank, blue, unclouded eye of the prince; that voice and manner, replete -with simplicity and native honour. He replied to the duchess's questions -briefly or otherwise, as appeared most pertinent, but in a way that -vanquished the most sceptical person present. The warm-hearted duchess -had hardly contained herself from the moment she beheld this youthful -image of her dead brother. As the tones of a remembered melody awaken -from sweet and bitter association unbidden tears, so did his voice, his -gestures, the very waving of his glossy curls, strike the mute chords of -many a forgotten memory. As soon as she saw belief and satisfaction in -the countenances of those around her, she no longer restrained herself; -with tears she embraced him; with a broken voice she presented her -nephew to all around. Now to heap favours on him was her dear delight: -she loved not the name of the duke of York, because, his pretensions -admitted, he was something more; but he objected firmly to the empty -title of king, and reiterated his determination to assume that only at -Westminster. So she invented other names; the prince of England, and the -White Rose of England, were those he went by; she appointed him a guard -of thirty halberdiers in addition to that formed by his English -followers. Nor did she rest here; it was her ardent wish to place him on -the throne of his father. The glad welcome she gave to the Yorkists, as, -from far exile in distant lands, or obscure hiding in England, they -repaired to her nephew's court, her discourse of succour, armies, plots -quickly raised a spirit that spread to the near island; and the rumour -of this new White Rose became a watch-word of hope for York, of fear for -Lancaster. -</p> - -<p> -The riches and magnificence of the now extinguished house of Burgundy, -almost equalled that of Paris; their cavaliers were as noble and as -gallant; their tournaments and feasts as gay and pompous. The prince -felt his situation much changed for the better. His aunt's warm -affection was more worth than Charles's politic and courteous -protection. There he was an honoured visitor, here one of the -family—his interests apparently bound up with theirs. His long-tried -friends exulted in his position; Plantagenet and Lady Brampton -congratulated each other. The English exiles, Sir George Neville and Sir -John Taylor, the one proud and discontented, the other extravagant and -poor, blessed the day which gave them dignity and station, as chief -attendants and counsellors of the noble York. One friend he missed: his -childhood's companion, his gentle nurse, his beloved Monina. -</p> - -<p> -She had accompanied Lady Brampton to Paris, when intelligence came of -Trangmar's treachery, of the falsehood of his pretensions; and, at the -same time, letters were covertly conveyed to Lady Brampton from the -dowager queen, in which mention was made of this man as a trustworthy -agent: the Yorkists desired much to fathom this mystery, and to have -some explicit elucidation from the imprisoned Elizabeth. As they -canvassed the various modes by which this might be accomplished—the -disguises that might be assumed—Monina preferred an earnest prayer, -that she might be permitted to undertake the task; a thousand -circumstances rendered this desirable—she would be entirely -unsuspected, and she was fully acquainted with the circumstances of the -case. Three days before Richard landed in France from Ireland, Monina -crossed to England—she assumed a pilgrim's garb, and without danger -or much difficulty, arrived at London from the sea-coast. -</p> - -<p> -The sudden apparition of Richard, first in Ireland, and afterwards in -Paris, was a stunning blow to Henry. No Trangmar arrived to explain the -riddle; and, in spite of his caution and his cruelty, he had been unable -to avert the event he dreaded—nothing could he do now better than to -scoff at his rival, and to oppose his statements with counter -declarations; spreading around his spies to stop at its very outset any -symptom of rebellion in England. He caused stricter watch than ever to -be set on the unfortunate Elizabeth Woodville, who had been for six -years the melancholy inmate of her convent prison. All necessity of -caution there was soon to be at an end; her health had long -declined—latterly she had wasted to a mere shadow, so that the -continuance of life in her attenuated frame appeared a miracle: a -feeling of suffocation prevented her from lying down; she sat propped by -pillows: her fleshless hands incapable of any office, her cheeks fallen -in; her eyes alone—last retreat of the spirit of life—gleamed -brightly amid the human ruin. So long had she been thus, that her death, -apparently so near, was hardly feared by those around. Henry almost -considered her danger as a new artifice, and absolutely refused her last -request, to be permitted to see her daughter and grand-children once -again. Her last hour approached; and none were near save the nuns of the -convent, who almost revered her as a saint. -</p> - -<p> -There arrived at the monastery a pilgrim, with relics collected in Araby -and Spain. She was admitted into the parlour; and one simple sister -asked for some wonder-working relic that might give health to the dying. -The pilgrim heard of Elizabeth's hopeless state: she begged to be -admitted to her presence, that she might try the virtues of a precious -balsam given her by the monks of Alcala-la-Real in Spain. Elizabeth was -informed of her request: when last she had heard of her son, he was at -Alcala—all the strength that had prolonged her life now roused -itself; with earnestness she desired that the Spanish maiden might be -admitted to her presence. It was Henry's express command that none -should see her; but she was dying; his power, so soon to be at end, -might well slacken in its rigour at the very verge of its annihilation. -</p> - -<p> -The pilgrim knelt beside the queen's couch—the nuns, commanded to -retreat, observed a miracle—the dying appeared again to live; the -grim spectre, who had planted his banner in the chamber, retreated for a -moment, as Elizabeth listened to Monina's whispered words, "Oh, for one -hour more," she cried, "I have so much to say. He comes then, my son -comes! Oh, rouse England with the tale—Sir William Stanley, you -must visit him—bid him not draw his sword against my Edward's son. -Say to the dean of St. Paul's—I feel faint," she continued, "my -voice fails me—I must leave all unsaid, save this—His sister -must not doubt his truth; Henry must not shed the blood of his wife's -brother." -</p> - -<p> -"Madam," said Monina, "let me bear some token to my lady the queen." -</p> - -<p> -"A token—no words can these weak fingers trace. Yet stay; in the -missal there is a prayer which each day I addressed to heaven to -preserve my son. Bear the missal to my Elizabeth, bid her listen to you, -and believe." -</p> - -<p> -With trembling hands the young girl took the small, but splendid volume. -The queen then dismissed her with a faintly spoken blessing and a prayer. -Before night all was over—the cause of her son moved her no -more—her sorrowing heart reposed from every strife—she died. -The vase replete with so much anguish was broken—the "silver cord," -that bound together a whole life of pain, loosened. Her existence had been -woe; her death was the dearest blessing she could receive from heaven. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h4><a id="chap18"></a></h4> - -<h4>CHAPTER XVIII -<br /><br /> -THE TOKEN</h4> - - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She was most beautiful to see,</span><br /> -<span class="i0">Like a lady of a far countree.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i20">COLERIDGE.</span> -</div></div></div> - -<p> -While in attendance on the king at his palace of Shene, the lord -chamberlain, Sir William Stanley, was informed that a young and foreign -lady requested an audience with him. Monina was ushered in—her -extraordinary beauty—her large soft eyes—the fascinating -sweetness of her manner, at once charmed the worthy gentleman. She spoke -in good but accentuated English, and informed Sir William that she came -from the death-bed of the queen of England. -</p> - -<p> -"I know," said Stanley, "that her grace has long been ill, -but ——" -</p> - -<p> -"God take her to his mercy," interrupted Monina, "she died last night." -</p> - -<p> -"Is his majesty informed of this event?" Sir William asked. -</p> - -<p> -"It is not yet noon," replied the maiden; "by that hour the messengers -from the convent will arrive. I have reasons for greater speed. I bear -the royal lady's last words to her daughter, the queen Elizabeth; you, -my lord, will favour me by procuring an immediate interview with her -majesty." -</p> - -<p> -Stanley knew the aversion the king had to any private intercourse -between Elizabeth and her mother. He informed his visitor that she must -first obtain the king's permission for this audience, which he did not -believe would be granted; but Monina, without hesitation, declared that -she would apply for it to the king, and requested the chamberlain to -introduce her. Stanley, good-natured but timid, hesitated—she would -not be denied—at last he hit upon an expedient. Henry had gone out -hawking in the park: if she would place herself at the gate on his -return, she might prefer her prayer—he would be near to insure her -being heard. -</p> - -<p> -Noontide was approached. The sport was over, and the royal party on -their return. Henry rode foremost with Morton, while his retinue -followed at a slower pace, conversing gaily about the birds; now and -then hazarding a remark on the war, so oft delayed, at last declared. -They were interrupted by the arrival of Sir William Stanley, who -communicated to the king the tidings of the dowager queen's death. Six -long years had passed since the battle of Stoke, and the commencement of -Elizabeth Woodville's imprisonment. She was forgotten at court. Many -there had never seen her; few remembered her as the reigning queen of -England. Her history was almost like a romance of the olden time; yet, -forgotten during life, her death clouded the hilarity of those who heard -it. Among those most affected by these tidings, as was natural, was her -son, the marquess of Dorset; he hastily rode up to receive from -Stanley's own lips confirmation of the news. Feeling that of late he had -almost forgotten and wholly neglected his mother, a sudden visitation of -remorse was blended with the grief that choked his voice, and blinded -his eyes with tears. Henry, who was attached to him, viewed with pity -the bitter regret of his gay, unheeding kinsman, and bade him, ere ruder -tongues proclaimed it, bear the melancholy tidings to his royal sister. -Dorset, gladly escaping from the throng, rode swiftly forward. Meanwhile -the order of the ride was disturbed. The nobles conversed earnestly -together. After a few questions, Henry remained lost in thought: eager -perhaps to know whether her secret had died with her; and viewing in her -demise one master testimony the less in favour of his young competitor. -Stanley awaited with some inquietude for the moment when they should -encounter Monina. They passed the park gate. She was not there. Henry -pursued his way, and entered the palace. Still she did not appear. -</p> - -<p> -Lord Dorset had ridden on with the speed of a man who seeks to escape -from himself. Death has more power in its mere sound, than the -enchanting touch of a wizard's rod. She was dead—how awful was -that word!—the unfailing friend, his mother! All his remissness -towards her took a monstrous form: he felt that if he had wearied Henry -with prayers, he might have extorted some mitigation of her suffering; -and it would have consoled her in her solitude, to have received the -balmy medicine of filial tenderness, which he had neglected to pay. At -that moment he would have given his marquisate to a beggar, to have -purchased the memory of one action done to soothe her woful end. The -pomp of a funeral—masses for her soul—these were small -compensations, which her arch enemy, even Henry himself, could, and -probably would concede. The voice of affection—the duteous -affection of a child—he only could have afforded; and he had -withheld it. -</p> - -<p> -Monina stood at the park gate, attended by her Spanish domestic, whose -singular costume alone must attract regard. "What do you here, maiden?" -cried Dorset; "the king and his court will speedily pass this way: this -is no fitting place for you." -</p> - -<p> -"I am here," she replied, "to see and speak to your king. I come to -prefer a request in the name of one whom God take to his place; she can -disturb him no more." -</p> - -<p> -"You are from Bermondsey—from——" The words choked Dorset. -Monina continued:—"I come from the death-bed of the Lady Elizabeth -of England." -</p> - -<p> -"What demand would you make on his majesty?" said the marquess; "do you -seek a guerdon for your pains? Speak, then, to me—I am her son." -</p> - -<p> -He was about to draw forth his purse; but her look, which grew animated, -prevented him, as she said, "I come on a holy errand. The dying lady -commanded me to convey her last words to her royal daughter. I seek -permission from your king to fulfil her wish." -</p> - -<p> -Dorset was thoughtless and eager. He saw no objection that Henry could -have that his sister should have the last message from her now dead -parent; so without hesitation he told the maiden that by Henry's -permission he was now about to communicate the sad intelligence to the -queen, and that she might accompany him. -</p> - -<p> -It is thus by small invisible threads that Fate weaves the intricate web -of our lives. All hung by the slenderest tissue: had Monina seen Henry, -most assuredly he would have prevented the interview she sought, and -have used his utmost craft to discover whether the fatal secret made a -part of the queen's message. Now his sagacity, his caution, his severity -were of no avail. Monina stood in the presence of his wife. -</p> - -<p> -Six years had considerably altered Elizabeth; habitual fear had -engendered a moral timidity, which was not natural to her, for she was -the daughter of a proud race: her sweetness, her affectionate -disposition still remained; but her soul was sad, and she looked pale -and inanimate. The news of her mother's death moved her to tears. One -expression of bitter regret burst from her lips; it was mingled with -blame of her consort; and she checked herself, while she wept still more -abundantly. Dorset felt uneasy at the sight of female tears; he longed -to escape. Monina's request for a private interview came to liberate -him; he presented her to his sister, and hurried away. -</p> - -<p> -Elizabeth eagerly asked many questions concerning her mother's dying -moments. The Spanish maiden, wondering at her own success, fearful of -interruption, presented the missal, and then hastened to declare the -motive for which it was sent. She opened the jewelled clasps, and showed -the queen the prayer written in her mother's hand on a blank leaf of the -brilliantly-illuminated pages. Rapidly the enthusiastic girl detailed -the escape, the exile of the duke of York, while Elizabeth, not daring -to believe her own senses, astounded, terrified, looked with largo open -eyes on the animated countenance of her lovely visitant. Before Monina -paused, or gave time for an answer, they were interrupted by the -entrance of Sir William Stanley. He started when he saw Monina, nor did -the confused look of his queen, as she hastily closed the fatal volume, -tend to reassure him. He came to announce a visit from Henry to -Elizabeth. Frightened at what he saw, he hardly permitted a slight -interchange of greeting, but hurried Monina away, through a door hid by -the tapestry, down a narrow staircase into a garden, and then by a small -gate that opened on a court. In this court was placed the entrance to -the apartments of the pages and esquires of the king. Stanley unlocked -the gate cautiously, hesitating before he permitted his fair companion -to pass on, in the fear that some mischievous boy or prying servitor -might be there to wonder at and question wherefore he led the maiden -from the queen's garden through a door, sacred, and never opened, into -the resort of wild and dissolute youth. As he unclosed the wicket, at -its very entrance, standing so that in spite of every caution a full -view of Monina was at once afforded, stood a young man, whose -countenance bespoke him to be ever on the alert for gamesome tricks or -worse mischief. His first aspect was that of recklessness; his second -spoke of baser habits; and athwart both broke gleams now of better -feelings, now of desperate passion. He had heard the rusty bolts move, -and perceived the slow opening of the door. Knowing how sacred was the -respect enforced towards this ingress to the queen's retirement, he -stood close to discover and shame any intruder. "In good season, my Lord -Chamberlain!" he at first exclaimed, vexed to find no cause for taunt, -till perceiving his fair companion, the expression of his countenance -changed to irony, as he cried, "Whither so fast and fearfully, my good -lord? Does her grace deal in contraband; and art thou the huckster?" -</p> - -<p> -"As ill luck will have it, wild Robin Clifford!" cried Stanley, angrily. -</p> - -<p> -"Nay, we are brothers in wildness now, fair sir," retorted the other; -"and I claim my part here." -</p> - -<p> -Clifford approached Monina; but Stanley interposed. "Waste your ribaldry -on me, good knight, but spare this child. Let us pass in all speed, I -pray you." -</p> - -<p> -Monina drew back; but Clifford still followed. "Child! In good hour she -is young; and but that burning suns have made her cheek tawny, I might -call her fair. She is well worth your pains, and I praise them. Sweet -mistress, I am beholden to my Lord Chamberlain for making us friends." -</p> - -<p> -He was running on thus; but Monina, collecting her spirits, raised her -large eyes on him. His name had caught her ear; she remembered partly -having seen him on the night of their flight from Tournay; and frequent -mention had subsequently been made of him by the cousins. She -began—"Sir Robert Clifford, I know you will not harm me." -</p> - -<p> -"Thanks for that knowledge, pretty one," cried the youth; "old -grey-beards only, with frozen hearts (pardon me, Sir William!), could -injure thee; thou art sure of good from tall fellows (though in troth -tall I am not) like me." -</p> - -<p> -Sir William writhed with impatience; again and again he would have -interrupted the intruder. Monina replied:—"We have met -before—when you served him I now serve. I speak in his name: for -the sake of Perkin Warbeck, detain me no longer. Noble sir, I attend -you. Sir Clifford yields respect to the words I have spoken." -</p> - -<p> -"They are strange indeed, maiden," he replied, "and I must hear more of -this. We have met before, I now believe; and we must meet again. -Meanwhile, I will keep off bird-catchers till you and his reverence get -clear of these limed twigs. Ah! I see a gallant; I will go draw William -d'Aubigny aside while you pass forth." -</p> - -<p> -And now again Sir William proceeded on his expedition, and conducted his -gentle companion beyond the precincts of the palace. As they parted one -from the other, Monina, in a brief, energetic manner, delivered the -message of the departed queen to the good chamberlain: he was more -disconcerted than surprised, and the reflection that Clifford was a -party to the secret, added to his consternation. He felt how far he was -compromised by the introduction of Monina to the young queen; fear for a -while palsied his better feelings: he replied only by entreating her not -to remain longer in London, but to embark in all haste for France: he -then quitted her, yet again came back to ask where she sojourned in -town, and turned away a second time, as if to escape from his better -self, and from the interest he felt in King Edward's son, which impelled -him to ask a thousand questions. -</p> - -<p> -He returned to the courtyard of the palace, and found Clifford pacing -its length in deep thought. Monina's words had awakened a thousand ideas -in his unquiet bosom. Since the event to which she referred, when he -delivered Richard from Frion's hands, he had run a headlong, ruinous -course. No character can be wholly evil; and Clifford's was not -destitute of good, though overgrown and choked up by weedy vices, so -that his better nature too often served but as a spur and incentive to -folly and crime. He was generous; but that led to rapacity; since, -unable to deny himself or others, if he despoiled himself one day, on -the next he engaged in the most desperate enterprises to refill the -void. He was bold—that made him fearless in doing wrong; and to -drown the gentle spirit of humanity, which, too often for his own peace, -sprung up in his heart, he hardened himself in selfishness; then, as his -sensitive, undisciplined nature received new impressions, he was -cowardly, cruel, and remorseless. He had never forgotten the princely -boy he had saved: he turned to that recollection as to one of the few -oases of virtue in the far extended desert of ill, over which, in hours -of satiety or despondency, his sickening memory wandered. Indeed, he was -yet too young to be decidedly vicious: for at one-and-twenty a thousand -mere human impulses, unrepressed by worldly wisdom, occasion sallies of -kindly sympathy. The worst was, that Clifford was a ruined man: his -fortunes were nought, his reputation shaken on its base; he veiled, by -an appearance of hilarity and recklessness, the real despair that gnawed -at his heart, when he considered all that he might have been—the -worse than nothing that he was. Hitherto he had, to a great degree, blinded -the world, and he longed for some adventure, some commotion, either -public or private, that should refill his emptied money-bags, and paint -him fair in men's eye's: all these considerations mingled incongruously -to make him wish to know more of the outcast duke. He awaited the return -of Stanley—he learned the name of the Spanish girl: as they spoke, -both became aware that the other possessed a secret each dreaded to -avow. Clifford first dashed through the flimsy barrier of useless -discretion, and related his adventure at Lisle; meantime Sir William -broke forth in lamentation, that young Richard should have been induced -to quit the security of private life, to enter on an unequal and bloody -contest, which could only end in destruction to himself and his -partizans, while England would again be made the tomb of the Irish (the -landing of Richard at Cork was all that was then known), whom he might -allure from their woods and bogs to ravage the more gifted sister isle. -A new light was let in on Clifford at these words. Was the game already -playing—the box shaken—the die about to fall? This required his -attention, and determined his half-formed purpose of visiting, that same -night, the daughter of de Faro. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h4><a id="chap19"></a></h4> - -<h4>CHAPTER XIX -<br /><br /> -CLIFFORD'S RESOLVE</h4> - - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">His father was a right good lord,</span><br /> -<span class="i2">His mother a lady of high degree;</span><br /> -<span class="i0">But they, alas! were dead him frae,</span><br /> -<span class="i2">And he loved keeping companie.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">To spend the day with merry cheer,</span><br /> -<span class="i2">To drink and revel every night;</span><br /> -<span class="i0">To card and dice from eve to morn,</span><br /> -<span class="i2">It was, I ween, his heart's delight.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i20">THE HEIR OF LYNNE.</span> -</div></div></div> - -<p> -It had been Monina's design to return to the protection of Lady -Brampton, immediately on the fulfilment of her task in England. The -appearance of Clifford suggested other ideas. It was the duty of every -friend of York to declare his existence, and claim the allegiance of his -subjects. It might seem a hopeless enterprise for her, a young foreign -girl, to do this in the heart of the usurper's power; and yet she -fancied that she might attempt it with success. The most distant -prospect of serving her beloved friend was hailed by her with romantic -ardour; while the knowledge possessed by Stanley and Clifford promised -to render her undertaking less nugatory in its effects. Her purpose was -quickly formed. She resolved to postpone her departure, and to busy -herself in replanting, in Tudor's own city of London, the uprooted -rose-bush, parent of the spotless flower. None but a woman's fond -enthusiastic heart can tell the glow of joy, the thrilling gladness, -that diffused itself through her frame, as this plain spread itself, -clear as a map, beautiful as a champagne country viewed from some -overtopping mountain peak, to her keen mind's eye. She rode to London -occupied by these thoughts, and on her arrival, announced to the -merchant friend, at whose house she resided, her intention of remaining -in England: the vessel that was on the morrow to have conveyed her away -would bear instead a letter to Lady Brampton, explanatory of her hopes -and intentions: that very night, in the seclusion of her chamber, she -robbed some hours from sleep to write it; her enthusiasm animated her -expressions; her cheeks glowed as she wrote, for she spoke of services -she might render to him who was the idol of her thoughts; though with -his idea she consciously mingled no feeling save that of devoted -friendship and an intense desire to benefit. The weariness of spirit -that oppressed her in his absence, she did not attribute to him. -</p> - -<p> -Thus intently occupied, she was unaware of a parley in the room beneath -growing into a loud contention, till steps upon the stairs recalled her -wandering thoughts; she looked up from her task; but her gaze of inquiry -was changed to an expression of heartfelt pleasure, when Sir Robert -Clifford entered the apartment. Here then her enterprise commenced. -There was something that did not quite please her in the manners of her -visitant, but this was secondary to the great good she might achieve -through him. Her eyes danced in their own joy, as she cried, "Welcome, -gallant gentleman! you are here to my wish: you come to learn how best -you may prove your allegiance to your rightful sovereign, your zeal in -his cause." -</p> - -<p> -These words grated somewhat on the ear of a man who had hitherto worn -the Red Rose in his cap, and whose ancestors had died for Lancaster. He -did not, therefore, reply in the spirit of her wish when he said, "We -will not quarrel, pretty one, about names; sooth is it, that I came to -learn tidings of my princely gossip, and I am right glad that fortune -makes thee the tale-bearer. Prolong as thou wilt, I shall never cry hold -while my eyes serve to make true harmony to the sound of your sweet -voice." -</p> - -<p> -Much more he said in the same strain of gallantry, as he placed himself -beside the maiden, with the air of one whose soft speeches ever found -ready hearing. Monina drew back, replying, gently, "I am the partizan, -the vowed conspirator for a cause, whose adherents walk as over the -thread-broad ridge spanning an unfathomable gulph, which I have heard -spoken of by the Moors in my own Granada; I beseech you, as you are a -gentleman, reserve your fair speeches for the fortunate ladies of your -native land. I will be a beacon-light to guide you, a clue for your use -through a maze, a landmark to point your way; meanwhile, forget me as I -am; let me be a voice only." -</p> - -<p> -"As soon forget sunshine or moonshine, or the chance of play when the -dice-box rattles," thought Clifford, as she clasped her little fingers -in the fervour of her wish, and raised on him her soft, full eyes: but -though he gazed with unrepressed admiration, he said nothing as she told -the story of Duke Richard's Spanish adventures, and last of his attempt -in Ireland and the embassy sent to him by King Charles. How eloquently -and well she told his tale! speaking of him with unfeigned admiration, -nothing disguising her zealous devotion. "Sir Clifford," she continued, -"you are his friend. His cause will sanctify your sword; it will call -you from the paltry arts of peace to the nobler deeds of chivalry; it -will give you grace in the eyes of her you love, defending and asserting -your king." -</p> - -<p> -She paused, breathless from her own agitation; she looked up into his -thoughtful face and placed her hands on his; the soft touch awoke him -from a reverie in which he had lost himself. -</p> - -<p> -"Maiden," he replied, "you plead your cause even too well; you have cast -a spell upon me; so that at this moment I would readily swear to perform -your bidding, but that, when I do not see your witch's eyes, nor hear -your magic voice, another wind may blow me right to the other side. Do -not call this courtly gallantry, would by Saint Cupid that it were! for -I am not pleased to behold my sage self fined down into a woman's tool: -nor is it love;—Thor's hammer could not knock a splinter from my hard -heart, nor the Spanish sun thaw its seven-fold coat of ice. I never have -loved; I never shall: but there is some strange sorcery about you. When -I next see you, I will draw a circle round, knock my head three times on -the eastern floor, and call out 'aroint!' This twinkling light too, and -darkling hour—I must away:—sunshine shall, when next we meet, -protect me from your incantations. Will you trust yourself? At -to-morrow's noon a servitor of mine shall await you at the gate of St. -Paul's: dare you commit yourself to one in the devil's pay?" -</p> - -<p> -All this incoherent talk was spoken at intervals; he rose, sat down, -stood over her as she patiently let him run his tether's length: his -last words were said in an insinuating, and, as well as he could -command, a soft voice, as he pressed her hand in his. She crossed -herself, as she replied, "Our Lady and my cause shall protect me, while -I adventure life fearlessly for its sake! Adieu till then, sir knight: -the saints guard you, and give you better thoughts." -</p> - -<p> -The cavalier proceeded homewards, considering deeply the part he was to -act. He thought of what he might gain or lose by siding with the duke; -and he was angry to find that the image of Monina presented itself even -more vividly, than his ambitious dreams. "God assoil me," thought he. "I -will repeat a paternoster backwards, and so unsay her sorceries. She has -persuaded me, even as my own soul did before, that the best mode to mend -my broken fortunes, and better still to regild my faded escutcheon, is -to join Duke Richard. Yet, after all, this may be mere magic; for once I -will act a wise man's part, and seek old gray-beard, my Lord Fitzwater." -</p> - -<p> -Lord Fitzwater endured impatiently the harsh countenance Henry bore to -him, ever since he had permitted his young rival to escape. Some -question of right and law, which implicated a large portion of his -possessions, had, as he believed, been unjustly decided against him -through the interposition of the king, who, on every occasion, sought to -mortify and injure the old man. He lived as the disgraced and -impoverished servants of a court are wont to live, neglected and -forgotten. He had no family. He loved Robert Clifford better than any -other in the world; and he, when suffering from disappointment or loss, -when his own pain reminded him of that of others, sought his ancient -friend—too seldom to please him with a show of reverence, often -enough to keep alive his affection. -</p> - -<p> -If it were good for him to aid in the replanting of the White Rose, so -also were it well that Lord Fitzwater joined the same party. He talked -even to himself of asking his experienced friend's advice; he really -meant to endeavour to seduce him into a companionship in the projected -rebellion against Henry Tudor. In this spirit he paid his visit; nearly -three months had elapsed since his preceding one. The noble received him -coldly; so at once to break through the ceremony that fettered their -discourse, he cried, "I hear from soft Sir William Stanley, that his -majesty has again said that he will find a way to thank you for a -service you rendered him some six years ago." -</p> - -<p> -"I have long had knowledge of his grace's good memory on that point," -answered his lordship, angrily; "and yours, methinks, might remind you -of the part you played. By St. Thomas, Robin, I believe you saw further -in the game than I. But what makes the king harp on this out-worn tale?" -</p> - -<p> -"Few know—we may guess. Have you not heard him tell of a new king of -kerns and gallow-glasses? a phantom duke, whose duchy lies without the -English pale in Ireland? a ghost whose very name makes the king's knees -knock together as he sits on the throne? This ruffler, who calls himself -son of Edward the Fourth, the Prince Richard of York, escaped from the -Tower, bears a strange resemblance to the hero of Lisle, Perkin -Warbeck." -</p> - -<p> -"Would, by St. George, he were the same!" exclaimed the noble; "my -dagger should sever the entwined roses, our armed heels tread to dust -the cankered red blossom." -</p> - -<p> -"You speak treason, my lord," said Clifford; "but you speak to a friend. -Let us talk more calmly. I, the playmate of the imprisoned prince, know -that he, Perkin Warbeck, and the Irish hero are the same—this I -can prove: so much for the justice of our cause; as to the -expediency,—we, my good lord, are styled Lancastrians, but our -meed therefore is small. Tudor is a niggard king; Plantagenet, a young -and generous adventurer. What shall we say? Shall Fitzwater and Clifford -place the sacred diadem on this boy's head, and become chiefs in the -land where they now pine obscurely?" -</p> - -<p> -Lord Fitzwater fastened his keen eyes on his companion, while his hand -involuntary grasped his dagger's hilt. "I am not an old man," he cried; -"fifty-seven winters have shed no snows upon my head. I remember when, -at Tewkesbury, I smote an iron-capped yeoman who raised his battle-axe -against our young Edward, and clove the villain to the throat. I can -wield the same weapon—do the same deed now; and I am thrown like a -rusty sword among old armour—refused permission to lead my followers -to Calais. War in France!—it will never be: the word is grown -obsolete in England. Ambassadors thrive instead of valiant captains; -crafty penmanship in lieu of straightforward blows. Art sure, Robin, that -this youth is King Edward's son?" -</p> - -<p> -This was the first step Clifford took; and the eagerness of Fitzwater -quickly impelled him to spread wider the narrow circle of conspirators. -The intelligence, meanwhile, that the king of France had received in -Paris with meet honour a Yorkist pretender to the crown burst at once -over England, spreading wonder and alarm. Some few despised the -pretensions of the youth; the greater number gave to them full and -zealous credence. Many, dreading Henry's sagacity and harshness, -recoiled from every thought rebellious to him; others hailed with joy -the appearance of a rival who would shake his throne, and hold forth -hope of disturbance and change. As yet this was talk merely; nay, there -was more thought, than spoken. Men expected that some other would make -the first move, which would put in play the menacing forces mustered on -either side. Monina saw with joy the work well begun. She remembered the -queen's injunction to seek the Dean of St. Paul's: in acquiring him, -many reverent and powerful partizans were secured. Her presence added to -the interest which the mere name of Richard of York excited. Many who -disbelieved his tale were eager to behold his lovely advocate: they -listened to her syren eloquence, and ranged themselves on her side. -Clifford watched jealously the influence she acquired. When he first saw -her, she had been an untaught girl in comparison with the graceful, -self-possessed being who now moved among them. One feeling in her heart -separated her indeed from the crowd—but this was veiled, even to -herself; and she appeared courteous, benign to all. Clifford often -flattered himself that when she spoke to him her expressions were more -significant, her voice sweeter. He did not love—no, no—his -heart could not entertain the effeminate devotion; but if she loved him, -could saints in heaven reap higher glory? Prompted by vanity, and by an -unavowed impulse, he watched, hung over her, fed upon her words, and -felt that in pleasing her he was for the present repaid for the zeal he -manifested for the duke her friend. Strange he never suspected that she -was animated towards the prince by a deeper feeling. They had lived like -near relations from their childhood; that were sufficient to raise the -flame that shed so bright a light over her soul: that he was a prince, -and she the daughter of a Spanish mariner, forbade their union; and he -paid the just tribute to innocent youth, in not judging of its upright -purity by the distorted reflection his depraved heart presented, -whenever he dared turn his eyes inward. -</p> - -<p> -Foundation was thus laid in England for a momentous combination. -Intelligence from the continent was gathered with keen interest. Early -in December the army of Henry recrossed the Channel: they brought word -of the favour and esteem Richard enjoyed at the French court, of the -zeal of the exiled Yorkists, of their satisfied assurance of his truth. -Next was spread abroad the news of his reception by the dowager duchess -of Burgundy, and the brilliant figure he made at Brussels. What step -would be taken next to advance his cause? -</p> - -<p> -This was a fearful question for the actual king of England. He redoubled -his artful policy, while he wore a mask of mere indifference. The -Yorkists, not yet considerable enough to act openly, or even covertly to -combine for any great attempt, felt fresh bonds thrown over, new and -vexatious tyrannies in exercise against them. This served to unite and -animate their chiefs; they each and all resolved that, when fit -opportunity armed their prince, their swords should at the same moment -leap from the scabbards, darkly to be dyed ere resheathed, or struck -useless from their lifeless hands. The days of St. Alban's and -Tewkesbury passed in all their grim conclusions before their eyes, but -the event was worth the risk: defeated, they lost nothing; victorious, -they exchanged a narrow-hearted, suspicious, exacting tyrant for a -chivalrous and munificent sovereign; Henry Tudor, the abhorred -Lancastrian, for the grandson of York, the lineal heir of Edward the -Third—the true representative of the kings of the glorious and long -line of the Plantaganets. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h4><a id="chap20"></a></h4> - -<h4>CHAPTER XX -<br /><br /> -THE CONSPIRACY</h4> - - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i14">Like one lost in a thorny wood,</span><br /> -<span class="i0">That rents the thorns, and is rent with the thorns,</span><br /> -<span class="i0">Seeking a way, and straying from the way;</span><br /> -<span class="i0">Not knowing how to find the open air,</span><br /> -<span class="i0">But toiling desperately to find it out.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i20">SHAKESPEARE.</span> -</div></div></div> - -<p> -In the days of our earlier history, our commerce led us to have more -intercourse with Flanders than with France. That which journeyed slowly -and doubtfully from Paris came in all the heat of a first impression -from the Low Countries. A train had been laid before, which now took -light and blazed through the kingdom. The duchess of Burgundy's -reception of the duke of York, the honours rendered him at her court, -the glad gathering together of the fugitive English, gave pledge of his -truth, and promise of glorious results. Sedition began to spring up in -England on every side; even as, after a mild rain in the birth of the -year, a black, ploughed field is suddenly verdant with the young blades -of wheat. All who had, since the battles of Bosworth and of Stoke, lived -in seclusion or fear; all who from whatever reason had taken sanctuary; -men of ruined fortunes, who desired to escape bondage; came singly or in -small companies to the coast, embarked for the continent, and hastened -to the court of the dowager of Burgundy. All discontented men, who felt -themselves looked coldly on by Tudor, to whom they had yielded the -throne of their native land; many, whom it grieved and vexed to see the -world stagnate in changeless peace, desirous of novelty and glad of any -pretence that called them into activity, dashed headlong into revolt; -nor were there few, chiefly indeed among the nobility, who had lamented -the fall of the House of York, and hailed gladly this promise of its -resuscitation. The common adventurers and soldiers of fortune acted on -their single separate resolves; the noble adherents of the White Rose -drew together, that there might be plan and strength in their schemes. -They were cautious, for their enemy was crafty and powerful; they were -resolute, for they hated him. -</p> - -<p> -Out, far in the low flats bordering the river Lea, there stood, in a -marshy hollow, a straggling village, now effaced from the landscape. At -its extremity was a solid, but gloomy, square brick house, surrounded by -a moat, which the low watery soil easily filled, even to overflow; and -the superfluity was received in a deep stagnant pool at the back of the -mansion. The damp atmosphere had darkened the structure, and thrown a -mantle of green moss and speckled lichen over the bricks. Its -fantastically carved and heavy portal yawned like a black cavern's -mouth, and added to the singularly desolate appearance of the mansion. -The village was but half inhabited, and looked as struck by poverty and -discomfort. The house belonged to the Clifford family. It had been -built, it was said, in Henry the Fifth's time, when Sir Roger Clifford, -a stern old man, following his sovereign to the wars, shut up here his -beautiful young wife, so to insure her fidelity during his absence. -Among her peers and gentle companions, the Lady Clifford had doubtless -been true to the bond that linked her to her lord; but, alone in this -solitary mansion, surrounded by ill-natured peasants, pining for her -father's pleasant halls, and her girlish enjoyments, no wonder that she -found her state intolerable. Age and jealousy are ill mates for youth -and sprightliness, and suspicion easily begets that which it abhors even -to imagine. One who had loved her in her virgin days introduced himself -into her suite; the brief months of stolen happiness passed by, and the -green stagnant pool was, they said, the cold sepulchre of the betrayed -lovers. Since then, during the wars of York and Lancaster, this house -had been the resort of Clifford's followers: and, when the White Rose -became supreme, that alone of the family possessions had not been -forfeited to the crown: it was the last relic of Sir Robert's fortunes. -His few tenantry, hard pressed for rent to satisfy his necessities, had -deserted their abodes; the green acres had passed into other hands; a -band of poor cotters alone remained, and this old house haunted by the -ghosts of those who slept beneath the waveless pool, dilapidated, -disfurnished. Yet here the wild knight had held lawless carousals; -hither he sometimes fled to hide after some ruinous loss, or when he was -pursued by those who sought to avenge insults committed during drunken -brawls. -</p> - -<p> -Now it would seem some orgie was meditated: liveried servants, one or -two only bearing Clifford's coat, the rest wearing different badges, as -belonging to different masters, had arrived during the previous day. -Some of the ruined huts were pulled down to supply firewood, and the old -chimnies sent out volumes of smoke; various carts, laden, some with -eatables, fat bucks, young calves, pheasants, hares, and partridges, -piles of bread, seven hooped casks of wine, were unladen in the -mildew-stained hall. Other carts followed the first, bearing bedding, -apparel, furniture, and, it was whispered by the idling villagers, arms. -Several apartments were strewed thick with rushes, and the blazing -fires, in spite of the tattered plaster and stained ceilings, imparted -cheerfulness to the rooms. There was need of internal warmth; a thick -snow-storm fell, sheeting the low fields, which, uninterspersed by -trees, now looked doubly wild and drear. The waters of the moat and pool -were frozen; a sharp north wind whistled round the house. For the first -time for many years its poor dependents were cheered during the severe -season by the crumbs, or rather large portions of superfluous food, from -the mansion of their landlord. -</p> - -<p> -The first guest that arrived came in a close litter, attended by a -Moorish servant, and Clifford himself on horseback. Monina had forgotten -her Flemish home: bright Andalusia—its orange groves, myrtle and -geranium hedges, the evergreen forests which embowered Alcala, and the -fertile laughing Vega of Granada, formed her image of such portions of -fair earth, as, unencumbered by houses, afforded on its green and -various surface sustenance to his inhabitants. She shivered before the -northern blast, and gazed appalled on the white plain, where the -drifting snow shifted in whole showers as the wind passed over it. The -looks of the people, sallow, ill-clothed, and stupid, made her turn from -contemplating them, as she yet answered the contemptuous and plaintive -remarks of her Spanish attendant in a cheerful, deprecating voice. -</p> - -<p> -For two successive days other guests continued to arrive. They were -chiefly men of note, yet came attended by few domestics. There was Lord -Fitzwater, dissatisfied at the part of rebel he was forced, he thought, -to play; and on that account he was louder than any against King Henry. -Sir Simon Mountford was a Yorkist of the days of Edward the Fourth; he -personally hated Richmond, and looked on Richard's as a sacred cause. -Sir Thomas Thwaites had been a friend of the earl of Rivers, and gladly -seized this occasion to avenge his death, attributable to the dastardly -policy of Henry. William Daubeny was attached to the earl of Warwick, -and entered warmly into projects whose success crowned his freedom. Sir -Robert Ratcliffe, cousin of Lord Fitzwater, had lived in poor disguise -since the battle of Stoke, and gladly threw off his peasant's attire to -act the soldier again in a new war of the Roses. Sir Richard Lessey had -been chaplain to the household of Edward the Fourth. Sir William -Worseley, dean of St. Paul's, was a rare instance of gratitude outliving -the period of receiving benefits; he had been a creature, and was a -sincere mourner, of the late queen. Many others, clergy and laity, -entered the plot; a thousand different motives impelled them to one line -of conduct, and brought them to Clifford's moated house, to conspire the -overthrow of Tudor, and the exaltation of the duke of York to the -throne. One only person invited to this assembly failed. Sir William -Stanley; each voice was loud against his tergiversation, and Clifford's -whispered sarcasm cut deeper than all. -</p> - -<p> -The debates and consultations lasted three days. After infinite -confusion and uncertainty, the deliberations brought forth conclusions -that were resolved upon unanimously. First, the house they then -occupied, and the village, was to be a repository for arms, a rendezvous -for the recruits of the cause. The conspirators levied a tax on -themselves, and collected some thousand pounds to be remitted to the -prince. They regulated a system, whose object was to re-awaken -party-spirit in England, and to quicken into speedy growth the seeds of -discontent and sedition, which Henry's avarice and extortion had sown -throughout the land. Those who possessed estates and followers were to -organize troops. At last, they deputed two of their number to go over to -the duchess of Burgundy, and to carry their offers of service to her -royal nephew. The two selected for this purpose were, first, Sir Robert -Clifford, who had known the duke formerly, and who, it was supposed, -would be peculiarly welcome to him; and secondly, Master William Barley, -a man advanced in years; he had combated in nearly all the twelve -pitched and sanguinary battles that were fought between York and -Lancaster. He had been a boy-servitor to the old duke of York, a yeoman -of Edward's guard, a halberdier in Richard the Third's time. He had been -left for dead on the field of Bosworth, but came to life again to appear -at the battle of Stoke. He had risen in the world, and was a man of -substance and reputation: he was not noble; but he was rich, zealous, -and honest. -</p> - -<p> -The meeting lasted three days, and then gradually dispersed. All had -gone well. An assembly, whose individuals were noble, wealthy, or -influential, united to acknowledge Richard as their liege. Foreign -potentates declared for him; and hope was high in every bosom at all -these forerunners of success. Monina's enthusiastic heart beat with -ecstasy. Young, the innocent child of unsophisticated impulse, her -gladness showed itself in wild spirits and unconstrained expressions of -exultation. She and Clifford returned to London together, for he -contrived tacitly and unsuspected by her, to install himself as her -habitual escort. Happy in expectation of her beloved friend's success, -she talked without reserve; and the genius, which was her soul's -essence, gave power and fascination to everything she said. She spoke of -Spain, of Richard's adventures there, of her father and his voyages. The -name of Columbus was mentioned; and the New World—source of wondrous -conjecture. They spoke of the desolate waste of waters that hems in the -stable earth—of the golden isles beyond: to all these subjects Monina -brought vivid imagery, and bright painting, creations of her own quick -fancy. Clifford had never before held such discourse. In hours of -sickness or distaste, at moments of wild exhilaration, when careering on -a high-mettled horse beneath the stars of night, fanned by a strong but -balmy wind, he had conceived ideas allied to the lofty aspirations of -our nature; but he cast them off as dreams, unworthy of a wise man's -attention. The melodious voice of Monina, attuned by the divine impulses -of her spirit, as the harp of the winds by celestial breezes, raised a -commotion in his mind, such as a prophetess of Delphi felt when the -oracular vapour rose up to fill her with sacred fury. A word, a single -word, was a potent northern blast to dash aside the mist, and to -re-apparel the world in its, to him, naked, barren truth. So fervently, -and so sweetly did she speak of Richard, that Clifford's burning heart -was in a moment alight with jealousy; and the love he despised, and -thought he mastered, became his tyrant, when it allied itself to his -evil passions. He looked angry, he spoke sharply—Monina was -astonished; but his libellous insinuations fell innocuous on her pure -mind: she only felt that she feared him, half-disliked him, and, -trembling and laughing as she spoke, said, "Well, well; I will not care -for your angry mood. You are going soon: ere you return, our prince -will, by his own bright example, have taught you better things. Learn -from him diligently, sir knight, for he is all courtesy and nobleness." -</p> - -<p> -Clifford laughed bitterly, and a base resolve of lowering the -high-hearted York to his own degrading level arose in his breast: it was -all chaos there as yet; but the element, which so lately yielded to a -regular master-wind of ambition, was tossed in wild and hideous waves -by—we will not call the passion love—by jealousy, envy, and -growing hate. Short interval was allowed for the gathering of the storm; -he was soon called upon to fulfil his commission, and to accompany Master -William Barley on their important embassy to Brussels. -</p> - -<p> -The scene here presented, operated a considerable change on these -personages; arriving from England, where the name of the White Rose was -whispered, and every act in his favour was hid in the darkness of -skulking conspiracy, to his court at Brussels, where noble followers -clustered round him, and the duchess, with a woman's tact and a woman's -zeal, studied how best to give importance and splendour to his person -and pretensions. The spirit of the Yorkist party, in spite of her -natural mildness, still glowed in the bosom of this daughter of Henry the -Sixth's unhappy rival,—the child of disaster, and bride of frantic -turbulence. Opposed to the remorseless Louis the Eleventh, struggling -with the contentious insolence of the free towns of Flanders, war -appeared to her the natural destiny of man, and she yielded to its -necessity, while her gentle heart sorrowed over the misery which it -occasioned. -</p> - -<p> -She first received Clifford and Barley; and with the winning grace of a -sovereign, solicited for her nephew their affection and support: then -she presented them to him—this was the fair-haired, blue-eyed boy, -whom Clifford saved, the gentle, noble-looking being, whose simplicity -awed him; whose bright smile said, "I reign over every heart." The -knight shrunk into himself: how had he dyed his soul in a worldliness -which painted his countenance in far other colours.—He was not -deficient in grace: his dark-grey eyes, veiled by long lashes, were in -themselves exceedingly handsome: the variableness of his face, traced -with many unseasonable lines, yet gave him the power of assuming a -pleasing expression; and his person, though diminutive, was eminently -elegant, while his self-possession and easy address, covered a multitude -of faults. Now, his first resolve was to insinuate himself into -Richard's affections; to become a favourite; and consequently to lead -him blindly on the path he desired he should tread. -</p> - -<p> -The prince's spirits were high; his soul exulted in the attachment of -others, in the gratitude that animated him. Until Clifford's arrival -(Edmund was for the time in England), Sir George Neville, among his new -friends, held the first place. He was proud and reserved; but his -aristocracy was so blended with honour, his reserve with perfect -attention and deference to the feeling of others, that it was impossible -not to esteem him, and find pleasure in his society. Clifford and -Neville made harsh discord together. Richard, inexperienced in the -world, sought to harmonize that which never could accord: Neville drew -back; and Clifford's good humour, and apparent forbearance, made him -appear to advantage. -</p> - -<p> -At this period ambassadors from Henry arrived at Brussels: they had been -expected; and as a measure of precaution, Richard left that place before -their arrival, and took up his temporary abode at Audenarde, a town -which made part of the dowry of the Duchess Margaret. All the English, -save Lady Brampton, attended him to his retreat. The ambassadors, in -their audience with the archduke, demanded the expulsion of Richard from -the Low Countries, taunting the duchess with her support of the notorious -impostor, Lambert Simnel, and speaking of the duke of York as a -fresh puppet of her own making. They received the concise reply—that -the gentleman she recognized as her nephew, inhabited the territory of -her dowry, of which she was sovereign, and over which the archduke had -no jurisdiction: however, that no disturbance might occur in their -commercial relations, which would have roused all Flanders to rebellion, -Maximilian was obliged to temporize, and to promise to afford no aid to -the illustrious exile. -</p> - -<p> -Their audience accomplished, the ambassadors had only to return. They -remained but one night at Brussels: on this night. Sir Edward Poynings -and Doctor Wattam, who fulfilled this mission, were seated over a cup of -spiced wine, in discourse concerning these strange events, the Lady -Margaret's majestic demeanour, and the strangeness of her supporting -this young man, if indeed he were an impostor; when a cavalier, whose -soiled dress and heated appearance bespoke fatigue and haste, entered -the room. It was Sir Robert Clifford: they received him as liege -subjects may receive a traitor, with darkened brows and serious looks. -Clifford addressed them in his usual careless style:—"Saint Thomas -shield me, my masters; can you not afford one benison to your gossip! -Good Sir Edward, we have ruffled together, when we wore both white and -red in our caps; and does the loss of a blood-stained rag degrade me -from your friendship?" -</p> - -<p> -The bitter accusations of the knight, and the doctor's sarcasms, which -were urged in reply, awoke a haughty smile. "Oh, yes!" he cried, "ye are -true men, faithful liege subjects! I, an inheritance of the block, -already marked for quartering, because I am for the weak right, you for -the strong might. Right, I say—start not—the mother of God be -my witness! Duke Richard is Duke Richard—is lord of us all—true -son of the true king, Ned of the White Rose, whom you swore to protect, -cherish, and exalt; you, yes, even you, sir knight. Where is now your -oath? cast from heaven, to pave the hell where you will reap the meed of -your lying treachery!" -</p> - -<p> -Clifford, always insolent, was doubly so now that he felt accused of -crimes of which he did not deem himself guilty; but which would (so an -obscure presentiment told him) hereafter stain his soul. Doctor Wattam -interposed before Poyning's rising indignation: "Wherefore come you -here, Sir Robert?" he asked. "Though we are envoys of the king you have -betrayed, we may claim respect: Sir Edward, as a gentleman and a -cavalier—I as an humble servitor of the Lord Jesus, in whose name I -command you not to provoke to a bloody deed the messengers of peace." -</p> - -<p> -"Cease to taunt me with a traitor's name," replied Sir Robert, "and I -will chafe no further the kindling blood of my sometime friend. Let us -rather leave all idle recrimination. I came hither to learn how wagged -the world in London town, and, as a piece of secret intelligence, to -assure you that you wrongfully brand this stripling for an impostor. Be -he sovereign of our land or not—be it right or wrong to side with -York against Lancaster—York he is, the son of Edward and Elizabeth, -so never fail me my good sword or my ready wits!" -</p> - -<p> -The best of us are inclined to curiosity. A little fearful of each -other, the ambassadors exchanged looks, to know whether either would -accuse the other of treachery if they heard further. "Good sir," said -the doctor, gravely, "methinks we do our liege service in listening to -this gentleman. We can the better report to his majesty on what grounds -the diabolic machination is founded." -</p> - -<p> -So, over another goblet, Clifford sat telling them how Richard had long -lived as Perkin Warbeck in the neighbourhood of Tournay, under the -guardianship of Madeline de Faro; and he recounted the history of his -escape from the hands of Frion. Doctor Wattam carefully conned these -names; and then, in reply, he set forth how unworthy it was of a -Clifford to desert from Lancaster; how unlikely, even if it were true, -which, after all his tale hardly proved it was, that the outcast boy -could compete with success with the sage possessor of England's throne. -Poynings asked him how it pleased him to find himself at the same board -with a Neville and a Taylor, and hinted that an exile from his country -and a traitor to his sovereign, this was hardly the way to replenish his -purse, or to gain anew the broad lands he had lost. The service he might -do Henry by a return to his duty, gratitude and reward, were then urged -by the priest, while Clifford listened in dodged silence. His brow -became flushed; his lips worked with internal commotion. He felt, he -knew, that he hated the very man hose cause he espoused; but he was -pledged to so many, a whole array of noble and respected names came -before him.—Could he, in the eyes of these, become a false foul -traitor? He refilled, and quaffed again and again his cup; and at last -so wound himself up, as to begin, "My friends, you speak sooth, though I -may not listen; yet, if you name one so humble and distasteful, say to -my liege—" -</p> - -<p> -A page in green and white—the colours of Lady Brampton—entered, -announcing her speedy arrival. Clifford's wits were already disturbed by -wine; instinct made him fear in such a state to come in contact with the -subtle lady; he drew his cap over his eyes, his cloak around his person, -and vanished from the hall, ere his friends were aware of his intention. -</p> - -<p> -The interview between Lady Brampton and the gentlemen was of another -sort. Sir Edward had in her younger days worn her colours. She was -changed in person since then: but, when, after a short interval, he got -over the shock consequent on the first perception of the sad traces of -time on the cheek of beauty, he found that her eyes possessed the same -fire, her voice the same thrilling tone, her smile the same enchantment. -While the doctor, who had loved her as a daughter, and she regarded him -with filial reverence, rebuked her for what he termed her misdeeds; she -replied with vivacity, and such true and zealous love for him whose -cause she upheld, that they were both moved to listen with respect, if -not conviction, to her asseverations. She could not gain her point, nor -win them over to her side; but, when she departed, neither spoke of -young Richard's rights, unwilling to confess to one another that they -were converts to his truth. She went. The next day they departed from -Brussels, and it became subject of discussion, what step Henry would now -take, and whether, by any new measure, he could disturb the ripening -conspiracy against his throne. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h4><a id="chap21"></a></h4> - -<h4>CHAPTER XXI -<br /><br /> -TREASON</h4> - - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Oh, what excuse can my invention make?</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I do arrest ye of high treason here!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i20">SHAKSPEARE.</span> -</div></div></div> - -<p> -Henry's ambassadors had wrought little change on any except Clifford. -His words had been interrupted; they were nothing in themselves; but -their spirit, the spirit of treason, was in his heart. He made up his -mind to nothing; he looked forward to no certain project; but he felt -that hereafter he might betray his present associates to their -arch-enemy. As yet his conscience was not seared; the very anticipation -of guilt tortured him, and he longed to fly from thought. Another blind -impulse drove him on. He hated the prince, because he was his opposite; -because, while he was a cankered bloom, his heart a waste, his soul -crusted over by deceit, his very person sullied by evil deeds and -thoughts, Duke Richard stood in all the pride of innocence. Could he -degrade him to his own level, there would be a pang the less in his -bosom; could he injure him in the eyes of his friends, render him, as he -himself had ever been, an object of censure, he would satisfy the -ill-cravings of his nature, and do Henry a wondrous benefit by -tarnishing the high character his rival bore, causing him whom his -adherents set up as an idol, to become a reproach to them. -</p> - -<p> -Clifford thought that it would be an easy task to entice a gay young -stripling into vice. Richard loved hawking, hunting, and jousting in the -lists, almost more, some of his elder friends thought, than befitted one -on the eve of a perilous enterprise. Governed by Edmund, attended by -Neville, watched by the noble duchess and vigilant Lady Brampton, it was -no great wonder that he had hitherto escaped error; but Clifford went -wilily to work, and hoped in some brief luckless hour to undo the work -of years. Richard was glad to find in him a defender of his inclination -for manly sports; an intimacy sprung up between them, which it would not -be the knight's fault, if it did not bring about the catastrophe he -desired. -</p> - -<p> -What then perpetually opposed all his measures? What, when he thought -he had caused the tide of temptation to flow, suddenly made it ebb and -retreat back to its former banks? Clifford, an adept in every art, -moulded himself to every needful form, and at last won the secret from -the deep recess of Richard's heart; he loved—he loved Monina, that -living emblem of innocent affection; never, he had vowed, would he -disturb the sacred calm that reigned in her young heart, nor gift -ignorance with fatal knowledge. She knew not the nature of her own -feelings, and he would not withdraw the veil; but he was himself -conscious of being swayed by the tenderest love. He could not marry her; -his own misfortunes had arisen from the misalliance of his father; she -herself would have refused to injure thus his cause, and have disdained -him, if for her sake he had been inclined to abdicate his rights; he -would be her friend, her brother. With passion came sorrow; he fled -from sad reflection to the chase, to the exercise of arms. But other -temptation became blunted by this very sentiment; his love grew more -ardent by restraint; if he yielded in her absence to the contemplation -of her image, his soul was filled with a voluptuous languor, from which -he roused himself by attention to his duties or hardy pastimes; but to -every other form of pleasure he was cold. This was a strange, -incomprehensible picture to present to the world-worn Clifford; he -fancied that it must be a delusion, but he found all the resistance of -firm reality. To embitter his defeat came his own fierce passions, and -the knowledge that Monina loved his rival; they would see each other, be -happy in each other, and laugh him to scorn! He concealed his jealousy, -his disappointment; but double treble rage gnawed at his heart; hatred -awoke in her most viperous shape, fanged by a sense of inferiority, -envenomed by envy, sharpened by the torture of defeat. How little did -any know—above all, how not at all did his innocent victim -suspect—the storm that brooded in his heart! There was something in -the very slightness and grace of his figure that was at variance with -the idea of violence and crime; and his glossing tongue added to the -deceit. Lady Brampton feared him a little; Frion saw something in him, -that made him pay greater court to him than to any other—these were -the only indications. Sunshine and calm brooded over the earthquake's -birth. -</p> - -<p> -Meanwhile, Henry was not sleeping at his post. He saw the full extent of -his danger, and exerted all his energy to provide against it. His -immediate attention was chiefly directed to two points. In the first -place it was desirable to forge some tale, to account for the -circumstances that spoke so loudly for the truth of York's story, and -thus to degrade him from the high esteem in which he was universally -held; secondly, it became necessary to certify to the public the death -of Edward the Fifth and his brother in the Tower. We may well wonder at -his ill success as to the first point;—there never was concocted so -ill-fangled, so incongruous, and so contradictory a fable, as that put -together by Henry, purporting to be the history of the pretender. He was -himself ashamed of it, and tried to call it in. History has in its -caprice given more credence to this composition, than its contemporaries -gave; it was ridiculed and despised at the time even by the partisans of -Lancaster. -</p> - -<p> -He was equally unfortunate in his second effort. To explain his attempts -we must go back to the time of Richard the Third. On repeated reports -being made to him of his unhappy imprisoned nephew's illness, this -monarch had commissioned Sir James Tirrel to visit him. The young prince -had languished without any appearance of immediate danger, and then -suddenly drooped even to the grave. Tirrel arrived at the Tower late in -the evening, and the first intelligence he received was, that the Lord -Edward was dying. At the midnight hour he was admitted into his -sick-room; his two attendants followed him no further than the -ante-chamber. He entered. The glazed eye and death-pale cheek of the -victim spoke of instant dissolution; a few slight convulsions, and it -was over—Edward was no more! With wild, loud cries poor little York -threw himself on his brother's body. Tirrel's servants, affrighted, -entered; they found one of the princes, whose illness had been -represented as trivial, dead; the other was carried off, struggling and -screaming, by their master and an attendant priest, the only two persons -in the chamber. They departed two hours afterwards from the Tower. -Tirrel seemed disturbed, and was silent. They would perhaps have thought -less about it; but hearing subsequently of the disappearance and -supposed death of the young duke, wonder grew into suspicion, and in -thoughtless talk they laid the foundation of a dire tale out of these -fragments. Henry had heard it before; now he endeavoured to trace its -origin. Tirrel, who for some time had lived obscurely in the country, -came to London—he was immediately seized, and thrown into prison. -Emissaries were set to work to find the three others, the priest and Sir -James's two servants. Only one was to be found; and when Tirrel was -asked concerning this man, by name John Dighton, he told a tale of -ingratitude punished by him, which was soothing sweet to King Henry's -ear; he was speedily discovered and imprisoned. Both master and follower -underwent many examinations: and it was suggested to each, that reward -would follow their giving countenance to a tale of midnight murder. -Tirrel was indignant at the proposal; Dighton, on the contrary—a -needy, bad man—while he told the story so as to gloss his own -conduct, was very ready to inculpate his master; and it grew finely under -his fosterage. Henry saw that without Tirrel's connivance he could not -authenticate any account; but he gave all the weight he could to these -reports. Few persons believed them, yet it served to confuse and -complicate events; and, while people argued, some at least would take -his side of the question, and these would be interested to spread their -belief abroad;—Duke Richard must be the loser in every way. -</p> - -<p> -The spies, the traitor-emissaries of the fear-struck monarch, were all -busy; there was a whole army of them dispersed in England and -Flanders—none could know the false man from the true. To obviate -every suspicion, he caused his own hirelings to be proclaimed traitors, -and cursed at St. Paul's cross. -</p> - -<p> -The priests, ever his friends, were impiously permitted to violate the -sacrament of confession; and thus several unsuspecting men betrayed -their lives, while they fancied that they performed a religious duty. A -few names still escaped him—he tampered with Clifford and Frion for -them: the former was not yet quite a villain; the latter found that he -enjoyed more credit, honour, and power as the duke's secretary than he -could do as Henry's spy; besides, his vanity was hurt—he wished to -revenge himself on the master who had discarded him. -</p> - -<p> -In nothing did Henry succeed better than in throwing an impenetrable -veil over his manœuvres. Most people thought, so tranquil and -unconcerned he seemed, that he did not suspect the existence of an -actual conspiracy, fostered in England itself, containing many -influential persons among its numbers. All were sure that he was -entirely ignorant of their names and actual purposes. The many months -which intervened while he waited patiently, corroborated this belief, -and the conspirators slept in security. The winter passed, and they -continued to scheme, apparently unobserved; spring came—they -prepared for York's landing—for a general rising—for a -sudden seizing on many walled towns and fortresses—for the -occupation of London itself. A few brief weeks, and Henry's prosperity -would be shaken to its centre—his power uprooted—he and his -children would wander exiles in a foreign land; and another king, the -gallant descendant of the true Plantagenets, reign in his stead. -</p> - -<p> -Thus occupied, thus prepared, were the Yorkists in England; at Brussels, -things were carried on more openly, and wore a more promising -appearance. The duchess, Lady Brampton, Plantagenet, triumphed. Sir -George Neville anticipated with proud joy a restoration of the fallen -race of Warwick, and regarded himself already as another king-maker of -that house. Every exile looked northward, and grew joyful with the -thought of home. Frion became more busy and important than ever; he had -lately gone disguised to England, in pursuance of some project. In -another week they expected Lord Barry to join them from Ireland: -Clifford was amazed, vacillating, terrified. He knew that Henry was far -from idle; he was aware that some of the loudest speakers in Richard's -favour in Brussels were his hirelings, whom he would not betray, because -he half felt himself one among them, though he could not quite prevail -on himself to join their ranks. He believed that the king was in eager -expectation of his decision in his favour; that nothing could be done -till he said the word; he proposed conditions; wished to conceal some -names; exempt others from punishment. Messengers passed continually -between him and bishop Morton, Henry's chief counsellor and friend, and -yet he could not determine to be altogether a traitor. -</p> - -<p> -Thus stood affairs; a consummation all thought to be nigh at hand. It -was the spring of 1494, and the coming summer was to decide the fate of -York. A ball was given by the duchess, in honour of her nephew; it was -splendidly and gaily attended. Clifford had been conversing with the -prince, when suddenly he left the apartment: it was long ere he came -back, and slowly joined the principal group in the room, consisting of -the duchess, the prince. Lady Brampton, Neville, Plantagenet, Taylor, -and several others. Clifford's countenance was marked by horror and -surprise; so much so, that Lady Brampton looked at him a moment without -knowing him. Suddenly she started up and seized his arm—"Holy -Virgin!" she cried, "what had dressed your face, Sir Robert, in this pale -livery? what tale of death have you heard?" -</p> - -<p> -The brow of Clifford became flushed, his lips grew whiter, as quivering -they refused to form the words he attempted to utter. Barley had before -this quitted the apartment: he rushed in now, crying aloud, "Treason!" -</p> - -<p> -"Treason!" Neville repeated, laying his hand heavily on Clifford's -shoulder; "hear you that word, sir knight? Where is the traitor?" -</p> - -<p> -Clifford in a moment recovered himself, answering, composedly, "Ay, -would I could point out the man—would that I could drag him forth, -the mark, the very target for the shafts of vengeance. We are lost; the -cause is lost; our friends; the good Lord Fitzwater. I would have hid -his name in the bowels of the earth!" -</p> - -<p> -Already the festal hall was deserted; already the guests were dispersed, -to learn how wide the destruction had spread. By the prince's orders, -the messenger from England was introduced before himself and his -principal friends: it was Adam Floyer, Sir Simon Mountford's chaplain; -escaped himself, he was the bearer of a frightful tale. On one day, -almost at the same hour, the Yorkist conspirators were arrested. Lord -Fitzwater, Sir Simon Mountford, Sir Thomas Thwaites, Robert Ratcliffe, -William Daubeny, Thomas Cressenor, Thomas Astwood, two dominicans, by -name William Richford and Thomas Poyns, Doctor William Sutton, Worseley -the dean of Saint Paul's, Robert Langborne, and Sir William Lessey, were -all seized and cast into prison. Others had escaped: young Gilbert -Daubeny, brother of William, and Sir Edward Lisle, had arrived in -Flanders. Others made good speed and had fled to Ireland. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h4><a id="chap22"></a></h4> - -<h4>CHAPTER XXII -<br /><br /> -HERMAN DE FARO</h4> - - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Oh, Clifford! but bethink thee once again,</span><br /> -<span class="i0">And in thy thought o'errun my former time,</span><br /> -<span class="i0">And if thou canst for blushing, view this face!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i20">SHAKSPEARE.</span> -</div></div></div> - -<p> -"Where is the traitor?" Neville's question resounded through Flanders, -and was re-echoed in groans from the English shores. Each man feared the -other, and saw the mark of Henry's malice on the brow of all. It was a -worse scene in England: executions followed imprisonment; the scaffolds -flowed with blood; and suspicion was still greedy of prey. Among the -papers seized by the king there was found a letter from Clifford to Lord -Fitzwater, containing these words: "I do protest, my lord, that the -proof of York's truth is most pertinent. You know this; and yet he who -cut the crooked rose-bush to the roots still doubts; forsooth, he is -still at his 'ifs'—'if he were sure that young man were King -Edward's son, he would never bear arms against him.' Pray deprive my -lord of his 'if;' for arms he must never bear: he is too principal to -any cause." -</p> - -<p> -Henry tormented himself to find who this doubter might be: again he -sought to bribe Clifford, who was at first dogged that so much was done -without him, and then tried to barter his intelligence for Lord -Fitzwater's life. Such grace had he left, that he was ready to exert his -wits to save his former patron; this was granted. This noble alone of -the conspirators who were laymen was spared: he was sent prisoner to -Calais. -</p> - -<p> -At the first word of discovery, Monina's friends had endeavoured to -insure her escape to Flanders; but her name was known to Henry, and -there was none whom he was more desirous to get into his power. She -remained concealed at a little distance from London. She grew mad in -inaction: the work of death and misery around wound up her tender spirit -to torture; and the execution of her former friends filled her with such -horror as made day hateful, night the parent of frightful visions. After -several weeks' seclusion, she all at once resolved to visit London, to -seek some one of her former friends—to learn whether the tragedy was -over, and what further mischiefs despair might have engendered. She -inhabited a solitary mansion, with one old woman, who opposed her going, -but vainly. Monina was too young to bear uncertainty with any degree of -patience. Some slight joy visited her as she found herself on her road -to London. Before she arrived a heavy rain fell; but she was not to be -discouraged. Sir Edward Lisle, she knew, had not been arrested: she was -unaware of his escape, and thought perhaps that he had not been -discovered; she might get intelligence from him. His house was deserted -and empty. Another hope remained—Sir William Stanley. She knew his -timidity, and resolved to be cautious as to the manner of her visit. Sir -William had ever been peculiarly kind to the gentle maiden; fearing to -see her openly, she had often come to him by water: his mansion, near -the palace at Westminster, had a garden upon the Thames. Without -exciting any remark, she could land here. It was already night, and this -favoured secrecy. With some difficulty, in the city, where she then was, -she contrived to find her way to an obscure wharf, and embarked in a -wherry. Fortunately it was high water, and she landed without difficulty -in the garden, and dismissed the men. Now she began, to be puzzled as to -how she should make her way, dripping with rain, unexpected, to Sir -William's presence. She had been accustomed to be admitted by a little -door opening on stairs which led her to her old friend's library: this -was shut now. Suddenly she thought she heard voices, and then perceived -a thread of light that streamed through the key-hole of the summer-house -in the garden. There was a noise on the water, too: and a boat was -paddled to the landing-place. Bewildered, yet believing that all this -secrecy was connected with the grand conspiracy, she moved towards the -summer-house: the door was opened, and the light falling full upon her, -she saw several figures within, and a female shriek burst upon her ear. -Quick steps were heard behind: to retreat or go forward equally -terrified her; when one of the persons in the summer-house, a man in an -uncouth foreign garb, cried, "Thou here, Monina! What miracle is this? -Come, come in; there is danger in all we do!" -</p> - -<p> -Monina recognized the voice of Frion, and entered: there she saw one, a -lady richly attired, yet half disguised in a large black cloak. Fear was -painted on her cheek; her blue eyes were cast up to Heaven. A female -attendant with her seemed yet more terrified. About the room were -scattered globes and astrolabes, and all the gear of an astrologer. In -the lady, Monina recognized York's sister, Tudor's queen, the fair -Elizabeth of England. At once compassion and respect entered her heart: -she addressed the royal lady with reverence, and all that touching grace -that was her sweetest charm; she assured her of inviolable secrecy; she -reminded her of their former interview. Elizabeth grew calmer as she -recognized her visitor at Shene: she stretched out her hand to the -Spaniard, saying, "I do indeed believe and trust thee; thou shalt hear -again from me." Then folding her mantle round her, and leaning on her -attendant, she quitted the house, and with trembling haste embarked. -</p> - -<p> -For many weeks after this scene, Monina continued concealed in Sir -William Stanley's mansion. When the arrest of the conspirators had taken -place, Frion, balked in an attempt to escape, for safety's sake had -assumed the habit and character of an astrologer, and so far worked upon -Stanley's fears, and won him by his flattery, that he permitted him to -take up his residence in his summer-house. Frion was a clever prophet, -and too restless not to become notorious. It was a good mode, he -averred, to put hope in the hearts of the Yorkists, by prognosticating -all manner of success to them. His fame spread. The queen questioned -Stanley about his new astrologer; and the confusion the poor chamberlain -evinced, served only to excite her curiosity. She sent one of her -attendants to see what manner of man he might be; and the subtle Frion -profited by this little artifice, which Sir William in his terror -divulged, to entice the queen herself to his cell. She came, and the -result of her visit was to bring Monina again before her. -</p> - -<p> -Such were the agents still at work for York in London. Such the -materials Clifford strove to mould into a purpose of his own. There was -no reason, so many of the White Rose thought, to forego all their plans -because one had come to a fatal end. Still Richard might land in -England, and make head against Tudor. On a smaller scale, with lessened -hopes and diminished ardour, a scheme of this kind was canvassed. -Clifford appeared its chief abettor, and encouraged it by every means in -his power; none were averse. It was not an enterprise of such high -expectation as the discovered one; but, undertaken with speed, and -prosecuted with energy, it might turn out as well. England was by no -means tranquil; the metropolis itself was the scene of tumults: these -were raised to a ferment by the embargo Henry had found it necessary to -place on all communication with Holland—a measure fraught with ruin -to many of the richest merchants in London. -</p> - -<p> -At this time, towards the end of the summer, the king came up from his -palace at Shene, and held a court at Westminster. One of the immediate -subjects that brought him up, was a tumult in the city, to which the -embargo had given rise. A vast number of apprentices and journeymen -belonging to the ruined merchants were out of employ, while the traders -from Hans, and other free German towns, who went among us by the name of -the Easterlings, got the commerce into their own hands, and grew rich -upon it. The sight of their prosperity was, to the starving Londoners, -as the pressed rowel of a spur in a horse's side; with the usual -barbarism of the untaught and rude, they visited on these men the fault -of their governors—the discontent augmented till it became loud, -furious, and armed. Multitudes of those deprived of their usual means, -met, and, in a moment of rage, proceeded from words to acts. They -endeavoured to force and rifle the warehouses of the Easterlings, who -repulsed them with difficulty; nor did they disperse, till the mayor -arrived with men and weapons, from whom they fled like a flock of sheep. -When tidings of this event were brought to Henry, he, who saw in all -things the multiplied image of the abhorred White Rose, believed the -Yorkists to be its secret cause. The day after his arrival he gave -audience to the mayor, who reported that, from every examination made, -none appeared to have a part in it, except servants and apprentices, -nearly a hundred of whom were imprisoned in the Tower. -</p> - -<p> -In giving a detail of this circumstance, the mayor related that the -Easterlings declared, that at the first onset their richest -store-chambers must have become the prey of the rioters, but for the -interposition of one man. He was a sea-captain, and had arrived but the -day before with his caravel from Spain—they represented him as a -person of gigantic stature and superhuman strength. Entangled by the -mob in his progress through the city, he had no sooner discovered their -intent, than he contrived to make his way into the stilyard; and there -combining the forces of the defenders, more by his personal prowess than -any other means, he beat back the invaders, and succeeded in closing the -gates. At the representation of the mayor, Henry commanded that this man -should be brought before him, partly that he might thank him for his -services, and partly, for Henry was curious on such points, to learn -from him the news from Spain, and if more had been heard of the wild -visionary Columbus and his devoted crew, since they had deserted the -stable continent, to invade the hidden chambers of the secret western -ocean. -</p> - -<p> -The king received the mariner in his closet. None were in attendance -save Urswick. There was something grand in the contrast between these -men. The courtier-priest—the sovereign, whose colourless face was -deep-lined with careful thought, whose eyes were skilled in reading the -thoughts of men, and whose soul was perpetually alive to everything that -was passing around him—and the ocean rock, the man of tempests and -hardships, whose complexion was darkened and puckered by exposure to sun -and wind, whose every muscle was hardened by labour, but whose unservile -mien bespoke no cringing to any power, save nature's own. He received -Henry's thanks with respect, and replied simply: he answered also -several questions put to him concerning his voyages; it appeared that he -had but lately arrived from Spain—that he came to seek a relative who -resided in England. During this interview a thought flashed on Henry's -mind. In his late transactions with Clifford, the base purpose had been -formed of enticing the duke and his principal adherents to England, and -of delivering them up to their enemy; there had been some discussion as -to providing, at least, one vessel in Henry's pay, to make part of the -little fleet which would bring the duke of York over. This was -difficult, as suspicion might attach itself to any English vessel; but -here was one, with a stranger captain, and a foreign crew, a man who -knew nothing of White or Red Rose, who would merely fulfil his -commission. Slow on all occasions to decide, the king appointed another -interview with the stranger. -</p> - -<p> -It so happened, that the news of the appearance of the Spanish captain -had penetrated to the queen's apartments; and little Arthur, her gentle -and darling son, was desirous to see the countrymen of Columbus, whose -promised discoveries were the parent of such wonder and delight -throughout the world. The prince of Wales must not be denied this -pleasure, and the Spaniard was ushered into the queen's presence. An -enthusiast in his art, his energetic, though simple expressions -enchanted the intelligent prince, and even compelled the attention of -his little sturdy brother Henry. He spoke in words, borrowed from -Columbus's own lips, of translucent seas, of an atmosphere more softly -serene than ours, of shores of supernal beauty, of the happy natives, of -stores of treasure, and the bright hopes entertained concerning the -further quest to be made in these regions. Elizabeth forgot herself to -listen, and regretted the necessity of so soon dismissing him. She asked -a few questions relative to himself, his vessel; "She was a gallant -thing once," replied her commander, "when I took her from the Algerines, -and new-christened her the Adalid; because, like her owner, being of -Moorish origin she embraced the true faith. My own name, please your -grace, is Hernan de Faro, otherwise called the Captain of the Wreck, in -memory of a sad tedious adventure, many years old." -</p> - -<p> -"De Faro—had he not a daughter?" -</p> - -<p> -Anxiety and joy showed itself at once in the mariner's countenance. -Monina!—Where was she? How eagerly and vainly had he sought -her—faltering, the queen had only power to say, that Sir William -Stanley, the lord chamberlain, could inform him, and, terrified, put an -end to the interview. -</p> - -<p> -Two days after—already had De Faro found and fondly embraced his -beloved child—Urswick, at the king's command, sent for the hero of -the stilyard, and, after some questioning, disclosed his commission to -him; it was such, that, had de Faro been in ignorance, would have led -him to suspect nothing—he was simply to sail for Ostend; where he -would seek Sir Robert Clifford, and deliver a letter: he was further -told that he was to remain at Sir Robert's command, to receive on board -his vessel whoever the knight should cause to embark in her, and to -bring them safely to England. To all this De Faro, aware of the dread -nature of these orders, assented; and, in Stanley's summer-house, with -the lord chamberlain, Monina, and Frion, it was discussed how this web -of treason could best be destroyed. There was little room for doubt; -Monina resolved to sail with her father, to denounce Clifford to the -prince, and so save him and his friends from the frightful snare. Frion -still remained in England, to try to fathom the whole extent of the -mischief intended; though now, fearful of discovery, he quitted his -present abode, and sought a new disguise. Stanley trembled at Clifford's -name, but he saw no suspicion in his sovereign's eye, and was reassured. -</p> - -<p> -The Adalid sailed, bearing the king's letters to Clifford, and having -Monina on board, who was to unfold to the deceived prince and his -followers the dangers that menaced them. -</p> - -<p> -Already, as the appointed time drew near, most of Richard's partizans -were assembled at Ostend; a fleet of three vessels was anchored in the -port to convey them to England to fated death; the prince himself, with -Clifford, sojourned in a castle at no great distance. Sir Robert -insinuated himself each day more and more into his royal friend's -confidence; each day his hatred grew, and he fed himself with it to keep -true to his base purpose; among the partizans of York sometimes he felt -remorse; beside the bright contrast of his own dark self, never. -</p> - -<p> -Monina landed; and, the prince being absent, first she sought Lady -Brampton—she was at Brussels; then Plantagenet,—he was -expected, but not arrived from Paris; then she asked for Sir George -Neville, as the chief of the English exiles; to him she communicated her -strange, her horrid tidings, to him she showed Henry's still sealed -letter to Clifford. What visible Providence was here, laying its finger -on the headlong machinery that was bearing them to destruction! Neville -was all aghast: he, who did not like, had ceased to suspect Clifford, -seeing that he adhered to them at their worst. He lost no time in -bringing Monina to the castle, but ten miles distant, where York then -was; he introduced her privately, and, wishing that she should tell her -tale herself, went about to contrive that, without Clifford's knowledge -or suspicion, the prince should have an interview with her. -</p> - -<p> -Monina did not wonder that her bosom throbbed wildly, as she remained in -expectation of seeing her childhood's playfellow, from whom she had been -so long absent. Nor did she check her emotion of intense pleasure when -she saw him, and heard him in her native Spanish utter expressions of -glad delight at so unexpectedly beholding her. Time had changed him very -little; his aspect was still boyish; and, if more thought was seated in -his eye, his smile was not the less frank and sweet; she was more -altered; her but little feminine form had acquired grace; the girl was -verging into the woman—blooming as the one, tender and impassioned as -the other; her full dark eyes, which none could behold and not feel the -very inner depths of their nature stirred, were the home of sensibility -and love. A few moments were given to an interchange of affectionate -greeting, and then York, recurring to the mysterious mode in which -Neville had expressed himself, asked if anything save a kind wish to -visit the brother of her childhood had brought her hither; she replied, -by relating to him the circumstances of her father's commission from -Henry, and delivering to him the letter for Sir Robert. The whole wide -world of misery contains no pang so great as the discovery of treachery -where we pictured truth; death is less in the comparison, for both -destroy the future, and one, with Gorgon countenance, transforms the -past. The world appeared to slide from beneath the prince, as he became -aware that Clifford's smiles were false; his seeming honesty, his -discourse of honour, the sympathy apparent between them, a lie, a -painted lie, alluring him by fair colours to embrace foulest deformity. -The exceeding openness and confidence of his own nature, rendered the -blow doubly unnatural and frightful; and Monina, who had half disliked, -and latterly had almost forgotten Clifford, was full of surprise and -pain to mark the affliction her friend's countenance expressed. -</p> - -<p> -There was no time for regret. Neville interrupted them, and it became -necessary to act. Richard held in his hand the sealed proof of his -associate's falsehood; Sir George urged him to open it, so as to -discover the whole extent of the treason. The prince's eyes were at once -lighted up by the suggestion: no, no, because Clifford had been base, he -would violate no law of honour—there was no need for the sake of -others; his treachery discovered, was fangless; nor would he even -undertake the dark office of openly convicting and punishing: his -conscience and remorse should be judge and executioner. -</p> - -<p> -Monina and Neville returned to Ostend. The prince sent a message to -Clifford with some trifling commission to execute in the same town; and -Sir Robert, who had heard of the arrival of a stranger caravel from -England, was glad of an opportunity, to ride over to learn its -character. His feet were in the stirrups, when a page brought him a -letter from the duke, which he was bid not to open till he had departed. -A sense of a mysterious meaning came over him. Was he discovered? At the -first dawn of this suspicion he clapped spurs to his horse, and was -already far away; then, impatient of uncertainty, as soon as half the -brief space to Ostend was measured, he took out the packet, eyed it -curiously, and, after many qualms and revolutions of feeling, suddenly -tore it open. King Henry's despatch, written in Urswick's well-known -hand, first met his eye. Worse in action than in thought, a cold dew -mantled on his brow; and, while his heart stood still in his labouring -breast, he cast his eyes over a few lines, written in Richard's fair -clear Spanish hand:— -</p> - -<blockquote><p> -"This paper, joined to the mode in which it fell into my hands, accuses -you of treason. If wrongfully, accord permission that the seal may be -broken, and your innocence proved. -</p> - -<p> -"Even it the mystery which this letter contains cannot be divulged nor -exculpated, all is not lost. Perhaps you are rather weak than guilty; -erring, but not wicked. If so, return immediately on your steps; by a -frank confession merit my confidence. I were unworthy of the mediation -of the Blessed Saints, whom each night I solicit to intercede for me -before our Heavenly Father, were I not ready to pardon one who has -sinned, but who repents. -</p> - -<p> -"If your crime be of a deeper dye, and you are allied in soul to my -enemy, depart. It is enough for me that I never see you more. If I -remain a fugitive for ever, you will lose nothing by deserting my ruined -fortunes; if I win the day, my first exercise of the dearest prerogative -of kings, will be to pardon you. -</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 60%;">"RICHARD."</p> -</blockquote> - - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h4><a id="chap23"></a></h4> - -<h4>CHAPTER XXIII -<br /><br /> -THE TRAITOR UNMASKED</h4> - - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i10">Shall I be the slave</span><br /> -<span class="i0">Of—what? a word? which those of this false world</span><br /> -<span class="i0">Employ against each other, not themselves,</span><br /> -<span class="i0">As men wear daggers not for self offence.</span><br /> -<span class="i0">But if I am mistaken, where shall I</span><br /> -<span class="i0">Find the disguise to hide me from myself?</span><br /> -<span class="i0">As now I skulk from every other eye.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i20">SHELLEY.</span> -</div></div></div> - -<p> -One of the surest results of guilt is to deprive the criminal of belief -in the goodness of others. Clifford was discovered. Even, if Richard -continued true to his promise of pardon, his adherents and counsellors -might force him to another line of conduct. A dungeon and death floated -terribly before his confused vision. Flight, instant flight to England, -where, by a full confession of many things he had reserved, and the -disclosure of an important unsuspected name, he might still receive -welcome and reward from Henry, was the only course left him to pursue. -</p> - -<p> -His thoughts were chaos. Shame and indignation raged in his heart. He -was a convicted traitor, a dishonoured man. "Oh, my envied father!" in -his wretchedness he exclaimed, "you died gloriously for Lancaster. I -live, steeped in obloquy, for the same cause. Abhorred Plantagenet! what -misery has been mine since first your name came to drug me with racking -poison! What have I not endured while I cringed to the fair-haired boy! -Thank the powers of hell, that time is past! Devil as I have stamped -myself, his arch crime, lying, is no more my attribute. To the winds and -men's thirsty ears I may cry aloud—I hate Plantagenet!" -</p> - -<p> -It was some relief to this miserable man to array his thoughts in their -darkest garb, soothing his evil passions with words, which acted on them -as a nurse's fondling talk to a querulous child. His line of conduct was -fixed: he remembered Neville's sudden appearance and departure the night -before; he had brought the letter; he was waiting for him at Ostend to -seize on him, to turn to mockery the prince's promised pardon. Those -were days of violence and sudden bloodshed: the enemy a man could not -visit with legal punishment, he thought himself justified in destroying -with his own hand; the passions of the Yorkists, who found they had been -driven into shambles instead of a fold, must be fierce and dangerous. -Without delay, he resolved to embark in one of the vessels then in the -roads; he hurried to the beach; the wind seemed fair; there was a poor -kind of hostelry, the common resort of sailors near, from whence a -signal could be given for a boat to be sent off for him. While waiting -for it, he quitted the noisy vulgarity of the inn, and walked towards a -kind of ruined tower, that once perhaps had served as a lighthouse. In -all the panic of guilt, a roof, however desolate, appeared a shelter, -and he sought it: it was dilapidated and dark; there were some rude, -narrow stairs leading to the upper story,—these he ascended, and -entered what had been a kind of guard-room, and started at the vision he -beheld: leaning against the aperture that had served for a casement, -looking on the wide green sea, was Monina. Her lustrous eyes turned on -him—eyes before whose full softness his violence, his insolence -quailed; till shame, despair, and rage, and the deep-seated arrogance of -his nature, conquered his better feelings. She knew his crime, witnessed -his disgrace; there was no more to lose in the world. What more could he -win? His presence occasioned her much emotion. She had just quitted -Neville, who somewhat angrily remarked upon the prince's ill-timed -lenity, and spoke bitterly of all the ill Clifford, thus let loose, -might do in England. And here he was, about to embark for that very -island, where one at least, Sir William Stanley, was at his mercy. -Gladly Monina seized on this opportunity to dive into his projects, and -to inspire by her energetic words the traitor's bosom with some sense of -right. She, alas! inspired passion only, and jealousy, that now at last -his rival would see her love-lighted eyes turned affectionately on him; -while all the reproach of which they were capable was his meed. What -such men as Clifford feel is not love: he had no real friendship for the -innocent girl; each feeling that expresses the sympathy of our -intellectual nature was never associated to him with the name of woman. -As she spoke therefore of his duties to God and man, violated, but not -irretrievably, and with soft persuasion entreated him to spare those -whose lives hung upon his word, he recovered his obduracy, and replied -in a tone whose hollow vaunting was at discord with the music that fell -from her lips—"My pretty maiden, I thank thee for thy good -intentions, and if thou wilt wholly undertake my instruction, will prove -an apt scholar. Honesty and I are too poor to be messmates; but if thou -wilt join us—by God, Monina, I mean what I say—the priest -shall say grace for us, and we will partake life's feast or fast -together. I will sail with thee to thy Spain, to the Indies of the West. -England shall be a forgotten name; the White or Red Rose, neither worse -nor better in our eyes than any blooms that smell as sweet: if thou -refusest this, here ends the last chance for honesty; and be the victim -who it may, I care not so my fortunes thrive." -</p> - -<p> -"Unworthy man!" cried Monina; "farewell! I go to England also: I to -save, you to destroy. Bounteous Heaven will look on our several -intentions, and shape our course accordingly. Henry will visit with poor -thanks your blighted purpose, barren now of its ill fruit. Mine will be -the harvest; yours the unlamented loss." -</p> - -<p> -She would have passed him, but he seized her slender wrist. "We will run -no race," he cried; "if we go to England, it will be together: listen to -the splash of oars, it is my boat among the breakers. We enter it -together; it is vain for you to resist; you are my prisoner." -</p> - -<p> -Monina trembled in every joint: she felt that in very truth she was in -Clifford's power. There rode her father's caravel; but he could not -guess her pressing danger: he would behold her depart, ignorant of the -violence she was suffering, ignorant that she was there. No help!—no -form of words was there, that might persuade the ill-minded knight to -free her: her proud spirit disdained to bend; her cheek was flushed; she -strove to withdraw her hand. "Pardon me," said Clifford; "if my fingers -press too roughly; the slight pain you endure will hardly counterbalance -the fierce torture your words inflicted. Be patient, my fellows are -already here. Let us not act a silly mime before them; do not oblige me -to demonstrate too unkindly, that you are wholly in my power." -</p> - -<p> -Hardly had he spoken the words when with a scream she sprang from him. -He turned; but before even he could see the gigantic form of De Faro, a -blow was struck which made him reel against the wall. It would have been -instantly followed by another, but that Monina had flung herself on her -father's breast, and he, supporting her, forgot his enemy, who recovered -himself, and drew his sword. He met the fierce glare of the injured -parent's eye, and shook. "We meet again, recreant!" were the only words -spoken by De Faro; and, as an elephant might snatch a youngling antelope -from the pursuit of a tiger, he took his daughter in his arms, descended -the steps with her, and, as Clifford stood gazing on the sea, in such -bitter mood as is the fruit of baffled malice, he saw the mariner lift -his daughter into the boat. It pushed from the shore; and, with long, -measured strokes, it swept the waves towards the caravel, whose sails -were again unfurled, while everything bespoke the readiness and anxiety -of the crew to depart. -</p> - -<p> -Ere the Adalid had reached the open sea, Clifford in his vessel was but -little astern. It was a race they ran. The caravel at first had the -best. Night concealed them from each other's view; and, in the morning, -already on the tranquil bosom of the Thames Sir Robert's vessel was -sailing alone towards London. By one of those strange turns of fortune -by which our purposes swim or are wrecked, De Faro, without a pilot, -unacquainted with the coast, missed the channel; he grounded on a -sand-bank at the river's mouth; and the tide which carried Clifford so -swiftly towards London had several hours to run before it reached a -height sufficient to float the other's vessel; the situation was not -without peril, and no boat even could be lowered to carry the anxious -Monina to shore. -</p> - -<p> -The very day (it was now the month of January) that Henry heard of -Clifford's arrival in London, he removed his court from Westminster to -the Tower. Already he divined that his Lord Chamberlain was to be -criminated by Sir Robert; and, as Stanley possessed considerable -influence in the state, he wished to make his arrest as unexpected as -possible. Another motive worked upon the avaricious sovereign; seized -thus, without preparation or forethought, his jewels, his rich plate, -his valuable moveables, which might otherwise be secreted, now fell the -indiscriminate prey of confiscation; the Tower, at once a palace and a -prison, favoured this purpose. Here he received Clifford; Urswick had -already conversed with the traitor knight, and represented to him the -necessity of ample confession. There was something in the priest's -manner that, like iron, entered Clifford's soul; he felt himself, too -truly, to be the abject slave, the despised tool of power; there was but -little need to use cajoleries or bribes with him now; he was there, to -be executed as a felon or pardoned as a spy, according as his -disclosures satisfied or not the callous-hearted king. -</p> - -<p> -For his greater punishment, there clung to this unfortunate man a sense -of what he ought to and might have been, and a burning consciousness of -what he was. Hitherto he had fancied that he loved honour, and had been -withheld, as by a hair, from overstepping the demarcation between the -merely reprehensible and the disgraceful. The good had blamed him; the -reckless wondered at his proficiency in their own bad lessons; but -hitherto he had lifted his head haughtily among them, and challenged any -man to accuse him of worse than greater daring in a career all travelled -at a slower and more timid pace. -</p> - -<p> -But that time was gone by. He was now tainted by leprous treachery; his -hands were stained by the blood of his deceived confederates; honour -disowned him for her son; men looked askance on him as belonging to a -pariah race. He felt this; and even Monina, who had last conversed with -him in the summer-house of the inn at Ostend, would hardly have -recognized him. He was then a bold-faced villain; his step was haughty; -his manner insolent. Now his gait was shuffling, his appearance mean, -his speech hesitating and confused. Urswick had known him a gay ruffler; -he started back: was this Sir Robert Clifford? He was obliged to use -with him the usual style of speech adopted towards men in his situation; -to speak of his duty towards his liege; the propriety of delivering up -the guilty to condign punishment: hackneyed phrases, which sounded cold -to the unhappy man. -</p> - -<p> -There was no resource. At Henry's feet, kneeling before a king who used -him as a tool, but who hated him as the abettor of his rival, and -despised him as the betrayer of his friend, Clifford spoke the fatal -word which doomed the confiding Stanley to instant death, himself to the -horrors of conscious guilt, or, what as yet was more bitter to the -worldling, relentless outlawry from the society and speech of all, -however depraved, who yet termed themselves men of honour. -</p> - -<p> -Henry heard him with feigned amazement; and with grating words of -insulting unbelief, demanded evidence of his chamberlain's treason: -these were easily furnished, yet such as they were, they comprised such -irrefragable proof of the identity of the outcast duke, that Henry -found, that while they confirmed him more than ever in his resolve that -Stanley should suffer the severest penalty of his crime, it made it -difficult to bring forward the testimonials of his guilt. This was for -after consideration: Clifford was dismissed with cold thanks, with -promise of pardon and reward, and a haughty command neither to obtrude -himself again into the royal presence, nor to depart from London without -especial leave. -</p> - -<p> -Henry's first act was to command Stanley not to quit his chamber in the -Tower. The next day before the hour of noon, the Bishop of Durham, Lord -Oxford, Lord Surrey, Urswick, and Lord Dawbeny, met in the fallen -chamberlain's apartment, for the purpose of examining him. A thousand -opposing feelings operated upon Stanley: accustomed to pay deference to -the king, even now he said nothing to displease him; and his expressions -rather spoke of compassion for him who very possibly was duke of York, -than any falling off from his allegiance to the then king of England. -</p> - -<p> -This monarch was tormented by no doubts,—to be actuated by no -pity. Stanley's acknowledgment of the truth of the Burgundian pretender -roused his bitterest feelings. In addition, he was rich -booty—which weighed heavily against him; so that, when Bishop Fox -remarked on the villany and extent of his treason, Henry, off his guard, -exclaimed—"I am glad of it; the worse the better: none can speak -of mercy now, and confiscation is assured;"—nor did he in the -interval before his trial, nor after it, express one regret that the man -was about to forfeit his head, who had encircled his own with the regal -diadem. -</p> - -<p> -Tried, condemned; but a few days remained before on the fatal block the -rich, noble, prudent, royally-connected Sir William Stanley would -expiate his guilt to Henry. All wondered; many pitied; few thought of -soliciting for or aiding the fallen man; yet one or two there were, whom -this last blow against York filled with bitter regret. In a secluded -part of London Lord Barry, who had just arrived, Frion, and Monina met. -Barry came with intelligence that there had appeared in Ireland a -gentleman from Scotland, commissioned by its young monarch to inquire -into the truth of Richard's story; and, if indubitably he were the man -he pretended, to counsel him to visit Scotland, where he would find -friendship and aid. The Earl of Desmond also had just arrived in London, -and Lord Barry was in his company. This downfall of Stanley called their -minds from every other consideration. Monina was peculiarly agitated and -thoughtful. One evening she joined them late: she was full of some -project. "I can, I do believe, save our friend," she said: "the -assistance I need is small—you, Master Stephen, will hasten on board -the Adalid, and bid my father have all in readiness, for sailing, and to -drop down the river as far as Greenwich: you, my dear lord, must also -take a part in my scheme—keep watch on the river, right opposite the -Tower, during the coming night and the following: if you see a light -upon the shore beneath its dark walls, come towards it with a boat; the -blessed Virgin aiding my design, it shall be freighted with -disappointment to the Tudor, joy to us." -</p> - -<p> -Lord Barry and Frion promised obedience, though they would have -dissuaded her from the risk; but she was devoted, enthusiastic, firm: -she left them, nor did they delay to execute her commission, and both -went down the river to De Faro's caravel. Here a new surprise awaited -them. The duke of York and his friends had not been idle in the interim. -Each design, as it failed, gave place to another. They were diminished -in numbers, but now no traitors were among them. Their hopes were few; -but, unless the present time were seized, there would be none. The false -expectations Clifford had held out to them of coalition and succour in -England were lost, but attachment to York was alive in many an English -bosom: the preparations of arms they had made still existed; it was -resolved therefore in early spring to descend on the English shores. -</p> - -<p> -The duke of York, deeply grieved by the ruin that visited his friends, -stung to the heart by Clifford's treachery, resolved meanwhile to seek -relief in action. Could not his presence do much? Unknown in England, he -might visit the Yorkists, rouse their affection, and form such a union, -as, assisted afterwards by his friends and their little fleet, would -contribute to insure success. His friends did not approve of the hazard -to which he exposed himself; but everything they alleged on this score, -only confirmed his purpose. "All endanger themselves—all die for -me," he cried; "shall I alone be ingloriously safe?" The first sight -therefore that presented itself to Lord Barry and Frion on the deck of -the Adalid, was Prince Richard and Edmund Plantagenet. -</p> - -<p> -The duke's presence did not change the purpose of Frion's visit. De Faro -got his vessel in readiness for the voyage; and Lord Barry, as evening -closed in, prepared to take his stand—not singly: Richard insisted -on sharing his watch; docile as he usually was, remonstrance had now no -effect; hitherto he had given himself up to guarded safety, now he -seemed in love with peril, resolved to court her at every opportunity. -The risk to which Monina exposed herself, made him obstinate. He would -have thought himself untrue to the laws of chivalry, a recreant knight, -had he not hastened to protect her; and, more than this—for the -inborn impulses of the heart are more peremptory than men's most sacred -laws—he loved; and a mother draws not more instinctively her -first-born to her bosom, than does the true and passionate lover feel -impelled to hazard even life for the sake of her he loves, to shield her -from every danger, or to share them gladly with her. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h4><a id="chap24"></a></h4> - -<h4>CHAPTER XXIV -<br /><br /> -THE TOWER</h4> - - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I do not like the Tower of any place.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i20">SHAKSPEARE.</span> -</div></div></div> - -<p> -At nine o'clock in the evening, York and Lord Barry took their station -on the Thames, at the appointed place. The boat was tethered to the -shore; and the rising tide brought them nearer to the banks. All was -dark during the cold night of early February; to the right and left, -nothing was apparent save the glimmering water, and the only sound was -the rushing and rippling of the Thames, as it sped downward in its -course. -</p> - -<p> -"My mother greets me with a cold kiss," said the prince; "in truth she -has wedded mine enemy, and cast me out from my inheritance." -</p> - -<p> -A brief pause ensued—a few minutes, which were freighted with the -cares and sorrows of years. Back, back, young Richard threw his eye over -the skeleton shapes of the dead years; and again he sought to penetrate -the future. Dark as the starless sky, not one gleam of comfort presented -itself to the outcast's hope. But such state of mind was unnatural to -the ardent boy, and he sprang from it; -</p> - -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">"Like to a lark at break of day, uprising</span><br /> -<span class="i2">From sullen earth, to sing at heaven's gate,"</span> -</div></div> - -<p> -he soared from grovelling despondency into recollections of the labour -and love that had been expended on him. His harvest might never be the -crown at which he aimed; but, better still, the ambrosial food of -affection and devoted attachment, that filled him even to sweet satiety. -</p> - -<p> -"A light! our beacon!" cried Lord Barry. -</p> - -<p> -A small gleam appeared on the opposite bank. It moved; then returned to -its former place, and was stationary. They watched it, till they became -satisfied that it was the guide for which they were waiting. The early -matin service rung from several convents, and came pealing faintly -across the water. It was the dead of night, and the gentlemen gladly -exchanged their inert watch for the labour of contending with the tide -and floating ice, which impeded their way as they rowed across the -Thames to where the light was now fixed. -</p> - -<p> -The drear bank of the Tower-moat rose abruptly from the water-side, and -the waves lay murky dark beneath the arch of the Traitor's Gate. The -tide, which was setting in, carried them above the point were the light -was, to this spot. Their beacon indeed had disappeared; and, as they -waited its return, they floated idly on the river, merely giving now and -then a few strokes, to keep the wherry stationary. They did not perceive -that, while they thus curbed the tide, they had drifted into an eddy -which carried them fast down, till jamming them between the wall of the -Tower and a near pile, their boat lurched, partly filled with water, and -resisted every attempt they made to extricate it. The clouds were -getting thinner before the pale waning moon; but their fancied -beacon-light had vanished. -</p> - -<p> -Their situation was sufficiently dreary. The cold was piercing. They had -difficulty in keeping themselves out of the water that lay at the bottom -of the boat. Lord Barry was a soldier, accustomed to hair-breadth -escapes and dangerous attempts; Richard a bold youth, who thought that -his best safety depended on his own exertions. They were neither of them -inclined to linger tamely in their present situation. -</p> - -<p> -"Before our limbs get numbed with this biting breeze, we must use them -to our own benefit. Your highness can swim?" -</p> - -<p> -"So say the streams of the Vega," replied Richard: "but the very -remembrance of those sweet brooks makes me shudder at the chilly bath -this ice-nourished river affords. I will reconnoitre the land before I -attempt the freezing wave." With lithe, sinuous limbs he coiled about -the pile, and continued to raise himself to where a beam rested on the -upright post, and again was fixed in the turret, which spans and guards -the entrance to the Tower by water. He had hardly gained this place, and -he felt little cold as with nervous fingers he kept fast in the position -he had attained, when a ray of light fell upon the water, streaming from -out a window of the turret. It was but for a moment, and it disappeared; -but Richard's eyes had glanced keenly on the illuminated spot. The -transverse beam he had attained was but little below the window; it had -been grated, but two of the stancheons were broken. This, to our -adventurer, suspended between the unattainable sky and the icy wave, -seemed a place of refuge. Carefully and slowly, he with clinging knees -and hands contrived to get along the beam, to raise himself on his feet -on it, and then to clutch the broken iron bar, and hoist himself into a -chamber of the Tower of London. -</p> - -<p> -The immediate physical dangers that beset our adventurers were so great -(the least horrific of which was spending the night exposed to freezing -blasts, which Barry already felt chilling his very heart's blood), that -they both forgot the dangerous nature of the asylum they were seeking. -The Irish noble had, as well as darkness permitted, followed the -movements of his young companion; the same ray which guided Richard to -temporary safety, had showed to Barry the mode of following him. He made -the attempt; but, though stronger, he was not so agile as his friend; -besides, the minutes which had elapsed during Richard's exertions, had -enfeebled by numbing the other's powers; he got nearly to the top of the -pile—he felt his fingers slip, and that he could hold on no longer. -One desperate struggle he made to cling closer; his grasp seemed rather -to relax, than tighten, in the attempt; and Richard, after a second, -heard with horror his heavy fall into the water. But Barry was more at -his ease in the yielding wave; and the very intensity of the cold, -burning his skin, set his blood in motion; the tide also had arrived at -its height during this interval, and had turned: without great -difficulty the noble cleared, after a few strokes, the abrupt banks that -fence the Tower, and landed on a quay below. -</p> - -<p> -Richard heard the waters splash from under his strokes. The silence was -so entire, that he thought he could distinguish the change of sound when -the swimmer emerged, and plainly heard Lord Barry's shout, in his own -native Irish, of thanksgiving and good cheer. For a moment, like -lightning, it flashed into his mind, the thought of the ominous refuge -he had found; and he was tempted to leap into the water, and to rejoin -his friend. But by this time the alarm of some one having plunged into -the river had been spread by the sentinels. The court became thronged; -some hastened to the wall, others loosened the boats tethered beneath -the gate, and issued in them from under the dark arch, over which Duke -Richard had found refuge. By the glare of many torches, they discovered -the wherry wedged in, as has been described. The splash attested that -some one had fallen into the water: that some one should escape from the -fortress, was more readily present to their imaginations than that any -should enter. They called to each other, communicating their surmises -and intentions: then one boat remained in guard close at the gate, while -the other rowed down the stream. Their exertions must end in nothing, -for Lord Barry had had full time to insure his escape. -</p> - -<p> -Richard attended to all their motions: several of the men in pursuit had -issued from the lower chambers of the turret in which he was: it was not -thus cooped up that he chose to be found; all seemed still; the only -sounds came from the men in the boat; he descended the stairs; he came -out upon the court of the Tower; the dark fortress frowned above, -casting, in spite of the dull moon, a shadow dark enough to hide him. -Steps were heard approaching; he turned under a dim archway; he ascended -a narrow, steep staircase; the steps still followed; hurriedly he opened -a door, and entered a chamber; the men, whoever they might be, were -unaware of his presence; they passed the door, turned down another -gallery; the very echo of their steps died away. -</p> - -<p> -Did he recognize the spot where he then stood? Well!—far too -well!—with a sickening feeling, an irresistible impulse to penetrate -into the very heart of the horror that made his pulses faint, he gazed -on the walls around. Was he then alone changed? Had he sprung up into -manhood, thought, experienced, suffered; and had the material universe -stood still the while? He saw before him a small chamber, enlightened by -one deep-set window, half blocked up by projecting buttresses outside: -there was the pallet-bed, the prie-Dieu, the little crucifix; his infant -limbs had reposed there; on that couch his brother had died. -</p> - -<p> -This was the Tower! Ten years before he had escaped from its gloomy -walls; and had he done this only to return again, when maturer years -gave him a bitterer feeling of the ills he must endure? He had visited -England, guided by the traitor-spirit of Clifford, it seemed; for he had -returned but to render himself a prisoner; yet at first these thoughts -were hardly so painful as the memory of his childhood. The superstitious -fears of the Tower, which haunted poor Edward, had made it an abode of -terror for both: how often had they lain in that bed, curdling each -other's young blood with frightful tales! His brother had pined, and -died. Now, true to the pious usages of the times, he knelt to say a -paternoster for his soul; he said another for his own perilous state; -and then, having, with entire faith committed himself to the protection -of his Father in Heaven, he rose with a cheered heart and sustained -courage. -</p> - -<p> -What was he to do? He was in the Tower; a fortress so well guarded, that -of the unhappy beings confined there for life, none had ever made their -escape; high walls, numerous courts, and grated windows, opposed his -egress. The clock chimed one. It were as well to remain where he was, as -to go on. But it were better still to turn back; quiet would soon be -restored; he might attain the same room, the same window, and leap -thence into the waters below. He remembered wherefore he had come; the -hazardous enterprise of Monina, and the imprisonment of Stanley. Now -that he had attained this chamber, the whole Tower presented itself, as -in a map, to his memory: he knew where the rooms allotted to state -prisoners were situated: confident in his knowledge, his feelings -underwent an entire change; instead of considering himself a prisoner in -the Tower, he felt lord of its labyrinths. Darkness was his wand of -office; the ignorance of all that he was there, was his guard; and his -knowledge of the place, better than the jailor's key, might aid him to -liberate the victims of his enemy. -</p> - -<p> -In this temper of mind he rejoiced that he had been unable to follow his -first impulse in leaping from the window; and he resolved on making his -way immediately to the part of the fortress inhabited by the state -prisoners. Blindfold, setting out from the point where he was, he could -have found his way; yet several images of barred and locked doors -presented themselves to his recollection, as intervening between the -spot where he then was, and that which he desired to visit. He descended -again into the court—he skirted the edifice, keeping close to the -shadowy wall—he saw the door but a few paces distant, which led to -the prison-chambers. At dead of night it must be locked and barred, -guarded by a sentinel, quite inaccessible to him. He paused—he saw -no soldier near—he walked on a few steps quickly; the door was -wide open—this looked like success—he sprang up the steps; a -man below cried, "Who goes there?" adding, "Is it you, sir? My light is -puffed out; I will bring one anon." Above he heard another -voice—there was no retreat—he went on, relying on some -chance that might afford him a refuge under cover of murky night from -the twofold danger that beset him. A man stood at the doorway of the -nearest chamber: it was not possible to pass him—as he hesitated -he heard the words, "Good rest visit your lordship—I grieve to -have disturbed you." Richard retired a few steps—the man closed, -locked the door—"A light, ho!" he exclaimed, and the prince feared -to see the servitor ascend the stairs. The moon, just beginning to show -its clouded rays, threw a brief ray upon the landing where Richard -stood, and he moved out of the partial radiance; the slight movement he -made attracted notice, which was announced by a challenge of "Who goes -there? is it you, Fitzwilliam? How is this? the word, sir!" -</p> - -<p> -The duke knew that, among the numerous and various inhabitants of the -Tower, many were personally unknown to each other; and that any stranger -visitor was not intrusted with the word—so he replied immediately, -as his best safeguard: "I was roused by the calling of the guard. I knew -not that such, reveilles were usual; good night, sir." -</p> - -<p> -Those pay little attention to the impression of their senses, who are -not aware that family resemblance develops itself in nothing so much as -the voice; and that it is difficult in the dark to distinguish -relatives. In confirmation of this I heard a sagacious observer remark, -and have proved the observation true, that the formation of the jaw, and -setting of the teeth is peculiar, and the same in families. But this is -foreign—enough that, caught by the voice, hardly able to distinguish -the obscure outline of the speaker in the almost blackness of -night—the man replied, "I crave pardon, my good lord, you forget -yourself; this way is your chamber. What, ho! a light!" -</p> - -<p> -"It needs not," said the prince; "the glare would offend mine eyes—I -shall find the door." -</p> - -<p> -"Permit me," said the other, going forward, "I will wait on your -lordship so far. I wonder not you were roused; there was an alarm at the -river postern, and the whole guard roused. Sir John thought it might -concern poor Sir William; and I was fain to see all right with him. It -irked me truly to break in on his repose; the last he may ever have." -</p> - -<p> -They approached a door; the man's hand was on the lock—Richard's -heart beat so loud and fast, that it seemed to him that alone must be -perceived and excite suspicion—if the door were fastened on the -inside he were lost; but the man was in no hurry to try—he talked -on:— -</p> - -<p> -"The lieutenant was the more suspicious, because he gave credit and easy -entrance to his pretended stripling son, who craved for it even with -tears: yet when they met, we all thought that the Lord Chamberlain did -not greet him as a parent would a child at such a time; the truth, -indeed, we saw with half an eye, be she his daughter, or his light of -love; yet not the last, methinks, for she seemed right glad to be -accommodated for the night in a separate chamber—she is a mere girl -beside, and in spite of her unmeet garb, modest withal." -</p> - -<p> -"When goes she? With the dawn?" Richard hazarded these questions, for -his silence might be more suspected than his speech; and the information -he sought, imported to him. -</p> - -<p> -"Nay, she will stay to the end for me," said the man: "Sir William was a -kind gentleman, as I can testify, in his prosperity; and it is little to -let him have the comfort of this poor child's company for a day longer: -he dies on the morrow." -</p> - -<p> -"Could I see this fair one?" -</p> - -<p> -"By my troth, fair she is not, though lovely to look on, but somewhat -burnt, as if her mother had been a dweller in the south. If you visit -and take leave of Sir Stanley to-morrow, you may chance to behold her: -but I detain you, my Lord; a good night, rather, a good morning to your -lordship." -</p> - -<p> -He unclosed the door; all was dark within, save that the chamber opened -into another at the further end, in which evidently a lamp was burning. -Kind thanks and a benison passed; Richard stepped within the apartment, -and the door shut on him. -</p> - -<p> -What could this mean? Glad, confused, yet still fearful, the prince was -almost deprived of the power of motion. Recovering himself with a strong -effort, he passed on to the inner chamber: it was a bedroom, tapestried, -strewed thick with rushes, a silver lamp suspended by a silver chain to -the grim claws of a gilt eagle, which was fixed in the ceiling, gave -token of rank, as well as the rich damask of the bed-furniture and the -curious carving of the couch and seats; the articles of dress also -strewed about belonged to the noble-born: strange, as yet Richard had -not conjectured for whom he had been mistaken! He drew near the bed, and -gazed fixedly on its occupier. The short, clustering, auburn curls were -tinged with grey, yet the sleeper was young, though made untimely old by -suffering; his cheeks were wasted and fallen in; the blue veins on his -brow were conspicuous, lifting the clear skin which clung almost to the -bones; he was as pale as marble, and the heavy eyelids were partly -raised even in sleep by the large blue ball that showed itself beneath; -one hand lay on the coverlid, thin to emaciation. What manner of victim -was this to Henry's tyranny? nay, the enigma was easily solved: it must -be the earl of Warwick. "And such, but for my cousin Lincoln, would have -been my fate," thought Richard. He remembered his childhood's -imprisonment; he thought of the long days and nights of confinement, the -utter hopelessness, the freezing despair, blighting the budding hopes of -youth, the throes of intolerable, struggling agony, which had reduced -poor Warwick to this shadow of humanity; he felt a choking sensation in -his throat as he bent over him; large drops gathered in his eyes; they -fell, ere he was aware, on the sleeper's wan check. -</p> - -<p> -Warwick turned uneasily, opened his eyes, and half-started up: "Whom -have we here?" he cried: "why am I disturbed?" -</p> - -<p> -"Your pardon, fair gentleman," Richard began—— -</p> - -<p> -"My pardon!" repeated Warwick, bitterly; "were that needed, you were not -here. What means this intrusion—tell me, and be gone?" -</p> - -<p> -"I am not what you take me for, cousin Edward," said the prince. -</p> - -<p> -Now, indeed, did Warwick start; shading his eyes from the lamp, he gazed -earnestly on the speaker, murmuring, "That voice, that name—it cannot -be! In the name of sweet charity speak again; tell me what this means, -and if you are—why this visit, why that garb?" -</p> - -<p> -"My dear lord of Warwick," said the prince, "dismiss this inquietude, -and if you will listen with patience to the story of an unhappy kinsman, -you shall know all. I am Richard of York; those whose blood is akin to -yours as well as mine, have ycleped me the White Rose of England." -</p> - -<p> -The earl of Warwick had heard of the Pretender set up by his aunt, the -duchess of Burgundy; he had often pondered over the likelihood of his -really being his cousin, and the alteration it would occasion in his -fortunes, if he were to succeed. Shut out from the world, as he had been -so long, the victim of mere despair, he could not even imagine that good -could betide to any one, save to the oppressor of his race; to see -Perkin, for so he had been taught to call him, within the walls of the -ill-fated Tower, appeared to disclose at once his defeat. Even when the -duke rapidly and briefly narrated the accidents that had brought him -thither, and his strange position. Prince Edward believed only that he -had been decoyed into the trap, which had closed on him for ever. -</p> - -<p> -Still Richard talked on; his ardour, his confidence in his own measures, -his vivacious anxiety already to put them into practice, his utter -fearlessness, were not lost upon one who had been dead to outward -impressions, not from want of sensibility, but from the annihilation of -hope. Some of his cousin's spirit overflowed into Warwick's heart; and, -in conclusion, he assented to all he said, promising to do whatever was -required of him, though after ten years of lone imprisonment he almost -shrunk from emerging from his listless state. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h4><a id="chap25"></a></h4> - -<h4>CHAPTER XXV -<br /><br /> -THE RESCUE</h4> - - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Let all the dukes and all the devils roar,</span><br /> -<span class="i0">He is at liberty! I've ventured for him;</span><br /> -<span class="i0">And out I've brought him to a little wood</span><br /> -<span class="i0">A mile hence.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i20">TWO NOBLE KINSMEN.</span> -</div></div></div> - -<p> -Morning, cold and wintry, dawned upon the gloomy chambers of the Tower. -York became eager to put in execution some plan of escape in which -Warwick should share; but Warwick was full of timidity and fear. His -prison was a frightful den; yet all without was a wide, pathless, -tiger-infested jungle. He besought his cousin to regard his own safety -only. Richard refused; yet the more he meditated, the more did obstacles -crowd upon him. After the lapse of an hour, Warwick was called upon to -attend early mass, as usual, in the chapel of the fortress. Here he saw -Stanley and the disguised shrinking Monina; and, the service ended, -attended them to the prison-chamber of the chamberlain, relating as he -went, in quick low whispers, the history of the preceding night. Both -his hearers grew pale: one feared for her friend, the other for himself; -though on that score all cause of dread was well nigh at an end. All -three entered Stanley's cell, and found there Prince Richard himself, -whose active mind had led him to watch his opportunity to pass hither -unseen from Warwick's apartment. -</p> - -<p> -The young earl of March, arming for the battle of Northampton, looked -not so young, so blooming, and so frankly erect, as his uncrowned son. -Stanley saw at once who was before him, and, never forgetting the -courtier, addressed his prince with a subject's respect. York was struck -by the placid, though somewhat worldly physiognomy of the man, devoted -to die, at the age when human beings are most apt to cling to life; -when, having weathered the storms and passions of youth, they desire to -repose awhile on the sun-enlightened earth, before they enter the gloomy -gates of the tomb. -</p> - -<p> -The prince spoke eagerly of escape—of safety—of life: Warwick, -even timid Warwick, urged an attempt at flight; while Monina kissed her -aged friend's hand, and turned her sweet eyes on him, saying: "You will -listen to him, though you were deaf to me." -</p> - -<p> -Stanley alone was unmoved—"A thousand heartfelt, useless thanks, my -dear and honoured Lord, your poor servant renders; and even when prayer -for himself is most needed, earnestly he prays that harm to you arise -not from your unexampled generosity. I cannot fly; I do believe that I -would not, if I could: and I will spare myself the disgrace of further -endangering you, and of being seized myself in the coward's act. Ask me -not, with your beseeching eyes, my gentle, venturous child, for it must -not be. I die to-morrow; and this fate you would have me avoid. Whither -would you drag me from the block? To poverty? to an unhonoured old age? -a traitor's reputation, and miserable dependence? I am a sinful man; but -I trust in God's mercy, and he holds out better hopes after the brief -spasm of death, than you after the torture of difficult escape." -</p> - -<p> -More he would have said; but they were interrupted. They had -not been aware of any one's approach; and suddenly Sir John Digby, -lieutenant of the Tower, entered. He was aghast to see one more than he -expected—one whose demeanour spoke nobility. Silence followed his -entrance; nor did words readily present themselves to the blunt soldier. -At length, addressing the cause of this wonder, he, in an ironical tone -of voice, asked, "May I, lieutenant of this fortress, delegated by his -majesty to its keeping, be permitted to ask, fair sir, the name, -station, and designs of my unbidden guest?" -</p> - -<p> -"My answer to your two first questions," replied York, "would little -satisfy you. My design was to facilitate the escape of this virtuous and -unhappy gentleman." -</p> - -<p> -"The king is infinitely your debtor; and I shall prove unmannered in -marring your intent." -</p> - -<p> -"You do not mar it. Sir John," said the prince. "My Lord Chamberlain is -a true man, and would rather lay his head on the block, at his liege's -bidding, than carry it in security at the prayer of any other. Sir -William has refused to fly; and, my mission ended, I was about to take -my leave." -</p> - -<p> -"Do so, young man; take leave—an eternal one—of Sir William, -and follow me. My lord of Warwick, this is an unmeet scene for you to be -present at. This holy man comes to bestow the last words of pious -comfort my noble prisoner can receive in this world: please your -lordship to leave them together uninterrupted. I am sorry," continued -the lieutenant, addressing Monina, "to retract the permission I gave you -yesterday; but this strange incident must be my excuse. Say a last -farewell to him you have named your father." -</p> - -<p> -Monina dreaded too much the fate that might befall her friend to entreat -for any change in this decree. Soon poor Sir William found himself -separated from the busy scene of life, shut up with the chaplain. He was -bid to remember and repent, and to prepare to die. A dark veil fell -before the vista of coming years, which was apparent to the eyes of his -late companions. He saw in the present hour—one only, almost -superfluous, added to the closing account. They beheld in it the arbiter -of their undivined destinies. -</p> - -<p> -It is an awful emotion when we feel that the "very shoal of time" on which -we stand is freighted with the good and ill of futurity—that the -instant birth of the hour inherits our entire fortunes. Yet Richard was -proof against this rough testimony of our powerless mortality. The ill -had not yet arrived with which he did not believe he could cope; and -more—now he was bent upon endeavouring to save Stanley; for his own -fate, though about to expose it to the most unquestioned shape of peril, -he had no fears. -</p> - -<p> -Sir John Digby, followed by his new prisoners, paced back to his own -chamber, and then addressed his uninvited guest. "Fair gentleman," he -said, "again I crave to be informed of your name and degree, that his -majesty may be duly made acquainted on whom to bestow his thanks. Your -speech and appearance are English?" -</p> - -<p> -"Whoever I may be," replied York, "I will reveal nothing except to your -king. If he is willing to listen to disclosures nearly touching his -throne and safety, I will rouse him by a tale to shake sleep from one -who has steeped his eyes in poppy-juice. To no other will I vouchsafe a -word." -</p> - -<p> -Monina listened in terror. She would have given her life to beseech her -friend to retract that foolish word: but it was too late; while his -questioner, startled by his unforeseen reply, said, "You make a bold -demand. Think you that his grace is of such common use, that it is an -easy matter to attain his presence?" -</p> - -<p> -"I have said it, Sir John," answered York. "Your liege may hereafter -visit with poor thanks the denial you give me." -</p> - -<p> -The lieutenant fixed his eyes on him: his youth and dignity impressed -him favourably; but he hesitated, confused by doubts of who and what he -might be. At last he said, "His majesty is at present at his palace of -Shene, ten miles hence. -</p> - -<p> -"The less reason, Sir Lieutenant," replied Richard, "that you should -dally in the execution of your duty. The life of your prisoner, the -fortunes of your king, depend upon this interview." -</p> - -<p> -This was a riddle difficult for Sir John to solve; and he was about to -order his enigmatical visitant to the guard-room, while he should -consult upon the fitting conduct to pursue; when a beating at the gates, -the letting down of the drawbridge, and the clatter of hoofs announced -fresh arrivals at the fortress. -</p> - -<p> -The attention of every one was suspended, till, the usher announcing the -excellent prince, the earl of Desmond, that noble, attended by -followers, almost with regal pomp, entered. He cast his penetrating -glance around, and then unbonneting to the duke, he said respectfully, -"Your highness will believe that as soon as I heard of the position into -which, pardon me, your generous rashness has betrayed you, I hastened -hither to vouch for you, and deliver you from it." -</p> - -<p> -To such a speech, so unexpected, so portentous, what answer? Richard -felt inclined to laugh, as he heard himself spoken to, in terms which -seemed to say that the discovery of who he really was, would occasion -his release; but he quickly discerned a hidden meaning beneath this -incomprehensible language, and he contented himself with graciously -thanking the earl for his interference, while this noble turned to -address the wondering Sir John. -</p> - -<p> -"Sir Lieutenant," said he, "I have a strange story to tell, fitter for -his majesty's ears than those of a subject; but his grace is absent, and -it were not well that this noble gentleman should be kept in durance -while messengers go to and fro. Rather dismiss your followers, and I -will confide a weighty secret to you, and bring such arguments as will -induce you to intrust the high-born youth to my care and escort." -</p> - -<p> -Digby was not much of a statesman; he had a simple heart, and -considerable veneration for rank. He knew that the earl of Desmond had -been well received at court, and complied with his desire. The noble -then began a long explanation of parties and tumults in Scotland; of the -frightful death of James the Third; the accession of James the Fourth; -the discontent of several chief nobles, who wished to set up the younger -brother of the new king in opposition to him. "Your highness," continued -Desmond, addressing Richard, "will pardon me for thus introducing your -name—this, Sir Lieutenant, is the duke of Rosse, who has come, and -not vainly, to seek the assistance of our liege." -</p> - -<p> -Sir John bowed low and looked puzzled, while Desmond continued to speak -of disguise and secrecy, of friendship for Stanley, and of the rash -design of Lord Barry of Buttevant and the young duke to liberate him, -chiefly under the idea that thus they should best serve King Henry, who -must in his heart be loth to have his zealous friend put to death -through the falsehood of faction. "And now, gentle sir," he continued, -"be guided by me; the king loves peace; he loves state privacy; the very -presence of the duke in this country is a mystery; you will do agreeable -service by hushing up this youthful frolic. Permit his highness to -accompany me; I will make fitting report to his majesty, who will be -grateful withal." -</p> - -<p> -There was a kind of confused tallying in the story; for Richard's -mysterious words were at no discord with Desmond's explanations; and his -excessively youthful and perfectly noble appearance were further -corroboration. Digby liked not the responsibility of keeping him: he -spoke of sending for the bishop of Durham. Desmond exclaimed, "A soldier -have recourse to a priest—this England is a strange country! Do as -you will; only until the thumber of missals arrive, this is no place of -entertainment fur the prince. We will receive you and your clericus at -Walbrook; and I will entertain the royal gentleman till you come." -</p> - -<p> -Digby still looked blank and uncertain. Richard, who had remained -silent, now spoke: "Farewell, good sir: in truth, I need your excuse for -my impertinent visit; but here it ends. When I travel to Scotland, I -will report the favour I met at your hands." -</p> - -<p> -This sufficed. Sir John sullenly yielded: with a mixture of fear and -deference, he attended his visitors to the court; they crossed the -drawbridge; and ere the Tower-gates closed behind them, they heard the -lieutenant order out a guard and his own horse, that without loss of -time he might communicate with the bishop. -</p> - -<p> -The duke and his preserver rode gently enough down Tower Hill: scarce -had they reached the foot, before the earl gave a sudden command to his -followers, who turned one way, as he, York, and Monina, who had left the -Tower at the same time, and was mounted on one of Desmond's attendant's -horses, went another. "<i>Au galoppe</i>, dear my lord!" cried the earl, -"we have but a short hour's grace—this way—still the river to -our left." -</p> - -<p> -They galloped along with loosened reins. Arriving at the Vale of -Holborn, they followed the upward course of the Fleet, so as to reach -the open country; and many a wild field they crossed, and briary lane -they threaded—the country was flat, marshy, wild; skirted in various -directions by brown wintry woods, rarely interspersed by hamlets. The -river was their only guide; they followed its course for several miles, -till they reached the shelter of Caen Wood. "Thank St. Patrick for this -cover!" cried the Irish chieftain; "may my cousin Barry find no let nor -hindrance—yon troubled stream will guide him well. We have done a -daring deed: for me, I have not ridden so far, since my father, God sain -him! died—I am well nigh <i>hors de combat</i>." -</p> - -<p> -The prince assisted both his companions to dismount. Lord Desmond's tale -was soon told, of how Lord Barry had sought him and suggested this mode -of effecting York's escape. "With the help of your Moorish friend," said -the earl, "no ill wind betide me—I shall be in Munster before the -riddle be half told; that is, if ever we reach the vessel. By my faith! -I would rather be knee-deep in a bog in Thomond, than dry-shod where I -am!" -</p> - -<p> -As day advanced, the situation of the fugitives became still more -disquieting. All was tranquil in the leafless wood; but, in spite of the -sun, it was very cold. Besides, they were in an unknown spot, without -guide; their sole hope being, that each passing minute would bring Lord -Barry to their assistance. Earl Maurice was thoroughly disabled; he -grumbled at first, and at last, wearied out, lay on the cold ground, and -fell into a slumber. Monina, serious, timid, and yet, in spite of -herself, happy in her friend's safety, and in her own being near him, -was silent; while Richard, to escape from his own thoughts, talked to -her. When, for a moment, his conversation languished, his eyes were -fondly fixed upon her downcast face, and a strife of sentiment, of -ardent, long-restrained love, and a tortuous, but severe resolve to -protect her, even from himself, battled in his heart; so that, in -all-engrossing love, every sense of danger was lost. -</p> - -<p> -Desmond at last roused himself: "The shadows grow long; herbage there is -little for our horses, pasture for ourselves there is none—if we -stay, we starve; if we stir, we——" -</p> - -<p> -He was interrupted; strange voices came upon the wind; then the cracking -of boughs, and the sound of steps. Through the vista of bare trees the -intruders at length appeared, in strange array. There was a band of -ill-attired, ruffian-looking men, followed by women and children; their -swart visages, their picturesque, but scant and ragged garb, their black -hair, and dark flashing eyes, were not English. Some were on foot, some -on asses, some in a cart drawn by two rough ill-assorted colts—their -very language was foreign. Richard and Monina recognized a horde of -Gitani, Bohemians, or Gipsies; while Desmond looked in wonder on -something almost wilder than the Irish kern. -</p> - -<p> -The savage wanderers were surprised to perceive the previous guests the -barren woods had received—they paused and looked round in some fear; -for the noble appearance of the gentlemen made them imagine that they -must be accompanied by numerous attendants. York's quick wit suggested -to him in a moment of what good use such humble friends might be. He -addressed them; told them that they were travellers who had lost their -way, "And so we have encroached on your rightful domain; but, like -courteous hosts, I beseech you, gentlemen, welcome us to your green-wood -palace, and make happy as you will grateful guests of us." -</p> - -<p> -Thus invited, the whole horde gathered round—the women, fancying all -three of an opposite sex, were forward with their prophetic art. -</p> - -<p> -"My fortune," cries Desmond, "shall not be told before supper; it is an -ill one, by the rood! at this hour. I have fasted since yesternight." -</p> - -<p> -Preparations were speedily made for a repast, while Richard, alive to -his situation, looked around for the most fitting object to address; -whose charity and aid he could hope to solicit with the greatest -success. One laughing-eyed girl glanced at him with peculiar favour; but -near her stood and scowled a tall handsome countryman of her own. York -turned to another, fairer, who sat retired apart; she looked more gentle -and even refined than the rest. He addressed her in courtly phrase, and -her reply, though ready, was modest. The acquaintance was a little in -progress, when one of the oldest among the sibyls, with white hair, and -a face of wrinkled parchment, hobbled up, muttering, "Ay, ay, the -fairest flower is aye the dearest to pluck; any of those gaudy weeds -might serve his turn; but no, my young master must needs handle the -daintiest bloom of the garden." Notwithstanding this interruption, -Richard still stood his ground, bandying pretty speeches with one not -the less pleased, because, strictly guarded by her duenna, she was -unaccustomed to the language of flattery. -</p> - -<p> -"Hast never a word for me, fair sir," said the crone, at last; "no -comparison of star and gems for one, who in her day has flaunted with -silk-clad dames—whose lips have been pressed even by a king?" -</p> - -<p> -His father's reputation for gallantry, thus alluded to, brought the -blood into York's cheeks; forgetful of what import his words bore, he -replied lastly, "Sleep King Edward's faults with him, mother; it is -neither wise nor well to speak irreverently of those gone to their -doom—may God assoilzie him!" -</p> - -<p> -"What voice is that?" cried the old woman; "if I boast, Heaven forgive -me, of his grace's slight favour, your mother may take shame——" -</p> - -<p> -"Your words are naught," cried York, interrupting her, "my mother's is a -sacred name—yet, tell me in very truth, and give me some sign that, -indeed, you knew my father." -</p> - -<p> -The word passed his lips before he was aware, but being spoken, he felt -that it were best not to recede. Seizing the old woman's shrivelled -hand, he said, "Look—use thy art—read my palm: read rather my -features, and learn indeed who I am: I am in danger; you may betray, or -you may save me: choose which you will—I am the duke of York." -</p> - -<p> -An exclamation checked, a look of boundless surprise changed into a -cautious glance around, attested the gipsy's wish to serve the venturous -youth. "Rash boy," she answered, in a low voice, "what idle, or what -mortal words are these! How art thou here? With what hope—what aid?" -</p> - -<p> -"Frankly, none but what I derive from your bounty. I have escaped worse -peril, so do not fear but that God will protect me, and even turn to -profit my parent's sin, if his kiss purchase his son's life." -</p> - -<p> -"Young sir," said the gipsy, with great seriousness, "the flower of love -is gay—its fruit too often bitter. So does she know on whose account -I wickedly and shamelessly did the foul fiend's bidding, and ruined a -sinless soul to gratify the pleasure-loving king. But thou hast paid the -penalty: thou and thine, who have been called by the ill-word, thrust -from thy place by thy crook-back uncle; and now art nearer a dungeon -than a throne through thy father's fault. I will serve and save thee; -tell me quickly, who are thy companions—whither thou wouldst -go—that I may judge the best to be done." -</p> - -<p> -It is to be observed, that at the very beginning of this colloquy, the -young girl, whom York had first addressed, had stolen away. Now he -replied by mentioning the lameness of his elder friend, and his resolve -not to be divided from the other. He spoke of the Adalid, and of his -further wish to be awhile concealed in England. The old woman continued -silent, wrapped in thought. At length she raised her head—"It can be -done, and it shall," she said, half to herself. "Come now, they are -serving our homely fare. You, who are young, and ill-apt for penance, -must eat before you go." -</p> - -<p> -The savoury steams of the well-filled and rustic <i>marmite</i>, gave -force to her words, and to Richard's appetite. The repast was plentiful -and gay, and even too long. Evening was far advanced, the fire grew -light in the dusk, and threw its fitful rays upon the strange and -incongruous feasters. Monina had cowered close to Richard; the cup went -round; scarcely did she put it to her lips; a rude companion of the crew -made some rough jest on her sobriety. Richard's face lighted up with -anger: his watchful old friend stepped forward, in her own jargon she -made some communication to her associates, which caused a universal -pause, and then a stir: it was evident some movement was intended. She -meanwhile drew the three fugitives aside: -</p> - -<p> -"In a few minutes," she said, "we shall all be on our way hence; listen -how I would provide for your safeties." She then proposed that Desmond -should assume the disguise of one of the horde, and so be conveyed in -safety to the banks of the Thames, and on board the Adalid. She promised -herself to conduct the prince and his young friend to a secure refuge. -The earl, accustomed to find fidelity and rags near mates, readily -acceded to this proposal. In the solitary unknown spot to which, chance -had directed them, environed by every danger, no step was more perilous -than the remaining where they were. York and Monina were familiar with -the reports of the gipsy character—its savage honour and untractable -constancy. The season was such, though the day had been unusually sunny -and warm, as to make a night in the open air no agreeable anticipation; -and Richard had a thousand fears on his lovely friend's account. They -all readily acceded to the old woman's plan. Desmond was quickly -disguised, his visage stained deep brown, his whole person transformed; -he was placed in the caravan, and the horde was speedily in movement; -the sound of their departing steps died away. They had left a rude cart, -to which York's horse, a strong hack, was harnessed. The sibyl undertook -to guide it. Richard and Monina ascended the jumbling fabric. Soon they -were on their journey, none but their conductress knew in what -direction; but they submitted to her, and through copse and over field -they wound their darkling way. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h4><a id="chap26"></a></h4> - -<h4>CHAPTER XXVI -<br /><br /> -THE EARL OF SURREY</h4> - - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">So love did vanish with my state,</span><br /> -<span class="i0">Which now my soul repents too late;</span><br /> -<span class="i0">Then, maids and wives, in time amend,</span><br /> -<span class="i0">For love and beauty will have end.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i20">BALLAD OF JANE SHORE.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i12">Oh, it grieves my soul</span><br /> -<span class="i0">That I must draw this metal from my side</span><br /> -<span class="i0">To be a widow maker!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i20">SHAKSPEARE.</span> -</div></div></div> - -<p> -Seated in the rude gipsy-cart, guided, protected, by the uncouth being -into whose hands he had so strangely fallen, Richard, for the first -time, felt the degradation and low fortune to which his aspirations, at -variance with his means, made him liable. With a strong effort he -dismissed these painful ideas, and fixed his contemplation on mightier -objects, which gilded his mean estate, or were rather the "gold -o'erdusted" by such extraneous poverty. To rise from this lowliness to a -throne were an emprise worthy his ambition. Was he not a few hours ago a -prisoner in the terror-striking tower? And now he was free—free in -his England; which, when the battle-day was come and past, would claim him -for her own. A few words from Monina interrupted the silence: she sat at -his feet, and they conversed in whispers in Spanish. Night had gathered -round them; Monina, in all the innocence of her pure heart was supremely -happy: to be near her friend in his disasters, united to him in his -peril, was a more rapturous destiny to her than the world's best pomp, -and he absent. No busy conscience, no untoward thought disturbed in her -soul the calm of perfect bliss. She grew weary at last; her head sank on -Richard's knee, and, overworn with watching, she fell into a deep sleep. -Richard heard her regular breathing; once or twice his fingers played -among her dishevelled ringlets, while his heart whispered to him what a -wondrous creation woman was—weak, frail, complaining when she -suffers for herself; heroic fortitude and untired self-devotion are hers, -when she sacrifices herself for him she loves. -</p> - -<p> -The cart moved on, Richard saw not whither; they almost stuck in some -flat, low fields, and at last arrived at a solitary, miserable hut. -Monina awoke, when they stopped, and the gipsy told them that this -wretched dwelling was to be their asylum: the apartment they entered was -poor beyond meanness—a bed of straw piled in one corner, a rude -bench, formed the furniture; the walls were ragged and weather-stained, -and the outer crumbling rafters were visible through the broken ceiling: -there appeared to be neither food nor fire. The inhabitant of the hovel -alone was there,—a white-looking, emaciated female; yet with a -look of such sweetness and patience, that she seemed the very -enshrinement of Christian resignation, the type of sorrow and suffering, -married to meek obedience to the supreme will. She had roused herself -from slumber at the voice of the gipsy, and gathered her scant garments -around her—scant and poor they were; her coarse woollen dress was -tied by a girdle of rope round her slender waist; her head was wrapped -in a kerchief; her feet were bare. -</p> - -<p> -"Jane," said the old woman, "you will not refuse the shelter of your -roof to these poor wanderers?" -</p> - -<p> -Such an address seemed strange, for the rich attire of her guests -ill-accorded with her poverty-stricken home; but she turned with a -smile—she spoke—and then a throb of agony seemed to convulse -her frame—her head swam; Richard rushed forward to prevent her -falling, but she shrunk from him, and leaned on the old woman, who said -with a look of triumph, "I knew how it would be; it is vain to hide a -bright light behind a veil of gauze! Yes, Jane, this is his son; and you -may save him from danger and death." -</p> - -<p> -Jane Shore, the once lovely mistress of King Edward, now the miserable -outcast of the world's scorn, heard these words, as if they had been -spoken to her in a dream. After the death of her royal lover, she had -obeyed the impulse that made her cling to the soft luxuries of life, and -yielded to solicitations which tended to guard her from the sharp -visitation of the world. She had become the mistress of the marquess of -Dorset; but sorrow and penury were destined to pursue her in their worst -shape—and wherefore? She had been good and humane; and in spite of -her error, even the sternest moralist might have pitied her. But she was -all woman,—fearful of repulse, dreading insult; more willing to lie -down and die, than, fallen and miserable, to solicit uncertain relief: -squalid poverty, famine, and lonely suffering, were hers; yet in all she -preserved an unalterable sweetness of disposition, which painted her wan -face with, its own soft colouring. -</p> - -<p> -The old woman went forth to seek for food, and the two friends were left -for several hours alone with Jane. She gazed affectionately on the -youthful duke; she looked more timidly on Monina, whose sex could not be -said to be disguised by her page's dress: the fallen woman fears women, -their self-sufficient virtues and cold reprobation; yet the sensibility -of Monina's countenance, and the soft expression of her eyes, so -all-powerful in their sweetness, could not be mistaken; and her first -shrinking from censure was exchanged for even a more painful feeling. -They were a lovely pair, these lone guests of poverty; innocence sat on -the brow of each, yet love beamed in their aspect:—love! the -two-edged sword, the flower-strewn poison, the dread cause of every -misery! More than famine and sickness Jane feared love; for with it in -her mind were linked shame and guilt, and the world's unkindness, hard -to bear to one, whose heart was "open as day to melting charity;" and -she feared that she saw in this sweet girl a bright reflex of her early -days. Oh, might the blotted mirror ne'er pourtray a change like hers! "I -am a living lesson of the woes of love," thought poor Jane; "may this -chance-visit to my hut, which saves young Richard's life, insure her -innocence!" Thus impelled, she spoke: she spoke of the danger of their -solitary companionship; she adjured York to fly the delusive -charm—for love's own sake he ought to fly; for if he made her his -victim, affection would be married to hate—joy to woe—her he -prized to a skeleton, more grim than death. Richard strove to interrupt -her, but she misunderstood his meaning; while Monina, somewhat -bewildered, fancied that she only alluded to the dangers she incurred in -his cause, and with her own beaming look cried, "Oh, mother, is it not -better to suffer for one so noble, than to live in the cold security of -prosperity?" -</p> - -<p> -"No, no," said Jane, "Oh, does my miserable fate cry aloud, no! Edward, -his father, was bright as he. Libertine he was called—I know not if -truly; but sincere was the affection he bore to me. He never changed or -faltered in the faith he promised, when he led me from the dull abode of -connubial strife to the bright home of love. Riches and the world's -pleasures were the least of his gifts, for he gave me himself and -happiness. Behold me now: twelve long years have passed, and I waste and -decay; the wedded wife of shame; famine, sorrow, and remorse, my sole -companions." -</p> - -<p> -This language was too plain. The blood rushed into Monina's face. "Oh, -love him not," continued the hapless penitent; "fly his love, because he -is beautiful, good, noble, worthy—fly from him, and thus preserve -him yours for ever." -</p> - -<p> -Monina quickly recovered herself; she interrupted her imprudent -monitress, and calmly assured her that her admonition, though -unnecessary, should not prove vain; and then both she and York exerted -themselves to engage Jane's attention on topics relative to his cause, -his hopes, his partizans, thus exciting her curiosity and interest. -</p> - -<p> -Richard passed the whole of the following day in this abode of penury -and desolation. That day, indeed, was big with dire event. The morning -rose upon Stanley's death. In Jane's hut the hollow bell was heard that -tolled the fatal hour. The ear is sometimes the parent of a livelier -sense than any other of the soul's apprehensive portals. In Italy, for -three days in Passion week, the sound of every bell and of every clock -is suspended. On the noon of the day when the mystery of the -Resurrection is solemnized, they all burst forth in one glad peel. Every -Catholic kneels in prayer, and even the unimaginative Protestant feels -the influence of a religion which speaks so audibly. And, in this more -sombre land, the sad bell that tolls for death strikes more melancholy -to the heart than the plumed hearse or any other pageantry of woe. In -silence and fear the fugitives heard the funereal knell sweep across the -desolate fields, telling them that at that moment Stanley died. -</p> - -<p> -Women nurse grief—dwell with it. Like poor Constance, they dress -their past joys in mourning raiment, and so abide with them. But the -masculine spirit struggles with suffering. How gladly, that very -evening, did the duke hail Frion's arrival, who, in the garb of a -saintly pardoner, came to lead him from Jane's dim abode. In spite of -his remonstrances, Monina refused to accompany him: she should endanger -him, she said; besides that, his occupation would be to rouse a martial -spirit among the Yorkists—hers to seek the Adalid and her dear -father's protection. -</p> - -<p> -Frion procured a safe asylum for the prince: and here, no longer pressed -by the sense of immediate danger, his head was rife with projects, his -spirit burning to show himself first to the Yorkists, in a manner worthy -of his pretensions. The choice was hazardous and difficult: but it so -happened that it was notified that in a few weeks Lord Surrey's eldest -sister was to marry the Lord de Walden, and the ceremony was to be -graced with much feasting and a solemn tournament. -</p> - -<p> -There was magic in all the associations with this family for Richard. In -his early infancy, Thomas Mowbray, the last of the dukes of Norfolk of -that name, died. It almost was beyond his recollection that he had been -married to the little Lady Anne, the duke's only child and heiress. She -died soon after; and the representative of the female branch of the -Mowbrays, John Howard was created duke of Norfolk by Richard the Third. -He fell at Bosworth; and his son, the earl of Surrey, though attaching -himself to Henry the Seventh, and pardoned and taken into favour, was -not permitted to assume his father's attainted title. -</p> - -<p> -At this marriage-feast the mother of his Anne, the dowager duchess of -Norfolk, daughter of Talbot, earl of Shrewsbury, so famous in the French -wars, would be present; and others of the Howard and Berkeley families, -all Yorkists once. The prince could not resist the temptation of -appearing on the lists that day, where, if success crowned him, as -surely it would, he could with prouder hopes call on Surrey to maintain -his claims. Frion got gallant armour for him, and contrived to have him, -under another name, inserted in the list of combatants. -</p> - -<p> -York's bosom swelled with pride and exultation when he saw himself among -his countrymen—his subjects—with lance in rest and bright -shield upon his arm, about to tilt with England's noblest cavaliers. It -seemed to him as if he had never asked more of fortune—and the -herald's voice, the clarion's sound, the neigh of steeds, the gallant -bearing of the knights, and charmed circle of joyous beauty around, -were like a voice from beyond life, speaking of a Paradise he had -left,—his own native home. But one emotion of disquiet crossed -him: as about to pass the barrier, Frion put his hand on his rein, and -whispered, "Beware of Clifford!" The duke threw his eyes round the -vizored throng. With what gladness would he have singled him out, and -met him in fierce, mortal combat! A second thought told him that the -dishonoured man could not find place in this gallant company. -</p> - -<p> -We will not dwell on the tilt, the thrust, and the parry, the -overthrowing of horses, and defeat of knights. Richard gloried in the -recollection of his Spanish combats, and the love he bore for martial -exercises, which made him, so boyish in figure, emulate the strong acts -of men. Fortune had varied: but, when at noon the pastime of that day -ended, the prince remained victor in the field. From the hand of the -queen of the feast he was receiving his reward, when Surrey, who had led -him to her throne, was suddenly called away. The assembly broke up; and -Richard was half occupied by polite attention to the countess, and half -by recollecting his peculiar situation, when the marshal of the lists -whispered him to follow—he led him to a gallery, where Surrey alone -was pacing backwards and forwards in great agitation. He stopped when the -prince entered—motioned the marshal to leave them, and then, in a -voice of suppressed passion, said, "I will not ask thee why with a false -appellation thou hast insulted the feast of nobles?—but well may I -ask, what fiend possessed thee to do a deed that affixes the taint of -disloyalty to King Henry's liege subject?" -</p> - -<p> -"My good sword, my lord," said Richard, colouring, "were eloquent to -answer your questioning, but that you are much deceived; I am not indeed -that which I called myself; but honour, not disgrace, attaches itself to -my presence. I came to tell you this, to rouse the old fidelity of the -Howards; to bid Lord Surrey arm for the last of the true Plantagenets." -</p> - -<p> -"Saint Thomas speed me! Clifford then spoke true—thou art Perkin -Warbeck?" -</p> - -<p> -"I would fain," said the duke haughtily, "ask a revered lady, who claims -kindred with thee, what name she would give to her sainted daughter's -affianced husband?" -</p> - -<p> -The language of truth is too clear, too complete, for the blots and -flaws of incredulity; the very anger Lord Surrey had manifested, now -turned to his confusion; the insult he had offered demanded reparation; -he could not refuse his visitant's earnest demand to be led to the widow -of Mowbray, duke of Norfolk. -</p> - -<p> -Elizabeth, daughter of the gallant Talbot, was proud of her ancestry, -and disappointed in the diminution of her house. When her Anne was -affianced to the little duke of York, and the nobility of Norfolk was -merged in the royal style of England, she had gloried; since then, -attainder and defeat had eclipsed the ducal honours of her race; nor -could she forgive the allegiance of its heirs to Lancaster. Often had -she pondered on the reports concerning Margaret of Burgundy's White -Rose; it was with agitation therefore that she heard that he was to be -brought for her to decide on his truth. -</p> - -<p> -The duke had doffed his helm: his golden hair clustered on the almost -infantine candour of his brow, and shaded to softer meaning the frank -aspect of his clear blue eyes. The aged duchess fixed her dimmed but -steady gaze upon him, and at once became aware that this was no ignoble -pretender who stood before her. His dignity inspired Surrey with -respect: he hesitated as he introduced the subject of his identity with -Edward the Fourth's youngest son. The duke, with a half-smile, began to -speak of his boyish recollections, and his little pretty playfellow, and -of one Mistress Margery, her governante; he spoke of a quarrel with his -infant bride on the very wedding-day, and how nothing would bribe him to -the ceremony, save the gift of a pretty foal, White Surrey, which -afterwards bore his uncle Gloucester in the battle of Bosworth. As he -spoke, he saw a smile mantle over the aged lady's countenance; and then -he alluded to his poor wife's death, and reminded the duchess, that when -clad in black, an infant widower, he had visited her in condolence; and -how the sad lady had taken a jewel-encircled portrait of her lost child, -garnished with the blended arms of Plantagenet and Mowbray, from his -neck, promising to restore it on an after-day, which day had never come. -Tears now rushed, into the duchess's eyes; she drew the miniature from -her bosom, and neither she nor Lord Surrey could longer doubt, that the -affianced husband of the noble Anne stood before them. -</p> - -<p> -Much confusion painted the earl's countenance. The duke of York's first -involuntary act had been to stretch out his hand; but the noble -hesitated ere he could bestow on it the kiss of allegiance. Richard -marked his reluctance, and spoke with gallant frankness: "I am an -outcast," he said, "the victim of lukewarm faith and ill-nurtured -treason: I am weak, my adversary strong. My lord, I will ask nothing of -you; I will not fancy that you would revive the ancient bond of union -between York and Norfolk; and yet, were it not a worthy act to pull down -a base-minded usurper, and seat upon his father's throne an injured -prince?" -</p> - -<p> -The duchess answered for him. "Oh, surely, my noble cousin will be no -recreant in this cause, the cause of our own so exalted lineage." -</p> - -<p> -But Lord Surrey had different thoughts: it cost him much to express -them; for he had loved the House of York, and honoured and pitied its -apparent offspring. At length he overcame his feelings, and said, "And, -if I do not this, if I do not assist to replant a standard whose staff -was broken on the graves of our slaughtered fathers, will your highness -yet bear with me, while I say a few words in my defence?" -</p> - -<p> -"It needs not, gallant Surrey," interrupted York. -</p> - -<p> -"Under favour, it does need," replied the earl; "and withal touches mine -honour nearly, that it stand clear in this question. My lord, the Roses -contended in a long and sanguinary war, and many thousand of our -countrymen fell in the sad conflict. The executioner's axe accomplished -what the murderous sword spared, and poor England became a wide, wide -grave. The green-wood glade, the cultivated fields, noble castles, and -smiling villages were changed to churchyard and tomb: want, famine, and -hate ravaged the fated land. My lord, I love not Tudor, but I love my -country: and now that I see plenty and peace reign over this fair isle, -even though Lancaster be their unworthy viceregent, shall I cast forth -these friends of man, to bring back the deadly horrors of unholy civil -war? By the God that made me, I cannot? I have a dear wife and lovely -children, sisters, friends, and all the sacred ties of humanity, that -cling round my heart, and feed it with delight; these I might sacrifice -at the call of honour, but the misery I must then endure I will not -inflict on others; I will not people my country with widows and orphans; -nor spread the plague of death from the eastern to the western sea." -</p> - -<p> -Surrey spoke eloquently well; for his heart was upon his lips. Prince -Richard heard with burning emotion. "By my fay!" he cried, "thou wouldst -teach me to turn spinster, my lord: but oh, cousin Howard! did you know -what it is to be an exiled man, dependent on the bounty of others; -though your patrimony were but a shepherd's hut on a wild nameless -common, you would think it well done to waste life to dispossess the -usurper of your right." -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h4><a id="chap27"></a></h4> - -<h4>CHAPTER XXVII -<br /><br /> -THE LANDING AT HYTHE</h4> - - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Farewell, kind lord, fight valiantly to-day.</span><br /> -<span class="i0">And yet I do thee wrong to mind thee of it,</span><br /> -<span class="i0">For thou art framed of the firm truth of valour.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i20">SHAKSPEARE.</span> -</div></div></div> - -<p> -The duke of York was not of a temperament to sink supinely before the -first obstacles. Lord Surrey's deep-felt abjuration of war influenced -him to sadness, but the usual habit of his mind returned. He had been -educated to believe that his honour called on him to maintain his -claims. Honour, always a magic word with the good and brave, was then a -part of the religion of every pious heart. He had been nursed in -war—the javelin and the sword were as familiar to his hand as the -distaff and spindle to the old Tuscan crone. In addition, the present -occasion called for activity. The fleet, armed for invasion, prepared by -his noble aunt—manned by his exiled zealous friends—would soon -appear on the English coast, giving form and force to, while it -necessitated his purposed attempt. -</p> - -<p> -He possessed in his secretary Frion, a counsellor, friend, and servant, -admirably calculated to prevent all wavering. This man's vanity, -lion-strong, was alive to insure his new master's success, and to -overthrow him by whom he had been discarded. He was an adept in -intrigue; an oily flatterer; a man of unwearied activity, both of mind -and body. It was his care to prevent York from suffering any of the -humiliations incident to his position. He obtained supplies of money for -him—he suffered none to approach who were not already full of -zeal—when he met with any failure, he proved logically that it was a -success, and magnified an escape into a victory—he worked day and -night to insure that nothing came near the prince, except through his -medium, which was one sugared and drugged to please. When he saw -Richard's clear spirit clouded by Lord Surrey, he demonstrated that -England could not suffer through him; for that in the battle it was a -struggle between partizans ready to lay down their lives in their -respective causes, so that, for their own sakes and pleasure, he ought -to call on them to make the sacrifice. As to the ruin and misery of the -land—he bade him mark the exactions of Henry; the penury of the -peasant, drained to his last stiver—this was real wretchedness; -devastating the country, and leaving it barren, as if sown with salt. -Fertility and plenty would speedily efface the light wound he must -inflict—nay, England would be restored to youth, and laugh through -all her shores and plains, when grasping Tudor was exchanged for the -munificent Plantagenet. -</p> - -<p> -In one circumstance Frion had been peculiarly fortunate. The part he had -played of astrologer during the foregoing summer had brought him -acquainted with a young nobleman zealous in the cause of York, and well -able to afford it assistance. Lord Audley was of the west country, but -his maternal relations were Kentish, and he possessed a mansion and a -small estate not far from Hythe in Kent. Lord Audley was of a class of -men common all over the world. He had inherited his title and fortune -early in life, and was still a very young man. He loved action, and -desired distinction, and was disposed to enter readily into all the -turmoil and risk of conspiracy and revolt. His aim was to become a -leader: he was vain, but generous; zealous, but deficient in judgment. -He was a Yorkist by birth and a soldier by profession—all combined -to render him, heart and soul, the friend of the wandering Plantagenet. -</p> - -<p> -Frion led York to the mansion of this noble, and it became the focus of -the spirit of sedition and discontent to the country round. The -immediate presence of the duke was concealed; but the activity of his -friends was not the less great to collect a band of partizans, to which, -when prepared and disciplined, they might present their royal leader. -Their chief purpose was to collect such a body of men as might give one -impetus to the comity, when the invading fleet should arrive on these -coasts from Burgundy. Time was wanting for the complete organization of -their plan; for each day they expected the vessels, and their operations -in consequence were a little abrupt. Still they were in hopes that they -should be enabled to assemble an armed force sufficient to facilitate -the landing and to insure the success of the expected troops. Day and -night these men were occupied in gathering together followers. It was -not long, however, before the wily secretary discovered that some one -was at work to counteract their schemes. Those he had left transported -with zeal for the cause yesterday, to-day he found lukewarm or icy cold. -Their enemy, whoever it might be, observed great mystery in his -proceedings; yet he appeared to have intuitive knowledge of theirs. -Frion exerted himself to discover the secret cause of all the -mischief—he was liberal of promises and bribes. One day he had -appointed a rendezvous for a party of recruits, about a hundred men, who -had been exercised for the last fortnight, and promised well—none -arrived at the appointed spot. Frion rode sorrowfully through the dusk -of the evening towards Lord Audley's dwelling. He was overtaken by a -horseman, with a slouched hat, and otherwise muffled up: he rode at his -side for a little way, quite mute to all Frion's courteous salutations; -and then he suddenly put spurs to his horse, and was out of sight in a -moment. Night grew darker; and at the mirk-embowered entrance of a shady -lane, Frion was startled by the tramp of a horse—it was the same -man:—"Maître Frion!" he cried. -</p> - -<p> -"Sir Robert Clifford!" -</p> - -<p> -"The same—I knew not that my voice was so treacherous," Clifford -began: he went on abruptly to declare that he was the counterminer; he, -the secret marplot of the sagacious Frenchman's schemes. He displayed in -all that he said a perfect knowledge of every transaction, and of the -prince's present residence. By'r Lady's grace, he might have brought -King Henry's archers to Lord Audley's very door! Wherefore he had not -done this seemed strange; his own account perplexed. In truth, this -wretched man, at war with guilt and with himself, loathed the dishonour -he had acquired. Like all evil-disposed persons, he had no idea of -purging himself from the foul stain by frank confession and reformation: -his project was to begin a new career in a new country: to go where his -own tarnished reputation was unknown, where the cankerous name of York -would poison no more his native language by its perpetual recurrence. -His violent passions led him also to other conclusions; he hated -Richard, and loved Monina; his desire to satisfy both these sentiments -suggested a project on which he now acted, and which dictated his -discourse with Frion. He showed how from that very spot he might ride to -London, and make disclosures to the king; his knowledge of every detail of -the Yorkist plans was startling—ruinous;—his offer was simply -this:—That the duchess of Burgundy should pay him a thousand golden -crowns; that the Spanish maiden, Monina, should consent to wed him; and -that they should seek together the golden isles of the western ocean, -leaving the old world for York to ruffle in. -</p> - -<p> -Frion desired time: it was necessary to consult Richard, and also -Monina; where should they meet again? Clifford would appoint neither -time nor place:—"I shall find you," he said: "I may draw your curtain -at dead of night; come on you with an armed band of men, whom you think -all your own. I will choose my own hour, my own audience-chamber. You -have but to get the damsel's consent, and to tell her, an' you list, -that she were better as Robin Clifford's wife, than as the light-of-love -of the son of Jane Shore's gallant." With these words the knight rode -off; and being much better mounted than the secretary, put all pursuit -to defiance. -</p> - -<p> -Frion was full of thought. He said nothing to the duke or Lord Audley; -but the following day hastened to visit Monina at Canterbury, where she -had resided latterly, in the character of a pilgrim to St. Thomas à -Becket's shrine. Frion had flattered himself that he could easily -persuade the young, inexperienced girl, whose ardour for York he had -often admired. Yet he felt uncomfortable when he saw her. Monina looked -a little pale, and her dark religious garb gave no adornment to her -beauty; but there was in the innocence and tenderness of her full dark -eye, in the soft moulding of the cheek which harmonized with the -beautiful lids, and in her -</p> - -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i20">"sweet lips, like roses,</span><br /> -<span class="i2">With their own fragrance pale, which Spring but half uncloses."</span> -</div></div> - -<p> -—there was in all this a purity and soft appeal which even the -politician felt, who looked on mankind as mere agents in the drama he -caused to be acted. With some hesitation he brought out his story, but -of course grew bolder as he proceeded. Monina looked pained, but -said—"Double the number of crowns, and Sir Robert will content him. -My father will make my ransom good." -</p> - -<p> -Clifford's speech and manner had convinced Frion that this would not be -the case; he tried to persuade Monina, and even repeated the knight's -insolent message. Her large eyes grew larger, dilating with surprise and -indignation. He little knows woman, who thinks to govern the timid thing -by threats. "Answer that bad man," she said, "thus: Monina will wed -death, rather than crime and treason. Good Master Frion, you have done -wrong by so insulting mine ears; it were enough to drive a poor girl to -eternal vows and a convent, to dream that such words are spoken of her; -and if I do not take that refuge, it is because I will not desert my -dear, fond, bereaved father—as soon I shall prove; meanwhile we must -not delay to secure our prince from his enemy's machinations. You know -Astley, the poor scrivener in this town? I defy Clifford to win him. -Bring his highness there, I will prepare him. We must show a boldness to -Clifford matching his own; let us be fearless for ourselves; and for the -White Rose we need not fear. Stay; Clifford watches you; I will provide -for the duke's safety." -</p> - -<p> -That very night, by secret, unknown means (it might be through her gipsy -friend), Monina had communicated with York, and induced him to take -refuge with the man she named. Astley's father had been a soldier in the -cause of York, and had died on Bosworth Field, leaving an unprovided -widow and five children, one only among them being a son. From his youth -upward, the boy had struggled, not with privation on his own account, to -that he submitted without a murmur, but for the sake of his mother and -sisters, whom he loved with an ardour peculiar to his sensitive and -affectionate disposition. Weak in health and strength, he had betaken -himself to the occupation of a scrivener, so meagrely to support them. -It is probable that, in the frame of all, there was a delicacy of -organization that unfitted them for penury. One by one they died. That -spring had left Astley comparatively rich, because he could well support -himself, but miserable beyond words, for he idolized all and every one -of his lost relatives. Frion had, with unwearied care, made an accurate -enumeration of all in Canterbury who had ever favoured the White Rose. -Astley was on this fist; he saw him, and passed him over as useless. -Chance brought him and Monina together, who instantly detected his -latent, unpractised talents, his integrity and enthusiasm; now his -habitation occurred as an unsuspected and faithful asylum for her -persecuted friend. -</p> - -<p> -Frion was still at work; Clifford came on him suddenly, and heard with -unrepressed rage his rejection by Monina; his threats were unmeasured; -but the moment for putting them into execution to their full extent had -gone by. On the very day that York arrived in safety at Canterbury, his -fleet was seen off Hythe. In the morning the vessels hove in sight; -towards evening they bore down upon land, and anchored in the offing. -The land-breeze rising at evening-tide secured them from the dangers of -a lee shore. -</p> - -<p> -Hythe is situated at the water's edge. The cliffs, which at Dover beetle -so fearfully over the tremendous deep, have by degrees receded from -their apparent task of paling in the ocean, and as they retire inland, -lose their barren, precipitous aspect, and become green, wooded hills, -overlooking a grassy plain, which extends from their feet to the sands, -a distance of about half a mile. In the neighbourhood of Hythe a ravine, -the bed of a stream, divides these acclivities, which on one side are -abrupt, on the other softly rounded as they gradually disappear. Arcadia -seems to breathe from the fertile landscape; the sunny uplands, the -fringed banks of the rivulet, the darker shadows of the wooded hills, -are contrasted with the verdant meadows, on which cattle and sheep -graze. But the sea, the dark, dangerous sea, with barking waves and vast -encircling barrenness, suddenly checks the beauty of the earth, adding -magnificence to the pastoral prospect. -</p> - -<p> -A few days before, some gipsies had pitched their tents near the stream: -some of the wanderers had strolled down to Hythe; but they were looked -on for the most part with suspicion and fear. Now, while at the close of -day most of the inhabitants of the little town were collected on the -beach, gazing on the anchored vessels, two stout-looking gipsy-men, with -one old woman of their tribe, were lying on the sands, occupied, in -their lazy way, by the same object, the vessels in sight. The people of -Hythe, fishers, or such poor traders as supplied the fishermen with a -few coarse necessaries, were roused from the usual monotony of their -lives by the aspect of this fleet. Added to these, there were three or -four mendicant friars; an old soldier or two, disabled in the wars of -the two Roses, and a few dependents on neighbouring nobles or Franklins; -while women and children of various ages filled up the group. They all -spoke of the fleet: it consisted of five armed vessels; two of these -were weather-beaten caravels, two were low-decked Flemish smacks, but -the fifth was one of prouder build, and it bore a flag of pretension on -its mizen. The French king and the Spaniard were spoken of first; some -thought it was a fleet which had sought the unknown, golden lands, -driven back upon the old world by the continuous west winds of the last -month; some said, they belonged to the duchy of Burgundy; there was a -spell in that word; no one knew who first whispered the name; none could -guess whence or wherefore the conjecture arose, but the crowd broke into -smaller groups; their talk declined into whispers as "York," "Duke -Perkin," "The White Rose," "The duchess of Burgundy," were mentioned; -and the fleet grew as they spoke into a mighty armada, freighted with -invasion, ready to disembark an army, to ravage and conquer the island. -</p> - -<p> -As soon as the appearance and nature of these vessels became confirmed, -the gipsies arose from their indolent posture and retreated to their -encampment. A few minutes afterwards, a wild-looking youth on a shaggy -horse, without a saddle, trotted off at a quick pace through the ravine -to the inland country. Lord Audley and Frion heard from him of the -arrival of their friends, who they had expected would have been delayed -for another month. Frion instantly set off for Canterbury to apprise the -prince; and the noble lost no time in collecting his retainers and -hastening to Hythe. Clifford's spies brought him word also of the -arrival of the fleet. Ill luck attended his guiles. King Henry was in -the north: there was no time to apprise him, and Clifford's underhand -proceedings might turn out bitterly to his disadvantage. He had nothing -for it but to endeavour to be the first to convey the already-blown news -to Sir John Peachy, sheriff for Kent: his pains were rewarded by his -being detained prisoner as a suspected person, while Sir John mustered -his yeomanry, and, together with the neighbouring gentry and their -retainers, marched towards Hythe. The wavering people, awed by this show -of legal and military power, grew cool towards the White Rose, whose -name, linked to change and a diminution of taxation, had for a moment -excited their enthusiasm. Some had assumed the snowy badge, and -collected in groups; but they tore it off when the magistrate appeared; -he thanked them for arming for their king, and they, in much fear and -some wonder, joined his standard. -</p> - -<p> -Sir John advanced with his increasing troop towards the village in -question. He was informed that a band of the prince's friends was there -before him, consisting of a few Yorkist gentlemen and their retainers. -His first idea was to disperse them; his second, "No; this will serve as -a decoy; every coast may not be prepared; driven too speedily hence, the -armament may make good their landing elsewhere: if we appear unguarded, -they will disembark, and fall into our hands." This policy had good -effect; the two smaller Dutch vessels and one of the caravels ran as -close in shore as their soundings permitted, and hastily landed a part -of the troops. The commanders of the expedition on board the fleet had -been in considerable anxiety; they had hoped to find the country raised -to receive them; they saw but a handful of men; still signs were made -to them to disembark; and, eager to insure the safety of their prince, -they in part obeyed, landing about two hundred and fifty men, with -Mountford, Corbet, and some other distinguished exiles, at their head. -York and Frion had not yet had time to arrive from Canterbury; Lord -Audley and his friends received the troops, and held consultation with -their chiefs. It was resolved to go forward, and penetrate into the -country, to raise it if possible; and, as they had not yet heard of Sir -John Peachy's advance, to forestall resistance by their speed. -</p> - -<p> -They marched forward in good order for nearly ten miles, when they -halted; their scouts here brought intelligence of a regular force of at -least two thousand men who were near at hand, advancing against them. -Audley advised a deviation from their line of march, so as to enter the -county in a different direction; Mountford proposed to fortify -themselves in Hythe; Corbet to re-embark with all speed on board their -vessels. While they deliberated, it was reported that another troop of -the king's men were posted in their rear, while a herald from the -sheriff called on them to lay down their arms and to submit. Already a -panic ran through this knot of men; already their coward hands dropped -their weapons, ready to be held out for servile cords, signs of terror -increased by the near tramp of Peachy's soldiers and the sound of -martial music. -</p> - -<p> -At this moment of irresolution, four persons were seen at the top of a -neighbouring eminence; one was a knight in complete armour, the others -were more peacefully attired; they paused a moment gazing on the scene -below; then the three pursued their way over the hills towards the sea; -the cavalier came riding down at a furious pace; Lord Audley advanced -towards him. "All is lost!" he cried. -</p> - -<p> -"Or won!" exclaimed the prince; "surely Neville and my good cousin will -send us reinforcements. How strong are ye on board, Mountford?" -</p> - -<p> -"About six hundred; two of which are German well-trained auxiliaries; -but we hoped to find an ally army." -</p> - -<p> -"Treason, Sir John, is stronger to break, than truth to bind. Ye are -mad; better not have landed at all than thus." -</p> - -<p> -A few scattered shot from Peachy's advanced guard broke in upon these -regrets; Richard in a moment recollected that this was a time for -action, not for words. He issued a few commands as to the position of -his troops, and riding to their front addressed them: "My merry men, and -very good friends," he cried, "let us recollect that we are soldiers; -our lives depend upon our swords; draw them for the right, and be strong -in it. Our enemies are chiefly raw recruits; cold friends of a -tyrant-usurper; but they are many, and death is before us; behind our -vessels, the wide ocean, safety and freedom; we must retreat, not as -cowardly fugitives, but as men who, while they see, fear not their -danger." -</p> - -<p> -The order of the march was speedily established. While the rear -retrograded, Richard, with a hundred chosen men, made a stand, receiving -so well the first onset of their assailants, that they were staggered -and driven back. -</p> - -<p> -"In good hour, spare neither whip nor spur," cried York; and turning his -horse's head, he galloped towards his retreating friends. Peachy, who -believed that he had them in his toils, followed slowly and in good -order. For the first five miles all went well; but when the hills -approached and grew more abrupt, forming by degrees a narrow ravine, -they found this post guarded by the enemy. "Betrayed!" cried Audley; "we -ought to have traversed the hills; now we are between two fires." -</p> - -<p> -"Silence!" said Richard, sternly; "we must give courage to these poor -fellows, not deprive them of it—fear you for your life, baron? By my -fay, I had rather mine were spilt, than that of the meanest of our men!" -</p> - -<p> -Combat like this York had shared in the ravines of Andalusia: he -remembered that warfare, and founded his present operations upon it. His -onset was impetuous; the enemy recoiled, but formed again. The horsemen -dismounted, and presented a frightful bulwark of iron-headed lances to -the horses of the little troop; while, from the intervals in the ranks, -the archers and men armed with matchlocks kept up a rain of arrows and -bullets, that spread consternation among his troop. It was necessary to -break through this formidable defence; thrice the prince charged in -vain; the third time his standard-bearer fell; he wore a white scarf; he -fixed it to his lance, and drawing his sword, he waved this emblem of -his cause as again he dashed forwards, and with greater success; yet, as -he drove the enemy before him, the whiz of bullets and arrows from -behind showed that their previous resistance had given Sir John Peachy -time to come up. York grasped Audley's hand: "Farewell," he cried, -"forgive my hasty speech, my valiant friend; may we meet in paradise, -where surely, through God's grace, we shall sup this night." -</p> - -<p> -With the words he charged again, and overcame the last faint resistance. -Followed by all his troop, pursuing the flying, Richard dashed through -the defile: soon the open plain was before them, and he saw the wide, -calm, free ocean, with his vessels riding at anchor. The decks were -crowded with men, and the water covered with boats, hovering near shore, -as they waited to receive tidings of their friends. -</p> - -<p> -Before in the van, Richard now hung back to secure the retreat of those -behind. Audley urged him to embark; but he moved slowly towards the -beach, now calling his men to form and gather round him, now marking the -motions of those behind, ready to ride back to their aid. At length -Peachy's troops poured through the defile; the plain was covered by -flying Yorkists: it only remained for him to assemble as many as he -could, to protect and insure the embarkation of all. -</p> - -<p> -"One word," cried Audley; "whither do you propose to sail?" -</p> - -<p> -"It is doubtful; if Barry still be true, and my voice be heard, not to -Burgundy and dependence, but rather to Ireland, to Cork and Desmond." -</p> - -<p> -"Meanwhile, dear your highness," said the noble, "I will not believe -that all is lost in England. I shall make good speed to the West, and -gather my friends together; we shall not be distant neighbours; and if I -succeed to my wish, Audley will call you from your Irish fastnesses to -your own native England. Our Lady preserve you meanwhile—farewell!" -</p> - -<p> -Audley, swift in all his proceedings, put spurs to his horse, and was -away. A few minutes brought Richard to the sands; he guarded the -embarkation of his diminished numbers; nor, till Peachy's troop was -within bowshot, and the last straggler that arrived was in the last -boat, did he throw himself from his horse and leap in; he was rowed to -the chief vessel. He cast an anxious glance at the <i>Adalid</i>, just -under weigh; a green and white flag was hoisted; Monina was on board. -Further to reassure him of his friends' safety, Frion received him as he -mounted on his own deck. Evening was at hand—the late balmy summer -evening; a land breeze sprung up; the vessels had already weighed their -anchors, and swiftly, with swelling sails, they gained the offing. How -tranquil and sweet seemed the wide-spread waters; how welcome these arks -of refuge, sailing placidly over them, after the strife, the blood, the -shouts, the groans of battle. "Farewell, England," said the royal exile; -"I have no country, save these decks trodden by my friends—where -they are, there is my kingdom and my home!" -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h4><a id="chap28"></a></h4> - -<h4>CHAPTER XXVIII -<br /><br /> -THE PARTING</h4> - - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Why, it cannot choose but be a noble plot:</span><br /> -<span class="i0">And then the power of Scotland and of York</span><br /> -<span class="i0">To join——</span><br /> -<span class="i0">In faith it is exceedingly well aimed!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i20">SHAKSPEARE.</span> -</div></div></div> - -<p> -The duke of York found Lord Barry, Sir George Neville, Plantagenet, and -several other distinguished friends, on board his vessel. In -consultation with them, it was agreed to sail immediately for Cork. The -loss of many brave friends, killed or prisoners, on the Kentish coast, -saddened them: while the diminution of their numbers forbade the idea of -a second descent upon England. Towards Ireland they sailed, with such -alternation of calm and contrary winds as made them linger for several -weeks upon their way. Here, for the first time, Richard heard from Frion -of Clifford's machinations, and of his message and insolent threat to -Monina. Every drop of blood in his veins was alive with indignation: -before, he had despised Sir Robert as a traitor; and, while he looked on -him as the cause of all his disasters, and of the death of so many of -his noble and gallant adherents, his abhorrence was mingled with -contemptuous pity. The unchivalrous wrong offered to a woman, that woman -his sweet sister-friend, animated him with other feelings: to avenge -her, and chastise the arrogant braggart, was his knightly duty, his -fervent, impatient wish. He saw her not meanwhile; she was in one of -those dark hulls, among which love alone taught him to discern the -lighter build and more sea-worn frame of the <i>Adalid</i>. -</p> - -<p> -Ireland was at this time very differently situated from when the prince -first landed on her shores. After Lambert Simnel's success there, still -the king of England had neglected its internal policy. A more terrible -name awakened his caution; and he sent Sir Edward Poynings, as the -deputy of his infant son Henry, whom he had nominally appointed to the -government. Poynings was resolute and successful. He defeated the -natives, quelled the earl of Kildare, and forced the earl of Desmond to -renew his oaths of allegiance. A free pardon was afterwards granted to -all, with the exception of Lord Barry. -</p> - -<p> -York was received at Cork most cordially by his old friend O'Water, and -immediately, at the earl of Desmond's invitation, repaired to Ardfinnin. -The earl had found no great difficulty in escaping from England, and -returning to his native island. The timely assistance he had afforded -Henry's enemy in the Tower was an impenetrable mystery, though the -consciousness of it had made him more yielding than he would otherwise -have been in his concessions to Poynings. He received York with the -hospitality of an Irish chieftain, and the kindness of a friend. But he -held out no inducement for him to remain: on the contrary, he was the -first to counsel him to turn his eyes, where a new and brighter prospect -presented itself. Sir Patrick Hamilton had left Munster a few months -before, with a firm belief in Richard's truth; he had assured the earl -of the favourable reception his adventurous friend would obtain from his -royal master, and had declared his intention of proceeding to Brussels -to see the prince, and personally to enforce his invitation. York was -absent; but the duchess gave a cordial reception to the renowned -Scottish cavalier. He had been present at the sailing of the fleet; and -his last words were wishes for their success, and an offer of secure and -honourable refuge in Edinburgh, in case of failure. It had been agreed, -that on his own return thither, he should be accompanied by messengers -from the duchess, to thank the king of Scotland for the interest he -manifested towards her beloved nephew. Sir Edward Brampton was chosen as -the chief of these, accompanied, of course, by his lady, York's -long-tried and zealous friend. -</p> - -<p> -All these circumstances were decisive of the course it became the exile -to pursue. He was at that moment in a condition to appear under -advantageous circumstances at the Scottish court. He had lost several -valued friends during the late attempt; but many remained of noble birth -and good renown. Above a hundred knights graced his train. The treasure -his aunt had bestowed for his English struggle remained, besides a -considerable sum of money, services of valuable plate and valuable -jewels, the munificent gift of the dowager duchess of Norfolk. In fine, -not a dissentient voice was raised; and the attention of every one was -turned towards preparations for the voyage. York continued to be the -earl of Desmond's guest: in his princely halls he received all the -honour due to his rank and pretensions. The countess, a lady of the -noble family of Roche, distinguished him by her kindness, and conceived -a peculiar friendship for the Spanish maiden, Monina. -</p> - -<p> -The moment arrived for York's embarkation. He had visited his vessels, -and seen that all was in readiness; but his surprise was excited by -perceiving that no preparations were made for sailing on board the -<i>Adalid</i>. This was explained on his return, by the countess telling -him that a friend of his desired to take leave of him before he sailed, and -that she had been besought by her to explain in some measure the reasons -of their separation. De Faro's whole soul was set upon becoming one of -those immortal pioneers who opened new paths across the unexplored west. -He could be of no use to Richard in Scotland; but he could not prevail -on himself to leave his lovely, unprotected girl behind. She had at last -consented to accompany him in his far and dangerous voyage. -</p> - -<p> -Many had been this poor child's struggles, sad her reflections, ere she -wrought herself to this purpose. "Alas!" such were her reveries, "that -innocence should be no safeguard in this ill world! If indeed I loved -him sinfully, or he sought me wrongfully, I should simply obey the laws -of God in flying him; but he is noble, and I know my own heart. Spotless -Mother of God, thou knowest it!—there is no single feeling in my -woman's soul that I dare not avouch to thy all-blessed gentleness! I ask -only to live in the same land, to breathe the same air, to serve him at -his need, to associate with his friends; so that when I see him not, I -may feed upon discourse of him. This is all I ask—all!—and -this must not be! I cannot bear a tainted name; I cannot endure that, -linked with any slightest stain of calumny, my image should haunt his -dreams; nor that he or any human being should suffer through me, which -may so easily happen: for if words like those Frion reported should -reach my father's ears, he would clothe his tempest-shaken limbs in -arms, and expose his breast to the sharp sword's point, to vindicate my -honour. No!—no tragedy shall be associated with poor Monina's -name; nor agony nor woe shall visit those I love, through me: they shall -not even commiserate my sufferings; these shall be garnered up in my own -heart, watched with a miser's care. I will not enrich the tell-tale air -by one sigh; nor through my broken heart shall the gloom of my despair -appear. I will paint my face with joy's own hue; put sunshine in my -eyes: my hapless love shall be no tale of pity for any, save my own -desolate thoughts. Nor let me forget every lesson of resignation, nor -the dear belief I cherish in the protection and goodness of my sainted -guardianess. Let me rejoice at much that exalts my destiny in my own -eyes. The prince's friendship, affection, gratitude, and esteem are -mine: I have been able to serve him I love—am I not sufficiently -fortunate? He needs me no more; but I am no alien upon earth. I shall -give delight to my dear father by accompanying him over the untrod -watery deserts: through me—for, if I went not, he would remain -behind—the name of De Faro will be added to the list of those who -bestow a new creation of supernal beauty on our out-worn world. He will -call me the partner of his glory; and, though that be a vain word, his -dark eyes will flash with joy. My dear, dear father! Should the prince -succeed and ascend his rightful throne, more impassable than that wide -sea would be the gulph which ceremony would place between us; and if he -fall—ah! mine is no summer's day voyage; the tornados of that wild -region may wreck me; the cold sea receive me in her bosom; and I shall -never hear of Richard's overthrow, nor endure the intolerable pang of -knowing that he dies." -</p> - -<p> -Fortified in some degree by such thoughts, anxious to conceal her -sorrows from one who might compassionate, yet not wholly share them, -Monina met Richard with an air of gaiety: glad, in spite of his -involuntary mortification, that she should be spared any pain, he copied -her manner; and a spectator would have thought, that either they parted -for a few hours, or were indifferent to each other. He could not help -betraying some anxiety however, when Lady Desmond, who was present, -solicited him to make his friend change her purpose, and drew a -frightful picture of the hazardous voyage, the storms, the likelihood -that they might be driven far, far away, where no land was, where they -would perish of famine on the barren, desolate ocean. Monina -laughed—she endeavoured thus to put aside her friend's serious -entreaties; and, when she found that she failed, she spoke of the -Providence that could protect her even on the wastes of innavigable -ocean; and proudly reminded him, that she would trust her father, whose -reputation as a mariner stood foremost among those in the king of -Portugal's employ. Richard looked perplexed—sorrow and pain spoke in -his own countenance; while she, true to herself to the last, said, "I -have now told you my purpose—but this is no farewell; to-morrow we -meet again; and another to-morrow will come also, when I bring treasure -from my Indian isle to dazzle the monarch of fair, happy England." -</p> - -<p> -On that morrow Richard sought in vain among the countess of Desmond's -companions for his sweet Spaniard; he imaged her as he last saw her, -light, laughing, her soft-beaming eyes hardly daring to glance towards -him, while he fancied that a shower of precious drops was shaken from -their fringed lids. He had meant to say, "Ah! weep, Monina, weep for -Andalusia—for our happy childhood—for the hopes that leaves us: -thy tears will seem to me more glad than thy untrue smile." But she was -not there. Could he have seen her from the deck of his vessel, marking its -progress from the watch-tower of Youghall, he had been satisfied. The -anguish of bitter tears, the heart's agonizing gaspings, were hers, to -be succeeded by the dull starless night of despair, when his sail -vanished on the glittering plains of the sunny sea. -</p> - -<p> -Farewell to her who mourned; to her who saw neither day nor joy, whose -heart lived with him, while she prepared for her melancholy separation -from the very world which he inhabited. -</p> - -<p> -The scene shifts to Scotland; and hither, to a new country, a new -people, almost to a new language, our royal adventurer is transported. -Dark, tumultuous, stained with blood, and rendered foul by treason, are -the pages of early Scottish history. A wild and warlike people inhabited -its mountainous districts, whose occupation was strife, whose religion -was power and revenge. The Lowlanders, a wealthier race, were hardly -more cultivated or less savage. One course of rebellion against the -sovereign, and discord among themselves, flows, a sanguinary stream from -the hidden sources of things, threading a long track of years, or -overflowing it with its pernicious waves. Discord, hate, and murder were -the animating spirits of the scene. -</p> - -<p> -James the Third was a weak, unhappy man. A prophecy had induced him to -distrust all the princes of his house—he extended this distrust to -his son, who was brought up consequently in a kind of honourable and -obscure imprisonment. He fostered unworthy favourites; and many bold and -sanguinary revolts had been the consequence. On one occasion, while -encamped during a foray into England, his nobles had seized on all his -personal friends and adherents, and hanged them over London Bridge. The -last rebellion cost him his life. The insurgents seized on, and placed -at their head, his eldest son, then only sixteen years of age—they -met their sovereign in the field—he fled before them; and his -death was as miserable and dastardly as his life. -</p> - -<p> -James the Fourth succeeded to the throne. The mean jealousy of his -father had caused him to be untutored; but he was one of those beings, -who by nature inherit magnanimity refinement, and generosity. His faults -were those that belong to such a character. His imagination was active, -his impulses warm but capricious. He was benignant to every other, -severe only in his judgment of himself. His father's death, to which he -had been an unwilling accessary, weighed like parricide on his -conscience. To expiate it, in the spirit of those times, he wore -perpetually an iron girdle, augmenting the weight each year, as habit or -increasing strength lightened the former one. He devoted much of his -life to penance and prayer. Here ended, however, all of the ascetic in -his disposition. He was a gallant knight and an accomplished gentleman. -He encouraged tourneys and passages of arms, raising the reputation of -the Scottish cavaliers all over Europe, so that many noble foreigners -repaired to Edinburgh, to gain new trophies in contests with the heroes -of the north. He passed edicts to enforce the schooling of the children -of the nobles and lairds. His general love of justice, a little impaired -it is true by feudal prejudices, often led him to wander in disguise -over his kingdom; seeking hospitality from the poor, and listening with -a candid and generous mind to every remark upon himself and his -government. -</p> - -<p> -He was singularly handsome, graceful, prepossessing, and yet dignified -in his manners. He loved pleasure, and was the slave of the sex, which -gives to pleasure all its elegance and refinement; he partook his -family's love for the arts, and was himself a poet and a musician; nay -more, to emulate the divine patron of these accomplishments, he was -well-skilled in surgery, and the science of healing. He was ambitious, -active, energetic. He ruminated many a project of future glory; -meanwhile his chief aim was to reconcile the minds of the alienated -nobles—his murdered father's friends—to himself; and, -succeeding in this, to abolish the feuds that raged among the peers of -Scotland, and civilize their barbarous propensities. He succeeded to a -miracle. His personal advantages attracted the affection of his -subjects; they were proud of him, and felt exalted by his virtues. His -excellent government and amiable disposition, both united to make his -reign peaceful in its internal policy, and beneficial to the kingdom. -The court of Holyrood vied with those of Paris, London, and Brussels; to -which capitals many of his high-born subjects, no longer engaged in the -struggles of party, travelled; bringing back with them the refinements -of gallantry, the poetry, learning, and science of the south of Europe. -The feuds, last flickerings of the dying torch of discord, which lately -spread a fatal glare through the land, ceased; if every noble did not -love, they all obeyed their sovereign—thus a new golden age might -be said to have dawned upon this eyrie of Boreas, this tempestuous Thule -of the world. -</p> - -<p> -We must remember that this was the age of chivalry; the spirit of -Edward the Third and the princely dukes of Burgundy yet survived. Louis -the Eleventh, in France, had done much to quench it; it burnt bright -again under the auspices of his son. Henry the Seventh was its bitter -enemy; but we are still at the beginning of his reign, while war and -arms were unextinguished by his cold avaricious policy. James of -Scotland laboured, and successfully, to pacify his subjects, children of -one common parent; but he, as well as they, disdained the ignoble arts -of peace. England formed the lists where they desired to display their -courage; war with England was a word to animate every heart to dreadful -joy: in the end, it caused the destruction of him and all his chivalry -in Flodden Field; now it made him zealous to upraise a disinherited -prince; so that under the idea of restoring the rightful sovereign to -the English throne, he might have fair pretext for invading the -neighbour kingdom. At the hope, the soldiers of Scotland—in other -words, its whole population—awakened, as an unhooded hawk, ready to -soar at its accustomed quarry. -</p> - -<p> -Sir Patrick Hamilton, the most accomplished and renowned of the Scottish -cavaliers, and kinsman of the royal house, had returned laden with every -testimony of the White Rose's truth, and a thousand proofs of his -nobleness and virtue. Sir Edward Brampton delivered the duchess's -message of thanks; and his lady had already awakened the zeal of many a -gentleman, and the curiosity and interest of many a lady, for the pride -of York, the noble, valiant Plantagenet. Woman's sway was great at -Holyrood; as the bachelor king, notwithstanding his iron girdle, and his -strict attention to his religious duties, was a devout votary at the -shrine of feminine beauty. -</p> - -<p> -There was a hawking party assembled in the neighbourhood of Stirling, -which he graced by his presence. All was, apparently, light-heartedness -and joy, till a dispute arose between two damsels upon the merits of -their respective falcons. One of these was fair Mary Boyd, daughter of -the laird of Bonshaw. Mary Boyd was the first-love of the young -sovereign, and the report went, that he was no unsuccessful suitor; it -spoke of offspring carefully concealed in a village of Fife, whom James -often visited. When, afterwards, this young lady's example was imitated -by others nobly born, this became no secret, and of her children, one -became archbishop of St. Andrew's—the other, a daughter, married the -earl of Morton. -</p> - -<p> -But these were days of youthful bashfulness and reserve; the mind of -Mary Boyd balanced between pride in her lover, and shame for her fault; -a state of feeling that ill brooked the loss of what gilded her too -apparent frailty—the exclusive attention of the king. Mary was -older than the king; the dignity which had captivated the boy's -imagination, lost its charm when the tyranny of assumed right took the -place of that of tenderness. He grew cold, then absent, and at last, -ventured to fix a regard of admiration on another, sliding easily from -the restraint to which he at first submitted, into all of devotion, and -soft, gallant courtesy, by which kings win ladies' love, and in which -none grew to be a greater adept than James. The new object that -attracted him was, the young, gay, and lovely Lady Jane Kennedy, -daughter of the earl of Cassils. Her sparkling eyes, her "bonny brent -brow," her dark, clustering hair, contrasted with the transparency of -her complexion—her perfect good-humour, her vivacity, and her -wit—made her a chief beauty in the Scottish court, and in all this -she was the reverse of the fair, light-haired, sleepy-eyed Mary. Lady -Jane saw and gloried in her triumph over the king. Innocent then, she -only desired the reputation of such a conquest, fully resolved not to -tread in the steps of her rival. It is something of fool's play to -strive to enchain fire by links of straw, to throw silken fetters on -abounding torrent, to sport with the strong lion, Love, as he were a -playful whelp: some, secure in innocence and principle, may at last -discover their mistake and remain uninjured; but not the vain, heedless, -self-willed, Lady Jane. The courtiers were divided in their attentions; -some for shame would not forsake Mary Boyd; some thought that still she -would regain her power; one or two imagined that Lady Jane's resistance -would restore the king to her rival; but the greater number caught the -light spirit of the hour, and gathered round the laughing, happy girl. -</p> - -<p> -The contention between these ladies made many smile. The king betted a -diamond against a Scotch pebble on Lady Jane's bird. Mary had thwarted -him, and forced him to her side during the first part of the day—now -he took his revenge. A heron rose from the river banks. The birds were -unhooded, and up soared Lady Jane's in one equal flight through the blue -air, cleaving the atmosphere with noiseless wing. Mary's followed -slower; but, when Lady Jane's pounced on the quarry, and brought it -screaming and flapping to the ground, the rival bird darted on the -conqueror, and a sharp struggle ensued. It was unequal; for the Lady -Jane's hawk would not quit its prey. "Let them fight it out," said Mary, -"and the survivor is surely the victor." -</p> - -<p> -But the spectators cried shame—while Lady Jane, with a scream, -hastened to save her favourite. The other, fiery as a borderer, attacked -even her; and, in spite of her gloves, drops of blood from her fair -hand, stained her silken robe. James came to her rescue, and with one -blow put an end to the offender's life. Jane caressed her "tassel -gentle," while Mary looted on her "false carrion's" extinction with -unrepressed indignation. They returned to Stirling: immediately on their -arrival, they received tidings that the duke of York's fleet had been -descried, and was expected to enter the Frith on the following day. None -heard the words without emotion; the general sentiment was joy; for -Richard's landing was to be the signal of invasion. King Henry had one -or two friends among the Scottish nobles, and these alone smiled -contemptuously. -</p> - -<p> -"We must have feasts and tourneys, fair mistress," said the king, "to -honour our royal visitor. Will your servant intrude unseemingly if, -while his arms extol your beauty, he wears your colours?" -</p> - -<p> -Lady Jane smiled a reply, as she followed her father towards his -mansion. She smiled, while feminine triumph beamed in her eye, and -girlish bashfulness blushed in her cheek. "Has she not a bonny ee?" -cried James, to him who rode near him. It was Sir Patrick Hamilton, his -dear cousin and friend, to whom James often deferred, and respected, -while he loved. His serious look recalled the king. "This is not the -time, good sooth!" he continued, "for such sweet gauds—but for lance, -and broadsword:—the coming of this prince of Roses will bring our -arms into play, all rusty as they are. I wonder what presence our guest -may have!" -</p> - -<p> -The friends then conversed concerning the projected war, which both -agreed would be well-timed. It would at once give vent to the fiery -impulses of the Scotch lords, otherwise apt to prey upon each other. But -lately a band of the Drummonds had burnt the kirk of Moulward, in which -were six-score Murrays, with their wives and children, all of whom were -victims. But foray in England—war with the land of their -hate—the defiance would be echoed in glad shouts from Tweed to -Tay, from the Lothians to the Carse of Gowrie; while it should be -repeated in groans from the Northumberland wilds. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h4><a id="chap29"></a></h4> - -<h4>CHAPTER XXIX -<br /><br /> -WELCOME TO SCOTLAND</h4> - - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Cousin of York, thus once more we embrace thee;</span><br /> -<span class="i0">Welcome to James of Scotland! For thy safety,</span><br /> -<span class="i0">Know, such as love thee not shall never wrong thee.</span><br /> -<span class="i0">Come, we will taste awhile our court delights,</span><br /> -<span class="i0">Dream hence afflictions past, and then proceed</span><br /> -<span class="i0">To high attempts of honour.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i20">FORD.</span> -</div></div></div> - -<p> -The duke of York arrived off Leith. While the messengers were going to -and fro, and preparation was made to disembark, he and his principal -friends were assembled on the deck of their vessel, regarding; this -strange northern coast with curiosity, wonder, and some contempt. -</p> - -<p> -"I see horses," cried Lord Barry; "by'r Lord's grace, grass grows -hitherward—that is much!" -</p> - -<p> -"I see kye," exclaimed Frion, "so we may hope for buttered sowans at -least, if not beef, at the palace of feasts." -</p> - -<p> -"Ay," cried Sir Edward Brampton, who had come on board, "you may hope -for choice cheer. I promise ye shall live well, ye that are -noble—these unclad rocks and desert moors are the home of many an -earl and belted knight, whose gorgeousness may vie with the cavaliers of -France or Burgundy. In this it differs from England, ye will not find -stout franklins or fat burgesses; there are no men of Ghent, nor London -aldermen: the half-naked kern tills the stony soil. Next to the palace -is the hearthless hovel. Wealth and penury, if not mates, are joint -masters of the land." -</p> - -<p> -"I have heard," said York, "that there is much paternal love and filial -duty between the rich and poor in this country." -</p> - -<p> -"Among the northern mountains thus it is," said Brampton; "a strange and -savage race, which, my good Lord Barry, some name Irish, dwell on the -barren heights, along the impassable defiles, beside their vast stormy -lakes; but the Lowlander looks askance on the Highland clanship. List -ye, gentlemen; all bears a different aspect here from the gentle -southern kingdoms; but they are men, proud, valiant, warlike men, as -such they claim our respect. His majesty and a few others are moreover -right gallant cavaliers." -</p> - -<p> -"Mark these words," said York, earnestly, "and remember, dear friends, -that we, the world's wanderers, seek refuge here of our own will, which -if we find, we must not disdain our hosts. Remember, too, the easy rage -of the fiery Scot; and that we boast gentler customs: suffer no brawling -to mar our concord; let not Richard of York, who of all his wide realm -possesses your hearts only, find his dominions narrowed, or violently -disturbed by your petulance and pride." -</p> - -<p> -The duke's associates listened with respect. Hitherto the spirited boy -had been led by a Barry, a Clifford, a Neville, or a Plantagenet. They -had counselled, spoken for him; his sword only had been as active as -theirs. A new light seemed to have broken in upon his soul; it assumed a -seriousness and power that exalted him in their eyes, while it took -nothing from the candour and single-hearted reliance on their loves, -which was his dearest charm. -</p> - -<p> -On landing, the duke of York was escorted to Edinburgh by the earl of -Errol, Sir Patrick Hamilton, and others. The attire, arms, and horses, -with their caparisons, of these gentlemen, were little inferior to those -displayed at Paris. King James awaited him at the castle of Edinburgh. -The monarch received his guest in state on his throne. The prince was -struck at once by his elegance, his majesty, and sweet animated aspect: -his black bonnet, looped up by a large ruby, sat lightly on his brow, -his glossy black curly hair escaping in ringlets from underneath; his -embroidered shirt-collar, thrown back, displayed his throat, and the -noble expression of his head; his dark grey eyes, his manly sun-burnt -complexion, the look of thought, combined with goodness, mingled with -dignity, gave an air of distinction to his whole person. Various were -the physiognomies, various the guises, of those around him. The swart, -gaunt Highlander, in his singular costume; the blue-eyed, red-haired -sous of the Lowlands were there; and in each and all were remarkable a -martial, sometimes a ferocious, expression. -</p> - -<p> -The prince of England entered, surrounded by his (to the Scotch) -foreign-looking knights. -</p> - -<p> -James descended from his throne to embrace his visitant, and then -re-assumed it, while all eyes were turned upon the royal adventurer, -whose voice and mien won every heart, before his eloquence had time to -move them. "High and mighty king," said Richard, "your grace, and these -your nobles present, be pleased to hear the tragedy of one, who, born a -prince, comes even as a beggar to your court. My lords, sorrow and I -were not twins: I am the elder, and for nine years I beheld not the -ill-visage of that latest birth of my poor but royal mother's fortunes. -It were a long tale to tell, what rumour has made familiar to every ear: -my uncle Gloucester's usurpation; my brother's death; and the sorrows of -our race. I lost my kingdom ere I possessed it; and while yet my young -hands were too feeble to grasp the sceptre of my ancestors, and, with -it, the sword needful to defend the same, capricious fate bestowed it on -Henry of Richmond; a base-born descendant of ill-nurtured Bolingbroke; a -scion of that Red Rose that so long and so rightfully had been uprooted -in the land, which they had bought with its children's dearest blood. -</p> - -<p> -"Good, my lords, I might move you to pity did I relate how, in my tender -years, that usurer king sought my life, buying the blood of the -orphan at the hands of traitors. How, when these cruelties failed him, -he used subtler arts; giving me nicknames; meeting my gallant array of -partizans, not with an army of their peers, but with a base rout of -deceits, treasons, spies, and blood-stained decoyers. It would suit me -better to excite your admirations by speaking of the nobleness and -fidelity of my friends; the generosity of the sovereigns who have shed -invaluable dews upon the fading White Rose, so to refresh and restore -it. -</p> - -<p> -"But not to waste my tediousness on you, let this be the sum. I am here, -the friend of France, the kinsman of Burgundy; the acknowledged lord of -Ireland; pursued by my powerful foe, I am here, king of Scotland, to -claim your friendship and your aid. Here lies the accomplishment of my -destiny! The universal justice to be rendered me, which I dreamed of in -my childhood, the eagle hopes of my youth, my better fortunes, and -future greatness, have fled me. But here they have found a home; here -they are garnered up; render them back to me, my lord; unlock with the -iron key of fatal battle the entrance to those treasures, all mine own, -whose absence renders me so poor. Arm for me Scotland; arm for the -right! Never for a juster cause could you buckle breast-plate, or poize -your lance. Be my captain, and these your peers, my fellow-soldiers. -Fear not, but that we vanquish; that I gain a kingdom; you eternal glory -from your regal gift. Alas! I am as a helmless vessel drifting towards -the murderous rock; but you, as the strong north-wind, may fill the -flapping sails, and carry me on my way with victory and gladness." -</p> - -<p> -A murmur filled the presence-chamber: dark Douglas grasped his sword; -Hamilton's eyes glanced lightnings; not one there but felt his heart -beat with desire to enforce the illustrious exile's right. The tide of -rising enthusiasm paused as James arose; and deep attention held them -all. He descended from his throne. "My royal brother," he said, "were I -a mere errant knight, so good and high I esteem your cause, without more -ado I would don my armour, and betake me to the field. The same power -which enables me to afford you far better succour than the strength of -one arm, obliges me to pause and take council, ere I speak what it is in -my heart to promise. But your highness has made good your interests -among my counsellors; and I read in their gestures the desire of war and -adventure for your sake. Deem yourself an exile no more. Fancy that you -have come from merry England to feast with your brother in the north, -and we will escort you back to your capital in triumphant procession, -showing the gaping world how slighter than silky cobwebs are the -obstacles that oppose the united strength of Plantagenet and Stuart. -Welcome—thrice welcome to the Scottish land—kinsmen, nobles, -valiant gentlemen, bid dear welcome to my brother England!" -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h4><a id="chap30"></a></h4> - -<h4>CHAPTER XXX -<br /><br /> -THE COURT OF SCOTLAND</h4> - - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A lady, the wonder of her kind,</span><br /> -<span class="i0">Whose form was upborne by a lovely mind;</span><br /> -<span class="i0">Which dilating had moulded her mien and motion,</span><br /> -<span class="i0">Like a sea-flower unfolded beneath the ocean.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i20">SHELLEY.</span> -</div></div></div> - -<p> -A few days made it apparent that York acquired a stronger power over the -generous and amiable king of Scotland, than could be given by motives of -state policy. He became his friend; no empty name with James, whose -ardent soul poured itself headlong into this new channel, and revelled -in a kind of ecstasy in the virtues and accomplishments of his favoured -guest. Both these princes were magnanimous and honourable, full of -grandeur of purpose, and gentleness of manner; united by these main -qualities, the diversities of their dispositions served rather to draw -them closer. Though Richard's adventures and disasters had been so many, -his countenance, his very mind was less careworn than that of James. The -White Rose, even in adversity, was the nursling of love; the Scottish -prince, in his palace-fostered childhood, had been the object of his -father's hatred and suspicion: cabal, violence, and duplicity had waited -on him. James governed those around him by demonstrating to them, that -it was their interest to obey a watchful, loving, generous monarch: -Richard's power was addressed to the most exalted emotions of the human -heart, to the fidelity, self-devotion, and chivalric attachment of his -adherents. James drew towards himself the confidence of men; Richard -bestowed his own upon them. James was winning from his courtesy, Richard -from his ingenuousness. Remorse had printed a fadeless stamp of thought -and pain on the king's countenance; an internal self-communion and -self-rebuke were seated in the deep shadows of his thoughtful eyes. -Richard's sorrow for the disasters he might be said to have occasioned -his friends, his disdain of his own vagabond position, his sadness when -his winged thoughts flew after the Adalid, to hover over his sweet -Monina; all these emotions were tinged by respect for the virtues of -those around him, conscious rectitude, pious resignation to Providence, -gratitude to his friends, and a tender admiration of the virgin virtues -of her he loved: so that there arose thence only a softer expression for -his features, a sweetness in the candour of his smile, a gentle -fascination in his frank address, that gave at once the stamp of -elevated feeling and goodness to his mien. He looked innocent, while -James's aspect gave token, that in his heart good and ill had waged war: -the better side had conquered, yet had not come off scathless from the -fight. -</p> - -<p> -In the first enthusiasm of his new attachment, James was eager to lavish -on his friend every mark of his favour and interest; he was obliged to -check his impatience, and to submit to the necessity of consulting with -and deferring to others. His promises, though large, continued therefore -to be vague; and York knew that he had several enemies at the -council-board. The intimacy between him and the king prevented him from -entertaining any doubts as to the result; but he had a difficult task in -communicating this spirit of patient forbearance to his friends. -Sometimes they took sudden fright, lest they should all at once meet a -denial to their desires; sometimes they were indignant at the delays -that were interposed. None was more open in his expressions of -discontent than Master Secretary Frion. He who had been the soul of -every enterprise until now, who had fancied that his talents for -negotiation would be of infinite avail in the Scottish court, found that -the friendship between the princes, and Richard's disdain of artfully -enticing to his side his host's noble subjects, destroyed at once his -diplomatic weaving. He craftily increased the discontent of the proud -Neville, the disquietude of the zealous Lady Brampton, and the turbulent -intolerance of repose of Lord Barry; while Richard, on the other hand, -exerted himself to tranquillize and reduce them to reason: he was -sanguine in his expectations, and above all, confident in his friend's -sincere intention to do more than merely assist him by force of arms. He -saw a thousand projects at work in James's generous heart, every one -tending to exalt him in the eyes of the world, and to rescue him for -ever from the nameless, fugitive position he occupied. Nor was his -constant intercourse with the king of small influence over his -happiness; the genius, the versatile talents, the grace and -accomplishments of this sovereign, the equality and sympathy that -reigned between them, was an exhaustless source of more than amusement, -of interest and delight. The friends of James became his friends: Sir -Patrick Hamilton was chief among these, and warmly attached to the -English prince: another, whom at first ceremony had placed at a greater -distance from him, grew into an object of intense interest and continual -excitation. -</p> - -<p> -"This evening," said the king to him, soon after his arrival, "you will -see the flower of our Scottish damsels, the flower of the world well may -I call her; for assuredly, when you see the Lady Katherine Gordon, you -will allow that she is matchless among women." -</p> - -<p> -Richard was surprised: did James's devotion to Lady Jane Kennedy, nay, -his conscious look whenever he mentioned her, mean nothing? Besides, on -this appeal to his own judgment, he pictured his soft-eyed Spaniard, -with all her vivacity and all her tenderness, and he revolted from the -idea of being the slave of any other beauty. "Speak to our guest, Sir -Patrick," continued the king, "and describe the fair earthly angel who -makes a heaven of our bleak wilds; or rather, for his highness might -suspect you, let me, not her lover, but her cousin, her admirer, her -friend, tell half the charms, half the virtues of the daughter of -Huntley. Is it not strange that I, who have seen her each day since -childhood, and who still gaze with wonder on her beauty, should yet find -that words fail me when I would paint it? I am apt to see, and ready to -praise, the delicate arch of this lady's brow, the fire of another's -eyes, another's pouting lip and fair complexion, the gay animation of -one, the chiselled symmetry of a second. Often, when our dear Lady Kate -has sat, as is often her wont, retired from sight, conversing with some -travelled greybeard, or paying the homage of attention to some ancient -dame (of late I have remarked her often in discourse with Lady -Brampton), I have studied her face and person to discover where the -overpowering charm exists, which, like a strain of impassioned music, -electrifies the senses, and touches the hearts of all near her. Is it in -her eyes? A poet might dream of dark blue orbs like hers, and that he -had kissed eyelids soft as those, when he came unawares on the repose of -young Aurora, and go mad for ever after, because it was only a dream: -yet I have seen brighter; nor are they languishing. Her lips, yes, the -soul of beauty is there, and so is it in her dimpled chin. In the -delicate rounding of her cheeks, and the swanlike loveliness of her -throat, in the soft ringlets of her glossy hair, down to the very tips -of her roseate-tinged fingers, there is proportion, expression, and -grace. You will hardly see all this: at first you will be struck; -extreme beauty must strike; but your second thought will be, to wonder -what struck you, and then you will look around, and see twenty prettier -and more attractive; and then, why, at the first words she speaks, you -will fancy it an easy thing to die upon the mere thought of her: her -voice alone will take you out of yourself, and carry you into another -state of being. She is simple as a child, straightforward, direct: -falsehood—pah! Katherine <i>is</i> Truth. This simplicity, which -knows neither colouring nor deviation, might almost make you fear, while -you adore her, but that her goodness brings you back to love. She is good, -almost beyond the consciousness of being so: she is good because she -gives herself entirely up to sympathy; and, beyond every other, she -dives into the sources of your pleasures and pains, and takes a part in -them. The better part of yourself will, when she speaks, appear to leap -out, as if, for the first time, it found its other half; while the worse -is mute, like a stricken dog, before her. She is gay, more eager to -create pleasure than to please; for to please, we must think of -ourselves, and be ourselves the hero of the story, and Katherine is ever -forgetful of self: she is guileless and gall-less; all love her; her -proud father, and fiery, contentious Highland brothers, defer to her; -yet, to look at her, it is as if the youngest and most innocent of the -graces read a page of wisdom's book, scarce understanding what it meant, -but feeling that it was right." -</p> - -<p> -It was dangerous to provoke the spirit of criticism by excessive praise; -Richard felt half inclined to assert that there was something in the -style of the king's painting that showed he should not like this lauded -lady; but she was his cousin, he was proud of her, and so he was silent. -There was a ball at court that night; and he would see many he had never -seen before; James made it a point that he should discover which was his -cousin. He could not mistake. "She is loveliness itself!" burst from his -lips; and from that moment he felt what James had said, that there was a -"music breathing from her face," an unearthly, spirit-stirring beauty, -that inspired awe, had not her perfect want of pretension, her quite, -unassuming simplicity, at once led him back to every thought associated -with the charms and virtues of woman. Lady Brampton was already a link -between them; and, in a few minutes, he found himself conversing with -more unreserve and pleasure than he had ever done. There are two -pleasures in our intercourse in society, one is to listen, another to -speak. We may frequently meet agreeable, entertaining people, and even -sometimes individuals, whose conversation, either by its wit, its -profundity, or its variety, commands our whole rapt attention: but very -seldom during the course of our lives do we meet those who thaw every -lingering particle of ice, who set the warm life-springs flowing, and -entice us, with our hearts upon our lips, to give utterance to its most -secret mysteries; to disentangle every knot and fold of thought, and, -like sea-weed in the wave, to spread the disregarded herbage, as a -tracery matchlessly fair before another's eyes. Such pleasure Richard -felt with Katherine; and, ever and anon, her melodious voice interposed -with some remark, some explanation of his own feelings, at once -brilliant and true. -</p> - -<p> -Richard knew that Sir Patrick Hamilton loved the Lady Katherine Gordon; -he also was related to the royal family. Hamilton, in the eyes of all, -fair ladies and sage counsellors, was acknowledged to be the most -perfect knight of Scotland; what obstacle could there be to their union? -Probably it was already projected, and acceded to. Richard did not -derogate from the faith that he told himself he owed to Monina, by -cultivating a friendship for the promised bride of another, and moreover -one whom, after the interval of a few short months, he would never see -again. Satisfied with this reasoning, York lost no opportunity of -devoting himself to the Lady Katherine. -</p> - -<p> -His interests were the continual subject of discussion in the royal -counsel-chamber. There were a few who did not speak in his favour. The -principal of these was the earl of Moray, the king's uncle: the least in -consideration, for he was not of the council, though he influenced it: -but the bitterest in feeling, was Sir John Ramsey, laird of Balmayne, -who styled himself Lord Bothwell. He had been a favourite of James the -Third. His dark, fierce temper was exasperated by his master's death, -and he brooded perpetually for revenge. He had once, with several other -nobles, entered into a conspiracy to deliver up the present king to -Henry the Seventh; and the traitorous intent was defeated, not from want -of will, but want of power in his abettors. Since then, Lord Bothwell, -though nominally banished and attainted, was suffered to live in -Edinburgh, nay, to have access to the royal person. James, whose -conscience suffered so dearly by the death of his father, had no desire -to display severity towards his ancient faithful servant; besides, one -who was really so insignificant as Sir John Ramsey. This man was -turbulent, dissatisfied: he was sold to Henry of England, and had long -acted as a spy; the appearance of York at Edinburgh gave activity and -importance to his function: his secret influence and covert intrigues -retarded somewhat the projects and desires of the king. -</p> - -<p> -When the first opposition made to acknowledging this pretender to the -English crown was set aside, other difficulties ensued. Some of the -counsellors were for making hard conditions with the young duke, saying, -that half a kingdom were gift enough to a Prince Lackland: a golden -opportunity was this, they averred, to slice away a bonny county or two -from wide England; he whom they gifted with the rest could hardly say -them nay. But James was indignant at the base proposal, and felt -mortified and vexed when obliged to concede in part, and to make -conditions which he thought hard with his guest. After a noisy debate, -these propositions were drawn out, and York was invited to attend the -council, where they were submitted for his assent. -</p> - -<p> -These conditions principally consisted in the surrender of Berwick, and -the promised payment of one hundred thousand marks. They were hard; for -it would touch the new monarch's honour not to dismember his kingdom; -and it were his policy not to burden himself with a debt which his -already, oppressed subjects must be drawn on to pay. The duke asked for -a day for consideration, which was readily granted. -</p> - -<p> -With real zeal for his cause on one side, and perfect confidence in his -friends' integrity on the other, these difficulties became merely -nominal, and the treaty was speedily arranged. But the month of -September was near its close; a winter campaign would be of small avail: -money, arms, and trained men, were wanting. The winter was to be devoted -to preparation; with the spring the Scottish army was to pass the -English border. In every discussion, in every act, James acted as his -guest's brother, the sharer of his risks and fortunes: one will, one -desire, was theirs. Sir Patrick Hamilton went into the west to raise -levies: no, third person interposed between them. It was the king's -disposition to yield himself wholly up to the passion of the hour. He -saw in Richard, not only a prince deprived of his own, and driven into -exile, but a youth of royal lineage, exposed to the opprobium of -nicknames and the accusation of imposture. The king of France -acknowledged, but he had deserted him: the archduke had done the same: -how could James prove that he would not follow in these steps? He levied -the armies of his kingdom in his favour; he was to fight and conquer for -him next spring. The intervening months were intolerable to the fervent -spirit of the Stuart—something speedy, something now, he longed, he -resolved to do; which, with a trumpet-note, should to all corners of the -world declare, that he upheld Richard of York's right—that he was his -defender, his champion. Once he penned a universal challenge, then -another especially addressed to Henry Tudor; but his invasion were a better -mode than this. Should he give him rank in Scotland?—that would -ill beseem one who aspired to the English crown. Should he proclaim him -Richard the Fourth in Edinburgh?—York strongly objected to this. -Money?—it were a base gilding; besides, James was very poor, and had -melted down his plate, and put his jewels to pawn, to furnish forth the -intended expedition. Yet there was one way,—the idea was as -lightning—James felt satisfied and proud; and then devoted all his -sagacity, all his influence, all his ardent soul, to the accomplishment -of a plan, which, while it insured young Richard's happiness, stamped -him indelibly as being no vagabond impostor, but the honoured prince, -the kinsman and ally of Scotland's royal house. -</p> - -<p> -King James and the duke of York had ridden out to inspect a Lowland -regiment, which the earl of Angus proudly displayed as the force of the -Douglas. As they returned, James was melancholy and meditative. "It is -strange and hard to endure," he said at last, fixing on his companion -his eyes at once so full of fire and thought, "when two spirits contend -within the little microcosm of man. I felt joy at sight of those bold -followers of the Douglas, to think that your enemy could not resist -them; but I do myself foolish service, when I place you on the English -throne. You will leave us, my lord: you will learn in your bonny realm -to despise our barren wilds: it will be irksome to you in prosperity, to -think of your friends of the dark hour." -</p> - -<p> -There was sincerity in these expressions, but exaggeration in the -feelings that dictated them. Richard felt half-embarrassed, in spite of -gratitude and friendship. The king, following the bent of his own -thoughts, not those of others, suddenly continued: "Our cousin Kate at -last, finds grace in your eyes; is she not good and beautiful, all cold -and passionless as she is?" -</p> - -<p> -"Cold!" the Lady Katherine, whose heartfelt sympathy, was a sunny clime -in which he basked—whose sensibility perpetually varied the bright -expression of her features—York repeated the word in astonishment. -</p> - -<p> -"Thou findest her wax?" inquired James, smiling; "by my troth, she has -proved but marble before." -</p> - -<p> -"I cannot guess even at your meaning," replied York, with all the warmth -of a champion; "the lady is in the estimation of all, in your own -account, the best daughter, the most devoted friend, the kindest -mistress in the world. How can we call that spirit cold, which animates -her to these acts? It is not easy to perform, as she does, our simplest -duties. How much of self-will, of engrossing humour, even of our -innocent desires and cherished tastes, must we not sacrifice, when we -devote ourselves to the pleasure and service of others? How much -attention does it not require, how sleepless a feeling of interest, -merely to perceive and understand the moods and wishes of those around -us! An inert, sluggish nature, half ice, half rock, cannot do this. To -achieve it, as methinks your fair kinswoman does, requires all her -understanding, all her sweetness, all that exquisite tact and -penetrative feeling I never saw but in her." -</p> - -<p> -"I am glad you say this," said James. "Yes, Kate has a warm heart: none -has a better right to say so than I. There are—there were times, for -the gloom of the dark hour is somewhat mitigated—when no priest, no -penance, had such power over me as my cousin Katherine's sweet voice. -Like a witch she dived into the recesses of my heart, plucking thence my -unholy distrust in God's mercy. By St. Andrew! when I look at her, all -simple and gentle as she is, I wonder in what part of her resides the -wisdom and the eloquence I have heard fall from her lips; nor have I had -the heart to reprove her, when I have been angered to see our cousin Sir -Patrick driven mad by her sugared courtesies." -</p> - -<p> -"Does she not affect Sir Patrick?" asked Richard, while he wondered at -the thrilling sensation of fear that accompanied his words. -</p> - -<p> -"'Yea, heartily,' she will reply," replied the king; "'Would you have me -disdain our kinsman?' she asks when I rail; but you, who are of gender -masculine, though, by the mass! a smooth specimen of our rough kind, -know full well that pride and impertinence are better than equable, -smiling, impenetrable sweetness. Did the lady of my love treat me thus, -'sdeath, I think I should order myself the rack for pastime. But we -forget ourselves; push on, dear prince. It is the hour, when the hawks -and their fair mistresses are to meet us on the hill's side. I serve no -such glassy damsel; nor would I that little Kennedy's eye darted fires -on me in scorn of ray delay. Are not my pretty Lady Jane's eyes bright, -Sir Duke?" -</p> - -<p> -"As a fire-fly among dark-leaved myrtles." -</p> - -<p> -"Or a dew-drop on the heather, when the morning sun glances on it, as we -take our mountain morning-way to the chase. You look grave, my friend; -surely her eyes are nought save as nature's miracle to you?" -</p> - -<p> -"Assuredly not," replied York; "are they other to your majesty—you -do not love the lady?" -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, no!" reiterated James, with a meaning glance, "I do not love the -Lady Jane; only I would bathe in fire, bask in ice, do each and every -impossibility woman's caprice could frame for trials to gain—but I -talk wildly to a youthful sage. Say, most revered anchorite, wherefore -doubt you my love to my pretty mistress?" -</p> - -<p> -"Love!" exclaimed Richard; his eyes grew lustrous in their own soft dew -as he spoke. "Oh, what profanation is this! And this you think is love! -to select a young, innocent, and beauteous girl—who, did she wed her -equal, would become an honoured wife and happy mother—to select her, -the more entirely to deprive her of these blessings—to bar her out -for ever from a woman's paradise, a happy home; you, who even now are in -treaty for a princess-bride, would entice this young thing to give up -her heart, her all, into your hands, who will crush it, as boys a gaudy -butterfly, when the chase is over. Dear my lord, spare her the -pain—yourself remorse; you are too good, too wise, too generous, to -commit this deed and not to suffer bitterly." -</p> - -<p> -A cloud came over James's features. The very word "remorse" was a sound -of terror to him. He smote his right hand against his side, where dwelt -his heart, in sore neighbourhood to the iron of his penance. -</p> - -<p> -At this moment, sweeping down the near hill-side, came a gallant array -of ladies and courtiers. The king even lagged behind; when near, he -accosted Katherine, he spoke to the earl of Angus, to Mary Boyd, to all -save the Lady Jane, who first looked disdainful, then hurt, and, at -last, unable to straggle with her pain, rode sorrowfully apart. James -tried to see, to feel nothing. Her pride he resisted, her anger he -strove to contemn, her dejection he could not endure: and, when riding -up to her unaware, he saw the traces of tears on her cheek, usually so -sunny bright with smiles, he forgot everything save his wish to console, -to mollify, to cheer her. As they returned, his hand was on her -saddle-bow, his head bent down, his eyes looking into hers, and she was -smiling, though less gay than usual. From that hour James less coveted -the prince's society. He began a little to fear him: not the less did he -love and esteem him; and more, far more, did he deem him worthy of the -honour, the happiness he intended to bestow upon him. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h4><a id="chap31"></a></h4> - -<h4>CHAPTER XXXI -<br /><br /> -THE MARRIAGE</h4> - - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i9">She is mine own;</span><br /> -<span class="i0">And I as rich in having such a jewel,</span><br /> -<span class="i0">As twenty seas, if all their sand were pearl,</span><br /> -<span class="i0">Their water nectar, and the rocks pure gold.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i20">SHAKSPEARE.</span> -</div></div></div> - -<p> -The threads were spun, warp and woof laid on, and Fate busily took up -the shuttle, which was to entwine the histories of two beings, at whose -birth pomp and royalty stood sponsors, whose career was marked by every -circumstance that least accorded with such a nativity. A thousand -obstacles stood in the way; the king, with all his fervour, hesitated -before he proposed to the earl of Huntley to bestow his daughter, of -whom he was justly proud, on a fugitive sovereign, without a kingdom, -almost without a name. Fortune, superstition, ten thousand of those -imperceptible threads which fate uses when she weaves her most -indissoluble webs, all served to bring about the apparently impossible. -</p> - -<p> -The earl of Huntley was a man of a plain, straightforward, resolved -ambition. His head was warm, his heart cold, his purpose one—to -advance his house, and himself at the head of it, to as high a situation -as the position of subject would permit. In the rebellion which -occasioned the death of James the Third, he had vacillated, unable quite -to ascertain which party would prove triumphant; and when the rebels, -rebels then no more, but lieges to James the Fourth, won the day, they -looked coldly on their lukewarm partizan. Huntley grew discontented: -though still permitted to hold the baton of Earl Marshal, he saw a cloud -of royal disfavour darkening his fortunes; in high indignation he joined -in the nefarious plot of Buchan, Bothwell; and Sir Thomas Todd, to -deliver his sovereign into the hands of Henry of England, a project -afterwards abandoned. -</p> - -<p> -Time had softened the bitter animosities which attended James at the -beginning of his reign. He extended his favour to all parties, and -reconciled them to each other. A wonder it was, to see the Douglases, -Hamiltons, Gordons, Homes, the Murrays, and Lennoxes, and a thousand -others, at peace with each other, and obedient to their sovereign. The -earl of Huntley, a man advanced in life, prudent, resolute, and politic, -grew into favour. He was among the principal of the Scottish peers; he -had sons, to whom the honours of his race would descend, and this one -daughter, whom he loved as well as he could love anything, and respected -from the extent of her influence, and the perfect prudence of her -conduct; she was his friend and counsellor, the mediator between him and -her brothers; the kind mistress to his vassals, a gentle, but -all-powerful link between him and his king, whose value he duly -appreciated. -</p> - -<p> -Her marriage was often the subject of his meditation. Superstition was -ever rife in Scotland. James the Third had driven all his brothers from -him, because he had been told to beware of one near of kin; and his -death, of which his sou was the ostensible agent, fulfilled the -prophecy. Second-sight, in the Highlands, was of more avail than the -predictions of a Lowland sibyl. The seer of the house of Gordon had, on -the day of her birth, seen the Lady Katherine receive homage as a queen, -and standing at the altar with one, on whose young brow he perceived, -all dim and shadowy, "the likeness of a kingly crown." True, this -elevation was succeeded by disasters: he had beheld her a fugitive; he -saw her stand on the brow of a cliff that overlooked the sea, while the -wild clouds careered over the pale moon, alone, deserted; he saw her a -prisoner; he saw her stand desolate beside the corpse of him she had -wedded—the diadem was still there, dimly seen amid the disarray of -his golden curls. These images haunted the earl's imagination, and made him -turn a slighting ear to Sir Patrick Hamilton, and other noble suitors of -his lovely child. Sometimes he thought of the king, her cousin, or one -of his brothers: flight, desolation, and death, were no strange -attendants on the state of the king of Scotland, and these miseries he -regarded as necessary and predestined; he could not avert, and so he -hardly regarded them, while his proud bosom swelled at the anticipation -of the thorny diadem, which was to press the brow of a daughter of the -Gordon. -</p> - -<p> -Lord Huntley had looked coldly on the English prince. Lord Bothwell, as -he called himself, otherwise Sir John Ramsay, of Balmayne, his former -accomplice, tampered with him on the part of Henry the Seventh, to -induce him to oppose warmly the reception of this "feigned boy," and to -negative every proposition to advance his claims. King Henry's urgent -letters, and Ramsay's zeal, awakened the earl's suspicions; a manifest -impostor could hardly engender such fears, such hate; and, when midnight -assassination, or the poisoned bowl, were plainly hinted at by the -monarch of wide England, Huntley felt assured that the enemy he so -bitterly pursued was no pretender, but the rightful heir of the sceptre -Henry held. He did not quite refuse to join with Bothwell, especially -when he heard that he was listened to by the bishop of Moray and the -earl of Buchan; but involuntarily he assumed a different language with -regard to York, became more respectful to him, and by his demeanour -crushed at once the little party who had hitherto spoken of him with -contempt. The king perceived this change; it was the foundation-stone of -his project. "Tell me, you who are wise, my lord," said the monarch to -his earl marshal, "how I may raise our English prince in the eyes of -Scotland. We fight for him in the spring—for him, we say—but -few of ours echo the word; they disdain to fight for any not akin to them." -</p> - -<p> -"They would fight for the Foul Fiend," said Huntley, "whom they would be -ill-pleased to call cousin, if he led them over the English border." -</p> - -<p> -"Ay, if he took them there to foray; but the duke of York will look on -England as his own, and when the nobles of the land gather round him, it -will be chauncy work to keep them and our Scots from shedding each -other's blood; they would spill Duke Richard's like water, if no drop of -it can be deemed Scotch." -</p> - -<p> -"It were giving him a new father and mother," replied the earl, "to call -him thus." -</p> - -<p> -"When two even of hostile houses intermarry, our heralds pale their -arms; the offspring pale their blood." -</p> - -<p> -"But what Scottish lady would your grace bestow on him whose rank were a -match for royalty? There is no princess of the Stuarts." -</p> - -<p> -"And were there," asked James, quickly, "would it beseem us to bestow -our sister on a King Lackland?" -</p> - -<p> -"Or would your majesty wait till he were king of England, when France, -Burgundy, and Spain would compete with you? I do believe that this noble -gentleman has fair right to his father's crown; he is gallant and -generous, so is not King Henry; he is made to be the idol of a warlike -people, such as the English, so is not his rival. Do you strike one -stroke, the whole realm rises for him, and he becomes its sovereign: -then it were a pride and a glory for us, for him a tie to bind him for -ever, did he place his diadem on the head of a Scottish damsel." -</p> - -<p> -"You are sanguine and speak warmly," replied the king: "see you beyond -your own words? to me they suggest a thought which I entertain, or not, -as is your pleasure: there is but one lady in our kingdom fitting mate -for him, and she is more Gordon than Stuart. Did your lordship glance at -the Lady Katherine in your speech?" -</p> - -<p> -Lord Huntley changed colour: a sudden rush of thought palsied the -beatings of his heart. Was he called upon to give his child, his -throne-destined daughter, to this king-errant? Nay, nay, thus did -fortune blindly work; her hand would insure to him the crown, and so -fulfil to her the dark meaning of the seer: hesitating, lost to his -wonted presence of mind, Huntley could only find words to ask for a day -for reflection. James wondered at this show of emotion; he could not -read its full meaning: "At your pleasure, my lord," he said, "but if you -decide against my honoured, royal friend, remember that this question -dies without record—you will preserve our secret." -</p> - -<p> -Every reflection that could most disquiet an ambitious man possessed the -earl marshal. That his daughter should be queen of England was beyond -his hopes; that she should be the errant wife of a pretender, who passed -his life in seeking ineffectual aid at foreign courts, was far beneath -them. He canvassed every likelihood of York's success; now they dwindled -like summer-snow on the southern mountain's side—now they strode high -and triumphant over every obstacle; the clinging feeling was—destiny -had decreed it—she being his wife, both would succeed and reign. -"There is fate in it," was his last reflection, "and I will not gainsay -the fulfilment. Andrew of the Shawe was the prince of seers, as I have -good proof. Still to a monarch alone shall she give her hand, and I must -make one condition." -</p> - -<p> -This one condition Lord Huntley communicated to his royal master. It was -that York should, as of right he might, assume the style and title of -king. James smiled at his earl marshal's childish love of gauds, and did -not doubt that the duke would pay so easy price for a jewel invaluable -as Katherine. But granting this, the king, knowing the noble's despotic -character, required one condition also on his part, that he should first -announce the intended union to the lady, and that it should not have -place without her free and entire consent. Huntley was surprised: -"Surely, my liege," he began, "if your majesty and I command——" -</p> - -<p> -"Our sweet Kate will obey," interrupted James; "but this is no mere -marriage of policy; hazards, fearful hazards may attend it. Did I not -believe that all would end well, by the Holy Rood he should not have -her; but she may see things with different eyes—she may shrink from -becoming the wife of an exile, a wanderer without a home: yet that need -never be." -</p> - -<p> -York little guessed the projects of his royal friend. Love, in its most -subtle guise, had insinuated itself into his soul, becoming a very -portion of himself. That part of our nature, which to our reflections -appears the most human, and yet which forms the best part of humanity, -is our desire of sympathy; the intense essence of sympathy is love. Love -has been called selfish, engrossing, tyrannic—as the root, so the -green leaf that shoots from it—love is a part of us—it is our -manifestation of life; and poisonous or sweet will be the foliage, -according to the stock. When we love, it is our aim and conclusion to -make the object a part of ourselves—if we are self-willed and evilly -inclined, little good can arise; but deep is the fount of generous, -devoted, godlike feeling, which this silver key unlocks in gentle -hearts. Richard had found in the Lady Katherine a magic mirror, which -gave him back himself, arrayed with a thousand alien virtues; his soul -was in her hands, plastic to her fairy touch, and tenderness and worship -and wonder took his heart, ere passion woke, and threw a chain over -these bosom guests, so that they could never depart. A mild, yet golden -light dawned upon his soul, and beamed from it, lighting up creation -with splendour—filling his mind with mute, yet entrancing melody. He -walked in a dream; but far from being rendered by his abstraction morose -or inattentive to others, never had he been so gay, never so considerate -and amiable. He felt that, beneath the surface of his life, there was -the calm and even the bliss of Paradise; and his lightest word or act -must be, by its grace and benevolence, in concord with the tranquil -spirit that brooded over his deeper-hidden self. All loved him the -better for the change, save Frion; there was something in him that the -wily Frenchman did not understand; he went about and about, but how -could this man of "low-thoughted care" understand the holy mysteries of -love. -</p> - -<p> -Katherine accompanied her father to Gordon Castle, in Aberdeenshire. -Where was the light now, that had made a summer noon in Richard's soul? -There was memory: it brought before him her cherub-face, her voice, the -hours when at her side he had poured out his overbrimming soul in -talk—not of love, but of ideas, feelings, imaginations he had never -spoken before. Two days passed, and by that time he had collected a -whole volume of things he wished to say—and she was far: then hope -claimed entrance to his heart, and with her came a train he dreamt not -of—of fears, anticipations, terror, despair; and then a tenfold -ardour for his enterprise. Should he not win Katherine and a kingdom? -</p> - -<p> -On the third day after her departure, King James informed the prince, -that Lord Huntley had invited them to visit him at his castle, "Will -your grace venture," he asked, "so far into the frozen circles of the -icy north? You will traverse many a savage defile and wild mountain-top; -torrents and dark pine forests bar the way, and barrenness spreads her -hag's arms to scare the intruder. I speak your language, the effeminate -language of an Andalusian, who loves the craggy heights, only when -summer basks upon them; and the deep sunless dell, when myrtles and -geranium impregnate the air with sweets. I love the mist and snow, the -tameless winds and howling torrent, the bleak unadorned precipice, the -giant pines where the north makes music. The grassy upland and the -corn-field, these belong to man, and to her they call Nature, the fair, -gaudy dame; but God takes to himself, and lives among these sublime -rocks, where power, majesty and eternity are shaped forth, and the -grandeur of heaven-piercing cliffs allies us to a simple but elevating -image of the Creator." -</p> - -<p> -King James was a poet, and could feel thus—York might smile at his -enthusiasm for the bleak and horrific. But had the path to Gordon Castle -been ten times more frightful, the thoughts of love were roses, the -hopes of love vernal breezes, to adorn it with beauty. "Say, my lord," -continued James, "shall we go throwing aside the cumbrous burthen of -pomp? We are here in Perth. Yonder, over those peaks, lies our direct -path. Shall we, two woodland rovers, with bows in our hand and quivers -at our back, take our solitary way through the wild region? It is my -pastime ofttimes so to do; and well I know the path that leads me to the -abode of my cousin Kate. We will send our attendants by the easier path -to the eastern sea-shore, at once to announce our approach, and bear -such gear as we may need, not to play too humble a part in Huntley's -eyes." -</p> - -<p> -A thousand motives of policy and pride had induced the earl to desire -that this marriage should be celebrated in the Highlands. Here he would -appear almost a sovereign to his royal son-in-law; here also he should -avoid the sarcasms of the Tudor party, and the anger of those who had -pretended to fair Katherine's hand. James consented to his wish, and now -led his friend and guest, through the very heart of his craggy kingdom -over the Grampians, towards Aberdeen. It was the end of October; a few -sweet autumnal days still lingered among these northern hills, as if to -light on their way the last feathered migrators hastening towards the -south; but dark mists invested their morning progress. The rivers were -swollen; and the mountain peaks often saluted the rising sun, garmented -in radiant snow. It was a little drear, yet grand, sublime, wondrous. -York suppressed his chilling distaste, till it grew into admiration; the -king played the guide featly; and the honoured name of the Bruce, which -peopled this region with proud memories, was the burthen of many a tale; -nor was his account of the fierce people of these wilds unwelcome to a -warrior. York remarked that the king was generally known to them, not, -indeed, as a monarch, but as a hunter, a traveller, sometimes as a -skilful mediciner, or as a bard, and always hospitably received. -</p> - -<p> -After three days they drew near their journey's end: curiosity as to the -cause of their visit, anxiety concerning his reception, all faded in -Richard's heart; dimmed by the glad expectation of seeing her again, who -had dawned the glowing orient of his darkened heart. They had departed -from their rude shelter before the sun rose: the mountain peaks were -awake with day, while night still slumbered in the plain below: some -natural sights speak to the heart more than others, wherefore we know -not: the most eloquent is that of the birth of day on the untrodden -hill-tops, while we, who behold it, are encompassed by shadows. York -paused: the scene appeared to close in on him, and to fill him, even to -overflowing, with its imagery. They were toiling up the mountain's side: -below, above, the dark pines, in many a tortuous shape, clung to the -rifted rocks; the fern clustered round some solitary old oak; while, -beetling over, were dark frowning crags, or the foldings of the -mountains, softened into upland, painted by the many coloured heather. -With the steady pace of a mountaineer, King James breasted the -hill-side; nor did York bely his rugged Spanish home. As a bravado, the -king, in the very sheer ascent, trolled a ballad, a wild Scottish song, -and Richard answered by a few notes of a Moorish air. A voice seemed to -answer him, not an echo, for it was not his own, but taking the -thrilling sweetness of Monina's tones. Ah! ungentle waves, and untaught -winds, whither bear ye now the soft nursling of Andalusia? Such a -thought darkened York's brow; when the king, pausing in his toil, leaned -against a jutting crag—both young, both gallant, both so noble and -so beautiful; of what could they think—of what speak? Not of the -well-governed realm of the one, nor the yet unconquered kingdom of the -other; of such they might have spoken among statesmen and warriors, in -palaces or on the battle plain; but here, in this wild solitude, the -vast theatre whose shifting scenes and splendid decorations were the -clouds, the mountain, the forest, and the wave, where man stood, not as -one of the links of society, forced by his relative position to consider -his station and his rank, but as a human being, animated only by such -emotions as were the growth of his own nature—of what should they -speak—the young, the beautiful—but love! -</p> - -<p> -"Tell me, gentle cavalier," cried James, suddenly; "hast thou ever been -in love? Now would I give my jewel-hilted dagger to tear thy secret from -thee," continued the king, laughing; for York's eyes had flashed with -sudden light, and then fell downcast. Where were his thoughts? at his -journey's goal, or on the ocean sea? If he smiled, it was for Kate; but -the tear that glittered on his long eyelashes, spoke of his Spanish -maid. Yet it was not the passion of love that he now felt for his -childhood companion; it was tenderness, a brother's care, a friend's -watchfulness, all that man can feel for woman, unblended with the desire -of making her his; but gratitude and distance had so blended and mingled -his emotions, that, thus addressed, he almost felt as if he had been -detected in a crime. -</p> - -<p> -"Now, by the Holy Rood, thou blushest," said James, much amused; "not -more deeply was fair Katherine's cheek bedyed, when I put the self-same -question to her. Does your grace guess, wherefore we journey -northwards?" -</p> - -<p> -Richard turned an inquiring and unquiet look upon his royal companion. A -kind of doubt was communicated to James's mind; he knew little of his -friend's former life: was it not possible that engagements were already -formed, incompatible with his plans? With some haughtiness, for his -impetuous spirit ill brooked the slightest check, he disclosed the -object of their visit to Castle Gordon, and the proposal he had made to -the earl to unite him in marriage to the Scottish princess. -</p> - -<p> -"When I shall possess my kingdom—when I may name my wife, that which -she is, or nothing—queen!" Richard exclaimed. -</p> - -<p> -"Nay, I speak of no millenium, but of the present hour," said James. -</p> - -<p> -The enthusiastic king, bent upon his purpose, went on to speak of all -the advantages that would result from this union. York's silence nettled -him: the prince's thoughts were, indeed, opposed to the exultation and -delight which his friend had expected to see painted on his face. The -first glad thought of a lover is to protect and exalt her he loves. -Katherine was a princess in her native land;—and what was -he?—an outcast and a beggar—a vagabond upon the -earth—a man allied to all that was magnificent in hope—to -all that imagination could paint of gallant and true in himself, and -devoted and noble in his friends. But these were idealities to the -vulgar eye; and he had only a title as unreal as these, and a mere -shadowy right, to bestow. It had been sinful even to ally Monina to his -broken fortunes; but this high offspring of a palace—the very -offer, generous as it was, humbled him. A few minutes' silence -intervened; and, in a colder tone James was about to address him, when -York gave words to all the conflicting emotions in his -breast—speaking such gratitude, love, hope, and despair, as -reassured his friend, and made him the more resolved to conquer the -difficulties unexpectedly given birth to by the disinterestedness of his -guest. -</p> - -<p> -A contest ensued; Richard deprecating the rich gift offered to -him—the king warmly asserting that he must accept it. The words -vagabond and outcast were treason to his friendship: if, which was -impossible, they did not succeed in enforcing the rights to his -ancestral kingdom, was not Scotland his home—for ever his -home—if he married Katherine? And the monarch went on to describe -the happiness of their future lives—a trio bound by the ties of -kindred—by affection—by the virtues, nay, even by the faults -of each. He spoke also of the disturbances that so often had wrecked the -fortunes of the proudest Scottish nobles, and said, that a princess of -that land, united, it might be, to one of its chiefs, trimmed her bark -for no summer sea. "Like these wild Highlands are our storm-nursed -lives," continued James. "By our ruder thanes the beautiful and weak are -not respected; and tempest and ruin visit ever the topmost places. Kate -is familiar to such fears, or rather to the resignation and courage such -prospects may inspire. Look around on these crags! listen! the storm is -rising on the hills—howling among the pines. Such has been my -cousin's nursery—such the school which has made her no slave of -luxury; no frail floweret, to be scared when the rough wind visits her -cheek." -</p> - -<p> -In such discussions the travellers beguiled the time. The day was -stormy; but, eager to arrive, they did not heed its pelting. York had a -sun in his own heart, that beamed on him in spite of the clouds -overhead. Notwithstanding his first keen emotion of pain at the idea of -linking one so lovely to his dark fate, the entrancing thought of -possessing Katherine—that she had already consented to be -his—animated him with delight, vague indeed; for yet he struggled -against the flattering illusion. -</p> - -<p> -After battling the whole day against a succession of steep acclivities, -as evening drew near, the friends gained the last hill-top, and stood on -its brow, overlooking a fertile plain or strath—an island of verdure -amidst the black, precipitous mountains that girded it. The sun was -hidden by the western mountains, which cast their shadow into the -valley; but the clouds were dispersed, and the round full silvery moon -was pacing up the eastern heaven. The plain at their feet was studded by -villages, adorned by groves, and threaded by two rivers, whose high, -romantic banks varied the scene. An extensive, strongly-built castle -stood on the hill that overhung one of the streams, looking proudly down -on this strath, which contained nearly thirty-six square miles of -fertile ground. "Behold," said James, "the kingdom of Lord Huntley, -where he is far more absolute than I in my bonny Edinburgh. The Gordon -fought for the Bruce; and the monarch bestowed on him this fair, wide -plain as his reward. Bruce flying before his enemies, on foot, almost -alone, among these savage Grampians, then looked upon it as now we do." -</p> - -<p> -King James's thoughts were full of that wild exhilaration of spirit, -which none, save the inhabitant of a mountainous country, knows, when -desolation is around—a desolation which is to him the pledge of -freedom and of power. But York had other ideas: he had been told that -the Lady Katherine had yielded a willing consent to the proposal made; -and she whom he had before conversed with only as a gentle -friend—she, the lovely and the good—his young heart beat -thick,—it had no imagery, far less words, expressive of the -rapture of love, tortured by the belief that such a prize he ought -to—he must—resign. -</p> - -<p> -The petty tyranny of trivial circumstance often has more power over our -best-judged designs, than our pride permits us to confess. From the -moment York entered Castle Gordon, he found an almost invisible, but -all-conquering net thrown over him. The Gordon, for thus the earl of -Huntley preferred being called, when surrounded by his clan in his -northern fastness, received the princes with barbaric, but extreme -magnificence: his dress was resplendent; his followers numerous, and -richly clad according to Highland ideas of pomp. But no Lady Katherine -was there, and it soon became apparent that Richard was first to see her -at the altar. Sounds of nuptial festivity rang through the castle; -instead of grace or generosity attending his meditated declining of the -honour, it would have borne the guise of an arrogant refusal. There was -also something in the savage look of the clansmen, in the rude -uncivilization of her native halls, where defence and attack formed the -creed and practice of all, that reconciled him to the idea of leading -her from the wild north to softer, milder scenes; where every disaster -wears a gentler shape; soothed, not exasperated by the ministrations of -nature. -</p> - -<p> -At midnight, but a very few hours after his arrival, he stood, beside -her in the chapel to interchange their vows. The earl had decorated the -holy place with every emblem that spoke of his own greatness, and that -of his son-in-law. The style of royalty was applied to him, and the -ambitious noble, "overleaping" himself, grasped with childish or savage -impetuosity at the shadowy sceptre, and obscure cloud-wrapt crown of the -royal exile. York, when he saw the princess, summoned all his -discernment to read content or dissatisfaction in her eyes; if any of -the latter should appear, even there he would renounce his hopes. All -was calm, celestially serene. Nay, something almost of exultation -struggled through the placid expression of her features, as she cast her -eyes up to heaven, till modest gentleness veiled them again, and they -were bent to earth. -</p> - -<p> -The generosity and pride of woman had kindled these sentiments. The Lady -Katherine, a princess by birth, would scarcely have dreamed of resisting -her father's behests, even if they had been in opposition to her -desires; but here she was to sacrifice no inclination, nothing but -prosperity; that must depart for ever, she felt she knew, when she -became the bride of England's outcast prince. Yet should aught of good -and great cling to him, it was her gift; and to bestow was the passion -of her guileless heart. It was not reason; it was feeling, perhaps -superstition, that inspired these ideas. The seer who foretold her -fortunes, had been her tutor and her poet; she believed in him, and -believed that all would be accomplished; even to the death of the -beautiful and beloved being who stood in the pride and strength of youth -at her side. All must be endured; for it was the will of Heaven. -Meanwhile, that he should be happy during his mortal career was to be -her study, her gift, the aim of her life. In consenting to be his, she -also had made a condition, that, if defeat awaited his arms, and that -again a wanderer he was obliged to fly before his enemies, she was not -to be divided from him; if no longer here, she was to be permitted to -join him; if he departed, she should accompany him. -</p> - -<p> -As the priest bestowed his benediction on the illustrious and beauteous -pair, a silent vow was formed in the heart of either. Doomed by his -ill-fate to hardship and dependence, he would find in her a medicine for -all his woes, a wife, even the better, purer part of himself, who would -never suffer him to despair; but who would take the bitterer portion of -his sorrow on herself, giving in return the heroism, the piety, the -serene content which was the essence of her being. His vow, it depended -not on himself, poor fellow! "Never through me shall she suffer," was -the fervent resolve. Alas! as if weak mortal hands could hold back giant -Calamity, when he seizes the heart, and rends it at his pleasure. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h4><a id="chap32"></a></h4> - -<h4>CHAPTER XXXII -<br /><br /> -THE MARCH TOWARDS ENGLAND</h4> - - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But these are chimes for funerals: my business</span><br /> -<span class="i0">Attends on fortune of a sprightlier triumph;</span><br /> -<span class="i0">For love and majesty are reconciled,</span><br /> -<span class="i0">And vow to crown thee Empress of the West.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i20">FORD.</span> -</div></div></div> - -<p> -The royal party returned to Edinburgh, where the nuptials of Richard of -England and the Lady Katherine were celebrated with splendour. -Festivities of all kinds, tournaments, hunting parties, balls, succeeded -to each other; but far beyond every outward demonstration was the real -happiness insured by this marriage. Graced by Katherine, the little -English court became a paradise. The princess assumed her new character -among the exiles with facility; yet the phrase is bad, for Katherine -could assume nothing, not even a virtue, if she had it not. In every -position she was not princess, queen, patroness, or mistress; but woman -merely—a true-hearted, gentle, refined woman. She was too young for -the maternal character to be appropriate to her, yet the watchfulness -and care she had for all resembled it. Her new subjects felt as if -before they had been a disconnected, vagabond troop, and that dignity -and station were assigned to them through her; through her the charities -and elegances of life hallowed and adorned them. The quality most -peculiarly her own was the divine simplicity which animated her look, -her manners, her acts. Taintless simplicity, that best of fascinations, -whose power is not imperious and sudden, but gradual and changeless, -where every word spoken is but the genuine interpreter of the feelings -of the heart, to which not only falsehood, but even the slightest -disguise or affectation, is wholly foreign; and which is the more -delicate, winning and kind, from being spontaneous—so that, as in -describing her, her royal cousin had said, "you almost questioned her -authority from its want of pretension, yet yielded to it in all its -extent." -</p> - -<p> -Richard's political position stood higher than ever. The ever-watchful -duchess of Burgundy had sent a renowned Burgundian captain, Sir -Roderick-de-Lalayne, with two hundred German mercenaries. The king of -France, at the request of Henry the Seventh, had despatched an embassy -to King James, to advise a peace between England and Scotland. The -ambassador was the Sire de Concressault, York's ancient friend, who -continued to espouse his cause warmly, and gave it all the grace and -honour of his high influence. King James was eager to collect his army, -and to prepare for an invasion. If Richard had lost any part of his -open-hearted confidence and personal friendship, he had gained in his -esteem and consideration. The change that had been operating was -imperceptible to York, who naturally found in his marriage a barrier to -the hourly intercourse they had formerly had, when both were free. Yet -change there was, greater even than the king himself suspected; the -causes were easily traced. -</p> - -<p> -The Tudor party in Scotland, instigated by bribes and large promises, -were very active in their enmity to the White Rose. They had been obliged -to let the torrent of royal favour force its headlong way, but they -watched the slightest pause in its flow, to throw impediments in the way -of the abundant stream. Soon after his return from the North, it became -apparent that the king continued no unsuccessful suitor to the Lady Jane -Kennedy. This a good deal estranged him from his English friend, who no -longer reproved, but whose tacit condemnation he feared, as well as that -of his fair cousin. Nay, more, Lady Jane had drawn from him the cause of -their transient quarrel, and, now that she had yielded, felt angry and -disdainful at the attempt made to estrange her lover. One of those lower -eddies or currents of intelligence, so in use at courts, had reported an -angry expression of hers to the earl of Buchan, one of York's most -active enemies. This grasping-place in their difficult way was eagerly -laid hold of by the conspirators. A coalition was formed between Lady -Jane and this party, which insured the aggravation of any ill-feeling -that might arise between the late brothers in heart. Soon after another -agent or tool was added to their number. -</p> - -<p> -The most subtle, the most politic, the most wily, are sometimes the -slaves of impulse; nay, very often those who fancy that they measure -their actions the most narrowly by the rules, either of self-interest or -ambition, are more easily influenced to unwise passion by any obstacle -thrown in their path. The Secretary Frion had hitherto considered -himself of primal import to the English prince: no project was -conceived, that was not first concocted in his brain, and insinuated by -him; every new partizan had been enticed by his silvery speeches; -whatever of difficult, crooked, and hidden was to be done, Frion was -consulted, and employed, and deeply trusted in its accomplishment. On -his first arrival in Scotland, the intimacy between the king and York -destroyed half his influence. James's discernment and experience was not -duped by the insinuating flatteries of Frion: as a proud man he -disdained, as a conscientious and pious one, he disliked him. It was -worse when Katherine's influence became paramount; she put him exactly -in his right place, yet was so kind that there was no room for -complaint: all his former patrons were her worshippers; her praises were -re-echoed from all; and assuredly no intrigue could exist where she was. -Yet it was neither comprehensible, nor to be endured, that this banished -prince and his friends should walk straight forward in their allotted -route, unaided by plot or manœuvre. The subtlety of the man quickly -revealed to him the existence of the opposing party; he was ready to -foment it, were it only to gain reputation afterwards by its -destruction. He made one step, and became the confidant of Balmayne, and -apparently the tool of the higher confederates: at first he rather -perplexed than served them, spinning spiders' webs in their way, and -elevating himself in their eyes by brushing them off at his pleasure. He -was exactly the man to shine in a dark conspiracy: soon nothing could be -done but by his advice, nothing known but as he informed them, nothing -said but as he dictated. Balmayne, who, fierce and moody, entered more -zealously into these discontents than any other, yet took his -counsel—little knew they Maître Etienne Frion: he only watched the -while, sage fisher of men as he was, for the best opportunity of -betraying them for his own advantage. In the midst of festivity, of -gallant, warlike preparation, Frion had, like a witch gathering -poisonous herbs by the silvery light of the quiet moon, sought to -extract all that was baleful in what, but for the uses to which he -strove to put it, had died innocuous. -</p> - -<p> -The winter grew into spring: these were the happiest months of young -Richard's life. He had traversed many a pass of danger and tract of -sorrow—falsehood had blotted—loss of friends, who had died for -him, had darkened the past years: often during their course he had believed -that he gave himself up to despair; he had fancied that he had doubted -every one and every thing; he imagined that he was tired of -existence—vain ideas! Sanguine, confiding, full to the very brim of -that spirit of life which is the happiness of the young, he sprang up a -fresh Antæus, each time that Fortune with Herculean power had thrown -him to the earth. And now he congratulated himself even on every misery, -every reverse, every sentiment of despondency that he experienced: they -were so many links of the chain that made him what he was—the friend -of James, the husband of Katherine. It was this best attribute of -sunny-hearted youth, this greenness of the soul, that made Richard so -frank, so noble, so generous; care and time had laboured in vain—no -wrinkle, no deforming line marked his mind, or, that mind's interpreter, -his open, candid brow. -</p> - -<p> -With the spring the Scottish troops drew together, and encamped near -Edinburgh. The occasion seemed seasonable; for news arrived of -disturbances which had taken place in England, and which had caused -Henry the Seventh to recall the earl of Surrey (who was conducting an -army northward to oppose the expected attack from Scotland), to check -and defeat enemies which had arisen in the west of his kingdom. The -inhabitants of Cornwall, vexed by increasing taxes, had long been in a -state of turbulence; and now, instigated by two ringleaders from among -themselves, combined together, and rose in open and regulated -rebellion—sedition, it might have been called; and had perhaps been -easily crushed, but for the interference of one, who acted from designs -and views which at first had made no part of the projects of the -insurgents. -</p> - -<p> -Lord Audley had not forgotten the White Rose. On his return westward, -however, he found all so quiet, that no effort of his could rouse the -rich and satisfied men of Devon, from their inglorious repose. His -imprudence attracted attention; he had notice of the danger of an -arrest, and suddenly resolved to quit the post he had chosen, and to -join the duke of York in Ireland. He came too late; the English squadron -had sailed; and he, changeful as the winds and as impetuous, despising a -danger now remote, resolved to return to England, and to Devonshire. His -voyage from Cork to Bristol was sufficiently disastrous; contrary and -violent winds drove him from his course into the Atlantic; here he beat -about for several days, till the wind, shifting a point or two to the -west, he began to make what sail he could in the opposite direction. -Still the weather was tempestuous, and his skiff laboured frightfully -amidst the stormy waves; not far from them, during the greatest fury of -the gale, was a larger vessel, if such might be called the helmless, -dismasted hull, tossed by the billows, the sport of the winds, as it -rose and fell in the trough of the sea. At length the wind lulled; and -the captain of the caravel, which indeed might be called a wreck, -lowered a boat, and came alongside Lord Audley's vessel, asking whither -he was bound? To England, was the answer; and the vast reef of clouds -lifted on the southern horizon, and showing beyond a streak of azure, -gave promise of success in their voyage. The questioner, who spoke -English imperfectly, went on to say, that in spite of the miserable -state of the caravel, he was resolved not to desert her, but to carry -her, God willing, into the nearest French port he could make. But there -was on board one sick, a woman, whom he wished to spare the dangers and -privations of the voyage. Would the commander take her to England, and -bestow her in some convent, where she might be tended and kept in -honourable safety? Lord Audley gave a willing consent, and the boat went -off speedily, returning again with their stranger passenger. She was in -the extremity of illness, even of danger, and lay, like a child, in the -arms of the dark, tall, weather-beaten mariner, who, though squalid in -his appearance from fatigue and want, stood as a rock that has braved a -thousand storms; his muscles seemed iron—his countenance not stern, -but calm and resolved—yet tenderness and softness were in the -expression of his lips, as he gazed on his fragile charge, and placed -her with feminine gentleness on such rude couch as could be afforded; -then addressing Lord Audley, "You are an Englishman," he said, "perhaps -a father?" -</p> - -<p> -"I am an English noble," replied the other; "confide in my care, my -honour; but, to be doubly sure, if you feel distrust, remain with us; -yonder wreck will not weather another night." -</p> - -<p> -"She has seen the suns of two worlds," said the sailor, proudly, "and -the blessed Virgin has saved her at a worse hazard. If she perish now, -it were little worth that her old captain survived: better both go down, -as, if not now, some day we shall, together. I will confide my poor -child to you, my lord. If she recover, she has friends in England; she -would gain them, even if she had them not. Not one among your boasted -island-women is more lovely or more virtuous, than my poor, my -much-suffering Monina." -</p> - -<p> -Lord Audley renewed his protestations. De Faro listened with the -ingenuous confidence of a sailor; he placed several caskets and a -well-filled bag of gold in the noble's hand, saying, "The Adalid fills -a-pace. You but rob the ocean. If my child survives, you can give her -the treasure you disdain. If she does"—and he bent over her; she -almost seemed to sleep, so oppressed was she by feebleness and fever. A -tear fell from her father's eye upon her brow: "And she will: Saint Mary -guide us, we shall attain." -</p> - -<p> -Suck was the strange drama acted on the wide boundless sea. Such the -chances that restored the high-minded Andalusian to England, to the -White Rose, to all the scenes, to every hope and fear which she had -resolved to abandon for ever. For good or ill, we are in the hands of a -superior power: -</p> - -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">"There's a divinity that shapes our ends,</span><br /> -<span class="i2">Rough-hew them how we will."</span> -</div></div> - -<p> -We can only resolve, or rather endeavour, to act our parts well, such as -they are allotted to us. Little choice have we to seek or to eschew our -several destinations. -</p> - -<p> -With Monina at his side, and his own restless ambition as a spur, it may -be easily imagined what Lord Audley's projects were in joining the -Cornish insurgents. He led them from the western extremity of the -island towards Kent, where he hoped to find the seeds of rebellion to -Lancaster, which he had sown the year before, ripened into harvest. News -of the unimpeded march of the insurgents from Cornwall to the -neighbourhood of London was brought to Edinburgh, freshening the zeal -and animating the preparations for war. -</p> - -<p> -Already the Scottish army was encamped south of Edinburgh. The English -troops set up their tents among them. The day was fixed for the -departure of the king, the prince, and the noble leaders. They quitted -Edinburgh in all the pompous array of men assured of victory. James -loved the hopes and stirring delights of war: Richard saw his every good -in life dependent on this expedition, and fostered sanguine expectation -of triumph. The burning desire of asserting himself, of rewarding his -faithful friends, of decorating Katherine with the rank and honours due to -her—the belief that he should achieve all this—gave dignity and -even gladness, to his last adieu to his lovely wife. Her heart mirrored -his hopes; not that she entertained them for her own, but for his sake: -yet the quicker sensibilities of a woman imparted fears unknown to him. -She concealed them, till when, as her last office and duty, she had -fastened an embroidered scarf around him. Softly, whisperingly, as -fearful of paining him, she said, "You will return—you have a -kingdom here: though England prove false, you must not disdain to be sole -monarch of Katherine." -</p> - -<p> -These words had been spoken—earl, baron, and gallant knight thronged -the courts of Holyrood. There was the sound of warlike trump and the -streaming of painted banners, among which, that of the White Rose waved -conspicuous. The king vaulted on his saddle; the prince of England rode -at his side. He was surrounded by the rude northern warlike chiefs, -ancient enemies of his native land, whose fierce eyes were lighted up by -the expectation of meeting their old adversaries in the field. Could he -fancy that, through such aid, he might win back the crown usurped from -him? -</p> - -<p> -King James and Richard rode side by side. At this moment, when the one -was spending the riches of his kingdom and the lives of his subjects for -the other's sake, while the hearts of both were softened by regret for -their abandoned home, and both anticipated the joys of victory or perils -of defeat to be shared between them, the sentiment of friendship was -rekindled. Never had they been more cordial, more confidential, more -happy in each other's society. After several hours' ride, the short -spring day declined to evening, which was accompanied by a drizzling -rain: the bad roads and the darkness impeded their progress; and it was -night before the twinkling camp-lights appeared in the distance and the -hum of men was heard. To the right of the camp, surrounded by the tents -of his nobles, the royal pavilion was pitched. On their arrival, the -earl of Buchan was in readiness to hold the king's stirrup. "Nay," said -James, "first we will see our royal guest lodged; where is the tent of -his grace of England? we commanded it to be pitched in close -neighbourhood to our own?" -</p> - -<p> -"Please you, my liege," said Buchan, "Lord Moray, gave direction it -should be placed out of our line; it is set up a mile eastward of us." -</p> - -<p> -"My uncle forgot himself; and you also, sir earl, were bound rather to -obey our order," said the king. -</p> - -<p> -"There were reasons," returned Buchan: "your majesty, I dare aver, will -approve the change, and his highness of England also. There was a brawl -between the Scottish borderers and the English; blood has been shed. We -feared that the peace of the encampment, not to say the life of his -highness, would be endangered if he were in the midst of our savage -Southrons." -</p> - -<p> -"I like not this," said James, moodily, "but it is too late to change -to-night. The rain-drops begin to freeze upon my hair; your highness -would rather be in year tent, far though it be from mine, than quarrel -about its position at this inclement hour. Lord Buchan, you will attend -him thither. Prince, goodnight; to-morrow we will be more brotherly in -our fashion; now the fiat of my lord of Moray must be obeyed." -</p> - -<p> -The king dismounted, and entered his pavilion: as the cloth was raised, -a blazing fire, the apparel of silver flagons and golden cups, the trim -appearance of silken-suited pages were visible, making strong contrast -with the cheerless blank without. One slight glimpse revealed the cause, -and partly excused the inhospitality of James, in not inviting his guest -to partake his warm cheer. One in a kirtle sat somewhat retired from -view; the quick motion of her head, the glance of her dark eye, showed -that the monarch had been impatiently expected, and was gladly welcomed -by the lovely daughter of the earl of Cassils. -</p> - -<p> -Lord Buchan accompanied Richard, Lord Barry, and Plantagenet to their -quarters; talking, as he went, of the contention, which had terminated -fatally to several. They rode down the elevated ground on which the -king's tent was placed, over a plashy, low plain, through a little wood -of stunted larch, across a narrow dell, in whose bottom a brook -struggled and murmured, to the acclivity on the other side, on which the -tents of the English troops were pitched; considerably apart from the -rest was Richard's own pavilion: all looked tranquil and even desolate, -compared to the stirring liveliness of the Scotch camp, Richard was -received by Sir George Neville, who looked more than usually cold and -haughty as he bent to Lord Buchan's salutation: the Scotchman uttered a -hasty good night, galloped down the upland and across the dell, and was -lost to sight in the wood. -</p> - -<p> -"What means this, Sir George?" was the prince's first remark: "what -discipline is yours—brawling and bloodshed with our allies?" -</p> - -<p> -"Did your highness name them our enemies," said Neville, "it were more -appropriate. Suspend your displeasure, I beseech you, until I can lay -before you the reality of what you name a brawl; my honour, and I fear -all our safeties are concerned in the discovery. Now, your grace is wet -and fatigued; you will repose?" -</p> - -<p> -Richard desired solitude, not rest: he wished to be alone; for a -thousand intricate ideas possessed him, clamouring to be attended to. He -dismissed his friends. Frion only remained—Frion, who lately had -almost become surly, but who was now smooth, supple as ever; his eye -twinkling as of yore, and his ready laugh—that most characteristic -part of him—again showing the old secretary returned. To the prince's -warm heart, the appearance of discontent and moodiness was peculiarly -grating; the smile or frown even of Frion had power over him; and he -felt grateful to the man for his glossy and satisfactory speeches, -now that, spite of himself, a feeling—it was not fear, but an -anticipation of evil—disturbed his mind. -</p> - -<p> -At length, he dismissed him; yet still he felt utterly disinclined for -sleep. For some time he paced his tent; images of war and battle floated -before him—and then the vision of an angel with golden hair, came, -not to calm, but to trouble him with unquiet regret. In vain he strove to -awaken the flock of gentle thoughts that usually occupied him; his ideas -seemed wolf-visaged; unreal howlings and cries rung in his ears. This -unusual state of mind was intolerable: he folded his cloak round him, -and stepped into his outer tent. Frion, two pages, and his esquire, were -to occupy it; but he found it solitary. This seemed a little strange; -but it was early yet. He lifted the outer cloth; a sentinel was duly at -his post; the prince saluted him and passed on. The fitful winds of -spring had dispersed the storm: the scarcely waning moon, encircled by -the dark clear ether, was in the east; her yellow light filled the -atmosphere, and lay glowing on the trees and little hill-side. The -prince stepped onwards, down the declivity, across the dell, into the -wood. He thought he heard voices; or was it only the swinging branches -of the pines? The breeze raised his hair and freshened his brow. Still -he walked on, till now he came in view of the Scottish camp, which lay -tranquil as sheep in a fold, the moon's bright eye gazing on it. The -sight brought proud Granada and all its towers, with the Christian camp -sleeping at her feet, before his mind; and he still lingered. Now the -tramp of horses became audible: a troop wound down the hill: the leader -stopped exclaiming in some wonder, "My lord of York! does your highness -need any service? do you bend your steps to the royal tent?" -</p> - -<p> -"I blush to answer, Sir Patrick," replied the prince; "for you will -scoff at me as the moon's minion: I came out but to visit her. Yet a -knight need not feel shame at loitering beneath her ray, dreaming of his -lady-love. You are more actively employed?" -</p> - -<p> -"I was on my way to your highness's encampment," replied the knight. -"His majesty is not quite satisfied with Lord Buchan's report, and sent -but now his esquire to me, to bid me visit it. With your good leave, I -will escort you thither." -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h4><a id="chap33"></a></h4> - -<h4>CHAPTER XXXIII -<br /><br /> -THE ASSASSIN</h4> - - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Traitor, what hast thou done? how ever may</span><br /> -<span class="i0">Thy cursed hand so cruelly have swayed</span><br /> -<span class="i0">Against that knight? Harrow and weal-away?</span><br /> -<span class="i0">After so wicked deed, why liv'st thou longer day!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i20">SPENSER.</span> -</div></div></div> - -<p> -When he had been dismissed by his royal master, Frion called aside the -esquire, and sent him on an errand, it would seem of some import and -distance; for the youth uttered a few forcible interjections, and with a -lowering brow drew on the riding-boots he had just doffed, muttering, -"I must treat my horse better than my lord treats me; so, master, seek a -fresh steed. By my fay! this is to become a squire of dames—a -love-token to the duchess, in good hour!" -</p> - -<p> -Having got rid of this young gentleman, Frion's next care was to give -distant employment to the pages, saying he would wait their return. But -scarcely had they entered the most crowded part of the camp, before with -quick cautious steps the secretary took the same path which the prince -trod half an hour later—he crossed the dell, and arriving at the -little wood of larches, instead of traversing, he skirted it, till the -gentle eminence on which the English camp was pitched, grew higher and -more abrupt, the murmuring brook took the guise of a brawling torrent, -grey rocks peeped out from the soil, and the scene became wilder and -more mountainous: he walked on, till he arrived where a rustic bridge -spanned the stream; under its shadow were three horsemen, two of whom -dismounted, and a tall servitor held the bridles. One of these men Frion -knew at once to be him who called himself Lord Bothwell, King Henry's -spy, and Richard's fierce, motiveless, but ruthless enemy; the -other—his bonnet was drawn over his brow—a cloak obscured his -person. Frion's quick eyes scrutinized it vainly, for the moon, cloudy -at intervals, gave uncertain light; besides, the man had stationed -himself within the deepest shadow of the bridge. -</p> - -<p> -"Good befall your watch," said Frion; "your worship is before your -time." -</p> - -<p> -"Is not all ready?" asked Balmayne. -</p> - -<p> -"That question is mine," replied the other. "You know our treaty—not -a hair of my lord's head must be injured." -</p> - -<p> -"Tush! tush! fear not, good conscience-stickier," replied Bothwell, with -a contemptuous laugh; "no ill will befall the boy; we but ferry him over -the Tweed a few hours earlier than he dreamed of, and land him all -gently on the shore he seeks. As for thy reward, I have said, name it -thyself." -</p> - -<p> -"Fair words are these, Sir John Ramsay," said Frion; "but I said before, -I must have surer pledge, both for my reward and my lord's safety. King -Henry will haggle about payment when the work is done, and the steel you -wear is a toper in its way." -</p> - -<p> -"How now, sir knave?" cried Balmayne; "thinkest thou that I will turn -midnight stabber?" -</p> - -<p> -The man in the cloak started at these words. He uttered some sound, but -again drew back; while the person who continued on horseback said, and -his voice was that of the bishop of Moray, King James's uncle, "A truce -to this contention, Master Good-fellow—whatever thy name be: I will -answer for thy pay, and here is earnest of my truth." He threw a purse -at Frion's feet. "The peace of two kingdoms—the honour of a royal, -too long dishonoured house are at stake. No time is this to squabble for -marks, or the paltry life of a base impostor. I, a prince of Scotland, -avouch the deed. It were more friendly, methinks; to unlock his life -with the steel key of our friend Wiatt, than to devote him to the -gallows. Let Scotland be rid of him, I reck not how." -</p> - -<p> -Again Frion fixed his eyes on the other;—the clouds had fallen low -in the sky; the moon was clear; the western breeze murmured among the -bushes and the trees, and the beams of the silvery planet played upon -the unquiet waters. "We have no time for delay. Sir John," said Frion, -"prithee introduce me to our fellow-labourer—this is the king's -emissary? You call yourself Wiatt, Master Black Cloak?" -</p> - -<p> -The other made a gesture of impatience as he stepped aside. Balmayne and -Moray discoursed aside, till the former bade the secretary lead on; as -they went, the Scotchman and Frion conversed in whispers concerning -their plans, while their companion followed as if doggedly. Once he cast -an impatient glance at the moon—Frion caught that look. "Have I found -you, good friend," he thought; "then by our lady of Embrun, you shall -acquit you of the debt I claim this night." -</p> - -<p> -With quicker steps the Provençal proceeded, till they readied the -opening of the valley, and came opposite the slope on which the English -camp was pitched. Furthest off and far apart was the royal pavilion, the -banner of England flapping in the breeze, and this the only sign of -life; but for this, the white silent tents looked like vast Druidical -stones piled upon a wild moor. They paused. "I must go first," said -Frion; "we have wasted more time than I counted for—you will await me -here." -</p> - -<p> -"Listen, Master Frion," said Balmayne. "I would hardly trust you, but -that I think you are a wise man; silver angels and golden marks, as a -wise man, you will love: one thing you will hardly seek, a shroud of -moonbeams, a grave in the vulture's maw. Look ye, one soars above even -now; he scents dainty fare: twenty true men are vowed that he shall sup -on thee, if thou art foresworn: thou wilt give some signal, when all is -ready." -</p> - -<p> -"That were difficult," said Frion; "I will return anon if there be any -let to your enterprise; else, when the shadow of that tall larch -blackens the white stone at your feet, come up without fear: have ye -bonds ready for your prisoner?" -</p> - -<p> -"An adamantine chain—away!" Frion cast one more glance at him called -Wiatt. "It is even he, I know him, by that trick of his neck; his face -was ever looking sideways:" thus assured, the Frenchman ascended the -hill. Balmayne watched him, now visible, and now half-hid by the -deceptive light, till he entered the folds of the pavilion; and then he -glanced his eyes upon the shadow of the tree, yet far from the white -stone; and then paced the sward, as if disdaining to hold commune with -Wiatt. Whatever thoughts possessed this hireling's breast he made no -sign, but stood motionless as a statue; his arms folded, his head -declined upon his breast. He was short, even slight in make, his -motionless, half-shrinking attitude contrasted with the striding pace -and the huge, erect form of the borderer. Who that had looked down upon -these two figures, sole animations visible on the green earth beneath -the moon's bright eye, would have read villany and murder in their -appearance; the soft sweet night seemed an antidote to savageness, yet -neither moon nor the sleeping face of beauteous earth imparted any -gentleness to the Scot; he saw neither, except when impatiently he -glanced at the slow-crawling shadow, and the moonlight sleeping on the -signal-stone. Many minutes passed—Bothwell gave one impatient look -more—how slowly the dusky line proceeded! He walked to the edge of -the brook; there was no movement about the pavilion: tranquil as an -infant's sleep was the whole encampment. Suddenly a cry made him start, it -was from Wiatt; the man, heretofore so statue-like, had thrown his arms -upward with a passionate gesture, and then recalled by Bothwell's -imprecation, shrunk back into his former quiet, pointing only with a -trembling finger to the stone, now deep imbedded in the black shadow of -the larch. The Scot gave a short shrill laugh, and crying "Follow!" -began the ascent, taking advantage of such broken ground and shrubs, as -blotted the brightness of the rays that lit up the acclivity. Bothwell -strode on with the activity of a mosstrooper; Wiatt was scarce able to -walk; he stumbled several times. At length they reached the pavilion; -the Frenchman stood just within, lifting the heavy cloth; they entered. -Frion whispered, "I have cleared the coast; my lord sleeps; we need but -cast a cloak around him, to blind him, and so bear him off without more -ado on his forced journey." -</p> - -<p> -"There is wisdom in your speech," said Balmayne, with something of a -grin. "My friend Wiatt has a cloak large and dark enough for the nonce." -</p> - -<p> -Frion drew back the silken lining of the inner tent, saying, "Tread -soft, my lord ever sleeps lightly; he must not be waked too soon." -</p> - -<p> -"<i>Never</i> were the better word," muttered Bothwell: the dimmest -twilight reigned in the tent. The prince's couch was in shadow; the men -drew near; the sleeper was wrapt in his silken coverlid, with his face -buried in his pillow: his light-brown hair, lying in large clusters on -his cheek, veiled him completely. Ramsay bent over him; his breathing -was heavy and regular; he put out his large bony hand, and, as gently as -he might, removed the quilt, uncovering the sleeper's right side; then -turning to Wiatt, who had not yet advanced, he pointed to the heaving -heart of his victim with such a glance of murderous callousness, that -the very assassin shrunk beneath it; yet he approached; his hand held an -unsheathed dagger, but it shook even to impotence; he raised it over his -prey, but had no power to strike. Frion had crept round behind; a sound -just then, and tramp of feet was heard in the outer tent; as by magic, -in one brief second of time the mute dread scene changed its every -characteristic. The assassin cried aloud, "It is not he!" Frion had -seized his arm—the dagger fell—the pretended sleeper (one of -York's pages) leaped from the couch; and the muffling cloak, dropping -from the murderer's shoulders, disclosed the wretched, degraded -Clifford. Ramsay drew his sword, and rushed towards the outer tent, when -at the same moment Richard of York and Sir Patrick Hamilton showed -themselves from beneath the hangings, which their attendants had raised. -This sight startled Frion, and Clifford, restored to life and energy, -tore himself from his grasp, and in a moment had rushed from beneath the -pavilion; he was forgotten; all eyes were turned on Bothwell; the dagger -at his feet, his drawn sword, his appearance in the retirement of the -prince of England, all accused him. He saw at once his danger, drew -himself proudly up, and returned Hamilton's look with a fierce, haughty -glare. -</p> - -<p> -"Thy act is worse than thy enemies' speech," said Sir Patrick, sternly; -"thou wilt answer this, recreant, to thy royal master." -</p> - -<p> -"To him, to any, to you," said Balmayne; "there is my glove. Now, on the -hill's side, or in the lists anon, I will avouch my deed." -</p> - -<p> -Hamilton answered with a look of sovereign contempt; he bade his men -seize the traitor. "Before I sleep," he cried, "the king hears this -treason." -</p> - -<p> -Richard had looked on in silence and wonder; he placed his hand on -Hamilton's arm, stopping him, "Pardon me, valiant knight," he said; -"but, I do beseech you, disturb not the king to-night, nor ever, with -this ill tale. Too roughly already has the English prince broken -Scotland's rest. No blood is shed; and, strange as appearances are, I -take Sir John Ramsay's word, and believe that, as a cavalier, he may -maintain his cause, nor stain by it his knightly cognizance. I take up -your glove, fair sir, but only to restore it; without one slightest -accusation attaching itself to you therewith. Nay, myself will take up -the quarrel, if any blame you. Sir Patrick will not call me to the -trial, I am sure. Frion, conduct the gallant gentleman beyond our -lines." -</p> - -<p> -Shame for the first time flushed Ramsay's brow as he left the tent. The -prince drew up to let him pass, with a mien so dignified and yet so -tranquil, with a smile so bland, that thus it seemed an angelic essence, -incapable of wound, might have gazed on a mere mortal, armed to injure -him. -</p> - -<p> -"Is this recklessness or nobility of soul?" Sir Patrick thought. He did -not doubt, when Richard, changing his look to one of anxious appeal, -besought him to omit utterly to report this strange scene. "I much -fear," he said, "my wily secretary to be most in fault; and I caught a -glance of one, whose appearance here proves that Ramsay is not alone -guilty. Let me inquire, let me learn—punish, if need be. English gold -and English steel were the weapons here, and I alone have power over -England. You will pledge me your word. Sir Patrick, not to disquiet our -royal cousin by our domestic brawls. We must not put in opposing scales -our paltry anger against ruffians like these, and the disquiet of the -generous-hearted James. Ramsay was his father's favourite; for his sake -he bears with him; and more easily may I. I indeed, who am most in -fault, for spending the precious minutes wandering, like a shepherd of -Arcadia, in a listless foolishness, instead of acting the general, and -guarding my tents from such visitors. The brawl last night might have -forewarned me." -</p> - -<p> -"Does it not shame Scotland," cried Hamilton, warmly, "that you should -need any guard but our true hearts, while you tread our soil?" -</p> - -<p> -"Were this true," answered York, yet more earnestly, "remember, what -shames Scotland, shames her king. Be assured, dear cousin, I speak -advisedly. Were this examined, worse might appear; and I and your liege -must be the sufferers: I to excite this treason in his subjects' hearts; -he to prove that some near him are not true as they seem." -</p> - -<p> -Hamilton yielded to these many pleas; but his heart warmed with -admiration and love for the noble being who urged the cause of pardon -for his enemies. "Be it as your highness pleases," he exclaimed. "This I -the more readily yield, since any new attempt kills Hamilton ere it -reach you. I will be your guard, your sentinel, your wide, invulnerable -shield; you will not refuse me this post of honour." -</p> - -<p> -"Or let us both fulfil it," cried York, "one to the other; let us be -brothers in arms, noble Hamilton. And yet, how can I, a fugitive, almost -a tainted man, seek the alliance of one who stands as you do, fair and -free in all men's eyes?" -</p> - -<p> -As he spoke, the prince held out his hand; the Scottish knight raised it -respectfully to his lips. But now Frion returned; and the clash of arms -and trumpets' sound spoke of the advance of night, and change of guard: -the noble friends took leave of each other, and Sir Patrick departed. As -soon as they were private, the prince questioned his secretary closely -and sternly as to the events of the night. Frion had a plausible and -ready tale, of artifice and guile, of how he had a pledge even from the -king's uncle that York's life was not to be attempted; and that he had -but wished to balk and vex them, by causing the page to be carried off: -the discovery of their mistake would shame them from any second -enterprise against the prince of England. -</p> - -<p> -York was but half satisfied; he had caught a transient glimpse of the -fugitive. Was it indeed Clifford, who came a hired murderer to his -bedside? A man who had partaken his heart's counsels, long his -companion, once his friend? It was frightful, it was humiliating but to -imagine how deep the man may fall, who once gives himself over to evil -thoughts, and unlawful deeds. Frion here protested his ignorance and -surprise. It was almost day before his master dismissed him: and even -then, how could Richard repose? That couch, Clifford had marked as his -bier—it were a bed of thorns; he threw himself on the bare hard -ground, and innocence had more power than his angelic pity for the vice -of others; it shed poppy influence on his lids; and the beams of the -morning sun stole softly over, but did not disturb his slumbers. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h4><a id="chap34"></a></h4> - -<h4>CHAPTER XXXIV -<br /><br /> -DISAPPOINTMENT</h4> - - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Methinks I see Death and the Furies waiting</span><br /> -<span class="i0">What we will do, and all the Heaven at leisure</span><br /> -<span class="i0">For the great spectacle. Draw then your swords!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i20">BEN JONSON.</span> -</div></div></div> - -<p> -Faster than the airy slave quicksilver is influenced by the changes of -the atmosphere, does the subtle essence of the mind of one, who from -love or gratitude hangs upon the smile or frown of another, feel the -sunshine or frost of that other's countenance; and an independent -disposition speedily revolts from servile obedience to such alteration. -On the following day, and afterwards on the succeeding ones, Richard -felt that the heart of James was no longer the same. He was courteous, -kind—his friend's interests formed the sole topic of their -conversations—but York could neither say the thing he wished, nor do -that which he desired; the same objects were before him, apparently the -same colouring was upon them; yet a pale sickly hue was cast over the -before glowing picture; a chill had penetrated the summer warmth in -which he basked; the wave was yet calm, but it was clouded, and no -longer showed in its limpid depths that sympathy and affection which -made the White Rose's fortunes seem truly and intrinsically Scotland's -own. -</p> - -<p> -Friendship was now professed, service tendered; before words had seemed -superfluous—the thing was there. James assured his guest that he -would not turn back, nor give ear to Henry's propositions; and York -felt, with a start, that ear had been, given to them, or this conclusion -had not been noted. The disunion and continued separation of the camps -was another circumstance that spoke loudly of division of thought and -counsel. -</p> - -<p> -Frion believed that he should now resume his ancient position with his -royal master: he bore his reproofs humbly, and strove to regain his -favour by the importance of his services. The arcana of the Tudor party -were, to a great degree, revealed to York; and it was easy to mark the -ascendancy it was gaining. The presence of Lady Jane Kennedy might -explain the ceremony and regulations observed in the intercourse between -the king and his friend; but it was Frion's part to disclose the enmity -this lady entertained for the White Rose, and the influence she exerted -to its detriment. Moray and Lord Buchan were her friends, and they were -frequent visitors in the royal pavilion. -</p> - -<p> -A short time somewhat changed this state of things. The army drew near -the frontier; and the king separated himself from the fair mistress of -his heart. On the third day they arrived on the banks of the Tweed. It -was but crossing a little river—but stepping from one stone to -another, and Richard would stand on English ground. -</p> - -<p> -The troops had passed the day before; some had proceeded southward; -others were even now to be seen defiling in long lines on the distant -plain. The sun was up cheerily; the fresh pleasant green of spring had -stolen, more like a tinted atmosphere, than in the guise of foliage, -over tree and bush; field flowers and crocusses peeped from under the -mossy turf. The scene was a wide moor, varied by broken ground; clumps -of trees, where many a bird nestled; and here and there thick underwood, -where the wild deer made his lair; this had been the scene of a thousand -conflicts, and of mortal carnage between Scot and Englishman, but the -skylark above sang of nature's bounty and nature's loveliness, an -immemorial and perennial hymn, while nothing spoke of the butchery and -wretchedness which once had made the landscape a tragic corpse-strewn -stage. -</p> - -<p> -Reining in his pawing courser, King James, in all the gay array of a -high-born knight, paused on the Scottish bank—his lips, proud as the -Apollo's—spoke of struggle and victory, -</p> - -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i16">"In his eye</span><br /> -<span class="i2">And nostril, beautiful disdain and might</span><br /> -<span class="i2">And majesty flashed their full lightnings by."</span> -</div></div> - -<p> -Here was he who, in a later day, led the flower of Scotland to die on -the English plains; who himself was doomed to lie with mangled limbs, -and in blank, cold extinction, a trophy of victory to his enemy, on -Flodden Field: he was alive now, and in his strength; he drank in with -buoyant spirit every glorious anticipation, and laughed with fond -delight; spurring on his horse, he crossed the ford, and entered -England. -</p> - -<p> -In a moment, as by impulse, York, who had lingered, dashed after him; -allies they were; friends in seeming, nay, in truth; for the glance of -proud enmity Richard cast on the Scot was perhaps the more factitious -feeling: it sprang from patriotism, but its energy was borrowed from the -deadly feuds of their ancestors, that natural hate which is said to -exist now between the French and English, and which was far more -envenomed between the near-rival people. Notwithstanding James's change -towards him, York felt in the core of his affectionate heart, all that -was due to him who had raised him when he was fallen; given him state, -power—Katherine; he saw in him his kinsman—his benefactor. But -the pride of a son of England rose in his breast, when he beheld the -haughty Scot caracol in arrogant triumph on her soil. What was he? What -had he done? He was born king and father of this realm: because he was -despoiled of his high rights, was he to abjure his natural duty to her, -as her child? Yet here he was an invader; not arming one division of her -sons against the other, but girt with foreigners, aided by the ancient -ravagers of her smiling villages and plenteous harvests. He looked on -each individual Scot, and on their gallant king, and felt his bosom -swell with rage and hate. These were unwise, nay, ungrateful sentiments; -but he could not repel them. His first commands were to his cousin, to -hasten to Randal of Dacre, to learn what Yorkists had gathered together -to receive him. "If there be any large company," he said, "without more -ado we will thank our kind cousin, invite him to recross the Tweed, and -leave us to fight our battles by ourselves." -</p> - -<p> -The satisfaction and triumph James felt made him, so far from -participating in York's feelings, turn with renewed cordiality towards -him. It was his first care to have the standard of the White Rose set up -with martial pomp, to disperse his proclamations, and to invite, by his -own manner, the Scottish nobles to increase in observance towards the -prince. Lord Huntley, believing that the prophecy of his daughter's -elevation was on the eve of its accomplishment, was prodigal of his -shows of honour and service to his son-in-law. For some days the -pavilions of the brother kings were pitched side by side, and James each -hour thought to hear of the arrival of the Yorkist nobility of England: -he had expected so many that he had given orders that care should be -taken to recall his own troops, when the English visitants outnumbered -his own guard. Day after day passed, and not one came—not one: even -Randal of Dacre, Lord Dacre's brother, who had visited Richard in -Scotland, seized with panic, had gone southward. Nothing came, save -intelligence that the Cornish insurgents had been defeated on -Blackheath, their ringleaders taken and executed; among them Lord Audley -perished. -</p> - -<p> -Another life!—how many more to complete the sad hecatomb, a useless -offering to obdurate fate in Richard's favour! Sir George Neville, -gathered up in all the cold pride of disappointed ambition, disdained to -regret. Plantagenet saw the hopes and purpose of his life crushed, but -dared not give words to his despair; Sir Roderick sneered; Lord Barry -was loud in his laments; while the Scots grew taller and prouder, and -ceased to frequent the tents of the English exiles. Councils were held -by James, in which York had no part; it was only afterwards, that he -learnt it had been commanded to the Scotch army to lay waste the -country. Now indeed all the Englishman was alive in his heart—he gave -sudden orders to raise his camp, and to march forward; he had sat still -too long; he would enter the kingdom he claimed; discover for himself -his chance of success—and, if there were none, his rights should not -be made the pretence of a Scotch invasion. -</p> - -<p> -None cried, "Long live King Richard!" as he passed along. How did his -noble, youthful spirit droop at finding that not only he did not meet -with, but was judged not to deserve success. It ranks among the most -painful of our young feelings, to find that we are justly accused of -acting wrong. Our motives—we believed them disinterested or -justifiable; we have advanced a wondrous step in life before we can -concede even to ourselves that alloy may be mingled with what we deemed -pure gold: ignorant of the soil and culture of our own hearts, we feel -sure that no base mixture can form a part of what we fancy to be a mine -of virgin ore, Richard would have stood erect and challenged the world -to accuse him—God and his right, was his defence. His right! Oh, -narrow and selfish was that sentiment that could see, in any right -appertaining to one man the excuse for the misery of thousands. -</p> - -<p> -War, held in leash during the army's march from Edinburgh, was now let -loose; swift and barbarous he tore forward on his way; a thousand -destructions waited on him; his track was marked by ruin: the words of -Lord Surrey were fulfilled. What a sight for one, whose best hope in -acquiring his kingdom, was to bestow the happiness of which the usurper -deprived it. The English troops, about five hundred men, crossed the -wide-spread plains in the immediate vicinity of Scotland; they entered a -beaten track, where the traces of cultivation spoke of man; a village -peeped from among the hedge-row trees—York's heart beat high. Would -the simple inhabitants refuse to acknowledge him? A few steps disclosed -the truth—the village had been sacked by the Scotch: it was half -burnt, and quite deserted; one woman alone remained—she sat on a pile -of ashes wailing aloud. The exiles dared not read in each other's eyes -the expression of their horror; they walked on like men rebuked. This -was England, their country, their native home; and they had brought the -fierce Scot upon her. Passing forward, they met trains of waggons laden -with spoil, droves of cattle and sheep. They overtook a troop roasting -an ox by the burning rafters of a farm-house, whose green palings, trim -orchard, and shaved grass-plat, spoke of domestic comfort; the house-dog -barked fearfully—a Lowland archer transfixed him with his arrow. -</p> - -<p> -The English marched on; they dared not eye the ravagers; shame and hate -contended—these were their allies; while the sarcasm and scornful -laugh which followed them, drugged with wormwood the bitter draught. In -vain, west or east or south, did they turn their eyes, a sad variety of -the same misery presented itself on every side. A stout yeoman, gashed -by an Highlander's claymore, was sometimes the ghastly stepping-stone -passed over to enter his own abode; women and children had not been -spared, or were only left to perish for want. Often during apparent -silence, a fearful shriek, or the voice of lamentation, burst upon the -air: now it was a woman's cry, now the shrill plaint of infancy. With -the exception of these sufferers, the landscape was a blank. Where were -the troops of friends Richard had hoped would hail him? Where the -ancient Yorkists? Gone to augment the army which Surrey was bringing -against the Scot; attached to these ill-omened allies, how could the -prince hope to be met by his partizans? He had lost them all; the first -North Briton who crossed the Tweed trampled on and destroyed for ever -the fallen White Rose. -</p> - -<p> -Resolutely bent on going forward till he should have advanced beyond the -Scotch, on the following day York continued his march. They entered the -ruins of another village; the desolation here was even more complete, -although more recent; the flame was hardly spent upon the blackened -rafters; the piles which the day before had been smiling dwellings, -still smoked; a few domestic animals were skulking about. There was a -church at the end of what had been a street; this was not spared. The -English entered the desecrated aisle; an aged bleeding monk was lying at -the altar's foot, who scowled even in death upon the soldiery; suddenly -he recognized his countrymen; pleasure gleamed in his sunken eyes, "Ye -will avenge us! Deliver the land!—The hand of God will lead ye on!" -</p> - -<p> -Plantagenet rushed forward—"Father!" he cried, "do I find you here?" -</p> - -<p> -The old man spoke, looked faintly; Edmund bent over him: "My father, it -is I, Edmund, your boy, your murde——" -</p> - -<p> -"My son," said the monk, "I behold you again, and die content! You are -in arms, but by the blessing of the saints your sword's point is turned -against the cruel invader. Not one, oh! not one Englishman will fall by -his brother's hand, for not one will fight for that base deceit, the -ill-nurtured Perkin, to whom God in his wrath has given such show of -right as brings the Scot upon us. Once I thought—but no son of York -would ally himself to these cruel border-robbers. God of my country, oh -curse, curse him and his cause!" -</p> - -<p> -The dying man spoke with difficulty; a few moments more, a spasm crossed -his features, and they settled into stony insensibility. Edmund threw -himself on the body; a deathlike silence reigned in the building; every -heart beat with breathless horror; the curse uttered by the murdered man -was even then breathed before God, and accepted. York spoke first with a -calm, firm voice, "Arise, my cousin," he said; "do not thou fix yet more -deeply the barbed arrow, which has entered my heart." -</p> - -<p> -There are periods when remorse and horror conquer by their intensity -every lesser impulse, and reign kings of the waste; this was no time for -words or tears. Oh! welcome the grief or crime, which the bitterest of -these could express or extenuate; it would insult this sad effigy of -death to imagine that the impiety could be expiated. In silence they -bore the reverend corpse to the vaults of the church, and then continued -their way; some of the under-officers and men whispered together; but -when again the chiefs conversed, they did not allude to this frightful -scene, or to the awful imprecation which they felt suspended over their -heads, shadowing their souls with unknown horror. -</p> - -<p> -This was but the opening scene to worse wretchedness; hitherto they had -seen the waste of war, now they came upon its active atrocities. A dense -smoke, the flickering of pale flames, marked the progress of -devastation; fierceness gleamed in the open blue eyes of Richard; he bit -his lips, and at a quicker pace went forward; screams and horrid -shrieks, mixed with shouts—oh! may not a veil be drawn over such -horrors—flying children, mothers who stayed to die, fathers who -unarmed rushed upon the weapons of the foe; fire and sword, animated by -man's fellest spirit, were there to destroy. Kindled to fury, York and -his chief friends had outspeeded their troops: they came to save; they -called on the fierce Scot to spare; and, when their words were unheeded, -they drew their swords to beat back their allies. A fresh troop of -Borderers, headed by Sir John Ramsay, at this moment poured into the -village. The grey eye of the Scot was lighted up to the fiercest rage; -but when he saw who and how few were they who had assailed his men, a -demoniac expression, half exultation and joy, half deadly hate, animated -him. Richard was driving before him a whole troop of camp-followers, -cowardly and cruel fellows. Balmayne's hand was on his arm. "Your -Highness forgets yourself," he said; "or is the fable ended, and you -turned friend of Tudor?" -</p> - -<p> -York's blood was up; his cheek, his brow were flushed; the word -"assassin" burst from his lips, as he wheeled round and assailed his -midnight foe. Thus a natural war began; English and Scotchmen, bent on -mutual destruction, spurred on by every feeling of revenge, abhorrence, -and national rivalship, dealt cruel blows one on the other. Richard's -troops began to arrive in greater numbers; they far out-told their -adversaries. Lord Bothwell, with his marauders, was obliged to retreat, -and York was left in possession of his strange conquest. The peasantry -gathered round him: they did not recognize the White Rose, they but -blessed him as their deliverer: yet the sufferers were many, and the -flames still raged. One woman with a wild shriek for her children, threw -herself into the very heart of her burning cot; while, statue-like, -amidst a little helpless brood, his wife at his feet a corpse, his -dwelling in ashes, a stout yeoman stood; tears unheeded flowing down his -weather-beaten cheeks. During the whole day Richard had striven against -his own emotions, trying to dispel by pride, and indignation, and -enforced fortitude, the softness that invaded his heart and rose to his -eyes, blinding them; but the sight of these miserable beings, victims of -his right, grew into a tragedy too sad to endure. One young mother laid -her infant offspring at his feet, crying, "Bless thee; thou hast saved -her!" and then sunk in insensibility before him; her stained dress and -pallid cheeks speaking too plainly of wounds and death. Richard burst -into tears, "Oh my stony and hard-frozen heart!" he cried, "which -breakest not to see the loss and slaughter of so many of thy -natural-born subjects and vassals!" -</p> - -<p> -He spoke—he looked: Plantagenet was there, grief and horror seated in -his dark, expressive eyes; Neville, who had lost his lofty pride; it was -shame and self-abhorrence that painted their cheeks with blushes or -unusual pallor. "We must hasten, my lord," said Barry, "after those -evil-doers: they but quit one carcase, to pounce upon another." -</p> - -<p> -"Do we fight the king of England's battles?" cried the Burgundian -Lalayne, in unfeigned astonishment: "this will be strange intelligence -for James of Scotland." -</p> - -<p> -"So strange, Sir Roderick," said Richard, "that we will be the bearers -of it ourselves. Give orders for the retreat, gentlemen. His majesty is -engaged in the siege of Norham Castle. We will present us before him, -and demand mercy for our unhappy subjects." -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h4><a id="chap35"></a></h4> - -<h4>CHAPTER XXXV -<br /><br /> -THE RETREAT</h4> - - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Why didst thou promise such a beauteous day,</span><br /> -<span class="i2">And make me travel forth without my cloak,</span><br /> -<span class="i0">To let base clouds o'ertake me on the way,</span><br /> -<span class="i2">Hiding thy bravery in their rotten smoke?</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i20">SHAKSPEARE.</span> -</div></div></div> - -<p> -It was York's characteristic to be sanguine beyond all men. Pain -impressed him more deeply and sorely, than could be imagined by the cold -of spirit; but show him the remedy, teach him the path to redress, and -he threw off the clogging weight of care, and rose free and bright as in -earliest youth. His impatience to behold his royal friend, to speak the -little word, which he felt assured would recall the Scots from their -ravages, and take from him the guilt of his subjects' blood, grew like a -torrent in the spring:—he outspeeded his main troop; he left all but -his chiefest friends behind; one by one even these grew fewer; he -mounted a fresh horse, it was the third that day—"May-flower is worse -than blown," said Neville; "will not your highness repose till -to-morrow?" -</p> - -<p> -"Repose!"—this echo was his only answer, and already he was far and -alone upon his way. -</p> - -<p> -The Scottish lines were passed, and the embattled walls of Norham, grey -and impenetrable as rock, were before him; the royal pavilion occupied -the centre of the camp. The wearied steed that bore York dropt on one -knee as he reined him up before it, flushed, with, every mark of travel -and haste—he threw himself from his saddle, and entered the tent: it -was thronged; he saw not one face, save that of the monarch himself, who -was conversing with a churchman, whose dark foreign countenance Richard -had seen before; now it was like a vision before him. James, in an -accent of surprise, cried, "My lord, this is an unexpected visit." -</p> - -<p> -"Excuse ceremony, my dear cousin," said York; "I come not to speak to -the majesty of Scotland: man to man—a friend to his dearest -friend—I have a suit to urge." -</p> - -<p> -James, who was aware that his actual occupation of listening and even -acceding to the suggestions of his foreign visitant, in favour of peace -with Henry, was treason to York's cause, thought that news of Don Pedro -D'Ayala's arrival was the secret of these words: he blushed as he -replied, "As friend to friend, we will hear anon—to-morrow." -</p> - -<p> -"There is no anon to my dear plea," said York; "even now the hellish -work is about which you must check. Oh, what am I, king of Scotland, -that I am to be made the curse and scourge of my own people? The name of -Richard is the bye-word of hate and terror, there, where I seek for -blessings and filial love. You know not the mischief your fierce -Borderers achieve—it is not yet too late; recall your men; bid them -spare my people; let not the blood of my subjects plead against my -right; rather would I pine in exile for ever, than occasion the -slaughter and misery of my countrymen, my children." -</p> - -<p> -Richard spoke impetuously; his eyes filled with tears, his accents were -fraught with passionate entreaty, and yet with a firm persuasion that he -spoke not in vain: but his address had the very worst effect. James -believed that, hearing that he was in treaty with his foe, he had come -to re-urge his suit, to enforce the many promises given, to demand a -continuation of the war. James, a Scotchman, bred in civil strife among -fierce Highlanders and ruthless Borderers, saw something contemptible in -this pity and supplication for cottagers and villains: the shame he had -felt, or feared to feel, at the idea of being accused of treachery by -his guest, was lightened; his lips were curled even to scorn, as in a -cold tone he replied, "Sir, methinketh you take much pains, and very -much strive to preserve the realm of another prince, which, I do -believe, never will be yours." -</p> - -<p> -A momentary surprise set open wide York's eyes; he glanced round him; -the earl of Huntley's brow was clouded; a smile curled Lord Buchan's -lips; the emotion that had convulsed the prince's features, gave place -to the calmest dignity. "If not mine," he said, "let me yield the sway -to the lady Peace: the name and presence of a Plantagenet shall no -longer sanction the devastation of his country. I would rather be a -cotter on your wild Highlands, than buy the sovereignty of my fair -England by the blood of her inhabitants." -</p> - -<p> -The warm, though capricious heart of James, was quietly recalled by the -look and voice of his once dearest friend, to a sense of the -ungraciousness of his proceeding: he frankly stretched out his hand; "I -was wrong, cousin, forgive me, we will confer anon. Even now, orders -have been issued to recall the troops; a few words will explain -everything." -</p> - -<p> -York bent his head in acquiescence. The king dismissed his nobles, and -committed to the care of one among them the reverend D'Ayala. With a -strong sentiment of self-defence, which was self-accusation—a half -return of his ancient affection, which acted like remorse—James set -himself to explain his proceedings. Fearful, unaided by any of the -natives, of proceeding with an inadequate force farther into the heart -of the country, he had set down before the castle of Norham, which was -defended undauntedly by the bishop of Durham. He had wasted much time -here; and now the Cornish insurgents being quelled, the earl of Surrey -was marching northwards, at the head of forty thousand men. Surrey, -Howard, might he not be a masked friend? "who," continued James, "has -surely some personal enmity to your highness; for the reverend Father -D'Ayala, an ambassador from Spain, visited him on his journey northward, -and it seems the noble indulged in despiteful language; saying, that he -who could bring the fell Scot (I thank him) into England, wore manifest -signs of—I will not say—I remember not his words; they are of -no import. The sum is, my dear lord, I cannot meet the English army in the -open field; walled town—even those paltry towers—I cannot win: -with what shame and haste I may, I must retreat over the border." -</p> - -<p> -Many more words James, in the heat of repentant affection, said to -soothe his English friend. York's blood boiled in his veins; his mind -was a chaos of scorn, mortification, and worse anger against himself. -The insult inflicted by James before his assembled lords, the bitter -speech of Surrey; he almost feared that he deserved the one, while he -disdained to resent the other; and both held him silent. As speedily as -he might, he took leave of the king: he saw signs in the encampment of -the return of the foragers; they were laden with booty: his heart was -sick; to ease his pent-up burning spirit, when night brought solitude, -though not repose, he wrote thus to the Lady Katherine:— -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -"Wilt thou, dear lady of my heart, descend from thy lofty state, and -accept an errant knight, instead of a sceptered king, for thy mate? -Alas! sweet Kate, if thou wilt not, I may never see thee more: for not -thus, oh not thus, my God, will Richard win a kingdom! Poor England -bleeds: our over-zealous cousin has pierced her with dismal wounds; and -thou wouldst in thy gentleness shed a thousand tears, hadst thou beheld -the misery that even now, grim and ghastly, floats before my sight. What -am I, that I should be the parent of evil merely? Oh, my mother, my too -kind friends, why did ye not conceal me from myself? Teaching me lessons -of humbleness, rearing me as a peasant, consigning me to a cloister, my -injuries would have died with me; and the good, the brave, the innocent, -who have perished for me, or through me, had been spared! -</p> - -<p> -"I fondly thought that mine was no vulgar ambition. I desired the good -of others; the raising up and prosperity of my country. I saw my -father's realm sold to a huckster—his subjects the victims of -low-souled avarice. What more apparent duty, than to redeem his crown -from Jew-hearted Tudor, and to set the bright jewels, pure and sparkling -as when they graced his brow, on the head of his only son? Even now I -think the day will come when I shall repair the losses of this sad -hour—is it the restless ambitious spirit of youth that whispers -future good, or true forebodings of the final triumph of the right? -</p> - -<p> -"Now, O sweetest Kate, I forget disgrace, I forget remorse; I bury every -sorrow in thought of thee. Thy idea is as a windless haven to some -way-worn vessel—its nest in a vast oak-tree to a tempest-baffled -bird—hope of Paradise to the martyr who expires in pain. Wilt thou -receive me with thine own dear smile? My divine love, I am not worthy of -thee; yet thou art mine—Lackland Richard's single treasure. The stars -play strange gambols with us—I am richer than Tudor, and but that thy -husband must leave no questioned name, I would sign a bond with -fate—let him take England, give me Katherine. But a prince may not -palter with the holy seal God affixes to him—nor one espoused to thee -be less than king; fear not, therefore, that I waver though I -pause—Adieu!" -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h4><a id="chap36"></a></h4> - -<h4>CHAPTER XXXVI -<br /><br /> -TIDINGS FROM IRELAND</h4> - - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yet noble friends, his mixture with our blood,</span><br /> -<span class="i0">Even with our own, shall no way interrupt</span><br /> -<span class="i0">A general peace.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i20">FORD.</span> -</div></div></div> - -<p> -Pedro D'Ayala was ambassador from Ferdinand and Isabella to the king of -England. There was something congenial in the craft and gravity of this -man with the cautious policy of Henry. When the latter complained of the -vexation occasioned him by the counterfeit Plantagenet, and the favour -he met with in Scotland, D'Ayala offered to use his influence and -counsel to terminate these feuds. He found James out of humour with -York's ill success among the English, weary of a siege, where -impregnable stone walls were his only enemies, uneasy at the advance of -Surrey; pliable, therefore, to all his arguments. A week after D'Ayala's -arrival, the Scots had recrossed the Tweed, the king and his nobles had -returned to Edinburgh, and York to Katherine. -</p> - -<p> -Richard's northern sun was set, and but for this fair star he had been -left darkling. When the English general in his turn crossed the Tweed, and -ravaged Scotland, <i>he</i> was looked on by its inhabitants as the cause -of their disasters; and, but that some loving friends were still true to -him, he had been deserted in the land which so lately was a temple of -refuge to him. The earl of Huntley exerted himself to prevent his -falling into too deep disgrace in the eyes of Scotland, and was present -at the consultations of the exiles to urge some new attempt in some -other part of King Henry's dominions. York was anxious to wash out the -memory of his overthrow; so that this check, which seemed so final to -his hopes, but operated as an incentive to further exertions. Yet -whither should he go? the whole earth was closed upon him. The territory -of Burgundy, which had so long been his home, was forbidden. -France—Concressault, who was his attached friend, dissuaded him from -encountering a mortifying repulse there. Even his own Spain would refuse -to receive him, now that D'Ayala had shown himself his enemy; but, no, -he was not so far reduced to beg a refuge at the limits of civilization; -still he had his sword, his cause, his friends. -</p> - -<p> -A stranger came, an unexpected visitant from over the sea, to decide his -vacillating counsels. The man was aged and silver-haired, smooth in his -manners, soft-voiced, yet with quick grey eyes and compressed lips, -indications of talent and resolution and subtlety. Frion saw him first, -and, deceived by his almost fawning manners into an idea of his -insignificance, asked his purpose and name. The stranger with the utmost -gentleness refused to disclose his object to any but the prince; and -Frion, with great show of insolence, refused to introduce him to his -presence. "Then without thy leave, sir knave," said the old man calmly, -"I must force my way." -</p> - -<p> -Astley, the poor scrivener of Canterbury, was present. This honest, -simple-hearted fellow, had shown so much worth, so much zeal, so much -humbleness with such fidelity, that he had become a favourite in York's -court, and principally with the Lady Katherine. Frion hated him, for he -was his opposite, but pretended to despise him, and to use him as an -underling. Astley meekly submitted, and at last gained a kind of favour -in the Frenchman's eyes by the deference and respect of his manner. The -stranger, with the readiness of one accustomed to select agents for his -will, addressed him, bidding him announce to his highness a gentleman -from Ireland. "And be assured," he said, "the duke will ill-requite any -tardiness on thy part." -</p> - -<p> -An angry burst from Frion interrupted him. This man, rarely off his -guard, but roused now by recent mortifications, forgot himself in the -violence he displayed, which strangely contrasted with the soft -tranquillity of the stranger, and Astley's modest, but very determined -annunciation of his resolve to convey the message to the prince. Frion, -from loud words, was about to proceed to acts, when Lord Barry -entered—Barry, who felt Scotland as a limbo of despair, who was for -ever urging Richard to visit Ireland, to whom the court life of the -English was something like a trim-fenced park to a new caught lion. -Barry saw the stranger—his eyes lighted up, nay, danced with sudden -joy: with no gentle hand he thrust Frion away, and then bent his knee, -asking a blessing of the prior of Kilmainham; and in the same breath -eagerly demanded what had brought the venerable man from Buttevant -across the dangerous seas. -</p> - -<p> -Keating's presence gave new life to York's councils: he brought an -invitation from Maurice of Desmond to the duke. The earl had, since -Richard's departure, been occupied in training troops, and so fortifying -himself as to enable him to rise against Poynings, whose regular -government, and above all, whose predilection for the Butlers, caused -him to be detested by the Geraldines. Hurried on by hatred and revenge, -Desmond resolved to do that which would be most dreaded and abhorred of -Henry—to assume the badge of the White Rose, and to set up the -pretensions of young Richard. The tidings were that York was a loved and -honoured guest in Edinburgh; and the impetuous Desmond feared that he -would hardly be induced to abandon King James's powerful alliance, for -the friendship of a wild Irish chieftain. The very invitation must be -committed to no mean or witless hands: the difficulties appeared so -great, that the measure was on the point of being abandoned, when the -prior of Kilmainham, who, in the extreme of age, awoke to fresh life at -a prospect of regaining his lost consequence, offered himself to -undertake the arduous task. His views went far beyond the earl's: he -hoped to make the king of Scotland an active party in his plots, and to -contrive a simultaneous invasion of England from the north and from the -west. Already his turbulent and grasping spirit saw Irish and Scotch -meeting midway in England, and with conjoined forces dethroning Tudor, -and dictating terms to his successor. He came too late: he came to find -a peace nearly concluded between James and Henry; the White Rose fallen -into disregard; and his arrival looked, upon as the best hope, the last -refuge of his fallen party. -</p> - -<p> -Richard on the instant accepted his invitation. To a generous heart the -feeling of enforced kindness succeeding to spontaneous affection, is -intolerable. The very generosity of his own disposition made him recoil -from exacting a reluctant boon from his sometime friend. To live a -pensioner among the turbulent, arrogant Scots, was not to be thought of. -The earl of Huntley, in fond expectation of his daughter's greatness, -would have despised him had he remained inactive. Even Katherine was -solicitous to leave Scotland—she knew her countrymen; and, ready as -she was to give up every exalted aim, and to make her husband's -happiness in the retired quiet of private life, she knew that insult and -feud would attend his further tarrying among the Scotch. -</p> - -<p> -York had been for nearly a year the guest of King James; twelve months, -in all their long-drawn train of weeks and days, had paced over the wide -earth, marking it with change: each one had left its trace in the soul -of Richard. There is something frightful, to a spirit partly tired of -the world, to find that their life is to be acquainted with no durable -prosperity; that happiness is but a modification of a train of events, -which, like the fleeting birth of flowers, varies the year with -different hues. But York was still too young to be aweary even of -disappointment; he met the winter of his fortunes with cheerful -fortitude, so that a kind of shame visited James, inspired by the -respect his injured friend so well merited. -</p> - -<p> -The capricious, but really noble heart of the Scottish king was at this -time put to a hard trial. One of the preliminaries of peace, most -insisted upon by Henry, was, that his rival should be given up to -him:—this was, at the word, refused. But even to dismiss him from his -kingdom, seemed so dastardly an act towards one allied to him by his own -choice, that the swelling heart of the cavalier could not yet tame -itself to the statesman's necessity. Some of his subjects, meanwhile, -were ready enough to cut the Gordian knot by which he was entangled. -Tudor had many emissaries in Edinburgh; and Lord Moray, Lord Buchan, and -the dark Both well, whose enmity had become fierce personal hate, were -still egged on by various letters and messages from England to some deed -of sanguinary violence. -</p> - -<p> -Sir John Ramsay was sought out by Frion. That goodly diplomatist must -have entertained a high opinion of his mollifying eloquence, when he -dared encounter the hot temper of him he had dishonoured in the eyes of -the English prince, and of his own countryman Hamilton. But Frion knew -that in offering revenge he bought pardon: he was of little mark in -Ramsay's eyes, while the man he had injured, and whom he consequently -detested beyond every other, survived to tell the grating tale of the -defeated villany of the assassin, and the godlike magnanimity of him who -pardoned. -</p> - -<p> -Frion's own feelings, which had vacillated, were now fixed to betray the -prince. He had wavered, because he had a kind of personal affection for -the noble adventurer. Somehow he managed to fancy him a creature of his -own: he had worked so long, and at one time so well for him, that he had -fostered the vain belief that his dearest hopes, and best pretensions, -would vanish like morning mist, if he blew unkindly on them. It was not -so: James had been his friend; Huntley had given him his daughter -without his interference; and the Irish project, with Keating at its -head, who treated Frion with galling contempt, filled up the measure of -his discontents. If anything else had been needed, the Lady Katherine's -favour to Astley, and some offices of trust, in which York himself had -used him, sufficed to add the last sting to malice. "If they will not let -me make, they shall rue the day when I shall mar; learn shall they, that -Frion can clip an eagle's wings even in its pride of flight." -</p> - -<p> -It is common to say that there is honour among thieves and villains. It -is not honour; but an acknowledged loss of shame and conscience, and a -mutual trust in the instinctive hatred the bad must bear the good, which -strongly unites them. In spite of the Frenchman's former treachery, -Balmayne felt that he could now confide, that his guilt would stretch -far enough to encircle in its embrace the very act he desired; and he -again trusted, and used him as the chief agent of his plots. -</p> - -<p> -The earl of Surrey was ravaging Scotland; and King James, with the -chivalrous spirit of the times, challenged him to single combat. The -earl, in answer, refused to place his master's interests at the hazard -of his single prowess, though ready for any other cause to accept the -honour tendered him. The herald that brought this reply, Frion reported -to Richard to be charged with a letter to him. Its purpose was to -declare, that though, while aided and comforted by the enemies of -England, the earl warred against him, yet the Howard remembered the -ancient attachments of his house; and that, if the White Rose, wholly -renouncing the Scotch, would trust to the honour of the representative -of a race of nobles, the army now in the field to his detriment should -be turned to an engine of advantage. "Time pressed," the letter -concluded by saying—"and if the duke of York were willing to give his -sails to the favouring wind, let him repair with a small company to -Greenock, where he would find zealous and powerful friends." -</p> - -<p> -At first this intimation filled the prince with exultation and delight. -The time was at last come when he should lead the native nobility of -England to the field, and meet his enemy in worthy guise. There was but -one check; he could not join Surrey, while Surrey was in arms against -his once generous friend; so that, by a strange shifting of events, he -now became anxious for peace between Scotland and England; eager that -the seal should be set that destroyed the alliance and amity which had -so lately been the sole hope of his life. Neville and Plantagenet -entered into his views; and while, seemingly at the bottom of Fortune's -scale, a new spirit of gladness animated this little knot of Englishmen. -</p> - -<p> -For one thing young Richard was not prepared: the preliminaries of peace -he knew were arranged, and he was aware that its conclusion would take -the sword out of James's hand. They had rarely met lately; and this, -while it lessened the familiarity, rather added to the apparent kindness -of their interviews. There was in both these young princes a genuine -warmth of heart, and brightness of spirit, that drew them close whenever -they did meet. James honoured the integrity and the unconquered soul of -the outcast monarch, while his own genius, his vivacity, and polished -courtesy, in spite of his caprice and late falling off, spread a charm -around that forced admiration and affection even from him he injured. It -was at this period, that, notwithstanding their real disunion, Richard -felt it as strange to find his royal host confused in manner, and -backward of speech. They had been at a hunting party, where Lord Moray's -haughty glance of triumph, and the sneer that curled the earl of -Buchan's lip, would have disclosed some victory gained by them, had York -deigned to regard their aspects. At length, after much hesitation, while -riding apart from his peers, James asked—"If there were any news from -the Lady Margaret of Burgundy?" -</p> - -<p> -"Sir Roderick Lalayne returned to her a month ago," replied York, "and -with him went my dear and zealous Lady Brampton, to urge fresh succour -for one, to whom fortune has so long shown a wintry face, that methinks -spring must at last be nigh at hand, herald of bright, blossoming -summer." -</p> - -<p> -"What promises then my lady duchess?" said the king, eagerly. -</p> - -<p> -"Alas! her promises are as blank as her power," replied Richard. "Even -when the old dukes of Burgundy were as emperors in Christendom, they -were but as provosts and city-magistrates in the free towns of Flanders; -and these towns resolve on peace with England." -</p> - -<p> -"It is the cry of the world," said James, with a sigh; "this Tudor is a -mighty man. Why, even I, a Scot, a warrior, and a king, am forced to -join the universal voice, and exclaim, 'Peace with England,' even though -my honour is the sacrifice." -</p> - -<p> -"Your majesty imparts no strange truth to me," said York. "I have long -known that this must be; but surely you speak in soreness of spirit, -when you speak of the sacrifice of honour. I thought the terms agreed on -were favourable to Scotland?" -</p> - -<p> -"King Henry demanded, in the first place, the delivery of your highness -into his hands." James blushed deeply as he said these words. -</p> - -<p> -"Or he will come seize me," rejoined the duke, with a laugh. "In good -hour I will deliver myself, if he will walk through the bristling -lances, and set at naught the wide-mouthed cannon that will bellow in -his path." -</p> - -<p> -"Have you then new hopes?" cried the king; "oh! say but so; and half my -shame, and all my sorrow vanishes. Say that you have hope of speedy good -in some other country; for I have sworn, ere April wear into May, -Scotland shall be made poor by your highness's absence." -</p> - -<p> -A long pause followed these words. James felt as if he had given words -to his own concealed dishonour, and struck his iron-girdled side with -the bitter thought. "O! spirit of my father, this may not atone; but I -must pay also in shame and torturous self-contempt for my heavy guilt." -A sudden blow, a precipitous fall when unaware his feet had reached the -crumbling brink of a beetling precipice, would not have made such -commotion in Richard's heart, as the forced and frightful conviction -that the friend he had trusted heaped this insult on him. For the first -time in his life, perhaps, pride conquered every other feeling; for -reproach had been more <i>friendly</i>, than the spirit that impelled -him, with a placid voice, and a glance of haughty condescension, to -reply:—"Now that your majesty dismisses me, I find it fittest -season to thank you heartily for your many favours. That you deny me to -the suit of your new ally, and send me forth scathless from your -kingdom, is the very least of these. Shall I forget that, when, a -wanderer and a stranger, I came hither, you were a brother to me? That -when an outcast from the world, Scotland became a home of smiles, and -its king my dearest friend? These are lesser favours; for your love was -of more value to me than your power, though you used it for my benefit; -and, when you gave me the Lady Katherine, I incurred such a debt of -gratitude, that it were uncancelled, though you cast me, bound hand and -foot, at Tudor's footstool. That I am bankrupt even in thanks, is my -worst misery; yet, if the eye of favour, which I believe Fortune is now -opening on me, brighten into noon-day splendour, let James of Scotland -ask, and, when England shall be added to his now barren name, Richard -will give, though it were himself." -</p> - -<p> -"Gentle cousin," replied the king, "you gloss with horrid words a bitter -pill to both; for though the scath seem yours, mine is the punishment. I -lose what I can ill spare, a kinsman and a friend." -</p> - -<p> -"Never!" cried York; "Scotland bids a realmless monarch, a beggar -prince, depart: the king of Scotland, moved by strong state necessity, -is no longer the ally of the disinherited orphan of Edward the Fourth: -but James is Richard's friend; he will rejoice, when he sees him, borne -with the flowing tide, rise from lowness to the highest top at which he -aims. And now, dear my lord, grant me one other boon. I am about to -depart, even of my own will; dismiss then every rankling feeling; lay no -more to your generous, wounded heart, a need, which is even more mine -than yours; but let smiles and love attend your kinsman to the end, -unalloyed by a deeper regret, than that fate wills it, and we must -separate." -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h4><a id="chap37"></a></h4> - -<h4>CHAPTER XXXVII -<br /><br /> -TREACHERY</h4> - - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i8">I am your wife,</span><br /> -<span class="i0">No human power can or shall divorce</span><br /> -<span class="i0">My faith from duty.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i20">FORD.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">——With</span><br /> -<span class="i0">My fortune and my seeming destiny,</span><br /> -<span class="i0">He made the bond, and broke it not with me.</span><br /> -<span class="i0">No human tie is snapp'd betwixt us two.</span><br /> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i20">SCHILLER'S WALLENSTEIN.</span> -</div></div></div> - -<p> -Frion believed that he held the strings, which commanded the movements -of all the puppets about him. The intrigues of party, the habitual use -of ill means to what those around him deemed a good end, had so -accustomed him to lying and forgery, that his conscience was quite -seared to the iniquity of these acts; truth to him was an accident, to -be welcomed or not according as it was or was not advantageous to his -plots. -</p> - -<p> -King James prepared a fleet for the conveyance of the prince; and the -earl of Huntley, as a matter of course, promised to entertain his -daughter royally, until, in a palace in Westminster, she should find her -destined title and fit abode. The Lady Katherine thanked him, but -declared that she was nothing moved from her bridal vow, and that she -never would desert Richard's side. All that her father urged was of no -avail. State and dignity, or their contraries, humiliation and disgrace, -could only touch her through her husband; he was her exalter or debaser, -even as he rose or fell; it was too late now to repine at degradation, -which it ill beseemed the daughter of a Gordon to encounter; it was -incurred when she plighted her faith at the altar; wherever she was it -must be hers. As a princess, she was lost or redeemed by her husband's -fortunes. As a woman, her glory and all her honour must consist in never -deviating from the straight line of duty, which forbade her absence from -his side. -</p> - -<p> -The earl disdained to reason with a fond doting girl, as he called the -constant-minded lady, but applied to the king, representing how it would -redound to his discredit, should a princess of his blood wander a -vagrant beggar over sea and land. James had passed his royal word to -Katherine, that she should have her will on this point; and when, at her -father's suit he tried to dissuade her, he was at once silenced by her -simple earnest words; "Ask me not," she said, "to place myself on the -list of unworthy women: for your own honour's sake, royal cousin, permit -your kinswoman to perform a wife's part unopposed. You and my father -bestowed me, a dutiful subject, an obedient daughter, according to your -will; you transferred my duty and obedience; and truly as I paid it to -you, so will I keep it for my lord." -</p> - -<p> -"What can we reply, my good earl marshal," said James, turning to -Huntley, "I rebelled against the religion through which I reign, did I -deny our sweet Kate free allowance to follow the dictates of her -generous heart. Nor let us grudge the White Rose this one fair bloom. -Love, such as Katherine feels, love, and the dearest, best gift of -God—alas! too oft denied to poor humanity, and most to -me—self-complacency, arising from a good conscience, will repay her -every sacrifice." -</p> - -<p> -Huntley retired in high indignation; his will was opposed; his word, -which he deemed a law, had but a feather's weight. The blood of the -Gordon was stirred to rage; and he broke forth in fierce and cruel -expressions of anger, calling his daughter ingrate—her lord base, and -a traitor. Such muttered curses were reported to Lord Buchan: in the -scheme on foot, they had somewhat dreaded to incur Huntley's displeasure -and revenge, knowing how dearly he prized the hope of royalty for his -daughter; but now they fancied that they might draw him in ere he was -aware to approve their deed. The crafty Frion was set on to sound him; -the iron was hot, most easily to their eyes, it took the desired form. -</p> - -<p> -Huntley was a Scot, cunning even when angry—cautious when most -passionate. The first intimations of the conspiracy were greedily -received by him. He learnt the falsehood of the letter pretending to -come from the earl of Surrey; and the use that was to be made of this -decoy to seize on the duke of York's person. He did not scruple to -promise his assistance; he reiterated his angry imprecations against his -unworthy son-in-law; he thanked Frion with cordial warmth for affording -him this opportunity for revenge; he declared his gratitude towards the -confederate nobles; and the Frenchman left him, with the full belief -that he was ready to lend his best aid to deliver over the English -prince to ignominy and death. -</p> - -<p> -Such was the end of King Henry's last scheme to obtain possession of his -too noble, too excelling rival, by means of Scottish fraud, and the -treason of York's dependants. The earl of Huntley conducted the whole -affair with the utmost secrecy. Apparently he acted the part designed -for him by the conspirators. He reconciled himself to the prince; he -urged an instant compliance with Surrey's invitation. The English had -asked for some guarantee of Surrey's truth. Huntley obviated this -difficulty. Through his intervention a new and sufficing impulse was -given. Richard appointed the day when he should repair to Greenock, -there to meet the envoy who was to lead him to Lord Surrey's presence. -In the harbour of Greenock rode the bark which was to convey him to his -English prison. King Henry's hirelings were already there: Frion -conducted the victims blindfold into the net: they had meant to have -gathered together a troop of ruffian borderers to prevent all -resistance; but Huntley promised to be there himself with a band of -Highlanders. The whole thing only seemed too easy, too secure. -</p> - -<p> -The wily secretary had overshot his mark in taking so readily for -granted Huntley's assent to the ruin of the duke of York. He had come -upon him in his angry hour: his honied words were a dew of poison; his -adjurations for peace, oil to fire. Then, as the noble strode through -the hall, imprecating vengeance, he slid in words that made him stop in -full career. Men are apt to see their wishes mirrored in the object -before them; and, when the earl bent his grey eyes upon the Provençal -and knit his time-furrowed brow in attention and interest, Frion saw the -satisfaction of a man on the brink of dear revenge. He was far a-field. -The very rage in which the earl had indulged, by a natural reaction, -softened him towards his children; and when the traitor spoke of schemes -ripe to deliver York into his adversary's hands, he recoiled at once -from the path of vengeance opened before him, and listened with horror -to the detail of a conspiracy which would tear the very shadow of a -diadem from his daughter's brow; yet he listened, and his words still -enticed the over-wily Frion. "Balmayne," said the earl, "all must -succeed even to the death. Where he intermeddles, he is ruthless;" thus -ran his comments: "My good Lord Buchan, what the foul fiend makes him so -busy? English gold! Yes: Buchan loves the gilding better than the strong -iron that it hides. The honour of the royal house, my most reverend -uncle! Is his animosity so stirring? Oh! priests are your only haters. -So Richard's tale is told. The chroniclers will speak of Duke Perkin, of -the canker that ate out the heart of Gordon's fair rose, the gibbet, -instead of a throne, to which she was wed; a fair eminence! My Kate will -hardly ascend it with him: she must halt at the gallows' foot." These -words, said with bitterness, seemed to Frion the boiling sarcasm of an -exasperated parent. The man's vanity was the trap in which he was -caught: he could not believe that a savage Scot, an untaught Highlander, -could enter the lists with one nurtured in the subtle atmosphere of -Provence, with the pupil of Louis the Eleventh; a man schooled in -eastern lore, who had passed a whole life of contrivance and deceit. -</p> - -<p> -The Scottish nobles, Moray, Buchan, and Bothwell, were satisfied in -having given their countenance to the English hirelings; and now that -the more powerful Huntley promised to watch over the execution of their -designs, they were glad enough to withdraw from the rude and -inhospitable act. Huntley had everything in his own hands. He, with a -party of Highlanders, escorted the duke and duchess of York, with their -friends and attendants, to Greenock. Frion had never shown himself so -humble or so courteous; he seemed afraid that any one of his victims -should escape: he was particularly anxious to entice his old enemy, the -prior of Kilmainham, into the snare. His readiness and vivacity were -remarked by all: it was attributed to the high hopes he entertained of -his royal master's success through the alliance of the earl of Surrey; -and, while York expressed his affectionate approbation, he smiled -blandly, and painted every feature in the very colouring he wished it to -wear. -</p> - -<p> -The vessel rode at anchor; the English sailors, on the arrival of York, -went on board, got her under weigh, and dropped down the coast. With the -dawn Lord Howard of Effingham, with a chosen troop, was, according to -the false hopes of Richard, to arrive at the rendezvous, a wood about -two miles south of the town, bordering the sands of the sea. Here the -English emissaries were congregated, and here a score of Highlanders -were in ambush, to assist in the capture of the White Rose. Hither, even -before dawn, the wakeful Frion came, to announce the speedy arrival of -his lord. He found his English friends in some anxiety. Clifford, who, -under the name of Wiatt, had been chief among them, was seized with -panic or remorse, and had gone on board the vessel, which had east -anchor but a few furlongs from the shore. The others were mean -underlings: Frion's presence gave them courage; he was elated; his laugh -was free; he had neither doubt nor scruple; no, not even when he turned -from the vulgar, brutalized countenances of these ruffians, to behold -the princely victim in all the splendour of innocence, with one beside -him so lovely, that the spirit of good itself had selected her form for -its best earthly bower; or to see Edmund, whose dark eyes beamed with -unknown joy, and Neville, whose haughty glance was exchanged for a glad -smile. The man's sole thought was exultation at his own cleverness and -success, in having inveigled so many of the noble and the brave to this -dark fate. -</p> - -<p> -"What tidings of Effingham?" asked York. -</p> - -<p> -"Are ye ready?" cried Huntley. -</p> - -<p> -"All!" replied Frion; "all save him ye name Wiatt. Sir Robert, forsooth, -is but half a man, and never does more than half deed, though that half -makes whole crime. All is ready. I hear the sound of oars; the boat -nears the shore." -</p> - -<p> -Through the tall bare trunks of the trees, a glimpse of the beach might -be gained; the roaring of the surges was distinct, now mingled with the -cry of sailors. -</p> - -<p> -"Then lose we no time," said Huntley. "My lord of York, these words -sound strange. You expected a noble countryman to lead you to victory; -you find nameless fellows, and the prince of knaves, most ready and -willing to lead you to everlasting prison. Lo, the scene shifts again! -Never be cast down, Master Frion; you are as subtle as any of your -race—only to be outwitted by a niggard Scotchman, who can ill read, -and worse write; except when villany is blazoned in a man's face, and -his sword indites a traitor's fate. Your clerkship will find none among -us learned enough to afford you benefit of clergy." -</p> - -<p> -Huntley drew his sword; and at the signal his Highlanders arose from -their ambush. Prion was seized and bound. None, who even a moment before -had seen the smooth-faced villain, could have recognized him; he was -pale as the snow on Ben Nevis. A Highlander, an adept in such acts, -dexterously threw a knotted rope over his head, and cast his eye up to -the trees for a convenient branch. Such had been the orders; such the -summary justice of the earl. -</p> - -<p> -Richard meanwhile looked on the blanched visage and quailing form of his -betrayer in mere compassion. "Is it even so, Etienne!" he said; "and -after long companionship we part thus." -</p> - -<p> -The trembling craven fell on his knees, though he tightened the halter -by the movement, so that when Richard turned away, saying, "I had -thought better of thee: Jesu pardon thee as readily as I—farewell!" -he had scarce voice to cry for mercy. -</p> - -<p> -"Aye," cried the Gordon; "such mercy as we grant the wolf and thievish -fox. Short shrift be thine, Master Secretary!" -</p> - -<p> -"By Our Lady's grace, stay!" said Katherine; "do not kill the -false-hearted knave. He is a coward, and dares survive his honour; let -him live." -</p> - -<p> -Richard looked sternly on the kneeling slave. To the good there is -something awful in the sight of a guilty man. It is a mystery to them -how the human heart can be so perverted. Is it a spirit from hell that -incorporates itself with the pulsations of our mortal bosom; a darkness -that overshadows; a fiendish essence that mingles with the breath God -gave to his own image? York felt a shrinking horror. "Thou hast pursued -me since my youth," he said, "forcing thyself into my councils; -sometimes as a wily enemy; at others befriending me in seeming, raising -my soul, that flagged beneath the world's unkind ministry; dropping balm -by thy words into a wounded heart; to end thy office thus! Was this thy -purpose ever; or what demon whispered thee to betray? Die! oh no! too -many, the good, the great, the true, have died for me; live thou a -monument—a mark to tell the world that York can pardon, York can -despise—not so base a thing as thee—that were little, but even -thy employer. Go, tell my sister's husband that I bear a charmed life; that -love and valour are my guards. Bid him bribe those, nor waste his -ill-got crowns on such as thee. Unbind him, sirs; make signal to the -boat; let him on board; the wind stands fair for England." -</p> - -<p> -The fall of many a hope, roused by the forgery on Surrey's name, was -forgotten by Richard, as he sickened at this other mark of man's -wickedness and folly. He was surely the dear sport of fortune, a tale to -chronicle how faithless friends may be. If such thoughts, like summer -clouds, darkened his mind, they vanished, driven by the winds of life -that bore him onward. This was no time for mere gloomy meditation. -Though he was obliged to return to his forgotten Irish scheme, and to -dismiss the glorious anticipation in which he had indulged, of leading -the chivalry of England to the field; though no real defeat had ever -visited him so keenly as this mockery of one; yet he was forced to -forget himself, and to apply himself to console and rouse his downcast -friends; but his skill was well repaid, and soon he again awoke to those -feelings of buoyant hope, unwearied energy, and unshaken confidence -which were the essence of his character. -</p> - -<p> -In this last trial he felt how much good he might derive from the -sweetness and constant spirit of the Lady Katherine. She hoped for none -of the world's blessings, except they came in the shape of loves from -him to whom she was united; happiness—all hers as centred in her -blameless affections; and her confidence was placed in the belief and -knowledge, that by devoting herself to her lord, to the wandering -outcast who so dearly needed her sacrifice, she fulfilled her destiny -upon earth, and pleased "the great Task Master," who for happiness or -misery, but certainly for good, had given her life. All her gentle -eloquence was spent in dissuading Richard from those unkind thoughts -towards his species, which the treason of these base men, the caprice of -James, the harsh sentence (for this was again brought home to him by -disappointment) of Surrey, awakened in his bosom. It proved no hard -task; soon the princely adventurer, with eagle flight, soared from the -sad prostration of spirit, the birth of his disasters, to fresh hopes -and lofty resolves. -</p> - -<p> -It was necessary immediately to prepare for his departure. The earl of -Huntley, struck by his magnanimity, no longer opposed his daughter's -wish. The English exiles were eager for a new, and, they believed (for -untired is hope in man), for a prosperous career. Scotland grew rude, -confined, and remote in their eyes. In Ireland were placed for them the -portals of the world, to be opened by their swords; the dancing -sea-waves invited them; the winds of heaven lent themselves to their -service. "My friends," said Richard, "dear and faithful partners of my -wayward fortunes, I would fondly believe that we are favoured of Heaven. -We are few; but the evil and the treacherous are no longer among us. And -does old Time in all his outworn tales tell any truer, than that the -many, being disunited, and so false, have ever been vanquished by the -loving, bold, and heroic few? That a child may scan with its fingers our -bare arithmetic, will therefore be to us the source of success, as -assuredly it will be of glory. The English were few when they mowed down -thickly-planted French at Cressy and Poictiers. Which among us, armed as -we are in the mail of valour, but would encounter ten of Tudor's -scant-paid mercenaries? For me! I do believe that God is on my side, as -surely as I know that justice and faith are; and I fear no defeat." -</p> - -<p> -It is thus that man, with fervent imagination, can endue the rough stone -with loveliness, forge the misshapen metal into a likeness of all that -wins our hearts by exceeding beauty, and breathe into a dissonant trump -soul-melting harmonies. The mind of man—that mystery, which may lend -arms against itself, teaching vain lessons of material philosophy, but -which, in the very act, shows its power to play with all created things, -adding the sweetness of its own essence to the sweetest, taking its -ugliness from the deformed. The creative faculty of man's soul—which, -animating Richard, made him see victory in defeat, success and glory in -the dark, the tortuous, the thorny path, which it was his destiny to -walk from the cradle to the tomb. -</p> - -<p> -Oh, had I, weak and faint of speech, words to teach my fellow-creatures -the beauty and capabilities of man's mind; could I, or could one more -fortunate, breathe the magic word which would reveal to all the power, -which we all possess, to turn evil to good, foul to fair; then vice and -pain would desert the newborn world! -</p> - -<p> -It is not thus: the wise have taught, the good suffered for us; we are -still the same; and still our own bitter experience and heart-breaking -regrets teach us to sympathize too feelingly with a tale like this; -which records the various fortunes of one who at his birth received -every gift which most we covet; whose strange story is replete with -every change of happiness and misery; with every contrast of glorious -and disgraceful; who was the noble object of godlike fidelity, and the -sad victim of demoniac treason; the mark of man's hate and woman's love; -spending thus a short eventful life. It is not spent; he yet breathes: -he is on the world of waters. What new scene unfolds itself? Where are -they who were false, where those who were true! They congregate around -him, and the car of life bears him on, attended by many frightful, many -lovely shapes, to his destined end. He has yet much to suffer; and, -human as he is, much to enjoy. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h4><a id="chap38"></a></h4> - -<h4>CHAPTER XXXVIII -<br /><br /> -DEPRESSION</h4> - - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">One moment these were heard and seen; another</span><br /> -<span class="i0">Past, and the two who stood beneath that night,</span><br /> -<span class="i0">Each only heard, or saw, or felt the other.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i20">SHELLEY.</span> -</div></div></div> - -<p> -The hour had now arrived when Richard took leave of Scotland. The king -was humbled by the necessity he felt himself under, of sending forth his -friend and kinsman into the inhospitable world; and he felt deep grief -at parting with his lovely cousin. She grew pale, when for the last time -she saw the friend of her youth. But Katherine looked upon life in a -mode very different from the usual one: the luxuries and dignities of -the world never in her mind for a moment came in competition with her -affections and her duty; she saw the plain path before her; whatever her -father's or her royal cousin's idea had been in giving her to the duke -of York, she knew that, being his, her destiny upon earth was to share -his fortunes, and soothe his sorrows. This constant looking on, giving -herself up to, and delighting in one aim, one object, one occupation, -elevated her far above the common cares of existence. She left -</p> - -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i8">——"All meaner things,</span><br /> -<span class="i2">The low ambition and the pride of kings,"</span> -</div></div> - -<p> -—to shroud herself in love; to take on herself the hallowed state of -one devoting herself to another's happiness. Cleopatra, basking in sunny -pomp, borne, the wonder of the world, in her gilded bark, amidst all the -aroma of the east, upon the gently-rippling Cydnus, felt neither the -pride nor joy of Katherine, as, on the poor deck of their dark -weather-beaten skiff, she felt pillowed by the downy spirit of love, -fanned by its gentle breath. -</p> - -<p> -The duke of York was more depressed; he thought of how, since his -miserable childhood, he had been the sport of Fortune and her scorn. He -thought of the false, the cold, the perished: a dark wall seemed to rise -around him; a murky vault to close over him: success, glory, honour, the -world's treasures, which he had been brought up to aspire to as his -dearest aim, his right, were unattainable; he was the defeated, the -outcast; there was a clog in his way for ever; a foul taint upon his -name. Thus seated on the deck, his arm coiled round a rope, his head -leaning on his arm, while the stars showered a dim silvery radiance, and -the sparkling sea mocked their lustre with brighter fires; while the -breeze, that swelled his sail, and drove him merrily along, spent its -cold breath on him; he, painting all natural objects with the obscure -colouring suggested by his then gloomy spirit, distorting the very -scenery of heaven and vast ocean into symbols of his evil fate, gave -himself up to the very luxury of woe,—meanwhile the shadow of a -lovely form fell on him, soft fingers pressed the curls of his hair, and -Katherine asked, "Are the nights of Andalusia more glorious than this?" -</p> - -<p> -At the voice of the charmer the demon fled; sky and sea cast off the dim -veil his grief had woven, and creation was restored its native beauty. -Hitherto the halls of palaces, the gaiety of a court, the -council-chamber, had been the scenes in which the princely pair had -lived together; linked to an engrossing state of things, surrounded by -their partisans, they had been friends, nay lovers, according to the -love of the many. But solitary Nature is the true temple of Love, where -he is not an adjunct, but an essence; and now she alone was around them, -to fill them with sublime awe, and the softest tenderness. In Richard's -eyes, the kingdom of his inheritance dwindled into a mere speck; the -land of her nativity became but a name to Katherine. It sufficed for -their two full hearts that they were together on the dark wide sea; the -bright sky above, and calm upon the bosom of the deep. They could ill -discern each other in the shadowy twilight; a dream-like veil was cast -over their features, as sleep curtains out the soul, so that we look on -the beloved slumberer, and say, "He is there, though the mystery of -repose wraps me from him;" so now darkness blinded and divided them: but -hand clasped hand; he felt that one existed who was his own, his -faithful; and she rejoiced in the accomplishment of the master-sentiment -of her soul, the desire of self-devotion, self-annihilation, for one who -loved her. The passion that warmed their hearts had no fears, no tumult, -no doubt. One to the other they sufficed; and, but that the trance is -fleeting, Happiness, the lost child of the world, would have found here -her home; for when love, which is the necessity of affectionate hearts, -and the sense of duty, which is the mystery and the law of our souls, -blend into one feeling, Paradise has little to promise save immortality. -</p> - -<p> -For many days this state of forgetful ecstasy lasted. Plantagenet and -Neville spoke of wars in England; Lord Barry and Keating of their Irish -schemes—the prince listened and replied; but his soul was far -away—Oh, that for ever they might sail thus on the pathless, -shoreless sea!—Nothing mean or trivial or ignoble could visit -them; no hate, no care, no fear—this might not be, but to have -felt, to have lived thus for a few short days, suffices to separate -mortal man from the groveling part of his nature—no disgrace, no -despair can so bring him back to the low-minded world, as to destroy the -sense of having once so existed. And Richard, marked for misery and -defeat, acknowledged that power which sentiment possesses to exalt -us—to convince us that our minds, endowed with a soaring, restless -aspiration, can find no repose on earth except in love. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h4><a id="chap39"></a></h4> - -<h4>CHAPTER XXXIX -<br /><br /> -SIEGE OF WATERFORD</h4> - - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">"Now for our Irish wars!"</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i20">SHAKSPEARE.</span> -</div></div></div> - -<p> -Again the duke of York approached the rocky entrance of the Cove of -Cork, again he passed through the narrow passage, which opening, -displayed a lovely sheet of tranquil water, decked with islands. The -arrival of his fleet in the harbour was hailed with joy. Old John -O'Water had returned to his civic labours, and had contrived to get -himself chosen mayor for this year, that he might be of greater -assistance to the White Rose in his enterprise. -</p> - -<p> -As soon as the arrival of his ships off the coast was known, O'Water -despatched messengers to the earl of Desmond, and busied himself to -give splendour to Richard's entrance into Cork. Tapestry and -gay-coloured silks were hung from the windows; the street was strewn -with flowers—citizens and soldiers intermixed crowded to the -landing-place. York's heart palpitated with joy. It was not that thence -he much hoped for success to his adventure, which required more than the -enthusiasm of the remote inhabitants of the south of Ireland to achieve -it: but Cork was a sort of home to him; here he had found safety when he -landed, barely escaped from Trangmar's machinations—here he first -assumed his rightful name and title—here, a mere boy, ardent, -credulous, and bold—he had seen strangers adopt his badge and avouch -his cause. Five years had elapsed since then—the acclaim of a few -kind voices, the display of zeal, could no longer influence his hopes as -then they had done, but they gladdened his heart, and took from it that -painful feeling which we all too often experience—that we are cast -away on the inhospitable earth, useless and neglected. -</p> - -<p> -He was glad also in the very first spot of his claimed dominions whereon -he set foot, to see the Lady Katherine received with the honours due to -her rank. Her beauty and affability won the hearts of all around, and -O'Water, with the tenderness that an old man is so apt to feel towards a -young and lovely woman, extended to her a paternal affection, the -simplicity and warmth of which touched her, thrown as she was among -strangers, with gratitude. -</p> - -<p> -Lord Desmond arrived—he was struck by the improvement in York's -manner, still ingenuous and open-hearted: he was more dignified, more -confident in himself than before—the husband of Katherine also -acquired consideration; as an adventurous boy, he might be used -according to the commodity of the hour—now he had place—station -in the world, and Desmond paid him greater deference, almost unawares. -</p> - -<p> -But the earl was sorely disappointed; "Reverend Father," said he to -Keating, "what aid does Scotland promise? Will they draw Tudor with his -archers and harquebusiers, and well-horsed knights, to the north, -giving our Irish kern some chance of safe landing in the west?" -</p> - -<p> -"Peace is concluded between Scotland and England," replied Keating. -</p> - -<p> -Desmond looked moody. "How thrives the White Rose over the water? How -sped the duke, when he entered England? Some aid somewhere we must have, -besides yonder knot of wanderers, and our own hungry, naked kerns." -</p> - -<p> -"By my fay!" replied Keating, "every budding blossom on the Rose-bush -was nipped, as by a north-east wind. When Duke Richard sowed his hopes -there, like the dragon's teeth of Dan Cadmus, they turned into so many -armed men to attack him." -</p> - -<p> -"Sooth, good prior," said the earl, with a sharp laugh, "we shall speed -well thereby: would you a re-acting of the gleeful mime at Stowe?" -</p> - -<p> -"Wherefore," said Keating, "fix your thoughts on England? The dark sea -rolls between us, and even the giants of old broke their causeway, which -in the north 'tis said they built, ere it laid its long arm on the -English shore. The name of Ireland reads as fair as England; its sons -are as brave and politic, able to defend, to rule themselves: blot -England from the world, and Ireland stands free and glorious, sufficing -to herself. This springal, valorous though he be, can never upset -Tudor's throne in London; but he can do more for us by his very -impotence. He is the true lord of Ireland: we are liegemen in -maintaining his right. Plant his banner, rally round it all men who wish -well to their country; drive out the good man Poynings; crush the -Butlers—aye, down with them; and when Richard is crowned King of -Erin, and the Geraldines rule under him, our native land will stand singly, -nor want England for a crutch—or, by'r Lady! for a spear to enter her -heart, while she leaneth on it; so the wars of York and Lancaster may -free us from the proud, imperious English; and the Irish, like the -Scotch, have a king and a state of their own." -</p> - -<p> -Desmond's eyes flashed for a moment, as Keating thus presented before -them the picture he most desired to behold; but they grew cold again. -"The means, reverend prior, the arms, the money, the soldiers?" -</p> - -<p> -"A bold stroke brings all: strike one blow, and Ireland is at our feet. -We must not tarry; now the Butlers and their party are asleep in their -security; gather men together; march forward boldly; strike at the -highest, Dublin herself." -</p> - -<p> -"Father," replied the earl, "long before I were half way there, my -litter would be abandoned even by its bearers, and we left alone among -the bogs and mountains, to feed as we may, or die. If there be any sooth -in your scheme, it can only prove good, inasmuch as we secure Connaught -to ourselves, and turn this corner of the island into a kingdom; but -neither one word, nor one blow, will gain Dublin. You are right so -far,—something must be done, and speedily; and, if it be well done, -we may do more, till by the aid of the blessed St. Patrick and -white-tooth'd Bridget! we tread upon the necks of the Butlers." -</p> - -<p> -This one thing to be undertaken, after much consultation among the -chieftains, was the siege of Waterford: it had been summoned to -acknowledge Duke Richard as its lord, and had refused: Keating was very -averse to spending time before a fortified town. "On, on, <i>boutez en -avant</i>!" He reminded Lord Barry of his device, and strove to awaken -ambition in him. The prior of Kilmainham had spent all his life in -Dublin, a chief member of the government, a seditious, factious but -influential man: the capital to him was all that was worth having, -while, to these lords of Munster, the smallest victory over their -particular rivals, or the gaining a chief city in a district, which was -their world, appeared more glorious than entering London itself -victoriously, if meanwhile Waterford, or any one of the many towns of -Ireland, held out against them. -</p> - -<p> -On the fifteenth of July, 1497, the duke of York, the earl of Desmond, -and the other many chief of many names, some Geraldines, all allied to, -or subject to them, as the O'Briens, the Roches, the Macarthys, the -Barrys, and others, assembled at Youghall, a town subject to the earl of -Desmond, and situated about midway between Cork and Waterford, at the -mouth of the river Blackwater. -</p> - -<p> -On the twenty-second of July the army was in movement, and entered the -county of Waterford; the chiefs, at the head of their respective -followers, proceeded to the shrine of St. Declan at Ardmore, to make -their vows for the success of their expedition. The church at Ardmore, -the round tower, the shrine, and healing-rock, were all objects of -peculiar sanctity. The countess of Desmond, and her young son, and the -fair duchess of York, accompanied this procession from Youghall. After -the celebration of mass, the illustrious throng congregated on the rocky -eminence, on which the mysterious tower is built, overlooking the little -bay, where the calm waters broke gently on the pebbly beach. It was a -beauteous summer-day; the noon-day heat was tempered by the sea breeze, -and relieved by the regular plash of the billows, as they spent -themselves on the shore. A kind of silence—such silence as there can -be among a multitude, such a silence as is preserved when the winds sing -among the pines—possessed the crowd: they stood in security, in -peace, surrounded by such objects as excited piety and awe; and yet the -hopes of the warrior, and, if such a word may be used, a warrior's fears, -possessed them; it was such a pause as the mountain-goat makes ere he -commits himself to the precipice. A moment afterwards all was in motion; -to the sound of warlike instruments the troops wound up the Ardmore -mountains, looking down on the little fleet that stemmed its slow way -towards the harbour of Waterford. The ladies were left alone with few -attendants. The young duchess gazed on that band of departing warriors, -whose sole standard was the spotless rose; they were soon lost in the -foldings of the hills; again they emerged; her straining eye caught -them. That little speck upon the mountain-side contained the sole hope -and joy of her life, exposed to danger for the sake of a little good; -for Katherine, accustomed to the sight of armies, and to the -companionship of chiefs and rulers, detected at once the small chance -there was, that these men could bring to terms a strongly fortified -city; but resignation supplied the place of hope; she believed that -Richard would be spared; and, but for his own sake, she cared little -whether a remote home in Ireland, or a palace in England received them. -She looked again on the mountain path; no smallest moving object gave -sign of life; the sunlight slept upon the heathy uplands; the grey rocks -stood in shadowy grandeur; Katherine sighed and turned again to the -chapel, to offer still more fervent prayers, that on this beauteous -earth, beneath this bright genial heaven, she might not be left -desolate: whatever else her fortune, that Richard might be hers. -</p> - -<p> -The army which the earl of Desmond led against Waterford, did not -consist of more than two thousand men. With these he invested the -western division of the city. Richard, with his peculiar troop, took his -position at the extremity of this line, nearest Passage, close to -Lumbard's Marsh, there to protect the disembarkment of troops from the -fleet. -</p> - -<p> -Neither party failed in zeal or activity. The first days were actively -employed in erecting works and bringing the cannon to play upon the -town. On the third, in the very midst of their labours, while the earl -in his litter was carried close under the walls among the pioneers, and -Lord Barry in his eagerness seized a spade and began to work, signals of -attack were made from the town, and the troops poured out from the -nearest gate. The advanced guard were too few to contend with them; they -were driven back on the entrenchments. The citizens were full of fury -and indignation; they rushed forward with loud cries, and created a -confusion, which Desmond and Lord Barry were not slow to encounter; they -brought a few regular troops to stand the assault; a well pointed cannon -from the town swept the thin lines; they fell back; a yell of victory -was raised by the men of Waterford; it reached the outpost of Duke -Richard: he, with a score of men, five among them, with himself, being -cavaliers armed at all points, were viewing a portion of the walls that -seemed most open to assault; the roar of cannon and the clash of arms -called him to more perilous occupation; he galloped towards the scene of -action; and, while still the faltering men of Desmond were ashamed to -fly, yet dared not stand, he, with his little troop, attacked the enemy -on their flank. The white steed, the nodding plume, the flashing sword -of York were foremost in the fray; Neville and Plantagenet were close -behind; these knights in their iron armour seemed to the -half-disciplined Irish like invulnerable statues, machines to offend, -impregnable to offence; twenty such might have turned the fortunes of a -more desperate day: their antagonists fell back. The knight of Kerry led -on at this moment a reinforcement of Geraldines, and a cannon, which -hitherto had been rebel to the cannoneer's art, opened its fiery mouth -with such loud injurious speech, that for many moments the dread line it -traced remained a blank. Richard saw the post of advantage, and -endeavoured to throw himself between the enemy and the city: he did not -succeed; but, on the contrary, was nearly cut off himself by a -reinforcement of townsmen, sent to secure the retreat of their fellows. -Those who saw him fight that day spoke of him as a wonder: the heart -that had animated him in Andalusia was awake; as there he smote to death -the turbaned Moor, so now he dealt mortal blows on all around, fearless -of the pressing throng and still increasing numbers. While thus hurried -away by martial enthusiasm, the sound of a distant trumpet caught his ear, -and the echo of fire-arms followed; it came from the east—his own -post was attacked: now, when he wished to retreat, he first discerned -how alone and how surrounded he was; yet, looking on his foes he saw, -but for their numbers, how despicable they were; to a knight, what was -this throng of half-armed burghers and naked kerns, who pell-mell aimed -at him, every blow ineffectual? But again the loud bellow of distant -cannon called him, and he turned to retreat—a cloud of missiles -rattled against him; his shield was struck through; the bullets -rebounded from his case of iron, while his sword felled an enemy at -every stroke; and now, breaking through the opposing rank on the other -side, his friends joined him—the citizens recoiled. "Old Reginald's -tower," they averred, "would have bled sooner than these Sir -Tristans—they were charmed men, and lead and good arrowheads were -softer than paper-pellets on their sides." The first movement of panic -was enough; before their leaders could rally them again to the attack, -the English knights were far, riding at full speed towards the eastern -gate. -</p> - -<p> -Here Richard's presence was enough to restore victory to his -standard—flushed, panting, yet firm in his seat, his hand true and -dangerous in its blows, there was something superhuman in his strength -and courage, yet more fearful than his sharp sword. The excess of -chivalrous ardour, the burning desire to mingle in the thickest fight, -made danger happiness, and all the terrible shows of war entrancing joys -to York. When reproached for rashness by his cousin, his bright eye was -brighter for a tear, as he cried, "Cousin, I must have some part of my -inheritance: my kingdom I shall never gain—glory—a deathless -name—oh, must not these belong to him who possesses Katherine? The -proud Scots, who looked askance at my nuptials, shall avow at least that -she wedded no craven-hearted loon." -</p> - -<p> -With the morrow came a new task. Their little fleet had made its way up -Waterford Harbour into the river Suir; and the troops destined to join -his were partly disembarked. To protect the landing, he and Neville rode -across the marsh to the strand. On their return a fresh sight presented -itself—the ponds of Kilbarry were filled, the besieged having raised -a mound of earth to stop the course of the river which flows from Kilbarry -into the Suir; and the road back to their camp was completely cut off. -There was no mode of getting round save by the road to Tramore; yet to -the active mind of Richard, it seemed that even this disaster might be -turned into a benefit. He re-embarked the troops; he himself went on -board the principal vessel; he called to secret council the -captains:—the conclusion was not immediately divulged, but some -adventure of peril was assuredly planned among them. -</p> - -<p> -The long summer day went slowly down; the hum of men from Waterford -reached the ships; the quay was thronged with soldiers: several vessels -were anchored in the advance, and manned with troops; but the English -fleet, their anchors cast, their sails furled, seemed peacefully -inclined. As night came on, the quay became a desert; the ships were -worked back to their former stations. It grew darker; the city, with its -old rough tower and spires, was mirrored indistinctly in the twilight -tide; the walls grew dim and gigantic; the sound of fire-arms ceased; -the last roll of the drum died away; the city slept, fearless of its -invaders. At this moment, the ebbing tide began to flow. Assisted by the -rising waters, Richard and Neville ran a small boat under the cover of -the opposite bank of the river, to observe what defences the quay might -possess. The low tide at that hour was its best defence; a watch-tower -or two with their sentinels, completed the guard of a part of the town, -whose defence on that side was neglected; by midnight also the tide -would have risen, but it was necessary to wait for the following night; -for first he must communicate with Desmond, that a night attack in the -opposite direction might effectually leave the water-side deserted. The -vessels meanwhile dropped down below Little Island, at once to get out -of shot of Reginald's Tower, which commands the harbour, and to remove -from the citizens any apprehensions they might entertain of attack. The -winding of the river concealed them entirely from the town. -</p> - -<p> -The next day, a burning August day, declined into a dewy night; -imperceptibly during the dark the vessels were nearer the city; and -while the warders of the city fancied that the troops on board the fleet -were finding a circuitous path over land to Desmond's camp, the stars of -night twinkled through the shrouds upon decks crowded with men, arming -themselves in busy silence. Suddenly it was reported to Richard that a -stranger caravel was among them; she was the only vessel with set sails, -and these were enlarged by night, till as she neared, she seemed a -giant, a living thing stalking between heaven and the element beneath. A -sudden shiver convulsed the prince; to his eye it was the likeness of -that vessel which long ere this had traversed, he hoped in safety, the -western sea, stemming its mountainous waves towards the beauteous Indian -Isles. Had it been wrecked, and this the spectre? It was the illusion of -a moment; but it was necessary to ascertain the nature and intentions of -the stranger, who was now close among them. York's vessel, at his -command, got alongside of her; he leapt upon the deck, and saw at once -him whom the dim night had concealed before, Hernan de Faro upon the -deck. -</p> - -<p> -A thousand emotions—wonder, fear, delight—rushed into the -youth's heart; while the mariner, yet more weather-beaten, thin to -emaciation, but still erect, still breathing the same spirit of -fortitude and kindliness, grasped his hand, and blessed the Virgin for -the meeting. The questions, the anxiety of Richard, could not be uttered -in this hour of action; he only said, "You will join us, and we will be -doubly strong; or must you remain to guard your daughter?" -</p> - -<p> -"I come from her—she is not with me—more of this anon." -</p> - -<p> -Rapidly he asked and obtained information of the meditated attack; in -part he disapproved, and, with all the sagacity of a veteran in such -enterprises, suggested alterations. Now every boat was lowered with -silent expedition, each received its freight of troops, and was rowed -with the tide up the Suir. One skiff contained York and the Moor. The -prince, in the anticipation of the hazardous contest, looked serious; -while every feature of De Faro's face was bright, his animated, glad -smile, his flashing eyes—all spoke the exhilaration of one engaged in -his elected pleasure. Richard had never seen him thus before: usually he -appeared kind, almost deferential; yet, except when he talked of the -sea, heavy and silent, and speaking of that in a subdued tone. He now -stood the picture of a veteran hero, self-possessed and calm, but for -the joyousness that the very feeling of his sword's weight, as his right -hand grasped the hilt, imparted to his warlike spirit. -</p> - -<p> -Had an angel, on poised wings of heavenly grain, hovered over the city -of Waterford, gazing on its star-pointing spires, the reflecting waters -of the Suir, the tranquil hills and woods that gathered round the river, -he would have believed such quiet inviolate, and blessed the sleep that -hushed the miserable passions of humanity to repose. Anon there came the -splash of waters, the shout of men, the sentinels' startled cry, the -sudden rush of the guard, the clash of swords, the scream, the low -groan, the protracted howl, and the fierce bark of the watch-dog joining -in. The celestial angel has soared to heaven, scared; and yet honour, -magnanimity, devotion, filled the hearts of those who thus turned to -hell a seeming paradise. Led by Richard and De Faro, while a party was -left behind to insure retreat, another rushed forward right through the -town, to throw open the western gate, and admit Desmond, before the -terrified citizens had exchanged their nightcaps for helmets; in vain: -already the market-place was filled with soldiers ready for the -encounter; guided by a native, they endeavoured to find a way through -the bye-streets; they lost themselves; they got entangled in narrow -alleys; the awakened citizens cast upon their heads tiles, blocks of -wood,—all they could lay hands upon. To get back to the square was -their only salvation; although the storm and yell that rose behind, -assured them that Desmond had commenced the attack. With diminished -numbers York regained the market-place; here he was furiously attacked: -the crowd still increased, until the knot of assailants might have been -crushed, it seemed, by mere numbers; day, bright day, with its golden -clouds and swift-pacing sun, dawned upon the scene. In one of those -pauses which sometimes occur in the most chaotic roar, a trumpet was -heard, sounding as it seemed Desmond's retreat from the walls. Richard -felt that he was deserted, that all hope was over; and to secure the -retreat of his men was a work of sufficient difficulty. Foot to foot the -young hero and the veteran mariner fought; one by the quickness of his -blows, the other by his tower-like strength, keeping back the enemy; -while retreating slowly, their faces to the foe, they called on their -men to make good their escape. They reached the quay—they saw the -wide river, their refuge; their vessels near at hand, the boats hovering -close, their safety was in sight, and yet hope of safety died in their -hearts, so many and so fierce were those who pressed on them, Richard -was wounded, weary, faint; De Faro alone—Reginald's old tower, which, -dark and scathless, frowned on them, seemed his type. They were at the -water's edge, and the high tide kissed with its waves the very footway -of the quay: "Courage, my lord,—a few more blows and we are safe:" -the mariner spoke thus, for he saw Richard totter; and his arm, raised -feebly, fell again without a stroke. At that moment, a flame, and then a -bellowing roar, announced that the tardy cannoneer had at last opened -his battery on the fleet, from the tower. One glance De Faro cast on his -caravel; the bolt had struck and damaged one of the vessels, but the -Adalid escaped, "Courage, my lord!" again he shouted; and at that moment -a blow was struck at Richard which felled him; he lay stretched at De -Faro's feet. Ere it could be repeated, the head of the assailant was -cleft by a Moorish scimitar. With furious strength, De Faro then hurled -his weapon among the soldiers; the unexpected act made them recoil; he -lifted up the insensible form of Richard with the power of an elephant; -he cast him into the near waves, and leapt in after: raising him with -one hand, he cut the waters with the other, and swam thus towards his -vessel, pursued by a rain of missiles; one arrow glanced on Richard's -unstrung helmet, another fixed itself in the joint at the neck; but De -Faro was unhurt. He passed, swimming thus, the nearest vessels: the -sailors crowded to the sides, imploring him to enter: as if it had been -schoolboy's sport, he refused, till he reached the Adalid, till his own -men raised Richard, revived now, but feeble, to her worn deck: and he, -on board her well-known planks, felt superior to every sovereign in the -world. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h4><a id="chap40"></a></h4> - -<h4>CHAPTER XL -<br /><br /> -AN ESCAPE</h4> - - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Farewell, Erin! farewell all</span><br /> -<span class="i0">Who live to weep our fall!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i20">MOORE.</span> -</div></div></div> - -<p> -On the height of the tower of Ardmore, the White Rose of young Richard -kept her vigils, and looked across the calm sea, and along the passes of -the mountains of Drum, in anxious expectation of the event of the -expedition. Sad forebodings oppressed her; the sentiment that mastered -every other, was that her lord should require her presence, her -assistance, while she was far. He had promised to send a post each day; -when these failed, her heart sank within her. The only change that -occurred, was when she saw the Adalid proceed slowly in the calm towards -Waterford. -</p> - -<p> -One sunny morn she from her watch-tower perceived several straggling -groups descending the mountains. She strained her eyes: no banners -waved; no martial music spoke of victory. That was secondary in her -eyes; it was for Richard's safety that she was solicitous; yet she would -not, did not fear; for there is an instinctive sense in human nature -which, in time of doubt, sallies forth from the ark of refuge, and -brings back tidings of peace or sorrow to the expectant on the perilous -flood; a prophetic spirit which, when it despairs—woe the -while!—the omen proves not false. The Lady Katherine watched -anxiously but not in despair. At length heavy footsteps ascended the -tower-stairs; and to answer the beatings of her heart, Edmund -Plantagenet and the mayor of Cork presented themselves; they eagerly -asked, "Is he not here?" -</p> - -<p> -"Nay, he has not fled?" she replied, while for the first time she grew -pale. -</p> - -<p> -"Weigh our words as mere air," said O'Water; "for we know nothing, -gentle dame, but that I must to Cork, to bar out the men of Waterford. -His highness left us for the fleet; and the filling up of those cursed -ponds of Kilbarry—ill luck to them!—cut off his return. Last -night—Saint Patrick knows the deeds of the last night!—weary -from our labour the day before, we were all too carelessly asleep, when -our camp was assaulted. Earl Maurice had ridden to Lismore to hasten his -cousin, the Knight of the Valley. There was some report of an attack -upon the town from the ships. Havoc was the cry that roused the welkin -from east to west. The sum I know not, save that we are runaways—the -siege of Waterford is raised." -</p> - -<p> -"What skiff is that?" interrupted the duchess. Round the point of -Minehead first peeped the bowsprit, then the prow; and last the complete -form of a vessel in full sail, yet scarcely touched by the wind, -weathered the promontory. "Haste we, my friends," she continued; "the -duke may be on board; at least we shall have intelligence." -</p> - -<p> -"I know that craft full well," said O'Water; "her captain is a converted -Moorish pagan." -</p> - -<p> -"The White Rose waves from her mast-top," cried Katherine; "oh, he is -there!" -</p> - -<p> -"Holy angels!" exclaimed Edmund; "it is the Adalid! I will on board on -the instant." -</p> - -<p> -Already the duchess was descending the steep narrow stairs; the -villagers of Ardmore, with many of the soldiers who had fled from -Waterford, were on the shingles, watching the caravel, now full in -sight, yet fearful to venture too near the shelving shore. "They are -bound for Cork," cried a man. -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, not till I first speak to them," said Katherine; "the day is fair, -the sea calm, put off a boat. Ah, my cousin Edmund, take me with thee." -</p> - -<p> -Plantagenet had already got a boat from its moorings. O'Water was beside -the princess to beseech vainly that she would be patient; and poor -Astley, who had been left in special attendance on her, waited near with -blanched cheeks. Accompanied by these dear or humble friends, the White -Rose was borne with the speed of ten oars towards the Adalid. On the -deck, half reclining on a rude bed, very pale, yet with lively, wakeful -eyes, lay the prince of England. In a moment Katherine was assisted on -board. There was no death for Richard; she was there, life of his life; -so young, so beautiful, and true; the celestial goodness that beamed in -her eyes, and dimpled her cherub countenance, was not like that of an -inhalant of this sad planet; except that spirits of beauty and love ever -and anon <i>do</i> animate the frames of the earth-born; so that we behold -in the aspects of our fellow-beings glances and smiles bright as those of -angels. De Faro himself looked with admiration on the bending form of -this lovely one, till accosted by Edmund, whose first question was, "Don -Hernan here—where then is——" -</p> - -<p> -"My beloved Monina you would ask for," said De Faro; "she, who to please -her vagrant father would have crossed the wild Atlantic to visit the -savage Western Isles. Poor child, even at the threshold of this -adventure we were nearly wrecked. She is now in England; she sent me -here—to tell of rebellion against King Henry; to invite Duke Richard -to his kingdom." -</p> - -<p> -Thus they were occupied on the sunny deck; the sea was calm, the keel -almost stationary in the water; they were bound for Cork; Plantagenet -and the mayor gathered eagerly from De Faro the history of the combat. -They learned that it had been expected that Desmond would have assaulted -from land, while York invaded the city from the river; but the fellow -sent with Richard's missive had been taken, the city put on her guard. -Nothing but the desire of the citizens to do too much, and his own -desperate valour, had saved Richard; they resolved at once to receive -and destroy him, and to sally unawares on the earl's camp: they hoped to -make prisoners of all the chiefs. They failed in this, but succeeded in -raising the siege of their city. -</p> - -<p> -Towards evening a land-breeze sprung up, and two others of York's -vessels hove in sight, and passed them quickly; for the Adalid was much -disabled, and made slow way. Soon in pursuit appeared a ship and two -corvettes, which O'Water recognized as belonging to Waterford. The -corvettes proceeded on their way; but the larger vessel spied out the -Adalid, and, being now in advance of her, hove to, with the manifest -resolve of attacking her on her watery way towards Cork. De Faro, with -his keen eyes fixed on the enemy's movements, stood on the forecastle in -silence; while Plantagenet and O'Water eagerly demanded arms, and -exhorted the sailors to a most vain resistance. From the vessel of the -foe the Moorish mariner cast his eyes upwards; the wind was shifting to -the west. With a loud voice he shouted to his crew to man the yards; -then, seizing the rudder, gave the swift orders that made the caravel go -about. Sailing near the wind, her canvass had flapped lazily, now it -filled; the keel felt the impulse, and dashed merrily along, bounding -forward like a courser in the race; the ship, which had furled its sails -in expectation of the combat, was in an instant left far behind; the -other vessels from Waterford were still further to the west, towards -Cork. -</p> - -<p> -All these manœuvres were mysteries to the landsmen: they gladly hailed -the distance placed between them and a superior enemy; but as with a -freshening gale the Adalid still held her swift course towards the east, -and the land began to sink on the horizon, O'Water asked with some -eagerness whither they were bound. -</p> - -<p> -"To safety," De Faro replied, laconically. -</p> - -<p> -"An idle answer," said Edmund; "we must judge where our safety lies?" -</p> - -<p> -"I have ever found best safety on the wide ocean sea," cried the -mariner, looking round proudly on his beloved clement. "Your safeties -and your lords are, methinks, English born; if this wind hold, on the -third morning we shall see the coast of Cornwall." -</p> - -<p> -The mayor was aghast, exclaiming—"Cornwall! England! we are -betrayed?" -</p> - -<p> -De Faro looked on him with contempt:—"I do not command here," he -continued, "I obey the prince of England; let him decide. Shall we -engage superior force; be boarded; taken by the enemy: or land, be -wrecked, perchance, upon this savage coast; alive with vengeful -kerns—defeated men among a victorious angry people? Or go where we -are called by your leader's cause, where thousands of men are up in arms to -receive you like brothers, to fight for you, with you; where England, -the long-desired kingdom, makes you welcome to her green, sunny shores? -Ask ye your prince this question; let his word be law." -</p> - -<p> -This statement, upheld by York, brought conviction to the minds of -Plantagenet and O'Water. The latter was aware of the risk he ran from -the awakened vengeance of Henry, to pursue his having fostered rebellion -in the city of which he was magistrate; and a moment's reflection showed -him that there was no security for him, except in flight from Ireland. -Meanwhile the wind, increasing in its strength, and right astern, -carried them over the foaming waters. The early dawn showed them far at -sea: they had outrun or baffled their pursuers; and though, now and -then, with anxious thought, they reflected on the comrades left behind, -on the poor equipage, and diminished numbers with which they were about -to land in England, still there was something so miraculous in their -escape, so unforeseen in the destiny that cut them off, and carried -them, a remnant merely of the war, away from its dangers, that they felt -as if they were under the immediate direction of a ruling Providence, -and so resigned themselves; greedily drinking in the while the highly -coloured picture De Faro painted of the Yorkist army which awaited them -in Cornwall. -</p> - -<p> -Again upon the sea—again impelled by winds and waves to new -scenes—new hopes, tossed here and there by Fortune, it was Richard's -fate to see one frustrated expectation give place to another, which, in -its turn, faded and died. This constant succession of projects kept -alive within him that sanguine spirit which never could be vanquished. -Eagerly he passed from one idea to another, and almost welcomed the last -disaster, which appeared but to pioneer the way to future success. -During this voyage, weak as his wounds had made him, he talked of -England as his own—the dearer because he must spend his blood to win -it. Circumstances had an exactly contrary effect upon Katherine. The -continual change of schemes convinced her of the futility of all. She -felt that, if the first appearance of the duke of York, acknowledged and -upheld by various sovereigns and dear high-born relatives, had not -animated the party of the White Hose in his favour, it was not now, -after many defeats and humiliations on his side, and after triumphs and -arrogant assumptions on that of his enemy, that brilliant success could -be expected. This conviction must soon become general among the -Yorkists, Richard would learn the sad lesson, but she was there to -deprive it of its sting; to prove to him, that tranquillity and -Katherine were of more worth than struggles, even if they proved -successful, for vain power. -</p> - -<p> -It was strange that a girl of royal birth, bred in a palace, accustomed -to a queen-like sovereignty over her father's numerous vassals in the -Highlands, should aim at restricting the ambitious York to mere privacy; -while Monina, the humble daughter of a Moorish mariner, would have felt -honour, reputation, all that is dear to man, at stake, if her friend had -dreamed of renouncing his claims to the English crown. His cause was her -life; his royalty the main spring of all her actions and thoughts. She -had sacrificed love to it—she taught her woman's soul to rejoice in -his marriage with another, because his union with a princess was pledge -to the world of his truth. Perhaps, had the time ever come when he -renounced his struggles, she had felt with a pang that his lowly -fortunes might not incongruously be shared by her, and self had mingled -in the religion of her heart, which was virtuous devotion to him; but as -it was, the idea never presented itself. He must win or die. Did he win, -her happiness would result from the contemplation of his glory; were he -to die, the young hero's grave would not be watered by her tears: she -believed that in that hour her life would cease. -</p> - -<p> -The Lady Katherine saw a vain mask in all the common-place pomp of -palaces; she perceived that power failed most when its end was good; she -saw that in accomplishing its purpose in the cottage, or in halls of -state, felicity resulted from the affections only. It was but being an -actor in different scenes, to be a potentate or a peasant; the outward -garb is not the livery of the mind: the refinement of taste which -enables us to gather pleasure from simple objects; the warmth of heart -which necessitates the exercise of our affections, but which is content -when they are satisfied; these, to her mind, were the only, but they -were the complete ingredients of happiness; and it was rarer to find and -more difficult to retain them, among false-hearted, ambitious courtiers, -and the luxury of palaces, than among simple-minded peasantry and a -plain natural style of living. There was some romance in this idea; -Katherine felt that there was, and subdued herself not to lay too much -store by any change or guise of outward circumstance. She taught herself -to feel and know, that in the tumult of camps and war, in the anxieties -of her present vagrant life, on the throne which she might possess, or -in the prison she might share, by devoting herself to the happiness of -him to whom she was united, whose heroism, goodness and love merited all -her affection, she was performing the part assigned to her on earth, and -securing a portion of happiness, far beyond the common lot of those -whose colder, harder natures require something beyond sympathy to -constitute their misnamed felicity. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h4><a id="chap41"></a></h4> - -<h4>CHAPTER XLI -<br /><br /> -ARRIVAL IN ENGLAND</h4> - - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">From Ireland thus comes York to claim his right.</span><br /> -<span class="i0">If I am not ashamed of my soldiers, I am a soused gurnet.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i20">SHAKSPEARE.</span> -</div></div></div> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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." -</p> - -<p> -"Alas! no," said Edmund, "we bring merely ourselves." -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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." -</p> - -<p> -"And fight for him, even to the rending of our own," cried Skelton. -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"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?" -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -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." -</p> - -<p> -"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." -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h4><a id="chap42"></a></h4> - -<h4>CHAPTER XLII -<br /><br /> -RECEPTION IN CORNWALL</h4> - -<blockquote><p> -SKELTON. 'Tis but going to sea, and, leaping ashore, cut ten or twelve -thousand unnecessary throats, fire seven or eight towns, take half a -dozen cities, get into the market-place, crown him. Richard the Fourth, -and the business is finished.</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 60%;">FORD.</p> -</blockquote> - - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i18">Am I not king?</span><br /> -<span class="i0">Awake, thou coward majesty! thou sleepest.</span><br /> -<span class="i0">Is not the king's name forty thousand names?</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i20">SHAKSPEARE.</span> -</div></div></div> - -<p> -These doughty leaders drew out their followers in a plain just without -Bodmin. There were about two hundred men decently clad from the remnants -of the mercer's wares, tolerably well armed and disciplined by Trereife; -this troop obtained the distinction of being selected as King Richard's -body-guard. Skelton was their captain, a rare commander, whose real -merit was that he felt happiest when stuck close as a burr to Trereife; -for at heart he was an arrant coward, though a loud braggart, and talked -of slaying his thousands, while the very wounding of his doublet had -made him wince. -</p> - -<p> -Heron was brave in his way; a true Cornishman, he could wrestle and cast -his antagonist with the strength of a lion; he loved better, it is true, -to trust to his arm than to his sword, which, in spite of his strength, -Trereife always made fly from his hand in their fencing lessons; not the -less did he consider himself a gallant knight, and had cut up many a -yard of crimson cramoisy to make a rich suit for himself. He wore -Monina's glove in his cap and large yellow roses at his knees; he called -himself generalissimo, and marshalled under him full three thousand men, -who in truth had -</p> - -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i8">Never set a squadron in the field</span><br /> -<span class="i2">Nor the division of a battle knew</span><br /> -<span class="i2">More than a spinster;</span> -</div></div> - -<p> -but they were sturdy discontented spirits, who valued life at its worth, -which was even nothing to them, who had laboured with all their hearts, -till labour was of no avail, and who then left the mine and the furrow -to carry their loud complaints to the foot of Henry's throne—they -were better pleased with the prospect of overthrowing it. -</p> - -<p> -"Now, my masters, make yourselves heard," cried Heron, as he shuffled -down a little eminence on a short-legged Welsh pony, the only steed he -found he could back in safety. "His grace is within ear-shot, so you be -loud. Long life to King Richard!—down with the taxes—Saint -Michael and Cornwall for ever!" -</p> - -<p> -The din was prolonged, ended, began, went on, as the prince arrived at the -summit of the hill with his little train—fair Katherine was at his -side—Plantagenet, O'Water, De Faro, with some dozen soldiers who fled -from Waterford; sure never invader came so ill equipped. On the hill-top -the illustrious wanderers paused, Richard hastily scanned the -rough-suited multitude—then, turning to Plantagenet, "Cousin," he -said, "you told me that the insurgent army would be drawn out for my -view; is it not strange that yonder rabble should hide it from us? As -far as my eye can reach, I see no martial discipline, no banners, no -lordly crest; fie on those drums! they have no touch of military -concord. What makes our army so slack of duty, cousin?" -</p> - -<p> -Though no fault of his, Edmund blushed deeply in very shame—the -approach of Heron, Skelton, Trereife, and three or four other principal -rebels, cut off his reply. It had been agreed that Skelton, who had a -gift of eloquence, should speak, and many words he used to welcome his -liege. "We will have every man with a red rose in his cap, in a drag -chain, please your grace, and give a sound lesson to the saucy burghers -of Exeter withal. Not a knight shall live in the land, but of your -majesty's dubbing. We have but to put to rout King Henry's army, to hang -the false loon for a traitor, and to set fire to London and the -Parliament. Such nobles as please to doff their silken cloaks, and don -miners' jackets, may work, the rest shall hang. Their mere wardrobes, -bless the day! will find us and your grace in cloth of gold, embroidery, -and other rich garniture to the end of our lives." -</p> - -<p> -"We thank your zeal, my worthy master," said Richard, courteously; "if -our good troops do half your saying, King Henry must look to it." -</p> - -<p> -"Are those men to be worse than their word?" cried Skelton. "There is -not one among us but has the arms of ten. We are of a race of giants, -please your majesty, and could knock the walls of Exeter down with, our -fists. Please you to enter Bodmin, whose very stones will cry for King -Richard louder than King Hal's cannon;—to-morrow, God willing, we are -for the wars." -</p> - -<p> -The royal party passed on—the dark ferocity or sturdy obstinacy -painted on the faces of the ill-armed rout, struck Richard as he -passed—he became meditative, while Edmund, shamed and angry, his -cheeks burning, his eyes on the ground, listened in indignant silence to -Master Skelton, who fastened on him with such talk, that whether a -soldier spoke of killing doublets, or a tailor prattled of fashioning a -field of slaughter, was a riddle ill to be devised. At length they -passed the gates of Bodmin; and here was a louder cry of welcome from -the shrill voices of women, who held up their thin hands and -half-starved children, crying for vengeance on Tudor, blessing the sweet -faces of Richard and his lovely wife. York's eyes flashed again with -their wonted fires; his creative spirit had found materials here to work -some project, all poor and rude as they might seem. -</p> - -<p> -They entered the town-hall; when, by some sudden revulsion, in the tide -of the crowd, every Cornishman fell back, closed the doors, and left the -wanderers alone. Something was forgotten surely; for Heron had paced -pompously up to Richard, when suddenly he turned on his heel, crying, "A -word, my masters!" and all were gone. The Lady Katherine had marked -their backing and hurrying with becoming gravity; but, when the door was -fairly shut, she could restrain no longer a heartfelt laugh. Richard -joined in her mirth, while Plantagenet strode through the hall angrily; -muttering, "an army, a rout of shirtless beggars; is this England's -reception for her king?" -</p> - -<p> -"It were fine mumming," said Richard, "under a hedge with the green -sward for a stage." -</p> - -<p> -"By our Lady, this passes patience!" reiterated Edmund; "where are the -gentlemen of England? Where the sons of those who fell for York? Are we -to oppose these half-naked knaves to the chivalry of Henry?" -</p> - -<p> -"It would seem that such is expected," replied the prince; "and, verily, -cousin, we might do worse. I pray you, treat the honest rogues well; -better may come of it; keep we our secret, and have we not an array?" -</p> - -<p> -"My lord!" cried Plantagenet, in wonder. -</p> - -<p> -"Patience, dear friend," said York; "I have not been apprentice to -adversity so many long years, without becoming an adept in my calling. I -say, I have an army; bold, though poor—ragged truly, but exceeding -faithful. Methinks it were more glorious to put Tudor down with such -small means, than to meet him in equal terms, like a vulgar conqueror. I -do beseech you, Edmund, put a good face on it; speak to our Cornish -giants, as if they had souls of mettle, and bodies decked like Ponce de -Leon and his peers, when they welcomed Queen Isabel to the Spanish camp. -You remember the golden array of the knights, cousin?" -</p> - -<p> -Edmund was impatient of the prince's gay humour; while Katherine, seeing -in his bright eyes heroism and lofty resolve, felt a dewy moisture -gather in her own: there is something at once awful and affecting, when -a man, the sport of fortune, meets her rudest blow unshrinking, and -turns her very spite into arms against herself. The whole secret of -Richard's present thoughts she could not divine, but she saw that their -scope was worthy of his birth, his aim: her respect—her love -augmented; and her gentle heart at that moment renewed its vow to devote -herself to him entirely and for ever. -</p> - -<p> -In the same spirit, York answered the deputation that waited on him. He -commanded a proclamation to be made, in which he assumed the title of -Richard the Fourth. He announced his intention of immediately -penetrating England, and seizing on some walled town or city, before -Henry could be aware of his having landed. Nor did he confine his energy -to words; he examined the state of his men; their arms and furniture; he -provided for their better discipline, and animated his cousin to take an -active part in marshalling them to order. He went among them, learned -the causes of their dissatisfaction, promised them better days, and so -raised a glad spirit in them, that their hearts, overleaping both time -and circumstance, paid him the honour and the love he might have -claimed, had he already led them through fertile England, and planted -his victorious standard on the Tower of London. Trereife swore by his -beard, he was a proper youth; the old soldier awoke to the remembrance -of harvests of spoil he had gathered in the Netherlands, the stern -encounters and the joys of success; he gazed on the rough Cornish men, -and wondered how they should withstand the nobility of England: but, -when Richard glanced hope and triumph from his bright eyes, when he -spoke of the omnipotence of resolved valour, when he drew a picture of -their ghastly poverty, and showed them how, by standing firm merely, -they might redeem themselves;—while the poor fellows answered with a -prolonged shout, or better still, grasped their arms more fiercely, and -trod the earth with free and decided steps;—a thousand facilities -seemed to be discovered; a thousand resources for the war displayed, -undreamt of before. Were these mere words? or at his voice did soldiers -rise from the clods, and victory obey the sound? -</p> - -<p> -Plantagenet, seeing his royal cousin's resolve, strove to second it. -With a party of men he assaulted a near fortress, carried it, and seized -on a store of arms. This success looked like a mighty victory; Richard -exalted it as such; and the very fellows who handled awkwardly their -booty, fancied themselves heroes at the mere sight of it. -</p> - -<p> -On the third day they were to proceed to Exeter, it being determined -that they should besiege this city. De Faro offered to sail to Cork to -invite the warlike chieftains of Munster to come over with their power; -and at least himself to bring back in the Adalid, Neville, and the rest -of the English exiles. While Edmund, who looked glad at the thought, -counselled that they should entrench themselves in this corner of -England, which was so entirely devoted to them, till these forces were -added to their number, and till by discipline, they should have made -regular troops of the rabble, by courtesy ycleped an army. -</p> - -<p> -"Wherefore, cousin," asked Richard, "do you desire others to share in -our disasters?" -</p> - -<p> -"My lord!" cried Edmund, astounded. -</p> - -<p> -"I have but one wish," continued the prince, "that you and my good -O'Water were even now in Ireland; so that I might stand the brunt of -this war alone. You look amazed. Yet it were more amazing if I expected -to do battle against the Veres, the Howards, the Berkeleys, the -Courtneys, and ten thousand other names of high renown, backed by their -train of martial adherents, with ragged regiments like those we are -about to lead to the field;—even though the kerns of Ireland made -their number double, and the Geraldines, Barry and Neville added by -their nobleness dignity to our victor's conquest. Remember Stoke, my -cousin Edmund; you may well remember it. Remember my honoured kinsman -the earl of Lincoln and my lamented Lovel. Ah! that I did not now peril -your life, then spared!" -</p> - -<p> -"Yet, if your grace fight at all," said O'Water, bluntly; "methinks we -were not the worse for being better appointed for the fray. For victims, -even those poor honest varlets are too many." -</p> - -<p> -"That one other life should be wasted for me," replied Richard, -fervently, "is my saddest thought. I fear it must be so; some few lives, -each as dear to him that spends it, as is the life-blood to our own -hearts, I can say no more. I have a secret purpose, I confess, in all I -do. To accomplish it—and I do believe it to be a just one—I -must strike one blow; nor fail. Tudor is yet unprepared; Exeter vacant of -garrison; with stout hearts for the work, I trust to be able to seize -that city. There the wars of York shall end. So far I confide in your -discretions, that you may not deem me mad. More is the single property -of my own soul. Will you help me so far, dear friends—so far hazard -life—not to conquer a kingdom for Richard, but to redeem his honour?" -</p> - -<p> -The warm-hearted, grey-headed Irish O'Water, with gushing eyes, swore to -adhere to him the last. -</p> - -<p> -Edmund replied, "I am but a bit of thee; deal with me as with thyself; -and I know thou wilt be no niggard in giving me away to danger." -</p> - -<p> -De Faro cried, "I am a sailor, and know better how to face death on the -waves than victory on shore; but, Santiago! may our blessed Lady herself -look shy on me at the great day, if the mariner of the wreck prove false -to your grace." -</p> - -<p> -"Now then to our work," cried York, "to speak fair to my faithful -fellows and their braggart leaders. They at least shall be winners in -our game; for my hand is on my prize; a spirit has whispered success to -me; my hope and its consummation are married even at their birth." -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h4><a id="chap43"></a></h4> - -<h4>CHAPTER XLIII -<br /><br /> -MISGIVINGS</h4> - - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i8">Dost thou hear, lady?</span><br /> -<span class="i0">If from the field I shall return once more</span><br /> -<span class="i0">To kiss these lips, I will appear in blood;</span><br /> -<span class="i0">I and my sword will earn our chronicle;</span><br /> -<span class="i0">There is hope in it yet.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i20">SHAKSPEARE.</span> -</div></div></div> - -<p> -Richard was obliged to plead his cause yet once again. Katherine had -watched all his movements; she had eyed curiously the army he mustered -to the field: she talked to its leaders, and while they vaunted her -affability, she was diving with earnest mind, into the truth of things. -No fear that it could be hid from her; love for Richard was the bright -light that dispelled every deceptive shadow from the scene. She saw the -bare reality; some three thousand poor peasants and mechanics, whose -swords were more apt to cut themselves than strike the enemy, were -arrayed against the whole power and majesty of England. On the morrow -they were to set forward. That night, while at the casement of his rude -chamber, Richard gazed upon the congregated stars, trying to decipher in -their intricate bright tracery the sure omen of the good he was told -they charactered for him, Katherine, after a moment's hesitation, with a -quivering voice, and hand that shook as it pressed his, knelt on a -cushion at his feet, saying, "My sweet Richard, hear me; hear your -faithful friend—your true wife; call not my councils weak and -feminine, but weigh them sagely ere you resolve. May I speak?" -</p> - -<p> -"Lady of my heart, arise," said Richard; "I speak, my soft-voiced -Katherine—my White Rose of beauty—fair flower, crowning York's -withered tree. Has not God done all in giving you to me? yet we must -part, love, for a while. Your soldier is for the wars, Kate, while you -sit in your bower, weaving victorious garlands for his return." -</p> - -<p> -"My ever dear lord," said Katherine, "I speak with fear, because I feel -that I shall not address myself to your concealed thought. I do not wish -to penetrate your secrets, and yet I tremble at their event. You have -not so far deceived yourself as to imagine, that with these unfortunate -men you can ride over the pride and the power of this island; did I see -on what else you founded the lofty hope, that has, since we came here, -beamed in your eyes, I would resign myself to your better wisdom. But, -wherever I turn my view, there is a blank. You do not dream of conquest, -though you feel secure of victory. What can this mean, save that you see -glory in death?" -</p> - -<p> -"You are too quick-sighted, sweet Kate," said Richard, "and see beyond -the mark. I do not set my cast upon falling in this fray; though it may -well happen that I should: but I have another aim." -</p> - -<p> -"Without guessing at what that may be," replied the lady, "since you -seem desirous to withhold the knowledge, permit me to present another -object to your choice; decide between them, and I submit: but do not -carelessly turn from mine. There is all to lose, nought to win, in what -you now do. Death may blot the future page, so that we read neither -disgrace nor prison in its sad lines; but wherefore risk to die. While -yet, dear love, we are young, life has a thousand charms, and one may be -the miserable survivor, whose heart now bleeds at the mere surmise." -</p> - -<p> -She faltered; he kissed her soft cheek, and pressed her to his heart. -"Why may we not—why should we not live?" continued Katherine; -"what is there in the name or state of king that should so take captive -our thoughts, that we can imagine no life but on a throne? Believe me, -careful nights and thorny days are the portion of a monarch: he is -lifted to that awful height only to view more clearly destruction -beneath; around, fear, hate, disloyalty, all yelling at him. The cold, -heartless Tudor may well desire the prize, for he has nothing save the -gilt crown to ennoble him; nothing but the supple knees of courtiers to -present to him the show of love. But—ah! could I put fire -into my weak words—my heart's zeal into my supplicatory -voice—persuasion would attend upon me, and you would feel that to -the young, to two united as we are, our best kingdom is each other's -hearts; our dearest power that which each, without let or envy, -exercises over the other. Though our palace-roof be the rafters of a -lowly cot, our state, the dear affection we bear each other, our -attendants the duty and observance of one to the other—I, so -served by King Edward's son—you, by the rightful queen of this -fair island—were better waited on than Henry and Elizabeth, by -their less noble servitors. I almost think that, with words like these, -I might draw you from the uneasy throne to the downy paradise of love; -and can I not from this hard struggle, while death yet guards the -palace-gate, and you will be pierced through and through long ere you -can enter." -</p> - -<p> -"Thus, my gentle love," said Richard, "you would have me renounce my -birth and name; you desire that we become the scorn of the world, and -would be content that, so dishonoured, the braggart impostor, and his -dame Katherine, should spend their shameful days in an ignominious -sloth, misnamed tranquillity. I am a king, lady, though no holy oil nor -jewelled crown has touched this head; and such I must prove myself." -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, doubt it not," she replied, "it is proved by your own speech and -your own nobleness; my heart approves you such; the whole earth, till -its latest day, will avouch that the lord of Katherine is no deceiver; -but my words avail not with you." -</p> - -<p> -"They do avail, my best, my angel girl, to show me that the world's -treasure is mere dross compared with thee: one only thing I prize, not -as thy equal, but as that without which, I were a casket not even worthy -to encase this jewel of the earth—my honour! A word taught me by -my victim brother, by my noble cousin Lincoln, by the generous -Plantagenet; I learnt its meaning among a race of heroes—the -Christian cavaliers—the Moorish chivalry of Spain; dear is it to -me, since without it I would not partake your home of love—a home, -more glorious and more blessed than the throne of the universe. It is -for that I now fight, Katherine, not for a kingdom; which, as thy royal -cousin truly said, never will be mine. If I fall, that cousin, the -great, the munificent James, will be your refuge." -</p> - -<p> -"Never," interrupted the lady. "Scotland I shall never see again; never -show myself a queen and no queen, the mock of their rude speech; never -put myself into my dear, but ambitious father's hands, to be bartered -away to another than my Richard; rather with your aunt of Burgundy, -rather in Tudor's own court, with your fair sister. Holy angels! of what -do I speak? how frightfully distinct has the bereft world spread itself -out as my widowed abode!" -</p> - -<p> -A gush of tears closed her speech. "Think of brighter days, my love," -said Richard, "they will be ours. You spoke erewhile of the difficulty -of giving true imagery to the living thought; thus, I know not how to -shape an appropriate garb (to use a trope of my friend Skelton) for my -inmost thoughts. I feel sure of success. I feel, that in giving up every -prospect of acquiring my birthright, I make the due oblation to Fortune, -and that she will bestow the rest—that rest is to rescue my name from -the foul slur Henry has cast on it; to establish myself as myself in the -eyes of England; and then to solicit your patience in our -calamity—your truth and love as the only sceptre and globe this hand -will ever grasp. In my own Spain, among the orange and myrtle groves, -the flowery plains and sun-lit hills of Andalusia, we will live -unambitious, yet more fortunate than crowned emperors." -</p> - -<p> -With such words and promises he soothed her fears; to the word honour -she had no reply. Yet it was a mere word here; in this case, a barren -word, on which her life and happiness were to be wrecked. -</p> - -<p> -The prince and Monina had met with undisguised delight. No Clifford -would now dare traduce her; she need not banish herself from countries -where his name enriched the speech of all men; nor even from that which, -invited by her, he had come to conquer. He was glad to be able to extend -his zealous fraternal protection over her, to feel that he might guard -her through life, despite of the fortune that divided them. He obtained -for her the Lady Katherine's regard, which she sought opportunities to -demonstrate, while they were avoided by Monina, who honoured and loved -her as Richard's wife and dearest friend, yet made occasion to absent -herself from both. Nothing beautiful could be so unlike as these two -fair ones. Katherine was the incarnate image of loveliness, such as it -might have been conceived by an angelic nature; noble, soft, equable -from her tender care not to displease others; in spite of the ills of -fate, gay, because self-satisfied and resigned; the bright side of -things was that which she contemplated: the bright and the -tranquil—although the hazards run by him she loved, at this period -informed her thoughts with terror. Monina—no, there was no evil in -Monina; if too much self-devotion, too passionate an attachment to one -dear idea, too enthusiastic an adoration of one exalted being, could be -called aught but virtue. The full orbs of her dark eyes, once flashing -bright, were now more serious, more melancholy; her very smile would -make you weep; her vivacity, all concentred in one object, forgot to -spend itself on trifles; yet, while the princess wept that Richard -should encounter fruitless danger for a mistaken aim, gladness sat on -Monina's brow: "He goes to conquer; God will give victory to the right: -as a warrior he treads his native land; as a monarch he will rule over -her. The very name of king he bears will shame the lukewarm English; -they will gather round the apparent sun, now that he shows himself -unclouded, leaving the false light, Tudor, to flicker into its native -nothingness." -</p> - -<p> -"Monina," said the prince, "you in the wide world can bestow richest -largess on the beggar. King Richard." She looked on him in wonder. "I go -to conquer or to die: this, lovely one, is no new language for you; a -warrior's friend must hear such words unflinching. I die without a fear -if you take one charge upon you." Her beaming, expressive eyes replied -to him. He continued: "The Adalid and safety are images most firmly -united in my mind; if I cannot find security on board of her myself, let -those dear to me inherit my possession there. The hardest thought that I -bear with me, is that my fair queen should become captive to my -base-minded foe. May I not trust that if I fall, the Adalid will be her -home and refuge to convey her to her native country, or any whither she -may direct? I intrust this charge to you, my sister, my far more than -sister, my own kind Monina. You will forget yourself in that fateful -hour, to fulfil my latest wish?" -</p> - -<p> -"My prince," she replied, "your words were cruel, did I not know that -you speak in over-care, and not from the impulse of your heart. In the -same spirit, I promise that your desire shall be accomplished: if you -fall, my father will protect—die for my lady the queen. But why speak -these ill-omened words? You will succeed; you will hasten the lagging -hand of Fate, and dethrone one never born to reign, to bestow on England -its rightful king. The stars promise this in their resplendent, -unfailing scrowl—the time-worn student in his lore has proclaimed -it—the sacred name of monarch which you bear is the pledge and -assurance of predestined victory." -</p> - -<p> -"And you, meanwhile, will stay, and assure Katherine's destiny?" -</p> - -<p> -"My dear lord, I have a task to accomplish. If I leave her grace, it is -because all spirits of good and power watch over her, and my weak -support is needed elsewhere. I am bound for London." -</p> - -<p> -They parted thus. The temerity of their designs sometimes inspired them -with awe; but more usually animated them to loftier hopes. When the -thickening shadows of "coming events" clouded their spirits, they took -refuge in the sun-bright imaginations which painted to each the -accomplishment of their several hopes. Monina felt assured that the hour -of victory was at hand. Richard looked forward to a mortal struggle, to -be crowned with success: a few short weeks or briefer days would close -the long account: his word redeemed, his honour avenged, he looked forward -to his dear reward: not a sceptre—that was a plaything fit for -Henry's hand; but to a life of peace and love; a very eternity of sober, -waking bliss, to be passed with her he idolized, in the sunny clime of -his regretted Spain. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h4><a id="chap44"></a></h4> - -<h4>CHAPTER XLIV -<br /><br /> -A CHALLENGE</h4> - - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i9">Oh, that stern, unbending man!</span><br /> -<span class="i4">In this unhappy marriage what have I</span><br /> -<span class="i4">Not suffered—not endured!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i20">SCHILLER'S WALLENSTEIN.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more,</span><br /> -<span class="i0">Or close the wall up with our English dead!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i20">SHAKSPEARE.</span> -</div></div></div> - -<p> -The lapse of years had confirmed Henry on his throne. He was -extortionate and severe, it is true; and thus revolts had been frequent -during the earlier portion of his reign; but they took their rise in a -class which, even in modern days, it is difficult to keep within the -boundaries of law. The peasantry, scattered and dependent on the nobles, -were tranquil: but artificers, such as the miners of Cornwall, who met -in numbers, and could ask each other, "Why, while there is plenty in the -land, should we and our children starve? Why pay our hard earnings into -the regal coffers?" and, still increasing in boldness, demand at last, -"Why should these men govern us?" -</p> - -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">"We are many—they are few!"</span> -</div></div> - -<p> -Thus sedition sprung from despair, and assumed arms; to which Henry had -many engines to oppose, bulwarks of his power. A commercial spirit had -sprung up during his reign, partly arising from the progress of -civilization, and partly from so large a portion of the ancient nobility -having perished in the civil wars. The spirit of chivalry, which -isolates men, had given place to that of trade, which unites them in -bodies. -</p> - -<p> -Among these the White Rose of England had not a single partizan—the -nobles who once had upheld the house of York were few; they had for the -last eight years been intent upon restoring their fortunes, and were -wholly disinclined to the endangering them afresh for a stranger youth. -When Fitzwater, Stanley, and their numerous fellow-conspirators and -fellow-victims, sided with the duke of York, nearly all England -entertained a timid belief in his identity with lung Edward's lost -son—but those times were changed. Many were glad to soothe their -consciences by declaring him an impostor; many so desired to curry -favour with Henry; a still greater number either feared to say their -thought, or were averse to disturb the tranquillity of their country by -a contest which could benefit one man alone, and which must entail on -them another war like that so lately ended. Abroad, in France, Burgundy, -and Scotland, the prince might be discountenanced from political -motives; but he was treated with respect, and spoken of as being the man -he named himself: in England it was otherwise—contempt followed hard -upon fear, giving birth to derision, the best weapon against the -unhappy, which Henry well knew how to wield. He had two motives in -this—one was, that by affixing disgrace and scorn to his adversary, -he took away the glitter of his cause, and deterred the young and ambitious -from any desire to share in his obloquy. The other was a feeling -deeper-rooted in his mind—an intense hatred of the house of -York—an exultation in its overthrow and disgrace—a gloating -over every circumstance that blotted it with ignominy. If Richard had -really been an impostor, Henry had not used half the pains to stigmatize -him as low-born—to blast his pride with nicknames, nor have looked -forward with the joy he now did, to having him in his power—to the -degradation—the mortal stain of infamy he intended to taint him with -for ever. -</p> - -<p> -Secure in power—fearless of the result, Henry heard with unfeigned -joy that his young rival had landed in England, and was advancing into the -interior of the island, at the head of the Cornish insurgents. He -himself announced the rising to his nobles. Laughing, he said, "I have -tidings for you, gentlemen, a flight of wild geese clad in eagles' -feathers, are ready to pounce upon us. Even now they hover over our good -city of Exeter, frighting the honest burghers with their dissonance." -</p> - -<p> -"Blackheath will witness another victory," said Lord Oxford. -</p> - -<p> -"And my kitchen receive a new scullion," replied the king; "since -Lambert Simnel became falconer, our roast meat thinks itself dishonoured -at not being spitted by a pretender to my crown; for no Audley heads -these fellows, but the king of Rakehells himself, the most noble Perkin, -who, to grace the more the unwashed rogues, calls himself Richard the -Fourth for the nonce. I have fair hope to see his majesty this bout, if -he whiz not away in a fog, or sink underground like Lord Lovel, to the -disappointment of all merry fellows who love new masks and gaudy -mumming." -</p> - -<p> -"Please your majesty," said the young Lord William Courtney, "it is for -the honour of our house that not a stone of Exeter be harmed. With your -good leave, my father and myself will gather in haste what force we may: -if fortune aid us, we may present your grace with your new servitor." -</p> - -<p> -"Be it so, my lord," replied the king, "and use good despatch. We -ourselves will not tarry: so that, with less harm to all, we may tread -out these hasty lighted embers. Above all, let not Duke Perkin escape; -it is my dearest wish that he partake our hospitality." -</p> - -<p> -"Yes," so ran Henry's private thoughts; "he must be mine, mine alive, -mine to deal with as I list." With even more care than he put in the -mustering his army, he ordered that the whole of the southern sea-coast -of England should be guarded; every paltry fishing village had its -garrison, which permitted no boat to put off to sea, nor any to land, -without the strictest investigation; not content with this, he committed -it to the care of his baser favourites to forge some plot which might -betray his enemy without a blow into his hands. -</p> - -<p> -"Give me your benison, good Bess," said the monarch, with unwonted -gaiety of manner; "with daylight I depart on the ungentle errand of -encountering your brother Perkin." -</p> - -<p> -Elizabeth, not less timid than she had ever been, was alarmed by his -show of mirth, and by this appellation bestowed on one she knew to be so -near of kin. That very morning she had seen Monina—the enthusiastic -Monina, who, confiding in her royal friend's success, visited London to -watch over the fate of Elizabeth and her children. The queen smiled at -her offers of service; she felt that no such army could endanger Henry's -reign; but she feared for Richard, for her ill-fated brother, who had -now entered the net, for whom she felt assured there was no escape. -Trembling at her own boldness, she answered the king, "Whoever he may -be, you will not destroy him in cold blood?" -</p> - -<p> -"You would have me spare the impostor?" asked Henry. "Spare him who -claims your son's throne? By Our Lady of Walsingham, the maternal -virtues of the daughter of York deserve high praise." -</p> - -<p> -Elizabeth, dreading more to offend, horror-struck at the idea that her -husband should shed her brother's blood, burst into tears. "Silly girl," -said Henry, "I am not angry; nay, more, I grant your prayer. Perkin, if -not slain by a chance blow, shall live. My word is passed, trust to it; -I neither inquire nor care whether he be the godson or the base brat of -the libertine Edward. In either case, my revenge stoops not so low as -his paltry life: does this content you?" -</p> - -<p> -"May the saints bless your grace," said Elizabeth, "you have eased my -every fear." -</p> - -<p> -"Remember then that you prove no ingrate," continued the king, "no dupe -of report, no traducer of your children's birth. Betray no interest in -the knave's downfall, save as he is my enemy. If you display any emotion -that awakens a doubt that this canker rose be aught in your eyes except a -base pretender—if you mark any feeling but stern contempt for one so -vile—tremble. My vengeance will fall on him; and his blood be on your -head." -</p> - -<p> -"Magnanimous prince!" thought Elizabeth, in bitter scorn, when he had -left her: "this is your mercy. You fear! My poor Richard—your sister, -a monarch's daughter, is finely taught by this earl's son. But you will -live; then let him do his worst: the queen of England is not quite a -slave; if Henry can bind, Elizabeth may loose; and the duke of York -laugh in another land at the malice of his enemy." -</p> - -<p> -We return to this prince, whose lofty spirit was sustained by an aim, an -object dearer than a kingdom in his eyes. He arrived before Exeter at -the head of seven thousand men. All the discontented in Cornwall and -Devonshire joined him. Some of these were younger brothers; some -men-at-arms who repined at peace; chiefly they were needy, oppressed -men, roused by a sense of wrong, as destitute, but not so hardy as the -kerns of Ireland. Still they were many, they were valiant; Exeter was -ungarrisoned, unprepared for defence, and there was a possibility that -by sudden assault, he might possess himself of the town. With this -intent he did not allow his troops time to repose, but at once set on -for the attack, endeavouring to scale the lofty walls; unaided by any -fitting machinery, scarcely possessed of a single scaling ladder, he was -driven back with loss. Foiled, but not vanquished, for his heart was set -upon this prize, for three days, though unpossessed of artillery or any -warlike engine, he exerted his utmost force to win the city; he -contrived rude machinery to cast stones, he planted the ladders himself, -he multiplied himself to appear everywhere, flattering, encouraging, -leading his troops again and again to the assault. When they found the -walls impregnable, he made an attempt on the gates; with fascines and -hewed trees he set one of them on fire; his men shouted as they heard -the stout oak crackle, and saw it split and crumble, offering a large -opening; but the citizens, made desperate, fearful of the ravages this -untamed multitude might commit, were true to themselves; they resisted -fire by fire, keeping up a fierce blaze within, till with piles of brick -and rubbish they had blocked the passage. Richard saw his last hope -fail. "This is not the work of the burghers," he cried, "a soldier's -skill is here." -</p> - -<p> -"True as my old yard measure!" cried Heron. "It was but last night that -my cousin, the earl of Devon, clambered into the city; he came to the -northern wall, where Skelton keeps watch; when my valiant tailor heard -the noise, he ran to look for Master Trereife, who, poor fellow, lies -cold within the moat. The citizens heard and answered my cousin the -earl's call; but they were too frightened to let light through the -keyhole of a postern; and his lordship, God save him! was obliged to -climb the battlements." -</p> - -<p> -"Climb the battlements, noble captain?" said Richard; "that is, a ladder -was let down!" -</p> - -<p> -"It was a stone ladder he scaled, my liege," said Heron; "your grace may -walk up the same. It will scarce budge, seeing that it is the old part -of the wall itself." -</p> - -<p> -"Who knows more of this?" asked the prince. -</p> - -<p> -"I saw the whole," said Skelton; "That is the end. Master Trereife was -dead for the nonce, so I came back to lead my men to the fray. There was -the earl, perched like a crow, on the boughs of an old thorn-bush that -grows at the top of the wall. Surely he must have torn his cloak, for -the place is thick with all manner of weeds, and rough stones, and -brambles. But more than his broadcloth got a hole; for Clim of -Tregothius handled his bow, and let fly a cloth-yard shaft, which was -sticking in his shoulder as he got down the other side." -</p> - -<p> -While the tailor talked, Richard was proceeding hastily to the spot. It -looked tranquil. The old crumbling wall was green with rank grass and -tangled weeds. He drew nearer, and then a whole shower of arrows was -discharged against him. The earl had expected that his success would -excite their curiosity, and prepared for them, with not the less zeal on -account of his own wound. Richard escaped unhurt; but Edmund, who was -scantily armed, received an arrow in his side—he fell. That same hour -tidings came of the advance of King Henry at the head of a formidable -army. -</p> - -<p> -Plantagenet's wound was dressed; it showed signs of danger, and quite -disabled him. "My faithful fellows swear to preserve you in safety, -cousin," said Richard; "I must leave you." -</p> - -<p> -"Do you retreat?" asked Edmund. -</p> - -<p> -"No, by my soul! Truly, my hopes have somewhat quailed; yet it is but a -lucky blow, and I gain all. I leave you, my friend; but I will not leave -you in doubt and ignorance. Read this paper: it is to enforce its -contents—to oblige my haughty foe to lay aside his worst weapon, -detraction, that I, against all probability and wisdom, will urge my -cause to the last. My kingdom, it is his; my honour he must restore, and -I cry him quits. Now you have my secret. Pardon for my poor fellows; -pardon, and some alleviation of their cruel lot. For myself, as you will -find, I ask little, but I must show no fear, no retreating, to obtain -even that. I march forwards, then, towards Taunton: it is a less place -than Exeter. The smallest secure port gained, and Henry may grant my -boon." -</p> - -<p> -Plantagenet unfolded the paper, and read these words:— -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -"Richard, legitimate and true son of Edward the Fourth, king of England -and France, and lord of Ireland, to Henry, the reigning sovereign of -these realms. In my infancy I was made a prisoner by a usurping uncle, -escaping from his thrall by aid of the most noble earl of Lincoln. This -uncle, this usurper, you conquered, and seized upon his crown. You claim -the same by right of Bolingbroke, and strengthen your title through your -union with my sister, the Lady Elizabeth. I am poor, and an -outcast—you a king. God has destroyed my house, and I submit. But I -will not submit to the vile slander that takes from me my name, and -brands me a dishonoured man. -</p> - -<p> -"Henry of Richmond, I neither admit nor combat your claim to the crown. -Lancaster has many partisans, and the victory is yours. But as duke of -York, I challenge and defy you. I call on you, either by person or by -champion, to meet me in the lists, that I may defend my honour and -maintain the right. Let us spare the people's blood. In single combat -let my pretensions be set at issue; and my good sword shall cut to -pieces the wicked lies and base traditions you have calumniously and -falsely forged to my disgrace. -</p> - -<p> -"Body to body, I will meet you or your champion. Name the day, the hour, -and the place. With my lance and my sword, to the death I will maintain -my birth. If I fall, I ask that my wife, the Lady Katherine Gordon, be -permitted to return to her royal cousin, James of Scotland; that such of -my followers as desire it, may be allowed to go beyond seas; that those -of your subjects, who, goaded into rebellion by your exactions, have -taken up arms, receive free pardon and remission of their imposts. If I -conquer, I add but one other demand—that you confess to the wide -world how foully you have slandered me; revoke the lies you have published, -and acknowledge me to all men, the rightful duke of York. -</p> - -<p> -"If you deny my just demands, be the blood spilt in defence of my honour -on your head; England ravaged, your towns destroyed, your realm subject -to all the calamities of war; these evils rest with you. I will not -sheathe my sword, nor tread one backward step in my undertaking; but as -in the lists, so on the dread battle-field, meet your abettors, and -conquer or die in defence of my name. Expecting a fitting answer to this -just defiance, I bid you heartily farewell. -</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 60%;">"RICHARD.</p> - -<p> -"Written under the walls of Exeter, this twelfth day of September, in -the year of our Blessed Lord, 1497." -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -Plantagenet was deeply affected by his cousin's gallantry. He sighed, -saying, "Tudor has not, will not reply to your challenge?" -</p> - -<p> -"He has not, but he may," replied Richard. "I have, I know not why, a -firm belief that good will come from it. If not, in a few days all will -be over. In a very few days you can be conveyed to St. Michael's Mount, -where the queen now is. The Adalid hovers near. Save her, save yourself: -save one other, less helpful than my Katherine—be a brother to -Monina." -</p> - -<p> -Richard, erring in his mark, was animated by the most sanguine hopes, to -which he was seduced by a constant belief that his life was not near its -close, and therefore that his claims would be admitted: as otherwise he -had resolved to fall in the assertion of them. Leaving the sick couch of -his cousin, he prepared to advance to Taunton. A conversation meanwhile -which he dreamt not of, and would have scorned, had taken place in an -obscure and gloomy spot in London, fraught with fate to him. -</p> - -<p> -After the base desertion of his royal master, Frion had sailed to -England with the other hirelings of Henry; among these was -Clifford—Clifford, whose need and whose malice armed him against -York's life, but who tried to hide his shame under an assumed -appellation. There had always been a false fellowship and a real enmity -between Frion and the knight. On his first arrival in Brussels, the -secretary looked on him as an interloper; and Clifford, while he used -the other, tried to force him into his place as an underling, and to -blind him to his own designs. When he betrayed his party, spreading -death among the partizans of York, and annihilating the cause, Frion, -whose fortunes depended on its success, was unmeasured in his -expressions of indignation and contempt. They had worked in direct -opposition the year before in Kent: and, when Frion saw the hand of this -reprobated man uplifted in midnight assassination, he triumphed in the -lowness of his fall. Both were traitors now, both baffled: Frion looked -on Clifford as the worse villain; and Clifford writhed under the -familiar impertinence of a menial. They arrived in London; Sir Robert -was dismissed with barren thanks, Frion thrown into prison; how far the -knight's account gave intimation of the Frenchman's double-dealing, and -so brought this severity upon him was not known, but for three months -this mercurial spirit had languished in confinement. -</p> - -<p> -Addicted to scheming, he had now full leisure to spend his whole -thoughts that way; a single, simple plot was too plain for his -industrious soul; he wore a whole web of them so intricate, that he -sometimes lost the clue himself; not the less did he do his endeavour to -put them in action. He intended either to lose Richard or make him; -either to be the cause of his overthrowing Henry, or of being overthrown -by him; in either case, to reap favour and advantage from the triumphant -party. -</p> - -<p> -Sad as is ever a prison-house, it was worse in those days of -incivilization: this pen could ill describe the squalid figures and dire -visages that crowded its tumultuous court. Even here Frion reigned -umpire; but he broke from a knot of noisy squabblers, who held tattered -cards, and appealed to him on a question of fair-play, as he saw one -enter. Even he a wretch, yet many degrees better than the best of his -miserable companions; a scarlet suit, trimmed with gold lace, somewhat -tarnished, a cloak of ample folds, but threadbare, a dark plumed bonnet, -drawn over his brow, above all, a rapier at his side, distinguished him -from the prisoners. "This is kind, Sir Robert," said Frion in his -softest manner, "I half feared you were too proud or politic to visit a -disgraced man; for these last three days I have despaired of your -worship; by my fay! you are right welcome." -</p> - -<p> -Clifford cast a shuddering look around the walls; his eyes were hollow; -his cheek sunk; he was the mere shadow of bold Robert. "Few words are -best thanks, Master Stephen," he replied; "I am kind to you because the -dice are cruel to me; you promise largely, and my wants are no dwarfs. -What are your designs?" -</p> - -<p> -"This is no place for parley," said Frion; "follow me." He led the way -through several narrow passages to a miserable cell; straw was heaped in -one corner for a bed; the walls were dank and tattered; the floor broken -and filthy. "Welcome to my domicile, sir knight," said Frion: whether it -were compunction that he had brought him to this, or distrust that the -injury would be revenged, Clifford shrunk back and his lips grew livid. -"One would not live here from choice," said Frion, "I allow; yet do not -grudge me a few moments, it may stead us both." -</p> - -<p> -"To the point then," said the knight; "it is not the place, Master -Frion; but at the hour of noon—" -</p> - -<p> -"No excuses, you like the place as ill as I," said the Frenchman, with a -bland smile; "but you are more generous, for I would not dwell an -instant's space here of my own will to gain any man's salvation. Now, -what news from the west? Is it true that the duke of York is slain? or -Exeter taken? both reports are rife. Adam Wicherly and Mat Oldcraft made -their escape two days ago, to join the gallant. Mat was seized again, -and says that there were bonfires in Southwark for Richard the Fourth." -</p> - -<p> -Clifford, by a brief detail, answered, and then after some hesitation -said, "He is not so low but that the king desires him to be lower: he -who could bring him, bound hand and foot, to London, would be made a -man. Empson saw Garthe yesterday; and he, who calls me Wiatt, came post -to consult with me; but it were hazardous to attempt him; he is ten -thousand strong." -</p> - -<p> -"You know me, Sir Robert," said Frion; "there are few things I cannot -bring about, so that I have room to ruffle in. I have a plot, King -Richard is ours in three days, so one word be said; that word is liberty -to me. Take you the reward; I ask no further share in your gains than -free leave to set the channel between me and this dingy island." -</p> - -<p> -Each despising, each mistrusting the other, these men conspired for the -prince's fall: like "mousing owls" they hawked at an eagle with too true -an aim. York's thoughts were of honour; but through them they were to be -drugged with ignominy and despair. It is melancholy that circumstance -and fortune should have power to reach the very shrine of our dearest -thoughts; degrading them from their original brightness to a likeness of -the foul aspect of the outer world. Richard's free and noble spirit was -to become plastic to the touch of such men as the fallen Clifford and -crafty Frion. Men, whom he had cast from him as unworthy his regard, -could besiege the citadel of his hopes, and garrison it with disgrace; -forcing him to occupy himself with ideas as base as those which -possessed their own minds. It is the high heart's curse to be obliged to -expend its deep and sacred emotions in hatred of, or struggle with -things so mean, so very alien to its own aspiring nature. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h4><a id="chap45"></a></h4> - -<h4>CHAPTER XLV -<br /><br /> -ARRIVAL AT TAUNTON</h4> - - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ah! Richard, with the eyes of heavy mind,</span><br /> -<span class="i0">I see thy glory, like a shooting star,</span><br /> -<span class="i0">Fall to the base earth from the firmament.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i20">SHAKSPEARE.</span> -</div></div></div> - -<p> -Richard proceeded towards Taunton. Although this was in appearance an -advance, his ill success before Exeter, and report of the large force -already brought against them by Sir John Cheney, King Henry's -chamberlain, had so far discouraged his followers as to occasion the -desertion of many, so that of the seven thousand he had with him in -Devonshire, he retained but three on his arrival near Taunton. These -consisted of the original body of insurgents, Cornishmen, who had -proceeded too far to go back, and who, partly in affection for their -leader, partly from natural stubbornness, swore to die in the cause. -Poor fellows! rusty rapiers, and misshapen lances were their chief arms; -a few had bows; others slings; a still greater number their ponderous -tools, implements of labour and of peace, to be used now in slaughter. -Their very dress displayed at once their unmartial and poverty-stricken -state. In all these might be gathered a troop of three hundred foot, not -wholly destitute of arms and discipline. The horse were not less at -fault; yet among them there were about one hundred tolerably mounted, -the riders, indeed, but too frequently disgracing their steeds. -</p> - -<p> -It required all Richard's energy of purpose to hold him back from -despair. The bitter sense of degradation visited him in spite of every -effort. Had he ever made one of the chivalry of France and Burgundy? Had -he run a tilt with James of Scotland, or grasped in knightly brotherhood -the mailed hand of Sir Patrick Hamilton? And were these his comrades? -unwashed artificers; ragged and rude peasants; vulgar-tongued traders? -He felt "in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes;" and now to obtain -pardon for them, to send them back scathless to their own homes, was his -chief desire, even to the buying of their safety with his own downfall. -</p> - -<p> -After a two days' march he arrived near Taunton. On reconnoitring the -town, its position and weakness gave him hope that he might carry it, -even with his sorry soldiery. To check these thoughts, tidings came, -that Sir John Cheney was in close neighbourhood, and Henry himself -advancing with a chosen body of men. On the evening of their arrival -before the town, a detachment of the enemy entered it, cutting off the -last hope of Richard. -</p> - -<p> -The next morning it became evident that the crisis of his fortunes was -at hand. The whole country teemed with soldiery. As the troops poured -towards a common centre, the array and order of a battle-field became -apparent in their operations. A battle, between a very myriad of -golden-spurred knights, armed at all points, and the naked inhabitants -of Richard's camp! call it rather a harvest; there were the reapers, -here the bending corn. When in the north Richard wept over the -devastation of the land, he felt that a word of his could counteract the -harm—but now, his challenge had proved an airy -dagger—substance-less—his resolve to encounter his foe, -bringing the unarmed against these iron-suited warriors, grew in his -eyes into premeditated murder: his heart heaved in his overcharged -breast. To add bitterness to his thoughts there were his -companions—O'Water brave in despair; Astley pale with fear for his -lord; Heron foolish in his unmeaning boasting; Skelton trembling in -every joint, and talking incessantly, apparently to deafen himself to -"the small still voice" that whispered terror to his heart. -</p> - -<p> -Richard spent the day among his men. They were prepared to fight; if -needs must, to fall: protestations of sturdy devotion, the overflowing -of the rude, manly heart, always affecting, met him at every turn. He -was beloved, for he was generous and kind. Often he had exposed his -life, when before Exeter, to save some one among them: when dismayed, he -had cheered, when defeated, he had comforted them; nor did he leave the -body of the meanest camp-follower uninterred; for one of Richard's -characteristics was a quick sympathy with his species, and a reverence -for all that bore the shape of man. But, while these qualities rendered -him dear to all, they inspired him with a severe sense of his duties -towards others, and a quick insight into their feelings; thus increasing -to anguish the disquietude that agitated him. -</p> - -<p> -Towards evening he was alone in his tent. At first he was confused by -the various aspects, all terrible, that his fortunes assumed. By the -caprice of destiny, he, who was descended from a line of kings, who had -so long been the inhabitant of courts, a cavalier, honourable in his -degree, renowned for his prowess, had not one noble-born partizan near -him: not one of his ancient counsellors, to whom he had been used to -defer, remained; he was absolutely alone; the sense of right and justice -in his own heart was all he possessed, to be a beacon-light in this -awful hour, when thousands depended upon his word—yet had he the -power to save? -</p> - -<p> -An idea, dim at first as a star on the horizon's verge, struggling -through vapours, but growing each second brighter and clearer, dawned -upon his mind. All then was over! his prophetic soul had proved false in -its presumed foreknowledge; defeat, dishonour, disgrace tracked his -steps. To lead his troops forth, and then to redeem them at Henry's -hand, by the conditionless surrender of himself, was the thought, child -of despair and self-devotion, that, still struggling with the affections -and weaknesses of his nature, presented itself, not yet full fledged, -but about to become so. -</p> - -<p> -He had been several times interrupted during his meditations by the -arrival of scouts, with various reports of the situation and proceedings -of the enemy: Richard, better than these untaught recruits, knew the -meaning of the various operations. As if on a map, he saw the stationing -of a large and powerful army in expectation of battle; and was aware how -incapable he was to cope with their numbers and force. At last Astley -announced the arrival of two men: one was a Fleming, known to Richard as -one of Lalayne's men, but the fellow was stupidly drunk; the other was -an English peasant. "Please your worship," he said, "I am this man's -guide, and must act as his interpreter besides; nothing would serve the -spungy fellow but he must swallow ale at every tavern on the way." -</p> - -<p> -"Speak, then," said Richard; "what is the purport of his journey?" -</p> - -<p> -"Please you, sir, last night three hundred of them came right pop upon -us afore we were aware: sore afraid they made us with their tall -iron-shafted poles, steel caps, and short swords, calling each one for -bread and beer." -</p> - -<p> -"Do you mean," cried the prince, his eye brightening as he spoke, "that -three hundred men, soldiers, armed like yonder fellow, are landed in -England?" -</p> - -<p> -So the countryman averred; and that even now they were but at the -distance of twenty miles from Richard's encampment. They were still -advancing, when the report was spread that the prince's forces were -dispersed, himself taken prisoner. The rustic drew from the Fleming's -pocket a letter, in French, signed by Schwartz, a son of him who fell at -Stoke, a man in high favour with the Lady Margaret of Burgundy. It said -how he had been despatched by her grace to his succour; how intelligence -of the large army of Henry, and his defeat, had so terrified his men, -that they refused to proceed, nay, by the next morning would take their -way back to Poole, where they had landed, unless Richard himself came to -reassure them, and to lead them on. Every word of the letter lighted up -to forgotten joy young Richard's elastic spirit. With these men to aid -him, giving weight and respectability to his powers, he might hope to -enforce the conditions of his challenge. All must be decided on the -morrow; that very hour he would set forth, to return before morning -with these welcome succours. -</p> - -<p> -It was near midnight; his camp was still: the men, in expectation of the -morrow's struggle, had retired to repose; their leaders had orders to -visit their commander in his tent at the hour which now the empty -hour-glass told was come. Hastily, eagerly, Richard announced the -arrival of these German mercenaries; he directed them to accompany him, -that with some show of attendance he might present himself to Schwartz. -The camp was not to be disturbed; two or three men alone among them were -awakened, and ordered to keep guard—in five hours assuredly he must -return. In a brief space of time, the troop who were to accompany him, -Heron, Skelton, O'Water, and Astley, with some forty more, led their -horses to his tent in silence:—there were few lights through all the -camp; their honest hearts which beat within slept, while he was awake to -succour and save them. This was Richard's last thought, as, mounted on -his good steed, he led the way across the dim heath towards Yeovil. -</p> - -<p> -It was such a night as is frequent at the end of September; a warm but -furious west-wind tore along the sky, shaking the dark tresses of the -tress, and chasing the broad shadows of the clouds across the plains. -The moon, at the beginning of her third quarter, sped through the sky -with rapid silvery wings; now cutting the dark, sea-like ether; now -plunging deep amidst the clouds; now buried in utter darkness; anon -spreading a broad halo among the thinner woof of vapours. The guide was -at the prince's side; Heron, upon his short, sturdy pony, was just -behind; Skelton tried to get his tall mare to an even pace with -Richard's horse, but she fell back continually: the rushing, howling -wind and rustling trees drowned the clatter of the hoofs. They reached -the extreme edge of the common; Richard turned his head—the lights of -his little camp burnt dim in the moonshine, its poor apparel of tents -was lost in the distance: they entered a dark lane, and lost sight of -every trace of it; still they rode fleetly on. Night, and the obscure -shapes of night around—holy, blinding, all-seeing night! when we feel -the power of the Omnipotent as if immediately in contact with us; when -religion fills the soul, and our very fears are unearthly; when familiar -images assume an unknown power to thrill our hearts; and the winds and -trees and shapeless clouds have a voice not their own, to speak of all -that we dream or imagine beyond our actual life. Through embowered -lanes, whose darkness seemed thick and palpable—over open, moonshiny -fields, where the airy chase of clouds careered in dimmer shapes upon -the earth—Richard rode forward, fostering newly-awakened hope; glad -in the belief that while he saved all who depended on him, he would not -prove a mere victim led in tame submission, an unrighteous sacrifice to -the Evil Spirit of the World. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h4><a id="chap46"></a></h4> - -<h4>CHAPTER XLVI -<br /><br /> -A PRISONER</h4> - - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Art thou he, traitor! that with treason vile</span><br /> -<span class="i2">Hast slain my men in this unmanly manner,</span><br /> -<span class="i0">And now triumphest in the piteous spoil</span><br /> -<span class="i2">Of these poor folk; whose souls with black dishonour</span><br /> -<span class="i2">And foul defame do deck thy bloody banner?</span><br /> -<span class="i0">The meed whereof shall shortly be thy shame,</span><br /> -<span class="i2">And wretched end which still attendeth on her.</span><br /> -<span class="i0">With that himself to battle he did frame;</span><br /> -<span class="i0">So did his forty yeomen which there with him came.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i20">SPENSER.</span> -</div></div></div> - -<p> -Some miles to the east of Yeovil there was a deep stream, whose -precipitous banks were covered by a thick underwood that almost -concealed the turbid waters, which undermined and bared the twisted and -gnarled roots of the various overhanging trees or shrubs. The left side -of the stream was bounded by an abrupt hill, at the foot of which was a -narrow pathway; on the green acclivity flourished a beech grove, whose -roots were spread in many directions to catch the soil, while their -trunks, some almost horizontal, were all fantastically grown, and the -fairy tracery of the foliage shed such soft, mellowed, chequered light -as must incline the heart of the wanderer beneath the leafy bower to -delicious musings. -</p> - -<p> -Now the moon silvered the trees, and sometimes glimmered on the waters, -whose murmurs contended with the wind that sung among the boughs: and -was this all? A straggling moonbeam fell on something bright amid the -bushes, and a deep voice cried, "Jack of the Wynd, if thou can'st not -get to thicker cover, pluck darnels to cover that cursed steel cap of -thine." -</p> - -<p> -"Hush!" repeated another lower voice, "your bawling is worse than his -head-piece; you outroar the wind. How high the moon is, and our friends -not come;—he will be here before them." -</p> - -<p> -"Hark! a bell!" -</p> - -<p> -"Matins, by the Fiend! may <i>he</i> seize that double-tongued knave! I -much suspect Master Frion; I know him of old." -</p> - -<p> -"He cannot mar us now, though it be he who made this ambushment." -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, by your leave! he has the trick of it, and could spring a mine in -the broadest way; he can turn and twist, and show more faces than a die. -He this morn—I know the laugh—there is mischief in 't." -</p> - -<p> -"But, your worship, now, what can he do?" -</p> - -<p> -"Do! darken the moon; set these trees alive and dancing; do! so play the -Will o' the Wisp that the king shall be on Pendennis and the duke at -Greenwich, and each fancy he is within bow-shot of the other; do! ask -the devil what is in his compact, for he is but the Merry Andrew of -Doctor Frion. Hush!" -</p> - -<p> -"It is he," said the other speaker. -</p> - -<p> -A breathless pause ensued; the wind swept through the trees—another -sound—its monotonous recurrence showed that it was a dashing -waterfall—and yet again it grew louder. -</p> - -<p> -"It is he." -</p> - -<p> -"No, Gad's mercy, it comes westward—close, my merry fellows, close, -and mind the word! close, for we have but half our number, and yet he -may escape." -</p> - -<p> -Again the scene sank into silence and darkness: such silence as is -nature's own, whose voice is ever musical: such darkness as the -embowering trees and vast island-clouds made, dimming and drinking up -the radiance of the moon. -</p> - -<p> -The stillness was broken by the tramp of horses drawing near, men's -voices mingled with the clatter, and now several cavaliers entered the -defile; they rode in some disorder, and so straggling, that it was -probable that many of their party lagged far behind: the principal -horseman had reached midway the ravine, when suddenly a tree, with all -its growth of green and tangled boughs, fell right across the path; the -clatter of the fall deafened the screech which accompanied it, for one -rider was overthrown; it was succeeded by a flight of arrows from -concealed archers. "Ride for your lives," cried Richard: but his path -was crossed by six horsemen, while, starting from the coppice, a band of -near forty men engaged with the van of his troop, who tried to wheel -about: some escaped, most fell. With his sword drawn, the prince rushed -at his foremost enemy; it was a mortal struggle for life and liberty, -for hatred and revenge. Richard was the better swordsman, but his horse -was blown, and half sunk upon his haunches, when pressed closely by the -adversary. Richard saw his danger, and yet his advantage, for his foe, -over-eager to press him down, forgot the ward; he rose on his stirrups, -and grasped his sword with both hands, when a blow from behind, a -coward's blow, from a battle-axe, struck him; it was repeated, and he -fell lifeless on the earth. -</p> - -<p> -Sickness, and faintness, and throbbing pain were the first tokens of -life that visited his still failing sense; sight and the power of motion -seemed to have deserted him, but memory reviving told him that he was a -prisoner. Moments were stretched to ages while he strove to collect his -sensations; still it was night; the view of fields and uplands and of -the varied moon-lit sky grew upon his languid senses; he was still on -horseback, bound to the animal, and supported on either side by men. As -his movements communicated his returning strength, one of these fellows -rode to impart the tidings to their leader, while the other stayed to -guide his horse; the word "gallop!" was called aloud, and he was urged -along at full speed, while the sudden motion almost threw him back into -his swoon. -</p> - -<p> -Dawn, which at first seemed to add to the dimness and indistinctness of -the landscape, struggling through the clouds, and paling the moon, -slowly stole upon them. The prince became sufficiently alive to make -observations; he and his fellow-prisoners were five in number only, -their guards were ten; foremost among them was one whom, in whatever -guise, he could not mistake. Each feeling in Richard's heart stimulated -him to abhor that man, yet he pitied him more. Gallant, bold Robin, the -frolicksome page, the merry-witted sharer of a thousand pleasures. Time, -thou art a thief; how base a thief—when thou stealest not only our -friends, our youth, our hopes, but, besides, our innocence; giving us in -the place of light-hearted confidence—guile, distrust, the -consciousness of evil deeds. In these thoughts, Richard drew the -colouring of the picture, from the fresh and vivid tints that painted -his own soul. Clifford's breast had perhaps never been free from the -cares of guilt: he had desired honour; he had loved renown; but the -early development of passion and of talent had rendered him, even in -boyhood, less single-hearted than Richard now. -</p> - -<p> -Clifford was triumphant; he possessed Monina's beloved—the cause -of his disgrace—bound, a prisoner, and wounded. Why then did pain -distort his features, and passion flush his brow? No triumph laughed in -his eye, or sat upon his lip. He hated the prince; but he hated and -despised himself. He played a dastardly and a villain's part; and shame -awaited even success. The notoriety and infamy that attended on him -(exaggerated as those things usually are, in his own eyes), made him -fear to meet, in the neighbouring villages or towns, any noble cavalier -who might recognise him; even if he saw a party of horsemen on the road -he turned out of it, and thus got entangled among by-paths in an -unfrequented part of the country. They continued the same fast career -for several hours, till they entered a wild dark forest, where the -interminable branches of the old oaks met high-arched overhead, and the -paths were beset with fern and underwood. The road they took was at -first a clear and open glade, but it quickly narrowed, and branched off -in various directions; they followed one of its windings till it -abruptly closed: the leader then reined in, and Clifford's voice was -heard. Years had elapsed since it had met Richard's ear; the mere, as it -were, abstract idea of Clifford was mingled with crime and hate; his -voice, his manner, his look were associated with protestations of -fidelity; or, dearer still, the intercourse of friendship and youthful -gaiety; no wonder that it seemed a voice from the grave to betrayed -York. "Halloo!" cried Clifford, "Clym of the Lyn, my merry man, thou art -to track us through the New Forest to Southampton." -</p> - -<p> -"Please your knightship," said a shaggy-headed fellow, "our way is -clear, I am at home now: but, by Saint George, we must halt; a thirty -miles' ride since matins, his fast unbroken, would have made Robin Hood -a laggard." -</p> - -<p> -"What would you eat here?" cried Clifford; "a stoup of canary and beef -were blessings for the nonce; but we must get out of this accursed -wilderness into more Christian neighbourhood before we find our -hostelry." -</p> - -<p> -Clim of the Lyn grinned. "To a poor forester," said he, "the green-wood -is a royal inn; vert and venison, your worship, sound more savoury than -four smoky walls, and a platter of beef brought in mine host's left -hand, while his right already says—'Pay!'" -</p> - -<p> -"They would feed me with mine own venison in way of courtesy, even as -the Lion Heart, my namesake and ancestor, was feasted of old; -mine—each acre, each rood, and every noble stag that pastures -thereon; but I am not so free as they; and, mine though this wild wood -be, I must thank an outlaw ere I dine upon my own." -</p> - -<p> -Thus thought Richard; and at that moment, with his limbs aching through -their bondage, and with throbbing temples, liberty in the free forest -seemed worth more than a kingdom. The bright sun was high—the sky -serene—the merry birds were carolling in the brake—the -forest basked in noon-day, while the party wound along the shady path -beneath. The languid frame of York revived; at first to pain alone, for -memory was serpent-fanged. What bird-lime was this to ensnare the royal -eagle! but soon Despair, which had flapped her harpy wings across his -face, blinding him, fled away; Hope awoke, and in her train, schemes of -escape, freedom, and a renewal of the struggle. -</p> - -<p> -Meanwhile they threaded many a green pathway, and, after another hour's -ride, arrived at the opening of a wide grassy dell; a deer, "a stag of -ten," leaped from his ferny bed and bounded away; a herd of timid fawns, -just visible in the distance, hurried into the thicket; while many a -bird flew from the near sprays. Here the party halted; first they -unbitted their steeds, and then dismounted the prisoners, binding them -for security's sake to a tree. Richard was spared this degradation, for -still he was a prince in Clifford's eyes; and his extreme physical -weakness, caused by his blow, made even the close watching him -superfluous. He was lifted from his horse, and placed upon the turf, and -there left. While some of his guards went to seek and slay their repast, -others led their animals to a brook which murmured near; all were -variously and busily employed. Clifford alone remained; he called for -water; evidently he was more weary than he chose to own; he took off his -casque: his features were ghastly: there was a red streak upon his brow, -which was knit as if to endurance, and his lips were white and -quivering. Never had crime visited with such torment ill-fated man; he -looked a Cain after the murder; the Abel he had killed was his own fair -fame—the ancestral honour of his race. How changed from when Richard -last saw him, but two years before; his hair was nearly grey, his eyes -hollow, his cheeks fallen in; yet, though thin to emaciation, he had -lost that delicacy and elegance of feature that had characterized him. -Almost without reflection, forgetting his own position in painful -compassion, the prince exclaimed, "Thou art an unhappy man. Sir Robert?" -The knight replied with a ghastly smile, which he meant to be -disdainful. "But now," continued Richard, "while thy visor screened thy -face, I was on the point of taunting thee as a coward, of defying thee -to mortal combat; but thou art miserable, and broken-hearted, and no -match for me." -</p> - -<p> -Clifford's eyes glared, his hand was upon his sword's hilt: he -recollected himself, replying, "You cannot provoke me, sir, you are my -prisoner." -</p> - -<p> -"Thy victim, Robin; though once saved by thee: but that is past, and -there is no return. The blood of Stanley, and of a hundred other -martyrs, rolls between us: I conquer my own nature, when even for a -moment I look upon their murderer." -</p> - -<p> -The weakness of the prince gave a melancholy softness to his voice and -manner; the deep pity he felt for his fallen friend imparted a seraphic -expression to his clear open countenance. Clifford writhed with pain. -Clifford, who, though not quick to feel for others, was all sense and -sensitiveness for himself: and how often in the world do we see -sensibility attributed to individuals, whose show of feeling arises from -excessive susceptibility to their own sorrows and injuries! Clifford -wished to answer—to go away—he was spell-bound; his cowering -look first animated Richard to an effort, which a moment before he would -have ridiculed. "Wherefore," said he, "have you earned all men's hate, and -your own to boot? Are you more honoured and loved than in Brussels? -Scorn tracks you in your new career, and worst of all, you despise -yourself." -</p> - -<p> -"By St. Sathanas and his brood!" fiercely burst from the knight. Then he -bit his lip, and was silent. -</p> - -<p> -"Yet, Clifford, son of a noble father, spare yourself this crowning sin. -I have heard from travelled men, that in Heathenesse the unbaptized -miscreant is true to him whose hospitality he has shared. There was a -time when my eyes brightened when I saw you; when the name of Robin was -a benediction to be. You have changed it for the direst curse. Yours are -no common crimes. Foremost in the chronicles, your name will stand as a -type and symbol of ingratitude and treason, written with the blood of -Fitzwater and Stanley. But this is not all. The young and defenceless -you destroy: you have stood with uplifted dagger over the couch of a -sleeping man." -</p> - -<p> -Clifford had fostered the belief that this vilest act of his life, to -which he had been driven rather by fierce revenge than hope of reward, -was a secret. A moment before he had advanced with hasty and furious -glances towards his enemy. Scarcely had the words passed York's lips, -than a kind of paralysis came over him. His knees knocked together: his -arms fell nerveless to his side. -</p> - -<p> -"O, man!" continued York, "arouse thy sleeping faculties. Bid the fiend -who tortures thee avaunt! Even now, at the word, he feels his power over -thy miserable soul waver. By Him who died on the Cross, I conjure him to -leave thee. Say thou 'amen' to my adjuration, and he departs. Cast off -the huge burthen of guilt: deliver thy soul into the care of holy men. -As thy first act, depart this spot: leave me. It is I who -command—Richard of York, thy sovereign. Begone; or kneeling at my -feet, seek the grace thou hast so dearly forfeited." -</p> - -<p> -For a moment it almost seemed as if the wretched man were about to obey; -but at the moment his groom came from the spring, where he had been -watering his horse. The sight of another human being, to witness his -degradation, awoke him to frenzy. He called aloud, "How now, sirrah! -Why, unbit Dragon? Bring him here. I must begone." -</p> - -<p> -"He can't carry your honour a mile," said the fellow. -</p> - -<p> -"A miracle," cried Richard; "you repent, Sir Robert." -</p> - -<p> -"As Lucifer in hell! Look to the prisoner." Clifford vaulted on his -horse: his head was bare, his eyes wild and bloodshot. Clapping spurs to -the jaded animal's side, he put him to his speed, and was gone. -</p> - -<p> -"His fit is on him!" cried his attendant, "and what are we to do? He -rides a race with the fiend, leaving us to do both their works." More -whisperingly he muttered, "Hold Duke Richard in bonds against his will -may I not. He gave me gold in Flanders; he is a king's son and a belted -knight, and I a poor servitor." -</p> - -<p> -Richard had conceived a faint hope of working on Clifford's manifest -remorse, and enlisting him again under the banner of the White Rose. His -wonder was great when he saw him flying through the forest with -uncovered head and dishevelled hair; the bridle of his horse in the -groom's hand, while the wearied animal, spurred to speed, threw up his -head, snorting with fear. Not a moment was to be lost, the prince flew -to his comrades in captivity. Already Heron and O'Water had their bonds -cut by the sword of which he possessed himself. Heron, in whose two arms -lay his chief strength, and O'Water, at home in a fray, fired with the -desire of liberty and life, got speedy hold of battle-axes, and stood at -bay. Skelton, the next made free, began to run; but finding his flight -was solitary, he secured a bow and arrows, and betook himself to a -short, sure aim from behind a tree, while he offered up another sigh to -the memory of Trereife. Astley threw himself foremost before his master, -unarmed. The weapons of their guard were chiefly in a heap, and these, -defended by the enfranchised prisoners, were useless to them. Headed by -Clifford's groom, who stood in salutary awe of shedding royal blood, a -parley commenced. He entreated Richard to submit; he told him that the -whole country was in arms against him, his way back to his army beset, -the sea-coasts strictly guarded. What then could he do? -</p> - -<p> -"Die, in arms and at liberty. Stand back, sirs; what would you do with -me? Your guilty captain has deserted you; is there one of your number -who will raise his accursed weapon against a king and a knight?" -</p> - -<p> -Clym of the Lyn, and another outlawed forester (Clifford in mustering a -troop had gathered together all manner of wild companions), now appeared -dragging in a fat buck. Clym grinned when he saw the altered state of -things: "Come, my men," he said, "it is not for us to fight King Henry's -battles; the more majesties there be in England, the merrier for us, I -trow; and the wider and freer the range of the king of the New Forest. -Put up your rapiers, and let us feast like brethren; ye may fall to with -your weapons afterwards. Or, if it please your grace to trust to me, I -will lead you where none of the king's men will follow." -</p> - -<p> -"Wilt thou guide me back to Taunton?" asked the prince. -</p> - -<p> -"Not for my cap full of rose nobles," replied the outlaw; "the way is -beset: and trust me your worship's men are scattered far and wide ere -this. You are a tall fellow, and I should ill like to see you in their -gripe. Be one of us; you shall be king of the Greenwood-shade; and a -merrier, freer monarch than he who lives at Westminster." -</p> - -<p> -"Hark!" the word, spoken in a voice of alarm, made the party all ear. -There was a distant tramp—every now and then a breaking of -bushes—and a whole herd of deer came bounding up the glade in flight. -A forester who had rambled further than the rest, rushed back, saying, -"Sixty yeomen of the royal guard! They are coming hitherward. Sir Harry -de Vere leads them—I know his bright bay horse." -</p> - -<p> -"Away!" -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h4><a id="chap47"></a></h4> - -<h4>CHAPTER XLVII -<br /><br /> -A DILEMMA</h4> - - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He might have dwelt in green forest,</span><br /> -<span class="i2">Under the shadows green;</span><br /> -<span class="i0">And have kept both him and us at rest,</span><br /> -<span class="i2">Out of all trouble and teen.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i20">OLD BALLAD.</span> -</div></div></div> - -<p> -It had been the policy of Richard's captors to have remained to deliver -up their prisoners to a stronger force. But most of them were outlaws by -profession, who held the king's men in instinctive horror: these were -the first to fly; the panic spread; those who had no cause to fear fled -because they saw others do so. In a moment the sward was cleared of all -save the prisoners, who hastily bridled their horses, and followed York -down a narrow path into a glen, in an opposite direction from the -approaching troop. With what speed they might they made their way -through the forest, penetrating its depths, till they got completely -entangled in its intricacies. They proceeded for several hours, but -their jaded horses one by one foundered: they were in the most savage -part of the wood: there was no beginning nor end to the prospect of -knotted trunks, which lifted their vast leafy burthen into the air; here -was safety and needful repose. Richard, animated to a sudden effort, -could now hardly keep his seat: the state of their animals was -imperative for a halt; so here, in a wild brake, they alighted near a -running brook; and here O'Water slew a buck, while Astley and Skelton -unbridled their horses, and all set about preparing a most needful -repast. Evening stole upon them before it was concluded; the slant -sun-beams lay in golden glory on the twisted ivy-grown trunks, and -bathed the higher foliage in radiance. By the time their appetites were -satisfied, Heron and Skelton were discovered to be in a sound sleep; it -were as well to follow their example; neither men nor horses could -proceed without repose; darkness also afforded best safety for -travelling. It was agreed that they should pursue their way at midnight; -and so, stretched on the grassy soil, peace and the beauty of nature -around them, each gave himself up to a slumber which, at that extremity -of fatigue, needed no courting. -</p> - -<p> -All slept, save the prince; he lay in a state of feverish disquietude, -looking at the sky through the leafy tracery overhead, till night massed -and confused every object. Darkest thoughts thronged his mind; loss of -honour, desertion of friends, the fate of his poor men: he was to have -devoted himself to them, but a stream, driven by a thundering avalanche -from its course, had as much power as he to oppose the circumstances -that had brought him from his camp near Taunton, to this secluded spot. -For an interval he gave himself up to a tumult of miserable ideas, till -from the grim troop some assumed a milder aspect, some a brighter hue; -and, after long and painful consideration, he arranged such a plan as -promised at least to vindicate his own name, and to save the lives of -his adherents. Calmed by these thoughts, soothed to repose by the gentle -influence of a south wind, and the sweet monotony of rustling leaves and -running-water, he sank at last into a dreamless sleep. -</p> - -<p> -A whispering of voices was the first thing that struck his wakening -sense: it was quite dark. "Is Master O'Water come back?" asked Heron. -</p> - -<p> -"I am here," replied the Irishman. -</p> - -<p> -"Hast discovered aught?" -</p> - -<p> -"That the night is dark, and the forest wide," replied O'Water; "had we -a planet to guide us we might hope to reach its skirts. We are worse off -than the Spanish Admiral on the western sea, for the compass was a star -without a cloud to him." -</p> - -<p> -"Saint Mary save us!" said, or rather whined poor Skelton, "our fortunes -are slit from top to toe, and no patch-work will make them whole." -</p> - -<p> -"There is hope at the mouth of a culverin," said O'Water, "or at the -foot of the gallows, so that a man be true to himself. I have weathered -a worse day, when the Macarthys swore to revenge themselves on the -Roches." -</p> - -<p> -"And by our Lady's grace," interrupted Richard, "shall again, worthy -mayor. My good fellows, fear nothing, I will save you; the ocean cannot -be many miles off, for the sun set at our right hand, and blinded our -eyes through the day; the wind by its mildness is southerly; we will -face it. When once we reach the seaside, the shore of the free, wide -ocean, Tudor's power stops short, and ye are safe; of myself there will -then be time to think. Say, shall we proceed now, or give another hour -to repose?" -</p> - -<p> -All were eager to start, slowly leading their horses through the tangled -paths they could find, the quarter whence the wind blew, their only -guide; morning found them toiling on, but morning diminished half their -labours; and, as the birds twittered, and the east gleamed, their -spirits rose to meet and conquer danger. O'Water was in his native -element, that of hair-breadth escape and peril. As to Heron and Skelton, -they might have flagged, but for Richard; he flattered their pride, -raised their hopes, making weariness and danger a plaything and a jest. -As the sun mounted in the sky, their horses showed many a sign of -weariness; and in spite of a store of venison, which the careful Skelton -had brought away with him, they needed refreshment; each mile lengthened -to ten; each glade grew interminable in their eyes; and the wide forest -seemed to possess all England in its extent. Could the prince's body -have conquered his mind, the White Rose had indeed drooped; he was -parched with fever, and this, preying on his brain, made him the victim -of conflicting thoughts: his heart, his imagination, were in his -deserted camp; even fair Katherine, awaiting tidings of him in her far -retreat, had not such power to awaken anguish in his heart, as the idea -of Henry's vengeance exercised on his faithful, humble friends, whose -father and protector he had called himself. There was disease in the -fire and rapidity with which these ideas coursed through his mind; with -a strong will he overcame them, bent on accomplishing his present -purpose, and rescuing these chief rebels, whose lives were most -endangered, before he occupied himself with the safety of the rest. -</p> - -<p> -At length, at noon, his quick ear caught a heavy, distant roar. The -trees had begun to be more scattered: they reached the verge of the -forest; they were too weary to congratulate each other; before them was -a rising ground which bounded their view; some straggling cottages -crowned the height; slowly they reached the hill-top, and there beheld -stormy ocean, clipping in the circular coast with watery girdle; at a -crow's flight it might be a mile distant. A few huts and a single black -boat spotted in one place the else desert beach; a south wind swept the -sea, and vast surges broke upon the sands; all looked bleak and -deserted. -</p> - -<p> -They stopped at a cottage-door, inquiring the road; they heard there was -one, which went three miles about, but that the plain at their feet was -intersected by wide ditches, which their fagged animals could not leap. -Moreover, what hope of putting out to sea, in opposition to the big -noisy waves which the wind was hurrying towards shore! It were safest -and best to take a short repose in this obscure village. Heron and -Skelton entered the poor inn, while Richard waited on his horse, -striving to win him by caresses to taste the food he at first refused. -Heron, who was warm-hearted with all his bluster, brought the prince out -a flagon of excellent wine, such as by some chance—it might be a -wreck—the tide had wafted from the opposite coast: Richard was too -ill to drink; but, as he stood, his arm on his poor steed's neck, the -creature looked wistfully up in his face, averting his mouth from the -proffered grain; half-play fully his master held out to him the -wide-mouthed flagon, and he drank with such eagerness, that Richard -vowed he should have another bottle, and, buying the host's consent with -gold, filled a large can from the wine-cask; the beast drank, and, had -he been a Christian man, could not have appeared more refreshed. The -prince, forgetful of his pains, was amusing himself thus, when Skelton, -pale and gasping, came from the house, and voiceless through fear, laid -one hand on his leader's arm, and with the other pointed: too soon the -hapless fugitive saw to what he called his attention. Along the shore of -the sea a moving body was perceptible, approaching towards them from -west to east, which soon showed itself to be a troop of horse soldiers. -Richard gave speedy order that his friends should assemble and mount, -while he continued to watch the proceedings of the enemy. -</p> - -<p> -They were about two hundred strong—they arrived at the huts on the -beach, and the prince perceived that they were making dispositions to -leave a part of their number behind. Fifty men were selected, and posted -as patrol—the rest then, moved forward, still towards the east. By -this time the remaining fugitives had mounted, and gathered in one -spot—the villagers also were collecting—Skelton's teeth -chattered—he asked an old woman if there were any sanctuary near. -</p> - -<p> -"Ay, by our Lady, is there," replied the dame, "sixteen miles along the -coast is the monastery of Beaulieu. A sanctuary for princes; by the same -token that the Lady Margaret, Saint Henry's queen, lived safely therein -spite of the wicked Yorkists, who would have taken her precious life." -</p> - -<p> -Richard turned quickly round as the woman spoke and heard her words, but -again his eyes were attracted to the coast. As the troop were proceeding -along the sands, the little knot of horsemen perched upon the hill -caught the attention of a soldier. He rode along the lines, and spoke to -the commanding officer; a halt ensued, "We are lost," cried Skelton, "we -are taken, Lord! Lord! will they grant us our lives?" -</p> - -<p> -"These trees are tempting, and apt for hanging," said O'Water, with the -air of a connoisseur. -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, for Bewley,—for Bewley, let us ride!" exclaimed Skelton, longing -to go, yet afraid of separating himself from his companions. -</p> - -<p> -Still the prince watched the movements of the adverse party. Ten men -were detached, and began to advance inland—"Oh, dear, my lord," cried -Astley, "betake yourself to the forest—there are a thousand ways of -baffling these men. I will meet them, and put them to fault. Hide, for -my Lady's sake, ride!" -</p> - -<p> -"Master Astley is a cunning gentleman," said Skelton; "our horses are -aweary, and a little craft would help us mightily." -</p> - -<p> -Still Richard's eyes were fixed on the troopers—the men advanced as -far as a broad, deep stream, which intersected the plain; here they -hesitated; one of the best mounted leaped across, the others drew back, -seeking along the steep, shelving banks for a ford, or a narrowing of -the stream. The eyes of the troop on the shore were now turned upon -their comrades. "Our time is come," cried Richard; "back to the forest." -One step took them down the other side of the hill, hiding sea and beach -and enemy from their eyes, and screening them also from observation. -They soon reached the forest, and entered its shade; and then proceeded -along just within its skirts. "Whither?" respectfully O'Water asked, -after Skelton had for some time been muttering many a hint concerning -sanctuary. -</p> - -<p> -"To Beaulieu," said the prince. "We are barred out from the ocean—we -are beset at land—the little island ycleped sanctuary is all that is -left to ye. God speed us safely hither." -</p> - -<p> -Richard's horse was lively and refreshed after his generous draught, but -these of the others flagged. The prince exerted himself to keep up the -spirits of all; he rallied Skelton, spoke comfort to Astley, and good -hope to Heron. The sturdy apprentice of danger, flight, and trouble, -O'Water, treated it all as a matter of course—even hanging, if it so -chanced, was but a likely accident—the others needed more -encouragement. Astley feared for his lord, even to an appearance of -timidity, which, though disinterested, had a bad effect on the others. -Heron complained bitterly that his dinner had been left unfinished; -while the poor tailor, now fancying that he would run away from all, now -fearful of solitary misadventure, kept up a garrulous harangue, of which -terror was the burthen and the sum, Richard's voice was cheerful, his -manner gay; but, placing his hand on Astley, it felt scorching; every -moment it required more energy to throw off the clinging lethargy that -fell upon him. It was again evening—a circumstance that had caused -them to enter deeper into the forest; and it was to be feared they had -lost their way. All were weary—all, save Richard, hungry. The breeze -had died away; the air was oppressive, and more and more it felt like a -load intolerable to the prince's burning brow. Night began to close in -so very dark, that the horses refused to go forward. Suddenly a roaring -sound arose, which was not the sea; and, but that the atmosphere was so -still, the wanderers would have said that it was a fierce wind among the -trees. Such must it be, for now it came nearer; like living things, the -vast giants of the forest tossed their branches furiously; and entire -darkness and sudden pouring rain revealed the tempest, which their leafy -prison had before hidden—all was so instantaneous, that it would seem -that nature was undergoing some great revulsion in her laws. The -prince's horse snorted and reared, while O'Water's dashed furiously on, -striking against a tree, and throwing his rider, from whose lips there -escaped a shriek. What would have been the last overflowing drop in the -bitter cup to a weak mind, restored Richard—lassitude and despondency -vanished. In an instant he was off his horse at O'Water's side, speaking -in his own cheerful, kind voice. "Waste no moment on me," cried the -generous mayor. "My leg is broken—I can go no further—speed -you, your highness, to the sanctuary." -</p> - -<p> -This was the end of hope—the raging storm, the disabled man, dark -night, and Richard's resolve not to desert his follower, all were causes -of terror and of despair. -</p> - -<p> -A voice in the wood was heard calling aloud; no answer could be -returned; it was repeated, and Astley went forward to -reconnoitre—even an enemy were help in such disaster, yet Heron -and Skelton implored him to remain. Another halloo Richard answered; for -he recognized Astley's voice, who in the dark could not find his way -back. He came at last, accompanied by a monk—this was heaven's -favour revealed; for the holy man was a hermit, and his poor cell was -near: poor indeed was it, built with logs, the interstices filled with -mud; a bed of dried leaves was nearly all the furniture. The hermit had -gone on first, and lit a torch; as they might, they bore along poor -O'Water, and placed him in his agony on the low couch. The hermit looked -inquisitively on all the party, neglecting to answer Skelton, who asked -for the hundredth time the distance to Beaulieu. -</p> - -<p> -Richard still occupied himself with the mayor, endeavouring to discover -if the limb were broken. "By your leave, your grace," said the hermit, -"I am somewhat of a chirurgeon; I boast of my cures of horses, and have -saved a Christian man ere now." -</p> - -<p> -Scarcely did the prince remember to wonder at the title by which the -unknown addressed him. By our Lady's love he besought him to attend to -his friend. "Trust me," said the hermit, "I will not fail; but you, my -lord, must not tarry here; the forest is beset with troops; but for -night and storm, you would hardly attain Beaulieu in safety. It is but -two miles distant: I will guide your highness thither; and then return -to your follower. Have faith in me, my lord; I have served your royal -uncle, and was enlisted under your banner last year in Kent. I made a -shift to escape, and took sanctuary; but the stone walls of a monastery -are little better than those of a prison; so I betook me to the woods. -Oh, I beseech you, waste no time: I will return to your follower: he is -safe till then." -</p> - -<p> -"Direct us, and I will thank you," replied Richard; "but you shall not -desert your patient even for a moment." -</p> - -<p> -There was no alternative but to comply: the man gave as clear -instructions as he might, and Richard again set forward with his -diminished party. They were long entangled by trees; and it was now -quite night: the excitement over, the prince had drooped again. Even -this interval was full of peril—a tramp of steeds was heard: they -drew up among the trees; a party of horsemen passed; one—could it -be the voice of the subtle Frion?—said, "At the end of this glade -we shall see the abbey spires. Well I know the same; for when Queen -Margaret——" -</p> - -<p> -This speaker was succeeded by a woman's voice: yet greater wonder, she -spoke in Spanish, in unforgotten accents—Richard's heart stood still, -as he heard them; but soon both voice and tramp of steeds grew faint; -and his brain, becoming more and more bewildered, allowed no thought to -enter, save the one fixed there even in delirium. The fugitives -continued to linger in this spot until it was probable that the -travellers should have arrived. True to the information they had -overheard, the forest opened at the end of the glade into a leafy -amphitheatre; an avenue was opposite, which led to the abbey gates, -whose Gothic spires, buttresses and carved arches, rose above the tufted -trees in dark masses. One end of the building was illuminated—that -was the church, and the pealing organ stole mournfully on the night, -sounding a Miserere; the chaunting of the monks mingled with the -harmonious swell, adding that pathos, that touch of solemn, unutterable -sentiment, which perhaps no music, save that of the human voice, -possesses. Richard's companions were rough-suited, vulgar-minded; but -they were Catholic and religious men, and were awe-struck by this voice -from heaven reaching them thus in their desolation; a voice promising -safety and repose to their harassed, wearied bodies. -</p> - -<p> -A few steps carried them to the very spot; the bell was rung, the gate -was opened, sanctuary was claimed and afforded. Skelton sprang forward; -the other two hung back; but, on a sign from Richard, they also passed -the sacred threshold "Farewell, my friends," he said, "a short farewell. -Astley, I charge you wait for me. Sir priest, close the gate." -</p> - -<p> -The word was said, the order obeyed, Richard was left alone in darkness. -"Now for my task—for my poor trusty fellows. The work of murder -cannot yet have begun: my life pays for all. Yet awhile bear me up, thou -fainting spirit; desert not Richard's breast till his honour be -redeemed!" -</p> - -<p> -Vain prayer!—"I must repose," he thought; "it is of no avail to urge -nature beyond herself; a few minutes, and I am strong." He dismounted, -and, with a sensation of delicious relief, threw himself at his length -on the wet grass, pressing the dank herbage to his fevered brow. At -first he felt recovered; but in a few minutes strong spasms shot through -his frame; and these yielded to a feebleness, that forced him to sink to -the ground, when he endeavoured to rise: he forgot his situation, the -near abbey, his friends; he forgot wherefore, but he remembered that his -presence was required somewhere, and with a resolved effort he rose and -staggered towards his horse—he fell. "A little sleep, and I shall be -well." This was his last thought, and he lay in a state between slumber -and stupor upon the earth. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h4><a id="chap48"></a></h4> - -<h4>CHAPTER XLVIII -<br /><br /> -CAPTURE OF KATHERINE</h4> - - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">If the dull substance of my flesh were thought,</span><br /> -<span class="i0">Injurious distance should not stop my way;</span><br /> -<span class="i0">For then, despite of space, I would be brought</span><br /> -<span class="i0">To limits far remote, where thou dost stay.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i20">SHAKSPEARE.</span> -</div></div></div> - -<p> -There is a terror whose cause is unrevealed even to its victim, which -makes the heart beat wildly, and we ask the voiceless thing wherefore; -when the beauty of the visible universe sickens the aching sense; when -we beseech the winds to comfort us, and we implore the Invisible for -relief, which is to speed to us from afar. We endeavour, in our impotent -struggle with the sense of coming evil, to soar beyond the imprisoning -atmosphere of our own identity; we call upon the stars to speak to us, -and would fain believe that mother earth, with inorganic voice, -prophesies. Driven on by the mad imaginings of a heart hovering between -life and death, we fancy that the visible frame of things is replete -with oracles. Or is it true; and do air and earth, divined by the -sorrow-tutored spirit, possess true auguries? At such dread hour we are -forced to listen and believe: nor can we ever afterwards, in common -life, forget our miserable initiation into the mysteries of the -unexplained laws of our nature. To one thus aware of the misfortune that -awaits her, the voice of consolation is a mockery. Yet, even while she -knows that the die is cast, she will not acknowledge her intimate -persuasion of ill; but sits smiling on any hope brought to her, as a -mother on the physician who talks of recovery while her child dies. -</p> - -<p> -The Lady Katherine had yielded to Richard's wishes, because she saw that -he really desired her absence. Alone in a monastery, in a distant part -of Cornwall, she awaited the fatal tidings, which she knew must come at -last She was too clear-sighted not to be aware, that the armed power of -a mighty kingdom, such as England, must crush at once his ill-organized -revolt. She was prepared for, and ready to meet, all the disasters and -humiliations of defeat; but not to be absent from her husband at this -crisis. She ordered horses to be kept perpetually in readiness, that she -might proceed towards him on the first intimation of change and -downfall. She watched from the highest tower of her abode, the arrival -of messengers: before she dared open her letters, she read in their -faces, what news of Richard? It was a bitter pang to hear that -Plantagenet was dangerously wounded; that the prince had advanced -further forward, at the head of his rabble soldiers. -</p> - -<p> -She had no friends, save humble ones, and very few of these: they -borrowed their looks from her, yet hoped more than she did. Quickly she -was aware of a change in them: they spoke in a low, subdued voice, as if -awe-struck by some visitation of destiny. That very day letters arrived -from the prince: they were of ancient date, nor could she lay his terms -of endearment and cheering to her heart and be consoled. In the -afternoon a torn, soiled billet was brought her from Edmund. In spite of -his wound, he had dragged himself as far as Launceston, on his way to -her. Forced to stop, he sent her tidings of all he knew—Richard's -mysterious flight, Henry's bloodless victory, the eagerness the king -expressed to learn where she was, and the despatching of troops in -search of her. He besought her to fly. It might be hoped that the prince -had escaped beyond sea, whither she must hasten; or falling into his -enemy's hands, she would never see him more. -</p> - -<p> -Perplexed and agitated, knowing that dishonour would result from -Richard's strange disappearance, yet persuaded that he had some ulterior -view which it behoved her not to thwart, she hesitated what step to -take. -</p> - -<p> -An incident occurred to end her uncertainty. Suddenly, in the evening, -Monina stood before her. Monina came with the safety-laden Adalid, to -bear her to the shores of Burgundy. She brought the history of the fraud -practised upon York, of the ambush laid for his life, of his escape, and -the arrival, immediately succeeding to hers, of his followers at the -Abbey of Beaulieu; how the pawing and trampling of a horse at the gates -had brought out the monks, who discovered the hapless prince senseless -on the dark sod. He was carried in, and through her care his name was -entered in the sanctuary. She had attended on his sick couch two days -and nights, when his first return to reason was to implore her to seek -Katherine, to carry her beyond Tudor's power, out of the island prison. -Her father's caravel was hovering on the coast. A favouring south-east -wind bore her to these shores: she came at his desire: the Adalid was -there, and she might sail, not to Burgundy, but even to the spot which -harboured Richard. She also could take sanctuary in Beaulieu. -</p> - -<p> -The monastery in which the duchess of York had taken refuge was situated -on St. Michael's Mount, not far from the Land's End. The land projects -romantically into the sea, forming a little harbour called Mount's Bay. -Towards the land the acclivity is at first gradual, becoming precipitous -towards the summit: now, at high water, the tide flows between the rock -and the land, but it was in those days connected by a kind of natural, -rocky causeway. Towards the sea it is nearly perpendicular. A strong -fortress was connected with the church; and a stone lantern was attached -to one of the towers of the church. Not far from the castle, in a craggy -and almost inaccessible part of the cliff, is situated Saint Michael's -Chair, which, on account of its dangerous approach, and the traditions -attached to it, became the resort of the pious. Many a legend belonged -to this spot. Its thick woods, the hoar appearance of the crags, the -wide-spread sea, for ever warring against the land, which had thrust -itself out into the watery space, usurping a part of its empire, made it -singularly grand; while the placid beauty of the little bay formed by -the rock, and the picturesque grouping of the trees, the straggling -paths, and numerous birds, added every softer beauty to the scene. -</p> - -<p> -Often did Katherine watch the changeful ocean, or turn her eyes to the -more grateful spectacle of umbrageous woods, and rifted rock, and seek -for peace in the sight of earth's loveliness. All weighed with tenfold -heaviness on her foreboding soul. For the first time, they wore to her -the aspect of beauty, when now she hoped to leave them. Hopes so soon to -fail. A south wind had borne the caravel swiftly into the bay, but the -breeze increased to a gale, and even while the ladies were making a few -hasty preparations, De Faro had been obliged to slip his moorings, and -run out to sea, to escape the danger of being wrecked on a lee shore. -With a pang of intense misery, Katherine saw its little hull hurry over -the blackening waters, and its single sail lose itself amidst the -sea-foam. The mariner had even, on anchoring, anticipated a storm; he -had informed his daughter of the probability there was, that he should -be driven to seek for safety in the open sea; but he promised with the -first favourable change of wind to return. When would this come? Fate -was in the hour, nor could even Katherine school herself to patience. -</p> - -<p> -Evening shades gathering round them; the princess, growing each minute -more unquiet and miserable, sought in some kind of activity for relief -to her sufferings. "I will go to Saint Michael's Chair," she said; "good -spirits for ever hover near the sainted spot; they will hear and carry a -fond wife's prayer to the throne of the Eternal." -</p> - -<p> -In silence Monina followed the lady. They were both mountain-bred, and -trod lightly along paths which seemed scarcely to afford footing to a -goat. They reached the seat of the rock; they looked over the sea, whose -dark surface was made visible by the sheets of foam that covered it; the -roar of waves was at their feet. The sun went down blood-red, and, in -its dying glories, the crescent moon showed first pale, then glowing; -the thousand stars rushed from among the vast clouds that blotted the -sky; and the wind tore fiercely round the crag, and howled among the -trees. O earth, and sea, and sky! strange mysteries! that look and are -so beautiful even in tumult and in storm; did ye feel pain then, when -the elements of which ye are composed battled together? Were ye tortured -by the strife of wind and wave, even as the soul of man when it is the -prey of passion? Or were ye unmoved, pain only being the portion of the -hearts of the two human beings, who, looking on the commotion, found -your wildest rage calm in comparison with the tempest of fear and grief -which had mastery over them. -</p> - -<p> -Sickened by disappointment, impatient of despair, each remained, -brooding mutely over their several thoughts. -</p> - -<p> -Poor Katherine; her dearest wish was set upon sharing in all its drear -minutiæ the fortune of her lord, her gallant knight, her most sweet -Richard. He was her husband; he had taken her, timid yet confiding, -from the shelter of her father's roof; they had entered the young -world of hope and hazard together. Custom, the gentle weaver -of soft woman's tenderness, had thrown its silken net over her; -his disasters became hers; his wishes, and their defeat, were -also hers. She only existed as a part of him; while enthusiastic -love made her fondly cling even to the worst that betided, as -better in its direst shape than any misnamed good fortune that -unlinked them. -</p> - -<p> -"My love, my altar-plighted love! must I then wake and say no good day -to thee; and sleep, my rest unbenisoned by thy good night! The simple -word, the we, that symbolized our common fate, cut in two, each half a -nothing so disjoined." -</p> - -<p> -While Katherine thus struggled with necessity, Monina was given up to -patience. The present hour had fulfilled its fear; her busy thoughts -fashioned a thousand plans for his escape, or tremblingly painted a dark -futurity. He was a part of her being, though no portion of herself was -claimed by him. She was not his, as a lover or a wife, but as a sister -might be; if in this ill world such heart's concord could exist: a -sharing of fate and of affection, combined with angelic purity. As -easily might she fancy animal life to survive in her body after the soul -had fled, as soon imagine that the beating of her heart could continue -when the living impulse which quickened its palpitations was still, as -that he, her childhood's playfellow, the golden dream of her youth, the -shrine at which she had sacrificed that youth, should die, and she live -on in the widowed world without him. -</p> - -<p> -The stars glittered over their gentle heads, and the moon went down in -the west; fitful, thread-like rays were shed upon the raging sea, whose -heady billows foamed and roared at their feet: both these fair, gentle -creatures remained, careless of the wild wind that swept their limbs, or -the spray which, high as they stood, besprent their hair: both young, -both lovely, both devoted to one, yet confiding in the reality of virtue -and purity, trusting fully each other, the one accepting the heart's -sacrifice which the other unreservedly made, they watched for the -Adalid, which, a plaything of the waves, was carried afar. Day dawned -before they could resolve to quit this spot; then they took refuge in -the near monastery, and from its towers looked out over the sea. -</p> - -<p> -A few anxious hours brought the dreaded consummation of their fears. The -ascent of a troop of horse up the steep, told Katherine that she was -discovered. Their sudden appearance before her proved that she was a -prisoner. For the first time she saw the White and Red Rose entwined; -the earl of Oxford was announced to her as their leader, and he soon -appeared to claim his prize. -</p> - -<p> -Katherine received him with dignified sweetness; she conquered her ill -fate by smiling at its blows, and looked a queen, as she yielded herself -a slave. The watching of the night had all disordered her dress, and -deranged her golden tresses; but her wondrous fairness, the soft -moulding of her face, her regal throat, and arched open brow, bending -over her intelligent, yet soft, blue eyes; her person majestic, even in -its slim beauty, were tokens of a spirit, that in destitution must reign -over all who approached it. -</p> - -<p> -Her first words, to ease the awe-struck earl, were an entreaty to be -conducted to the king. She showed more earnest desire than he to present -herself to her royal victor. In a very few hours they had descended the -Mount, and hastened out of hearing of the roar of the ocean, which had -so cruelly deceived her hopes. In her eyes could only be read the -mastery she had obtained over her thoughts; no lurking weakness betrayed -fear, or even disappointment, Surely yet she cherished some dear -expectation; yet how, lost to liberty, could she hope to attain it? -</p> - -<p> -But thus we are, while untamed by years. Youth, elastic and bright, -disdains to be compelled. When conquered, from its very chains it forges -implements for freedom; it alights from one baffled flight, only again -to soar on untired wing towards some other aim. Previous defeat is made -the bridge to pass the tide to another shore; and, if that break down, -its fragments become stepping-stones. It will feed upon despair, and -call it a medicine which is to renovate its dying hopes. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h4><a id="chap49"></a></h4> - -<h4>CHAPTER XLIX -<br /><br /> -RICHARD SURRENDERS</h4> - - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For, when Cymocles saw the foul reproach</span><br /> -<span class="i0">Which him appeached, prick'd with noble shame</span><br /> -<span class="i0">And inward grief, he fiercely 'gan approach;</span><br /> -<span class="i0">Resolved to put away that loathly blame,</span><br /> -<span class="i0">Or die with honour and desert of fame.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i20">SPENSER.</span> -</div></div></div> - -<p> -After the prince, by the voyage of Monina, had, as he hoped, provided -for the escape and safety of the Lady Katherine, he could not, all weak -as he was, remain in repose. -</p> - -<p> -From his early childhood he had been nurtured in the idea that it was -his first, chief duty to regain his kingdom; his friends lived for that -single object; all other occupation was regarded as impertinent or -trifling. On the table of his ductile boyish mind, that sole intent was -deeply engraved by every hand or circumstance. The base-minded -disposition of his rival king adorned his cause with a show of use and -the name of virtue. -</p> - -<p> -Those were days when every noble-born youth carved honour for himself -with his sword; when passes at arms where resorted to whenever real wars -did not put weapons in their hands, and men exposed their breasts to -sharp-biting steel in wanton sport. Often during his green and budding -youth Richard had gloried in the very obstacles set before him; to be -cast out and forced to redeem his state, was a brighter destiny than to -be lapped in the bosom of guarded royalty. The treason of Clifford and -the sacrifice of devoted friends but whetted his ambition; vengeance, -the religion of that age, being a sacred duty in his eyes. He had been -shaken by Lord Surrey's appeal, but cast the awakened pity off as a -debasing weakness. -</p> - -<p> -The painted veil of life was torn. His name had not armed the nobles of -his native land, his cause had not been trumpeted with praise nor -crowned by victory; deserted by foreign allies, unsuccessful in Ireland, -he had appeared at the head of a rabble army strong only in wrongs and -in revenge. Even these he had abandoned, and with nameless hinds taken -sanctuary; his story was a fable, his name a jeer; he no longer, so it -seemed, existed; for the appellation of duke of York was to be lost and -merged in the disgraceful misnomer affixed to him by the Usurper. -</p> - -<p> -Richard was no whining monk to lament the inevitable, and tamely to -await the result. To see an evil was to spur him to seek a remedy: he -had given up every expectation of reigning, except such as sprung from -his right, and faith in the justice of God. But honour was a more valued -treasure; and to his warm heart dearer still was the safety of the poor -fellows abandoned by him. On the third day after his arrival at -Beaulieu, he arose from his sick couch, donned his armour, and, yet pale -and feeble, sent to speak with the cavalier who commanded the party that -guarded all egress from the abbey. With him he held long parley, in -conclusion of which Sir Hugh Luttrel directed three of his followers to -be in readiness, and two of his chosen horses to be led to the abbey -gates. Richard took leave of the abbot; he recommended his poor -followers to him, and lightly answered the remonstrance of the holy man, -who thought that delirium alone could urge the fugitive to quit the -tranquil, sacred spot, where he himself passed his days in quiet, and -which held out so secure a protection to the vanquished. His -remonstrance was vain; one word weighed more with Richard than a -paradise of peace. Infamy, dishonour! No; even if his people were -safe—by throwing himself in the self-same peril to which he had -apparently exposed them, that stain were effaced. The very gentleman to -whom he had surrendered himself had trespassed on his allegiance to -Henry to dissuade him from the fool-hardihood of his adventure. It was a -sight of pity to see one so very young walk voluntarily to the -sacrifice; and the princely mien and youthful appearance of the -self-constituted prisoner wrought all to compassion and respect. For -still this fair White Rose was in the very opening flower of manhood: he -looked, after such variety of fortune, as if evil not only never had, -but never could tarnish the brightness of his spirit or of his aspect; -illness had a little enfeebled him, without detracting from his youthful -beauty, giving rather that softness which made it loveliness, yet -painted fairer by his self-immolating resolve. -</p> - -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">"A sweet regard and amiable grace,</span><br /> -<span class="i2">Mixed with manly sternness did appear,"</span> -</div></div> - -<p> -and eagerness withal: for eager he was, even to almost foolish haste, to -redeem the lost hours, and establish himself again no runaway. -</p> - -<p> -With fresh joy he addressed himself to retrace his steps to Taunton. -Sanctuary and refuge from death—oh! how he trampled on the slavish -thought. Death was to him a word, a shadow, a phantom to deride and -scorn, not an enemy to grapple with; disgrace was his abhorred foe, and -him he thus overthrew. His resolves, inspired by disdain of permitting -one taint to blemish his career, were not the expedients of prudence, -but the headlong exploit of daring youth. The iron must indeed have -entered our souls, and we be tamed from dear, youthful freedom to age's -humble concessions to necessity, before we can bow our head to calumny, -smile at the shafts as they rankle in our flesh, and calmly feel that, -among the many visitations of evil we undergo, this is one we are -compelled to endure. -</p> - -<p> -Thus he, his gentle guide and followers, travelled towards Taunton. In -all prudence, from the moment they left sanctuary, Sir Hugh Luttrel -ought to have guarded him closely. But even the staid Sir Hugh forgot -this duty; rather was Richard the enforcer of this journey, than his -guard, Richard it was who at night halted unwillingly; Richard who first -cried to horse at morning's dawn; who, in spite of ill-weather, resisted -every delay. As they drew near their bourne, the appellation of Perkin -first met the prince's ear; he was unaware that it had ever been applied -to him except by Henry's written proclamations. It acted as a galling -spur; for he believed, with youth's incapacity of understanding -systematized falsehood, that his presence would put to flight the -many-coloured web of invention, which his rival had cast over him to mar -his truth and obscure his nobility. -</p> - -<p> -After three days they drew near Taunton. The stubble fields, the flowery -hedges, the plenteous orchards were passed. From a rising ground they -looked upon the walls of the town, and the vacant moor where his camp -had stood. Richard halted, saying—"Sir knight, I will await you -here—do you seek your king: say, I come a voluntary sacrifice, to -purchase with drops of my royal blood the baser tide of my poor -followers. I demand no more—bid him rear the scaffold; let the -headsman sharpen the axe, to lop off the topmost bough of Plantagenet. -The price I ask, is the despised lives of men, who, but that they loved -me, were incapable of merit or of crime in his eyes. For their humble -sakes, like my grandfather York, I am prepared to die. If pledge of this -be denied me, I still am free. I wear a sword and will sell my life -dearly, though alone." -</p> - -<p> -Sir Hugh Luttrel was perplexed. He knew the stern nature of his royal -master, and how heavily he would visit on him any disappointment in his -dearest wish of obtaining possession of his rival's person. The prince -had, during their three days' companionship, gained great power over -him: he felt that he was in truth the son of Edward the Fourth, a man he -had never loved (for Sir Hugh was a Lancastrian), but one whom he had -feared and obeyed as his sovereign. How could he put slavish -force upon his gallant offspring? He hesitated, till the prince -demanded—"Wherefore delay—is there aught else that you desire?" -</p> - -<p> -"You pledge your knightly word," said Sir Hugh, "not to desert this -spot?" -</p> - -<p> -"Else wherefore am I here?—this is idle. Yet, so to content you, I -swear by my vow made under the walls of Granada, by our Lady, and by the -blessed saints, I will abide here." -</p> - -<p> -The knight rode into the town with his followers, leaving young Richard -impatient for the hour that was to deliver him to servitude. -</p> - -<p> -Sir Hugh first sought Lord Dawbeny, requesting him to obtain for him -instant audience of the king. "His grace," said the noble, "is at -vespers, or about to attend them." -</p> - -<p> -"I dare not wait till they are said," replied Luttrel, who every minute -felt the burthen of responsibility weighing heavier on him. -</p> - -<p> -"Nor I interrupt his majesty—even now he enters the church." -</p> - -<p> -In haste Sir Hugh crossed the street; and, as the king took the holy -water from the chalice, he knelt before him. The few words he spoke -painted Henry's face with exulting gladness. "We thank thee, good Sir -Hugh," he said, "and will make our thanks apparent. By the mass, thou -hast deserved well of us this day! Where hast thou bestowed our -counterfeit?" -</p> - -<p> -"Please your majesty, he awaits your highness's acceptance of his -conditions without the eastern gate." -</p> - -<p> -"You have placed strong guard over him?" -</p> - -<p> -"He pledged his oath to await my return. He is alone." -</p> - -<p> -A dark, angry frown chased all glee from Tudor's brow; bending a stern -glance on his erewhile welcome messenger, he commanded Lord Wells, his -cousin, to take a strong force and to seize this duke of Runaways. Sir -Hugh, timid as he was, interfered: driven by respect for his prisoner, -and fear of what might ensue, he tried to enforce York's stipulation. -Henry looked on him with scorn, then said, "Truly, cousin, I have -vaunted of a bloodless conquest; so let not the blood of the misborn -traitor stain our laurels, nor Sir Luttrel's Duke Perkin shed one -precious ruby drop. Say ay to all he asks; for, as it seems, his demands -are as foolish as himself, and need no chaffering. Tell him that his -life is safe, but bring him here; set him within our ward and -limitation: do this, while we with a Te Deum thank our Heavenly Father -for his watchful mercies. Sir Hugh, accompany our cousin, and then wend -your way whither it please you. We have no pleasure in your presence." -</p> - -<p> -Thus duped, even by his own generous, proud spirit, the duke of York -became a prisoner—delivering up his sword, and yielding himself an -easy prey to his glad victor. Once, twice, thrice, as he waited the -return of Luttrel, it had crossed his mind, not to fly, his vow being -pledged, but to remember that he was now free and unconstrained, and would -soon be in other's thrall—when farewell to the aspiring thought, -the deed of arms, and to the star of his life, to whose idea, now his -purpose was accomplished, he fondly turned!—"Poor Katherine," he -whispered, "this is the crown, the fated, fallen youth, the seer -foretold." In after-times that scene dwelt on his memory; he called to -mind the evening-tide, for the sun was down, and the clouds, lately gold -besprent, waxing dun, as the town walls grew high and dark, and the few -trees about him waved fitfully in a soft breeze; that wind was free, and -could career over the plain; what spell bound the noble knight and -stalwart steed, that they coursed not also free as it? -</p> - -<p> -In a few minutes he was a prisoner—and led within those darksome -walls. At first, treated with some observance, he was unaware, as is the -case in any new position, with whose circumstances and adjuncts we are -unacquainted, how utterly he had fallen. He was led to no barred prison; -and, for a time, the nobles and knights who flocked, to see him were no -bad exchange for the motley crew he had quitted. But, as if in a dream, -he felt gather round him impalpable but adamantine walls—chains hung -upon his limbs, not the less heavy, because the iron pierced his soul -rather than his flesh. He had been a free man; his name was attended -with love and respect, and his aspect commanded the obedience of men. -Now, the very appellation given to him was a mortal insult; a stranger -seemed to be spoken to when he was addressed, and yet he must answer. He -was never alone; and night was the sole suspension from the insulting -curiosity of the crowd. He must forego himself; grow an impostor in his -own eyes; take on him the shameful name of Perkin: all which native -honour, and memory of his princess bride, made trebly stinging. -</p> - -<p> -To barb the dart came intelligence that the Lady Katherine was a -prisoner. King Henry had quitted Taunton, and gone towards Exeter, when, -on his arrival there, the earl of Oxford presented the Scottish princess -to him. Praises of her wondrous beauty became rife, brought by some of -the king's train, returned to Taunton; praises so excessive and warm as -could not have been inspired by celestial beauty in adversity, if not -egged on by some adventitious stimulant. It was the fashion to speak of -her as the Queen of Loveliness; as (for beauty's sake the name belonged -to her) the fairest White Rose that ever grew on thorny bush. By this -name she was mentioned to York; and it visited his heart as the first -gleam of sunshine on his enshadowed misery; dear was the name of the -White Rose to the fallen one. It had been his own in fresh and happy -days, when first he showed his prowess among the knights of France and -Burgundy. Still louder grew the echo of some mighty voice, that gave -forth encomium of the prisoner's bride; and the smiles with which some -spoke, smiles half of wonder half of mockery, told of some secret charm, -which at last was openly commented upon. "Again the king saw the fair -one yestermorn; and dallied ere he granted the earnest suit she made, as -if he loved to be entreated." -</p> - -<p> -"The grave King Henry caught in the net of the wanton boy! Oh, this were -subject for a ballad for the nonce." -</p> - -<p> -"Blythe news for gentle Perkin; his wife thrives at court. She takes -occasion by too slender a hold, if she raise not her husband from the -kitchen to a higher place at court." -</p> - -<p> -"Now we shall see our the lady the queen jealous of her liege." -</p> - -<p> -"Our queen? what midsummer's dream is this? The White Rose will never -flower in our court garden." -</p> - -<p> -To falsify this assertion came the next day a messenger, with command to -convey the noble prisoner with all speed to London; and for the -attendance of the Lady Cheney, and the Lady Howard, two noble matrons, -to wait on the Lady Katherine, who was about to proceed to Westminster. -Smiles and whispers were interchanged; and, when to this was added, that -as much courtesy should be shown the counterfeit youth as might not -endanger his safe keeping, the light laugh followed; though, as if to -meet and overthrow the raillery, it was added, this was ordered for his -royal wife's sake, who was cousin to England's dear ally, the king of -Scotland. These idle tales did not reach York's ear: wherever he showed -himself, he enforced such personal respect, that there was no likelihood -that any conjecture, linked with his lady's name, would be hazarded -before him. He was told that the king entertained her royally; and when -he heard that she was to be presented to his sister, the Queen -Elizabeth, a thrill of joy passed into his heart. His sister! as a boy, -he remembered the fair, kind girl, whom he had called his loved and most -sweet sister: he knew that she was conscious of his truth, and, though -wedded to his rival, loved not her lord. It was a pleasing dream, to -fancy these gentle ladies together; to know that, while the one spoke -her affection and praise, the other must feel the kindred blood warm in -her heart, and proudly, though sadly, acknowledge him her worthy -brother. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h4><a id="chap50"></a></h4> - -<h4>CHAPTER L -<br /><br /> -A PROCESSION</h4> - - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4">They are noble sufferers. I marvel</span><br /> -<span class="i0">How they'd have looked, had they been victors, that</span><br /> -<span class="i0">With such a constant nobility enforce</span><br /> -<span class="i0">A freedom out of bondage.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i20">TWO NOBLE KINSMEN.</span> -</div></div></div> - -<p> -The vulgar rabble, fond of any sort of show, were greedy of this new -one. In all parts the name of the duke of York, of the counterfeit -Perkin, drew a concourse of gazers. The appetite was keenest in London; -and many a tawdry masque and mime was put in motion, to deck the streets -through which the defeated youth was to pass. Vainly; he entered London -at night, and was conducted privately to Westminster. What strange thing -was this? What mark of reality did his very forehead wear, that Henry, -so prodigal of contumely on his foes, dared not bring him forward for -the public gaze? One man was put in the stocks for a similar remark; and -on the following day it was suddenly proclaimed, that Perkin would go in -procession from Westminster to Saint Paul's, and back again. A troop of -horse at the appointed hour left the palace: in the midst of them rode a -fair young gentleman, whose noble mien and gallant bearing gave lustre -to his escort: his sweet aspect, his frank soft smile and lively but -calm manner, had no trace of constraint or debasement, "He is -unarmed—is that Perkin? No, the earl of Warwick—he is a prince -sure—yet that is he!" Such murmurs sped around; at some little -distance followed another burlesque procession; a poor fellow, a -Cornishman, was tied to an ass, his face to the tail, and the beast now -proceeding lazily, now driven by sticks, now kicking, now galloping, -made an ill-fashioned mirth for the multitude. Whether, as York was not -to be disgraced in his own person, the contumely was to reach him -through this poor rogue, or whether the eyes of men were to be drawn -from him to the rude mummery which followed, could only be guessed: the -last was the effect produced. Richard heard mass at Saint Paul's, and -returned to Westminster unmolested by insult. It seemed but as if some -young noble made short pilgrimage from one city to the other, to -accomplish a vow. The visit of ill-fated Warwick to the cathedral, -before the battle of Stoke, had more in it of humiliating ostentation. -</p> - -<p> -He returned to the palace of Westminster. A few weeks he spent in -mingled curiosity and anxiety concerning his future destiny. It was -already accomplished. Modern times could not present anything more -regular and monotonous than the way of life imposed upon him. It was -like the keeping of a lunatic, who, though now sane, might be -momentarily expected to break out in some dangerous explosion, rather -than the confining of a state-prisoner. Four armed attendants, changed -every eight hours, constantly guarded him, never moving, according to -the emphatic language of the old chroniclers, the breadth of a nail from -his side. He attended early mass each morning: he was permitted to take -one hour's ride on every evening that was not a festival. Two large -gloomy chambers, with barred windows, were allotted him. Among his -guards, he quickly perceived that the same faces seldom appeared; and -the most rigorous silence, or monosyllabic discourse, was imposed upon -them. Harsher measures were perhaps spared, from respect to his real -birth, or his alliance with the king of Scotland: yet greater severity -had been less tantalizing. As it was, the corpse in the grass-grown -grave was not more bereft of intercourse with the sunny world, than the -caged duke of York. From his windows, he looked upon a deserted -court-yard; in his rides, purposely directed to unfrequented spots, he -now and then saw a few human beings—such name could be hardly -bestowed on his stony-faced, stony-hearted guards. -</p> - -<p> -Richard was the very soul of sympathy; he could muse for hours in -solitude, but it must be upon dear argument, that had for its subject -the pleasures, interests or affections of others. He could not entertain -a heartless intercourse. Wherever he saw the human countenance, he -beheld a fellow-creature; and, duped a thousand times, and a thousand -times deceived, "still he must love." To spend the hour in sportive -talk; fondly to interchange the gentle offices of domestic life; to meet -peril and endure misery with others; to give away himself, and then -return to his inner being, laden like a bee with gathered sweets: to -pile up in his store-house, memory, the treasured honey of friendship -and love, and then away to nestle in the bosom of his own dear flower, -and drink up more, or gaily to career the golden fields; such was his -nature: and now—this was worse loneliness; this commune with the -mutes of office; to be checked by low-born men; to feel that he must obey -the beck of an hireling. A month, interspersed with hopes of change, he had -endured the degradation; now he began to meditate escape. Yet he paused. -Where was Katherine? where his many zealous friends? -</p> - -<p> -The Lady Katherine was in an apartment of the palace, whose arched and -fretted roof, and thick buttresses, were well adapted to impart a -feeling of comfortable seclusion from the rough elements without. The -dulness of dark November was gladdened by a huge wood fire. The little -prince of Wales was narrating some strange story of fairyland; and bluff -Harry was setting two dogs to quarrel, and then beating his favourite -for not conquering, which seeing, his sister Margaret drew the animal -from him to console and caress it. The gentle queen bent over her -embroidery. Listening she was to her favourite Arthur, interrupting him -with playful questions and exclamations, while Katherine now kindly -attended to the boy, now turned anxiously at every sound. She rose at -last: "Surely vespers are ringing from the abbey. My lord the king -promised to see me before vespers." -</p> - -<p> -"My lord the king is very gracious to you, sweet one," said Elizabeth. -</p> - -<p> -"Methinks by nature he is gracious," replied the princess; "at least, I -have ever found him so. Surely the shackles of state are very heavy, or -ere this he would have granted my prayer, which he has listened to so -oft indulgently." -</p> - -<p> -The queen smiled faintly, and again pursued her work with seeming -earnestness. Was it jealousy that dimmed the silk of her growing rosebud -by a tear—or what name shall we give to the feeling?—envy we -may not call it, she was too sweetly good—which now whispered, -"Even he, the cold, the stern, is kind to her; my brother loves her -passionately; and many a lance has been broken for her. Happy girl; -happy in adversity; while I, England's miserable queen, am forgotten -even by my fellow-prisoner of Sheriff Hutton, poor Warwick! he might -have been my refuge: for the rest, how hard and rocky seem all human -hearts to me." Her tears now flowed fast. Katherine saw them: she -approached her, saying, "Dear and royal lady, none should weep, -methinks, but only I, whose mate is caged and kept away; none sigh but -poor Kate, whose more than life hangs on state policy; or is it for -<i>him</i> these tears are shed?" -</p> - -<p> -Still Elizabeth wept. Accustomed to the excess of self-restraint, timid, -schooled to patience, but with the proud, fiery spirit of a Plantagenet, -tamed, not dead within her, she could be silent, but not speak by -halves. The very natural vivacity of her nature made her disdain not to -have her will, when once it was awaked. She struggled against her rising -feeling; she strove to suppress her emotion; but at last she spoke; and -once again, after the ten years that had elapsed since her mother's -imprisonment, truth was imaged by her words. To none could she have -addressed herself better. The life of the Scottish princess had been -spent in administering balm to wounded minds: the same soft eloquence, -the same persuasive counsels, that took the sting of remorse from her -royal cousin's conscience, was spent upon the long-hidden sorrows of the -neglected wife, the humbled woman. From her own sensitive mind she -culled the knowledge which taught her where and how peace and -resignation were to be found. The piety that mingled with her talk was -the religion of love; her philosophy was mere love; and it was the -spirit of love, now kindling the balmy atmosphere of charity to many, -now concentred in one point, but ever ready to soothe human suffering -with its soft influence, that dwelt upon her lips, and modulated her -silver voice. Elizabeth felt as if she had wandered long in a -wolf-haunted wild, now suddenly changed to a fairy demesne, fresh and -beautiful as poet's dream. Timidly she feared to set her untaught feet -within the angel-guarded precincts. The first effect of her new friend's -eloquence was to make her speak. After years of silence, to utter her -very inner thoughts, her woman's fears, her repinings, her aversions, -her lost hopes and affections crushed: she spent her bitterest words; -but thus it was as if she emptied a silver chalice of its gall, to be -refilled by Katherine with heavenly dew. -</p> - -<p> -The weeks of baffled expectation grew into months. It is a dreary -portion of our existence, when we set our hearts upon an object which -recedes as we approach, and yet entices us on. The kings courtesy and -smiles, and evident pleasure in her society, gave birth to warm hopes in -the bosom of the princess. She had asked to share her husband's prison; -she had besought to be permitted to see him; it seemed, from Henry's -vague but consolatory answers, that to-morrow she would receive even -more than her desires. The disappointment of the morrow, which she -lamented bitterly at first, then grew into the root whence fresh hopes -sprang again, to be felled by the cruel axe, again to shoot forth: the -sickening sensation of despair crept over her sometimes; her very -struggles to master it enfeebled her; and yet she did conquer all but -the hard purposes of the tyrant. Now a messenger was to be despatched to -Scotland; now he expected one thence; now an embassy from Burgundy: he -implored her patience, and talked back the smiles into her saddened -countenance. He was almost sincere at first, not in his excuses, but in -his desire to please her at any sacrifice; but this disinterested wish -grew soon into a mere grasping at self-gratification. In a little while -he hoped she would be persuaded how vain it was to expect that he should -set free so dangerous a rival: and yet he did not choose to extinguish -all her anticipations; for perhaps then she would desire to return to -her native country; and Henry would have sacrificed much to keep her -where he could command her society. Thus he encouraged her friendship -with the queen, though he wondered how one so wise, so full of -reflection and reason as Katherine, could love his feeble-minded wife. -</p> - -<p> -The king underrated the talents of Elizabeth. This hapless woman had -perceived that contention was useless; she therefore conceded everything -without a struggle. Her energies, spent upon endurance, made her real -strength of mind seem tameness; but Katherine read with clearer eyes. We -are all and each of us riddles, when unknown one to the other. The plain -map of human powers and purposes, helps us not at all to thread the -labyrinth each individual presents in his involution of feelings, -desires, and capacities; and we must resemble, in quickness of feeling, -instinctive sympathy, and warm benevolence, the lovely daughter of -Huntley, before we can hope to judge rightly of the good and virtuous -among our fellow-creatures. -</p> - -<p> -The strangest sight of all was to see Henry act a lover's part. At first -he was wholly subdued, -</p> - -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">"So easy is t' appease the stormy wind</span><br /> -<span class="i2">Of malice, in the calm of pleasant womankind."</span> -</div></div> - -<p> -Even generosity and magnanimity, disguises he sometimes wore the better -to conceal his inborn littleness of soul, almost possessed him; for a -moment he forgot his base exultation in crushing a foe, and for a moment -dwelt with genuine pleasure on the reflection, that it was in his power -to gratify her every wish, and to heap benefits on one so lovely and so -true. When first she was presented to him, in all the calm majesty of -her self-conquering mood, her stainless loveliness had such effect, that -surely he could deny her nothing; and when she asked that no foul -dishonour should be put upon her lord, he granted almost before she -asked: his expressions of service and care were heartfelt; and she lost -every fear as she listened. When custom, which, with man, is the -devourer of holy enthusiasm, changed his purer feelings into something -he dared not name, he continued to manifest the same feelings, which had -bested him so well at first, and to angle with his prey. Though he -scarcely knew what he wished, for a thousand worldly motives sufficed to -check any dishonourable approach, it was enough that she was there; -that, when she saw him, her countenance lighted up with pleasure; that -with the sweetest grace she addressed her entreaties to his ear; not in -abrupt demands, but in such earnest prayer, such yielding again, to -return with another and another argument; that often he thought, even if -he had wished to concede, he would hold out a little longer, that still -her sweet voice might address him, still her stately neck be bent -imploring as she fixed her blue eyes on him. -</p> - -<p> -It was very long before the artless girl suspected that he had any other -intent but to consent at last to her supplications. As it was as easy to -him to lure her on with a greater as a lesser hope, she even fancied -that, under certain restrictions, York's freedom might be restored; and -that with him, in some remote country, she might bless Tudor as a -generous adversary. Elizabeth was afraid to discover the truth to her, -for she also dreaded to lose her, and was afraid that, on the failure of -her hopes, she would seek to return to Scotland; or at least seclude -herself from her husband's jailor. Monina first awoke her to the truth. -Monina, who had been to Brussels, to consult with the Duchess Margaret -and Lady Brampton, and who came back full of projects for her friend's -escape, heard with amazement and scorn the false lures held out by -Henry; she impatiently put aside every inducement for delay, and with -rash, but determined zeal, framed many a scheme for communicating with -him, and contriving means for his flight. -</p> - -<p> -He himself—the chained eagle—was sick at heart. No -word—no breath—no hope! Had all forgotten him? Was he, yet -living, erased from the lists of memory? Cut off from the beloved beings -in whom he had confided, through their own act—no longer a part of -their thoughts, their lives, themselves? Stood he alone in this -miserable world, allied to it by hate only—the hate borne to him -by his foe? Such gloomy misgivings were so alien to his nature, that -they visited him as cruel iron torture visits soft human flesh. That -she—the life of his life, should be false and cold! Each friend -forgetful—Monina—Plantagenet—all—all! Oh, to -stretch his quivering frame upon burning coals, had been to slumber on a -bed of roses, in comparison with the agony these thoughts administered. -His calmer moods, when he believed that, though tardy, they were true, -were scarcely less painful. Then the real state of things grew more -galling: the bluntness or silence of his keepers; their imperturbable or -rude resistance to his questions; the certainty that if one answered -graciously—that one he should see no more. Often he felt as if he -could not endure his present position one hour longer. Fits of hope, -meditations on escape, chequered his days; so that all was not so -dark—but the transition from one emotion to another, each to end -in blank despair, tasked his mercurial soul. Patience died within -him—he might perish in the attempt, but he would be free. -</p> - -<p> -Urged by Monina, by her own awakening fears, and above all by the keen -burning desire of her heart, the Lady Katherine became very importunate -with the crafty monarch to be permitted an interview with her lord. -Henry was in no mood to grant her request: the thousand designs he had -meditated to disgrace his victim, he had given up for her sake, because -he would not refuse himself the pleasure of seeing her, and feared to -behold aversion and horror mark an aspect hitherto all smiles towards -him. The same fear, nurtured by the expressions of her tender affection, -made him hesitate, ere he should endeavour to convince her that she had -misallied herself to an impostor. Indeed, when at last he ventured to -frame a speech bearing such a meaning, her answer told him, that if he -could have changed the Royal York into base-born Perkin, the young and -innocent wife would still cling to him to whom she had pledged her rows; -to whom she had given himself; whose own, in Heaven's and her own eyes, -she unalienably was. But now Henry, grown more callous as time elapsed, -coined a new scheme, vile as his own soul: he resolved, by acting on her -woman's fears, tenderness, and weakness, to make her the instrument of -persuading her lord to some damning confession, that must stamp him as a -deceiver for ever. This bright project animated him to fresh endeavours -to please, and her with fresh hopes; yet he paused a little before he -sought to execute it. -</p> - -<p> -Winter crept on into spring, and spring ripened into summer, and still -the various actors in this tragic drama were spending their lives, their -every thought and heart's pulsation on one object. Richard had latterly -received intimation that he would be permitted an interview with his -beloved White Rose; and a week or two more were patiently endured with -this expectation. Katherine each day believed, that on the morrow she -should see him, whom now she conversed with only in her nightly dreams, -and woke each morning to find him fled with them. Some change -approached: Henry's promises became more clear in their expression; his -assertions more peremptory: he would at last name his conditions, which -she was to communicate to her lord; even Elizabeth almost dared to hope. -Monina alone, deeply impressed with a belief in the malice of Tudor, was -incredulous, and reluctantly yielded to Katherine's request to suspend -yet a little while her plots. -</p> - -<p> -Whitsuntide arrived, and Henry at last would decide. This estival was to -be spent at Shene: thither the royal family went, accompanied by the -princess, who vanquished her disappointment at further delay, not to -appear an ingrate to the fair-promising king. Indeed, in the secure hope -she cherished of again seeing him who was her earthly paradise, she -smiled through the very heart-gushing tears expectation caused to flow. -On Whit Sunday she awoke, resolving to discard the heavy load of -anticipated evil that involuntarily weighed at her heart. She knelt at -mass, and fervently strove to resign her dearest wishes to the direction -of her God; and yet that she should see him again soon—oh! how -very soon,—filled her with such dizzy rapture, that her orisons -were forgot midway—remembered, and turned to -thanksgivings—till she recollected that still her hope was -unfulfilled; and fear awoke, and with tears and prayer she again strove -to ease her agitated heart. -</p> - -<p> -That very night a thunder-storm roused her from slumber: with those -unexplained emotions, which, in fateful periods, make so large a portion -of our lives, she felt as if every clap spoke audibly some annunciation -which she could not interpret: as if every lurid flash were sent to -disclose a sight which yet she could not see. At length the rain ceased, -the thunder grew distant, the lightning faint; a load was lifted from -her soul; she slept, with the firm belief that on the morrow tidings, -not all evil, would be brought from London. -</p> - -<p> -Some tidings surely came. What they were she was not permitted to know. -For the first time Henry made her a real prisoner; she was carefully -guarded, and none were allowed to speak to her. Overwrought by her -expectations, this seemed a frightful cruelty; and yet, where caution -was used, there must be fear: her—his enemy feared—then good -had occurred. She dared not permit her imagination to picture forth the -thing which yet was for ever present to it; and, while all else were -amazed to hear that York had escaped and fled, his lovely, anxious wife, -cut off from communication with all, knew only that she alone was -ignorant of what she would have given her life to learn. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h4><a id="chap51"></a></h4> - -<h4>CHAPTER LI -<br /><br /> -AN ESCAPE</h4> - - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thou, God of winds, that reignest in the seas,</span><br /> -<span class="i2">That reignest also in the continent,</span><br /> -<span class="i0">At last blow up some gentle gale of ease,</span><br /> -<span class="i2">The which may bring my ship, ere it be rent,</span><br /> -<span class="i2">Unto the gladsome port of her intent.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i20">SPENSER.</span> -</div></div></div> - -<p> -During the winter and the untoward late spring, Richard had endured his -captivity. The warm happy summer season, calling all nature to a -jubilee, at first saddened, then animated him to contrive new projects -of escape. The promised interview with his White Rose tempted him to -delay; while an inner spirit rebelled even against this dear enticement, -and bade him fly. -</p> - -<p> -On the evening of the ninth of June, he was permitted to attend vespers -in a secluded chapel of Westminster Abbey. During the short passage from -the palace to the cathedral, it seemed to him as if a new life were -awake everywhere; an unknown power, on the eve of liberating him. Never -before had he prayed so fervently for freedom: the pealing organ, the -dim arched venerable vault above, acted as stimulants to his roused and -eager soul; he stood tiptoe, as on the eve of the accomplishment of his -desire. -</p> - -<p> -A deep and awful sound suddenly shook the building; a glaring, lurid -flash, filled with strange brilliancy the long, dark aisle. A clap of -thunder, loud, and swiftly repeated, reverberated along the heavens; -the shrill scream of women answered the mighty voice. The priest who -read the service, saw his sacred book glared on by so keen a flash, as -blinded him to the dimmer light that succeeded. Every being in the -church sank on their knees, crossing themselves, and striving to repeat -their Paternosters and Aves; while Richard stood fearless, enjoying the -elemental roar, exulting in the peal, the flash, the tempestuous havock, -as powers yet rebellious to his conqueror. Freedom was victorious in the -skyey plains; there was freedom in the careering clouds, freedom in the -sheeted lightning, freedom in the cataract of sound that tore its way -along. On his poor heart, sick of captivity, and enforced obedience, the -sweet word liberty hung as a spell: every bird and tiny fly he had -envied as being free; how much more things more powerful, the chainless -destructions of nature. The voice of God speaking in his own consecrated -abode was terrible to all; soothing to himself alone. He walked to the -southern entrance of the edifice to mark the splashing shower, as it -ploughed the stones: two of his keepers remained on their knees, -paralyzed by terror; the two others followed trembling. At that moment a -louder, a far, far louder clap burst right above them, succeeding so -instantaneously the blinding flash, that, while every object was wrapped -inflame, the pavement and fretted roof of the abbey shook with the -sound. A bolt had fallen; the priest at the altar was struck; with -mingled horror and curiosity one of York's remaining guards rushed -towards the spot; the only remaining one was kneeling in an agony of -terror. York stood on the threshold of the porch; he advanced -a few steps beyond; a new fear possessed the fellow. "He will -escape!—halloo!—James!—Martin!" The very words imparted -the thought to the prince, who filled erewhile with wonder and religious -awe, had forgotten his own sad plight. He turned to the man, who was -doubtful whether to rush into the chapel for his comrades, or singly to -seize his prisoner—his dagger was drawn. "Put up that foolish steel," -said York, "it cannot harm one whom God calls to freedom—listen, he -speaks;—farewell!" The lightning again flashed; with blue and forked -flame it ran along the blade of the weapon raised against him; with a -shriek the man dashed it to the earth. Richard was already out of sight. -</p> - -<p> -The rain poured in torrents: it came down in continuous cataracts from -the eaves of the houses. On this sunny festival few had remained at -home; and those, terror-stricken now, were on their knees; no creature -was in the streets as the fugitive sped on, ignorant whither he should -go. London was a vast, unknown labyrinth to him: as well as he could -divine, he directed his flight eastward, and that with such velocity, -that he might compete with a horse in full career. If any saw him, as -thus with winged heels he flew along, they did not wonder that a person -should hasten to shelter out of the storm. It was of slight regard to -him that rain and hail ploughed the earth, and continued thunder echoed -through the sky; that alone and friendless he fled through the streets -of his victor's chief city. His exulting heart, his light, glad spirit -told him that he was free; if for a few minutes only, he would joyfully -purchase with his life those few minutes' emancipation from his -frightful thraldom. No words could speak, no thought image the supreme -gladness of that moment. -</p> - -<p> -Meanwhile, dark night, aided by the thick clouds which still poured down -torrents of rain, had crept over the dim twilight, and began to -imbarrier with doubt the path of the rejoicing fugitive. He found at -last that the lines of houses receded, and that he was in an open space, -in the midst of which rose a gigantic shadow, stretching itself in -stillness and vastness on the summit of the rising ground before -him;—it was the cathedral of St. Paul's. Now, cloaked by the dark and -inclement night, he began to reflect on his actual situation: London -might swarm with his partizans, but he knew not where to find one. -Probably all those who were occupied by his fate resided in Westminster, -whence he had precipitately fled; whither assuredly he would not return. -These reflections perplexed him, but in no way allayed his transport at -finding himself free; he felt that if he wandered to the wide fields, -and died of hunger there, it were bliss enough to see the sky "unclouded -by his dungeon roof;" to behold the woods, the flowers, and the dancing -waves; nor be mocked with man's shape, when those who wore it had sold -man's dearest privilege—that of allowing his actions to wait upon the -free impulses of his heart. -</p> - -<p> -Still, therefore, he hurried along, and finally became completely -bewildered in some swampy, low fields, intersected by wide ditches. The -night was pitchy dark; nor was there any clue afforded him by which he -could even guess whether he might not be returning on his path. Suddenly -a small ray of light threaded the gloom; it went and came, and at last -remained stationary. With wavering will and irregular steps the prince -proceeded towards it; for he would rather have died where he stood, than -discover himself, so to fall again into captivity. Once or twice he lost -sight of this tiny earth-star, which evidently shone through some low -casement; and, as at last he caught sight of the solitary miserable hut -where it was sphered, the recollection of his former asylum, of -ill-fated Jane Shore's penurious dwelling, flashed across him: with -speedy, reassured pace he hurried on, leaping a ditch that obstructed -his path, careless of every physical obstacle, when the malice of man -was no longer to be apprehended. "Poor Jane!" he ejaculated: and again -he reflected with some wonder that, in every adversity, women had been -his resource and support; their energies, their undying devotion and -enthusiasm, were the armour and weapons with which he had defended -himself from and attacked fortune. Even one so fallen and so low as poor -Jane Shore, was, through the might of fidelity and affection, of more -avail than all his doughty partizans, who, in the hour of need, were -scattered and forgetful. -</p> - -<p> -The low-roofed cot was before him unmistaken. The crevice whence the -light emanated was too small to admit his inquiring glance; amid the -driving, pattering rain he fancied that he distinguished voices within; -but, with a boldness which bade him fear nothing, he lifted the latch, -and beheld in truth a sight of wonder;—Monina, with a shriek started -from her seat; she folded him with wild joy in her fair arms, and then, -blushing and trembling, threw herself on the neck of Lady Brampton; and -Jane herself rose from her couch of straw, more wan, more emaciated than -ever;—yet even over her sad pale face a smile wandered, showing in -yet more ghastly hues the ruin it illumined. -</p> - -<p> -Questions, ejaculations, wonder and delight, burst from every lip: "He -is here to our wish; the means of escape are secured, and he is here! -Oh, dearest Lady Brampton, do not the blessed angels guard him?" Monina -spoke, and her soft luminous eyes were fixed on him, as if not daring to -believe the vision; it was not the chastened delight of age, but the -burning, ardent joy of a young heart, who had but one thought, one -desire, and that about to be accomplished; her flushed cheeks betokened -her rapture: "I have repined, despaired, almost blasphemed; yet he is -here: how good is Almighty God! Listen, dear my lord, how wondrously -opportune your arrival is: Lady Brampton will tell you all. Oh, this new -miracle is the blessed Virgin's own achievement—you are free!" -</p> - -<p> -Scarcely less animated, the zealous lady detailed the circumstances that -united so favourably for him. She had been for some time at Brussels -with the Duchess Margaret, who was more grieved than could be imagined -at the capture of her beloved nephew. She lived in a state of terror on -his account. That his life was awhile spared, availed little to pacify -her; the midnight murders and prison-assassinations, so rife during the -wars of York and Lancaster were present to her imagination. She -exhausted every device, every bribe, to gain partizans for him to -achieve his freedom. Among others, most liberal of promises, was the -false Clifford. After Richard had escaped from him in the New Forest, he -fell in with Frion, whose double plot being defeated, he strove to -capture and accuse the accomplice whom, in fact, he had deceived. The -knight fled; he escaped to the Low Countries; and by a glozing tale -easily gained the ear of the duchess. Lost in England, perhaps he wished -to rebuild his fallen fortunes; aided by her munificence, perhaps he -prepared some new treachery; however it might be, he was trusted, and -was the soul of the present enterprise. De Faro's vessel, refitted and -well manned, was now anchored in the mouth of the Thames. Clifford -undertook the task of foisting some creature of his own, or even -himself, disguised, of undertaking the part of one of Richard's keepers, -when he doubted not to be able to secure his flight. -</p> - -<p> -With her usual vivacity Lady Brampton gave this account; but no -explanations on her part could dissipate the horror York felt at the -name of Clifford, or inspire him with anything but distrust of his -intentions. Monina, before silenced by her sanguine associates, now gave -expression to the terror and abhorrence his interference occasioned; she -had come, exposing herself to a thousand perils and pains, merely that -she might watch over his acts, and awaken her too credulous friends to a -knowledge of his duplicity. But the danger was past; before Clifford -could know that he had escaped, York might reach the Adalid. -</p> - -<p> -Almost as an answering echo to these words there was a sound of hurrying -steps. "It is he: the traitor comes. Oh, bar the door!" There was no -bar, no mode of securing this dwelling of penury; three women alone were -his guard: Monina, pale and trembling; Lady Brampton, endeavouring to -reassure her; while Richard stood forward, his gaze fixed on the opening -door, whose latch was already touched, resolved to meet, with perfect -show of frank reliance and intrepidity, the intruders. -</p> - -<p> -Sir Robert Clifford entered. Confusion, attempted boldness, and, last, -sullen malice painted his aspect when he beheld the prince. He was much -changed, and looked almost an old man; his dark and profuse hair was -grizzled; his grey eyes hollow: and his dress, though that of a -cavalier, exhibited signs of habitual neglect. His person, always -slight, had been redeemed from insignificance by its exquisite grace and -elegance; every trace of this was flown; and his haggard countenance and -diminutive size made even York scarcely credit that this was indeed the -gay, reckless Robin. His resolve had been already made; he addressed him -kindly, saying, "Sir Robert, I hear that you are willing to renew to me -your broken vows: may you hereafter keep them more faithfully." -</p> - -<p> -Clifford muttered a few words; he looked towards the door, as if -desirous of escape; he struggled with shame, guilt, and some other -emotion. As soon as a consultation began as to the means to be adopted -for the prince to reach the sea in safety, he conquered himself, -entering; into it with spirit and zeal. The plan he proposed was crafty, -his own part in it the principal. He spoke of disguising the prince as a -female attendant on Monina; of his and O'Water's accompanying them along -the river banks as soon as daylight. -</p> - -<p> -"And wherefore not now? Or rather, wherefore even now do we not hasten -to the Thames, and seize a boat?" -</p> - -<p> -"Because," said Clifford, interrupting Monina, "his highness's flight is -already known; a line of boats intersects the Thames below London -Bridge; and lower still every craft is on the alert." -</p> - -<p> -Each one exchanged looks; the knight continued: "You all distrust me, -and I wonder not. I am in your power now; here are my unarmed hands; -even a woman may bind them. Go forth yourselves: seek the path to the -sea: before an hour elapses the duke will be again a prisoner. You may -in this wild spot plant your daggers in my heart to avenge, but that -will not save him; for I have no power here. But set me free, confide to -my care, and, by the God that made me, he walks the deck of the Adalid -ere the setting sun. I could tell you how this can be, and ye would not -the more trust me, if I spoke of such alliance with, such power over, -the rogues and vagabonds of this saintly city, as enables me to move -strange engines to execute my will; even if you credited me you would -disdain that your hero should owe his life to such base means. Be it as -you will: believe me; and I pledge my life that his grace will ride the -dancing waves beyond King Henry's reach to-morrow night." -</p> - -<p> -"I accept the pledge," replied York, who had eyed him earnestly as he -spoke. "I commit myself to your care; act speedily, without fear of balk -or suspicion on my part." -</p> - -<p> -Clifford's lips curled into a triumphant smile; because again he was -trusted, or because again he would betray, it was hard to divine. "I -must beseech your patience in the first place," said Sir Robert: "I -cannot get the fitting disguises during the night." -</p> - -<p> -"Night is no more," replied Richard, throwing open the casement; and the -dusky room was illuminated by the day. In the east there was a very -fountain of light, which, welling up, flooded the flecked and broken -clouds with rosy hues: the stars were gone; a soft azure peeped between -the breaking vapours; the morning air was deliciously fresh; the birds -chirped; a distant watch-dog barked. Otherwise all was silent; and -security seemed to walk the earth. -</p> - -<p> -"I will go seek the needful dresses," said Clifford. "Your Grace will -await my return, even though my stay, lengthened beyond my expectation, -give some reason for the distrust I read in every eye." -</p> - -<p> -"It is but too natural," said the prince, "that my kind friends should -suspect you; for myself, I have said the word; I place myself in your -hands: half measures were of no avail. If indeed you are a traitor, -bring Tudor's hirelings here to seize their prey. I cannot fear; I will -not doubt; and, if in my soul any suspicion lurk, my actions shall not -be guided by it. Go; let your return be speedy or otherwise, I await you -here." -</p> - -<p> -Scarcely had the door closed, when Monina, whose eyes had been fixed on -Clifford's countenance during the whole scene, exclaimed:—"This -moment is our own! Fly, my prince; trust me—I know that bad man; -if he find you here when he returns, you are lost." -</p> - -<p> -"Hist!" Jane spoke the word, and a dead silence fell upon the anxious -band. The steps of a horse were heard: Monina flew to the casement. "It -is our faithful Irish friend, my lord; it is O'Water." The door was -opened; and each one crowded round the visitant. He uttered a "By the -mischief!" which sounded like a benediction, when he saw the duke of -York, adding, "All is well, all in readiness; I left the Adalid, after -the storm yester evening, in safe anchorage." -</p> - -<p> -"Oh yes, safety," cried the enthusiastic Spaniard; "safety or -death! Trust not false Clifford—seize the fleeting, precious -opportunity,—O'Water's horse——" -</p> - -<p> -"Is blown," said Richard; "he cannot carry me." -</p> - -<p> -"And the ways strangely beset," said the mayor. "Just now I saw a young -gentleman seized, much to his annoyance, by some patrol. He bribed -dearly, but they would not listen—the whole country is alarmed." -</p> - -<p> -"I will wait for Clifford," continued York; "and trust in Providence. -Some kind friend only bestow a dagger on me: I would not be taken like -an unarmed girl." -</p> - -<p> -"A tramp of steeds—they are coming, Clifford guides them hither; we -are lost!" cried Lady Brampton. -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, fly—fly—my liege," said O'Water, "expose not these women -to the assault. Poor Rose Blanche can yet bear you fast and far." -</p> - -<p> -The sound as of a troop of horse neared. The prince saw O'Water blocking -up the casement, and then draw his sword. Monina, wild with agony, fell -at his feet:—"Fly, my lord, fly for the Lady Katherine's sake: fly -for mine own: must I see you die? I, who have lived—alas! how -vainly. Lady Brampton—beseech—command—he must fly. O, -they will be here—to seize, to murder him!" -</p> - -<p> -"Here is my dagger, my lord," said O'Water, coolly!—"Defend -yourself—meanwhile—now at our last hour—for surely it is -come, Our Lady recommend us to God's holy grace." -</p> - -<p> -The gallop of a troop grew yet more distinct; Richard looked round: Jane -was kneeling, her face buried in her hands: Lady Brampton pale, but -resolved, was ready to sacrifice the life she had spent for him. O'Water -had resigned himself to the final act of a life of peril, sealed in his -blood. The lovely Spaniard alone lost all her self-possession; tears -streaming from her uplifted eyes; her arms twined round his knees: to -fly—fly! was the only thought she could express. "I yield," said -York; "throw open the door." O'Water's horse had been led within the hut; -he vaulted on his back; he placed the dagger in his belt. "That way," Lady -Brampton cried, "it leads to the river's side below." -</p> - -<p> -A scream from Monina followed his swift departure. "He perishes—he -betrays us!" cried O'Water. Richard galloped on not across the field -away from town, but right into danger; there, whence the troop was -certainly approaching. He was lost to view on the instant, in a -straggling lane which stretched out half across the field. A moment -after coming from the other side, unobserved till in the hut, Clifford -entered alone. He bore a large bundle; his steps were cautious and -swift; his look told that he was intent only on the object of his -errand. "I have succeeded beyond my hope. My life on it all is safe. -Where have ye hid the prince? Oh, prithee, fear not, nor trifle: each -second is precious." -</p> - -<p> -The confused wondering looks of all present replied to him. Clifford -laughed, a short, sarcastic, bitter laugh: and then, with a fiendlike -expression of face, he said, "The prince has done well; and ye have all -done well: and his Grace will thank you anon. Ye grudge me, maybe, the -Duchess Margaret's bounty. She promised largely; 'twere pity to share -the boon among so many. Now mark the event!" -</p> - -<p> -These words displayed the baseness of his motive, yet vouched for his -sincerity. He threw a menacing glance around, and then quitted the hut; -and with hurried pace hastened across the field towards the town. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h4><a id="chap52"></a></h4> - -<h4>CHAPTER LII -<br /><br /> -TREASON</h4> - - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Full many a glorious morning: have I seen,</span><br /> -<span class="i0">Flatter the mountain tops with sovereign eye,</span><br /> -<span class="i0">Kissing with golden face the meadows green;</span><br /> -<span class="i0">Gilding pale streams with heavenly alchemy;</span><br /> -<span class="i0">Anon, permit the basest clouds to ride</span><br /> -<span class="i0">With ugly rack on his celestial face.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i20">SHAKSPEARE.</span> -</div></div></div> - -<p> -The duke of York, urged so earnestly to fly, felt that to do so was to -save himself at the expense of his friends, on whom Henry's vengeance -would severely fall, when he found himself balked of his victim. He -consented to leave Jane Shore's abode, with the resolve not of effecting -his escape, but of securing, by surrendering himself, the safety of his -defenceless adherents united under her lowly roof. He directed his -course as he believed into the very centre of danger, entering the -narrow straggling street whence the sound of the advance of the troop of -horse had been heard. He entered the lane; it was empty. The ominous -sounds were still sharp and near; it seemed as if they were in some -street parallel to the one which he threaded. He turned at right angles -into another, to reach the spot: again he turned, led by the baffling -noise, in another direction. It was just four in the morning; there were -but few abroad so early: he saw a monk gliding stealthily from under a -dark archway, and a poor fellow, who looked as if he had slept beneath -heaven's roof, and had not wherewithal to break his fast. True to the -kindly instincts of his nature, Richard felt at his girdle for his -purse; it was long since he had possessed the smallest coin of his -adversary's realm. "I, a prince!" his feeling had been more bitter, but -that his fingers came in contact with his dagger's hilt, and the -conviction of freedom burst with fresh delight upon him. Free, even in -spite of its intents; for the tramp which had gradually grown fainter, -was dying absolutely away. -</p> - -<p> -They had probably reached the hut: thither he must return. It was no -easy thing to find his way to it, he had so entangled himself in the -narrow lanes, and wretched assemblages of dwellings huddled together on -the outskirts of London. At length they opened before him: there was the -dingy field, there the hut, standing in quiet beneath the rays of the -morning sun, of the opening, summer, soft, sweet day. He was quickly at -its threshold; he entered. Jane was within, alone, seated in her wooden -chair; her hands clasped; her pale face sunk on her bosom: big tears -were gathering in her eyes, and rolling down her faded cheeks unheeded. -Jane's aspect was usually so marble (a miraculous chiselling of resigned -hopelessness), her mien so unbending, that these signs of emotion struck -the prince with wonder and compassion. -</p> - -<p> -He knelt at her feet and pressed her thin, but little hand to his lips, -saying, "Mother, where are my friends? Mother, bless me before I go." -</p> - -<p> -She dried the drops raining from her eyes, saying in a voice that -expressed how occupied she was by her own emotion, "I am a sinful woman; -well do these tones remind me of the same: those days are quite, quite -gone, even from the memory of all; but once they were as the present -hour, when so he spoke, and I was lost, and still am lost; for, through -hunger and cold and shame, I love, and cannot quite repent. Will the -hour ever come when I can regret that once I was happy?" -</p> - -<p> -Many, many sad years had passed since words like these had dropped from -poor Jane's lips; her feelings fed on her, possessed her, but she had -been mute; overflowing now, her accent was calm; she spoke as if she was -unaware that her thoughts framed speech, and that she had an auditor. -</p> - -<p> -"You have paid a dear penalty, and are surely forgiven," said York, -striving in his compassion to find the words that might be balm to her. -</p> - -<p> -"Prince," she continued, "some time ago,—I have lost all date; now -the chasm seems nought, now a long eternity; it was when my poor heart -knew nothing of love, save its strong necessity and its delight; -methought I would see your father's fair offspring, for I loved them for -his sake. At the festival of Easter I placed myself near the gate of the -royal chapel: I thought to be unseen. The happy queen held her sons each -by the hand; you were then, as now, his image, a little sportive -blue-eyed cherub. The prince of Wales had his mother's look: her large, -dark eye, her soft, rosy mouth, her queenlike brow; her beauty which had -won Edward, her chaste sweetness, which had made her his wife; my -presence—I thought to conceal it better—was revealed. The -queen turned her face away; there was anguish surely written there, for -the prince darted on me a look of such withering scorn—yes, even -he—his stainless, fair brow was knit, his bright angel's face -clouded: the look sank in my heart. Edward's beautiful, pure child -reproved me, hated me: for three days I felt that I would never see the -deluder more: you do not share his abhorrence; you do not hate the pale -ghost of Shore's wife?" -</p> - -<p> -Such clinging to the past, such living memory of what was so absolutely -dead to all except herself, awe-struck the prince: "We are all sinners -in the eye of God," he said, "but thy faults are surely forgiven thee, -gentle one: thy tears have washed every trace away, and my brother, my -poor murdered Edward, now blesses thee. Alas! would that I could soften -this last stage of your suffering earthly life." -</p> - -<p> -"'Tis better as it is," she answered hastily, "once I felt disgrace and -privation keenly; perhaps that may atone. Now, would it were more -bitter, that so I might wean myself from him whose very memory will lose -my soul. You are good, and Our Lady will requite you. Now, listen: the -damsel Monina and Master O'Water have gone towards Southend: your -remaining friends watch for you here. I shall see them again to-night: -meanwhile it is to be feared that Clifford plots vengeance, and you must -fly; you must at every hazard go towards Southend. Beyond the town, on -the lone sands, there is a wooden cross, telling where one escaped -dreadful peril through the might of Him who died on it for us; the -smallest sign, the waving of your cap, will be watched for by the -Adalid, they will send a boat to take you on board. Now swiftly depart: -your life hangs on the hour; this purse will furnish you with means Lady -Brampton left it for you." -</p> - -<p> -"Bless me, mother, ere I go." -</p> - -<p> -"Can a sinner's blessing avail? fear rather that God punish me through -you, where my heart is garnered. Oh, may He indeed bless and save you; -and I shall die in peace." -</p> - -<p> -He kissed her withered hand and was gone; she dragged her failing limbs -to the casement; he was already lost among the straggling tenements that -bounded her field. -</p> - -<p> -Again York was flying from his foe; again studying to elude pursuit, -with how different feelings. Before, his flight was peremptory, for the -preservation of others, while he blindly longed to deliver himself to -slavery. Now liberty, for its own dear sake, was worth the world to him. -He had tasted to its dregs the misery of captivity, and loathed the very -name; whatever might betide, he would never submit willingly again to -one hour's thraldom. He felt his dagger's hilt; he drew it from the -sheath, and eyed its polished blade with gladness; for eight months he -had been living unarmed, under the perpetual keeping of armed jailors; -what wonder that he looked on this sharp steel as the key to set him -free from every ill. -</p> - -<p> -He got clear of the town: the open sky, the expanse of summer—adorned -earth was before him. It was the "leafy month of June;" the far-spread -corn-fields were getting yellow; and on their weltering surface played -the shadows of a few clouds, relics of the last night's storm: the sun -was bright, the breeze balmy, already the very foot-paths were dry, and -scarcely from its inmost leaves did any tree shake moisture: yet there -was a freshness in the scene, a lightness in the air, the gift of -tempest. The dazzling sun rose higher, and each island-vapour sank on -the horizon; the garish light clothed all things; the lazy shadows crept -up around the objects which occasioned them, while both object and its -shade seemed to bask in the sunshine. Now overhead the meeting boughs of -trees scarce sufficed to shield him from the penetrating glare; now in -the open path he was wholly exposed to it, as his diminished shadow -clung almost to the horse's hoofs. The birds twittered above; the lazy -mare was stretched basking, while her colt gambolled around; each slight -thing spoke of the voluptuous indolence of summer, and the wafted scent -of hay, or gummy exhalation of evergreens, distilled by the warm noon, -fed with languid sweets every delighted sense. If paradise be ever of -this world it now embowered Richard. All was yet insecure; his White -Rose was far: but nature showered such ecstasy on him that his whole -being was given up to her influence. Latterly the form of man had been -ever before his aching sight under the aspect of an enemy; the absence -of every fellow-creature he hailed with gladness—free and alone, -alone and free! With the pertinacious dwelling on one idea, which is -characteristic of overpowering feeling, this combination of words and -ideas haunted his thoughts, fell from his lips, and made a part of the -soul-subduing rapture now his portion. -</p> - -<p> -May it be added—we must address the unhappy and imaginative, who -<i>know</i> that the future is so linked with the present as to have an -influence over that present, when we add—that the intensity of the -liberated prince's feelings was wrought even to pain, by its being the -last time that unalloyed delight would ever be his—the last when -he might feel himself the nursling of nature, allied by the bond of -enjoyment to all her offspring. He knew not this himself. Immersed in -the sense of all that he now possessed, he did not pause to reflect -whether this were the last time, that he, the victim of chance and -change, might ever see the waving corn or shadowy trees, or hear the -carolling birds, or the murmurs of the fresh free brooks gurgling round -some pendant bough or jutting stone; but that so it was to be, gave -poignancy to his pleasure, a dreamy halo to the whole scene. -</p> - -<p> -It would appear, in spite of the precautions taken by his enemy, that -the north bank of the Thames had been neglected. Richard met with no -impediment in his progress. Whenever he caught a sight of the river, he -perceived unusual signs of activity. Little wherries shot hither and -thither on its surface, revealing to him that keen and vigilant search -was being made. Meanwhile he rode on, the broad stream for his guide, -avoiding towns and villages. He ventured to purchase bread at a lone -farm-house—he alighted in a little grove beside a rivulet, to rest -his tired horse, and to refresh himself. The summer heat recalled Andalusia -to his mind; and scenes and objects, quite forgotten, wandered from -their oblivious recesses back into his recollection. "My happy boyhood! -My beloved Spain! Why did I leave the land of beauty, where with -Monina——?" The idea of her whose fate was so inextricably -linked with his, of his bride, who had quitted her palace home to share his -adversity, reproached him. But his imagination could not fix itself on -bleak Scotland, its wild haunts, its capricious king: it could only -build another bower among the folds of the mountains of Andalusia, and -place his White Rose therein. -</p> - -<p> -Again he pursued his way. The slant beams of the descending sun were yet -more sultry, but it sank swiftly down; now casting gigantic shadows, -bathing the tree-tops in golden dew, and flooding the clouds with -splendour; now it was gone, and the landscape faded into a brown mellow -tint. The birds' last chirp was given, the beetle winged her noisy -flight, the congregated rooks had flown to the belfry of the church, or -to their nests in the churchyard trees; silence and twilight crept up -from the sedgy banks of the river, leaving the pale water alone to -reflect the struggling farewell of day. In a little time the banks -shelved away, giving place to broad yellow sand. Richard ventured to -bend his course along the beach. There was a bark upon the dim tide, -whose progress he had watched since noon, whose flapping or full sails -were the signs by which he foretold the prosperity of his destined -voyage. Now with swelling canvas it walked swiftly over the water. -</p> - -<p> -He passed Southend. He perceived the tall rough-hewn cross. Two figures -were seated at its foot. He hesitated, but quickly perceiving that one -was a woman, he proceeded onwards. The stars were out; the very west was -dim; in the offing there was a vessel, whose build and tall slender -masts he thought he recognized. The broad expanse of calm ocean was -there, whose waves broke in tiny ripplets on the beach. He reached the -cross. O'Water and Monina saw his approach. The Irishman welcomed him -boisterously, in his own language. Monina uttered a benediction in -Spanish. The scene was solitary and secure. Every danger was past. There -floated the caravel which insured escape, and the stars alone witnessed -their flight. Monina gave her white veil to O'Water, who contrived to -elevate it on the cross. In a few moments the splash of oars was heard, -and a dark speck floated towards them on the waves, from the direction -of the Adalid. "They come; you are safe," murmured his lovely friend; -"this hour repays for all." The boat was already on the beach: a seaman -leaped on shore. "The White English Rose," he said: such was the word -agreed upon; and, hailing it, Monina hurried to embark with her -companions. The little boat was pushed from shore. O'Water gave vent to -his delight in a shout that resembled a yell. Monina crept close to the -duke of York: that he was safe was a truth so dear, so new, that she -forgot everything, save her wish to assure herself again and again that -so it was. At that moment of triumph, something like sadness invaded -Richard: he had quitted the land for which his friends had bled, and he -had suffered—for ever: he had left his Katherine there, where all was -arrayed against him for his destruction. This was safety; but it was the -overthrow of every childish dream, every youthful vision; it put the -seal of ineffectual nothingness on his every manhood's act. -</p> - -<p> -While each, occupied by their peculiar reveries, were aware only that -they were being borne onwards on the waves, a smaller boat shot athwart -their bows, and a voice exclaimed in Spanish, "Desdichados, estais -allá?" -</p> - -<p> -"My father—we are betrayed," Monina cried: and she threw her arms -round Richard, as if by such frail guard to shelter him—another -stronger grasp was upon his arm as he endeavoured to rise—a voice, -husky from passion, yet still Clifford's voice, muttered, "The day is -mine—you—she—all are mine!" -</p> - -<p> -"Thou fell traitor! What ho! De Faro, to the rescue!" already the -mariner had thrown a grappling iron—already the Adalid was in motion -towards them. Clifford strove to draw his sword. York was upon him in -mortal struggle; his keen dagger, unsheathed, uplifted; the boat -lurched—his arm descended, but half the force of the intended blow -was lost, while both fell overboard. The crew rushed to the boat's side to -loosen the grappling iron, which concluded its upset. De Faro, who stood -high on the bows of his own boat, had seized Monina. Now another larger -skiff was seen approaching, "To your oars!" cried the Moor: they shot -swiftly towards the Adalid, and while the sea became alive with craft, -they reached the little caravel, who, turning her canvas to the wind, -dropped down the tide. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h4><a id="chap53"></a></h4> - -<h4>CHAPTER LIII -<br /><br /> -DEATH OF CLIFFORD</h4> - - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Your love and pity doth the impression fill,</span><br /> -<span class="i0">Which vulgar scandal stamp'd upon my brow;</span><br /> -<span class="i0">For what care I who calls me well or ill,</span><br /> -<span class="i0">So you o'erskreen my bad—my good allow?</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i20">SHAKSPEARE.</span> -</div></div></div> - -<p> -On the fourth day of her restraint, imprisonment it could hardly be -called. Lady Katherine was brought up to Westminster; she was carried in -a close litter, and no familiar face or accustomed attendant came near. -Her anxiety, her anguish weighed intolerably upon her—sleep had not -visited her eyes; she lived in perpetual terror that each sound was -freighted with fatal tidings. It was in vain that even reason bade her -nourish hope—a stronger power than reason dwelt in her heart, turning -all its yearnings to despair. -</p> - -<p> -As she approached the city, she thought each step must reveal the truth -of what she was to suffer. Lo! the palace was entered—her habitual -chamber—silence and solitude alone manifested that some change was -even now in its effect; she had no tear? to spend upon her grief; her -changing colour, her quickened respiration showed that every faculty was -possessed by terror. Two hours, each minute stretched to a long, long -century,—two hours passed, when a little scroll was delivered to her; -it came from the queen, and contained these words, "My White Rose! the -tempest has past—leaving, alas! devastation: we yet remain to each -other—come——" -</p> - -<p> -These expressions spoke the worst to her fear-stricken mind—no -subsequent agony might ever compare to the pang that made her very -life-blood pause in her failing heart at that moment. Had the present -and the future become void for him, to whom she was wedded heart and -soul?—wedded in youth, when our hopes stretch themselves not -merely to to-day and to-morrow, but even to eternity. In this state of -human woe, we do not describe the disheartening and carking sorrows of -those who lag on life's highway—but the swift, poignant, -intolerable agonies of the young, to whom the aspiration for happiness -is a condition of being. The queen had been accustomed to witness and -admire Katherine's self-command and quiet fortitude; she was awe-struck -on beholding the devastation of the last four days, and the expression -of wild horror on her soft features. With feminine instinct she read her -heart, her first words were, "Sweet love, he lives—and he will -live—his life is spared, and we may still hope." -</p> - -<p> -Tears at last flowed from the mourner's eyes, as she asked, "What then -will be his fate?—Shall I ever see him more?" -</p> - -<p> -"How can we guess the hidden purposes of the king? By your enforced -solitude you have escaped his scowling brow, his violence, his sarcasms; -again he smiles. My gentle Kate, my sweet, courageous sufferer, hitherto -we have played with the lion's fangs—they are unsheathed in anger -now—let us prepare: he will be here anon." -</p> - -<p> -The princess desired not to exhibit too humiliating a spectacle of -misery to her cruel foe—she checked her weeping—she endeavoured -to forget the burning agony that tortured her beating heart. "Let him but -live; let me but once more see him;" and the unbidden tears flowed -again. The king soon broke in upon them; his look was haughty even to -insolence: an expression of vulgar triumph was in his eyes, that baffled -the eager scanning gaze of the hapless princess. He said, scoffingly -(and was it in man's nature, or only in Henry's, to look on the sad, but -lovely countenance of his victim, and to mock her woe?), "We -congratulate you, lady, on the return of the gentle Perkin to our good -city of Westminster—do not weep—he is in safe keeping now, very -safe—it is no feathered shoe our Mercury wears this day." -</p> - -<p> -"Holy Virgin!" cried Katherine, "your grace does not surely -mean——" -</p> - -<p> -"Fear not—he lives," continued Henry, his scorn growing more bitter -as he spoke; "he lives, and shall live, till the White Rose acknowledge on -what base stock she is grafted, or he twist the rope by some new -sleight. Is Perkin's honoured dame satisfied?" -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, no, no, no; some covert meaning you have; in pity for a woman, -speak." The agony her countenance expressed was the mute echo of the -frightful idea that convulsed her frame. "Oh, let me see him! you have -tormented me too cruelly; even if my worst fears prove true, he suffers -not more than I; and can it be that the young limbs of my own loved -Richard are put to torture!" -</p> - -<p> -Elizabeth, grew ashy white; the king listened with a sarcastic smile, -saying, "I had not thought of that; you are a silly girl to mention such -things." -</p> - -<p> -"I do not believe you," exclaimed the princess, "your looks belie your -words; let me but see him afar off, let me catch a glimpse of my -princely love—is he in the Tower?" -</p> - -<p> -"Neither the Tower, nor any royal palace, detains your lord; he is -taking the air, pleasantly I hope, in the high places of our town. To -finish this war of words, and your incredulity, will you visit your -prince of plotters, and behold him on whom the king of Scotland bestowed -your virgin hand?" -</p> - -<p> -"See him! Oh, even in death to clasp his decaying limbs were better than -this absence!" -</p> - -<p> -An indefinable expression passed over Henry's countenance as he replied, -"Be it as you wish; you must hasten, for in an hour the occasion will be -past; it is but a few steps; you shall be attended." -</p> - -<p> -At last she was to see him; this assurance filled and satisfied her; -there was no place in her heart for any other thought, sinister as were -her torturer's looks. Her eyes grew bright, her cheek resumed its -vermeil tint, never had she looked more lovely; it was a dazzling -beauty; one of those ineffable expressions, which, unless language could -express music, or painting image fire, it is in vain to attempt to -describe: an irradiation of love passed over her countenance; her form; -something like it dwells in Raphael's Madonnas and Guido's Angel of -Annunciation,—Henry was awe-struck, yet did not falter in his -purpose; he let the bright angel go forth on her mission of good and -love, to meet on her way a sight fiends might rejoice over. Human life -and human nature are, alas! a dread, inexplicable web of suffering and -of infliction. -</p> - -<p> -In Westminster, in sight of the abbey where his ancestors had been -crowned kings, the spectacle, intended to be so opprobrious, was set -forth. Henry, in his angry fear on his escape, in his exultation at his -re-capture, forgot the soft tyranny of Katherine's looks; or rather he -despised himself for the obedience he had yielded to them; and, in the -true spirit of baseness, was glad to revenge on her the ill effects that -had resulted to him through his involuntary enslavement. It was a -triumph to him to disgrace the object of her care, for he was ill-read, -his understanding affording him no key to the unknown language, in that -illuminated page of the history of feminine excellence, which tells the -delight she feels in exhausting her treasures of devoted love on the -fallen, because they need it most: he believed, that to present her -husband to her, under the very infliction of ignominy, would turn her -affection to cold disdain—he permitted her to go. Attended by some of -the body-guard and a gentleman usher, she hastened through the courts of -the palace into the open square: there was assembled a crowd of common -people, hushed to universal silence: at a distance from the centre some -were talking aloud, and the name of "Perkin" was the burthen of their -speech; but pity stilled those nearest to the spot, towards which, to -the surprise and horror of all, she hastened. The crowd instinctively -closed to bar her advance; and, when forced to make way, in spite of the -despotism of the times, the word "Shame" burst from the lips of many, -especially the women. She was agitated by the obstacles, by the numerous -uncourtly eyes turned on her; still she went on, and soon saw— -</p> - -<p> -She understood not what—a kind of wooden machine, in which the lord -of her heart sat. There had been a time when pride and royal majesty of -soul had shed such grandeur over York, that, when exposed as a show, he -had excited reverence, not scoffing. Now he was evidently labouring -under great physical suffering; his brow was streaked with mortal -paleness, his cheeks were colourless; his fair hair fell in disordered -ringlets round his youthful but wan countenance; he leaned his head -against the side of the machine: his eyes were half shut; it was not -shame, but suffering, that weighed upon their lids, and diffused an air -of languor and pain over his whole person. Katherine hastened towards -him, she knelt on the unworthy earth at his side, she kissed his chained -hands. "You are ill, my love; my ever dear Richard, what has happened? -for you are very ill." -</p> - -<p> -Roused by such music from the lethargy that oppressed him, yet still -overcome, he replied, "Yes; and I do believe that all will soon end, and -that I am stricken to the death." -</p> - -<p> -She grew pale; she called him cruel; asking him how he could dream of -leaving her, who was a part of him, alone in the desolate world. -"Because," he answered with a faint smile, "the world is kind to all, -save me. No taint, dear love, attaches itself to your name; no ill will -mark your fate, when you are no longer linked to such a thing as I. God -has spoken, and told me that this earth is no dwelling for one, who, -from his cradle to this last shame, has been fortune's step-child, and -her despised toy. How often have I been dragged to the utmost verge of -life: I have felt indignation, anger, despair; now I am resigned; I feel -the hand of the Mighty One on me, and I bow to it. In very truth, I am -subdued; I sleep away the weary hours, and death will end them all." -</p> - -<p> -With every expression of tenderness, Katherine endeavoured to recall him -to life and to herself. She spoke of another escape, which it would be -her care to achieve, of the solitude, of the paradise of love they would -enjoy together. "My poor girl," he replied, "teach your young heart to -seek these blessings apart from me; I were the very wretch Tudor -stigmatises me, could I live under a memory like this. Forget me, my -White Rose; paint with gaudier colours the sickly emblem of my fortunes; -forget that, duped by some strange forgery, you were wedded to—Perkin -Warbeck." -</p> - -<p> -In spite of himself, large drops gathered in his eyes, swelling the -downcast lids, and then stealing down. Catherine kissed them from his -cheek; a thousand times more noble, royal, godlike, she called him; had -not the best and worthiest suffered ignominious punishment; even our -blessed Lord himself? His own acknowledgment alone could disgrace him; -he must recall the false words wrung from his agony; this last vile act -of his enemy must awaken each sovereign on his throne to indignation; -each would see in him a mirror of what might befall themselves, if -fallen. James, her royal cousin, roused by her, should resent the stigma -affixed to his kinsman. -</p> - -<p> -"For your own sake, sweet, do so; my soul dying within me is alive again -with indignation, to think that your plighted wedded love is he, who is -exposed to contumely; but for that, methinks I would call myself by that -wretched name I dared pronounce, so that the annals of the House of York -escaped this stain: yet even thus I seem more closely allied to them; -for violent death, treachery, and ill have waited on each descendant of -Mortimer; my grandfather bore a paper crown in shame upon his kingly -brow." -</p> - -<p> -He was interrupted by the officer, who unclosed the instrument of -disgrace. Richard, weak and failing, was assisted to rise; Katherine -supported him as a young mother her feeble offspring; she twined her -arms round him as his prop, and, in spite of misery, was enraptured once -again to see, to hear, to touch him from whom she had been absent so -long. "This is not well; it must not be; his majesty will be much -displeased," said the chief of the guard, witnessing the compassion her -tender care inspired. "You must return to the palace, lady." -</p> - -<p> -"One little step," pleaded Katherine; "if I should never see him more, -how should I curse your cruelty! I will not speak, as I half thought I -would to these good people, to tell them that they may well honour him a -princess loves: drag me not away yet—one more -good-bye!—farewell, noble York, Kate's only love;—we meet -again; this parting is but mockery." -</p> - -<p> -She wept on his bosom; the sound of wailing arose in the crowd; the -prince's eyes alone were dry; he whispered comfort to her; he promised -to live, to baffle his foe again for her sake; the words revived her, -and she saw him depart with hope, with new joy kindled in her bosom. -</p> - -<p> -There had been another, the public gaze, till Katherine came to draw all -eyes to a newer wonder. An emaciated, pale woman, in a garb of penury, -who knelt, telling her beads, beside York's prison; her face was hid; -but her hands were thin and white to ghastliness; during the last scene -she had sobbed to agony, and now, as the place cleared, went her way -silently, with slow, feeble steps. Many marked her with surprise and -curiosity; few knew that she was the Jane Shore, whose broken heart -whispered misery, as she thought that she beheld King Edward's guilt, in -which she had shared, visited on his son. This cruel lesson of religion -was a canker in her heart, and most true it was, as far as regarded her -royal lover, that his light loves, and careless playing with sacred -ties, had caused the blot of base birth to be affixed to his legitimate -offspring, and so strewed the sad way that led them to untimely death. -</p> - -<p> -Henry, cruel as he was, had not the courage to encounter his insulted -prisoner on her return. Katherine's feelings were wrought too high for -any display of passion; her anxiety was spent on how she could sooth -York's wounded feelings, and restore his health: it were vain to ask, -she feared; yet, if the king would permit her to attend on him, under -whatever restrictions, they should be obeyed; and this while poor -Elizabeth besought her pardon with tears, for being the wife of her -insolent adversary. She, a proud Plantagenet, was more sorely stung than -the White Rose, by the indignity offered to her house; and she entreated -her not to love her brother less because of this foul disgrace. "So -doing," said the quick-sighted queen, "you fulfil his dearest wish. -While you are Richard's loving wife, he, even he, the fallen and -humiliated, is an object of envy to his majesty, who sought, by making -you witness his ignominy, to detach you from him." -</p> - -<p> -"How strange a mistake," replied Katherine, "for one so sage as the -king: the lower my sweet Richard falls, the more need he surely has of -me. But that love, such as ours, knits us too indivisibly to admit a -reciprocity of benefit, I should say that it is to make me rich indeed, -to enable me to bestow, to lavish good on my lord; but we are one, and I -but give to myself, and myself receive, if my weakness is of any -strength to him. Dear sister mine, your liege, wise as he may be, is a -tyro in our woman's lore—in the mysteries of devoted love; he never -felt one inspiration of the mighty sprite." -</p> - -<p> -This was not quite true. For some few days Henry had been so inspired; -but love, an exotic in his heart, degenerated from being a fair, -fragrant flower, into a wild, poisonous weed. Love, whose essence is the -excess of sympathy, and consequently of self-abandonment and generosity, -when it alights on an unworthy soil, appears there at first in all its -native bloom, a very wonder even to the heart in which it has taken -root. The cold, selfish, narrow-hearted Richmond was lulled to some -slight forgetfulness of self, when first he was fascinated by Katherine, -and he decked himself with ill-assorted virtues to merit her -approbation. This lasted but a brief interval; the uncongenial clime in -which the new plant grew, impregnated it with its own poison. Envy, -arrogance, base desire to crush the fallen, were his natural -propensities; and, when love refused to minister to these, it changed to -something like hate in his bosom; it excited his desire to have power -over her, if not for her good, then for her bane. -</p> - -<p> -The duke of York was imprisoned in the Tower. No further measures were -apparently in action against him. Katherine no longer hoped anything -from her foe; and day and night there lay beneath her eyelids the image -of Richard, wasting and dying in captivity. Something must be done, some -aid afforded him; she was anxious also to learn the details of his -flight, and how again he fell into the hands of his foe. Monina, who in -a thousand disguises had been used to penetrate everywhere, was seen no -more. Still public report informed her of many things. -</p> - -<p> -It was known, that Sir Robert Clifford, the old spy and traitor of the -White Rose, had become aware of the measures taken by York's adherents -to insure his escape from England. He had followed him down the river, -and by a knowledge of the signs and countersigns of the party, decoyed -him into a boat that was to convey his victim back to his prison-house. -The deceit was discovered, and a mortal struggle ensued on board the -tiny bark; it sunk, and many perished, Clifford among the rest. On the -morrow his body was found upon the beach, stiff and stark; a gaping -wound in his neck showed that the waters alone had not been his foe; in -his clenched hand he grasped a mass of golden hairs, severed by some -sharp implement from the head to which they grew: as if nought else -could liberate his enemy from his hold. There he lay, bold Robin -Clifford, the dauntless, wily boy, hunted through life by his own fell -passions, envy, cupidity, and libertinism; they had tracked him to this -death; his falsehoods were now mute, his deceptions passed away; he -could never more win by his smiles, or stab by his lying words; death -alone had a share in him, death and the cold sands beneath which he was -interred, leaving a name, the mark of scorn, the symbol of treachery. -</p> - -<p> -They had struggled beneath the strangling waves, Richard and his -adversary. The prince was wounded in the scuffle, and became enfeebled -almost to insensibility before he could sever from his enemy's grasp the -fair locks he clutched—he swam away, as well as he might, and, -with the instinct of self-preservation, made for the shore—he -forgot that England was a wide prison—he only strove to master the -fate which beat him to the ground. He reached the sands—he sought -the covert of some near underwood, and threw himself upon the earth in -blind thankfulness; exhausted, almost inanimate, he lay there, given up -only to the sense of repose, and safety from death, which visited his -failing heart with a strange sense of pleasure. -</p> - -<p> -The following morning was far advanced, before he could rouse himself -from this lethargy. He looked upon the waters; but the Adalid was no -more to be seen—he was quite alone; he needed succour, and none was -afforded him. Well he knew that every field, lane, dingle, and copse -swarmed with enemies, and he shuddered at the likelihood that unarmed, -and weak as he was, he should fall into their hands. He desired to reach -London again as his sole refuge; and he journeyed, as he hoped, towards -it, all unknowing of the route. No way-worn traveller in savage lands, -pursued by barbarous enemies, ever suffered more than the offspring of -Edward the Fourth amidst the alienated fields of his paternal kingdom. -Cold and rain succeeded to the pleasant summer weather:—during night -he lay exposed to the tempests—during day he toiled on, his limbs -benumbed, his heart wasted by hunger and fatigue; yet never, at the head -of the Scottish chivalry, never in Burgundy or in England, did he feel -more resolute not to submit, but, baffling fortune and his enemy's -power, to save himself in spite of fate. He had wandered far inland, and -knew not where he was—he had indeed passed beyond London, and got up -as high as Barnes. It was the fourth day from that of his escape—he -had tasted little food, and no strength remained in him, except that -which gave energy to his purpose. He found himself on a wide, heathy -common, studded with trees, or desolately open—the rainy day closed, -and a bleak east wind swept over the plain, and curled the -leaden-coloured waters of the river—his love of life, his -determination not to yield, quailed before the physical miseries of his -lot; for some few moments, he thought that he would lie down and die. -</p> - -<p> -At this time another human figure appeared upon the scene. A Benedictine -lay-brother, who, in the freedom of solitude, in defiance of wind and -rain, trolled a ditty, fitter for a ruffling swaggerer's bonnet, than a -monk's cowl. He started not a little, on perceiving our wanderer leaning -against the scathed trunk of a solitary tree; nor less did he wonder -when he recognized the fallen prince. It was Heron himself, the -magnanimous mercer, who having effected his escape with a well-hoarded -purse, contrived to introduce himself into the house of Bethlem, at -Shene, which was called the Priory. He was a little frightened to -perceive his ancient leader; but pity succeeded to fear; and with many -fair words and persuasions he induced him to permit himself to be -conducted to the Priory. There, since he believed himself to be dying, -he might receive the last sacraments—there perhaps, for, some few -minutes, he might again behold his Katherine. -</p> - -<p> -Thus was the fugitive again led within the pale of his enemy's power. -The prior, a man esteemed for holiness, did not delay to make his -sovereign acquainted with the capture of his rival. His awe of Katherine -having vanished, Henry was left at liberty to follow the ungenerous -dictates of his grovelling spirit. Many a courtier, true man or false, -counselled the death of the aspiring youth; and they praised their -master's magnanimity, when he rejected this advice, and in lieu exposed -him, whom he knew to be the descendant of a line of kings, to beggarly -disgrace. Thus worn and weak, the ill-fated son of York was made a -public spectacle of infamy. But Henry went a step too far; and, when he -thrust the Scottish princess forward on the scene, he turned defeat to -triumph. -</p> - -<p> -He was not to die—but rather to pine out a miserable -existence—or had the sage monarch any other scheme? The -high-spirited prince was to be cooped up within the Tower—there, -where the earl of Warwick wasted his wretched life. Did he imagine that -the resolved and ardent soul of Richard would, on its revival, -communicate a part of its energy to the son of Clarence, and that ere -long they would be enveloped in one ruin? Some words had transpired that -appeared to reveal such an intention; and his order to the lieutenant of -the Tower, that, without permitting, he should connive at any covert -intercourse between the two—his recommendation of a noted spy and -hireling to a high trust, and the order this fellow had to bring each -day intelligence to the palace from the prison—spoke loudly of -some design; for Henry never did aught in vain. It was in circulation -also among the lower officers in the fortress, that an attempt to escape -was expected on the part of the prisoners, and that rich reward would -attend its discovery. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h4><a id="chap54"></a></h4> - -<h4>CHAPTER LIV -<br /><br /> -IMPRISONMENT IN THE TOWER</h4> - - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And bare, at once, Captivity displayed,</span><br /> -<span class="i0">Stands scoffing through the never-opened gate;</span><br /> -<span class="i0">Which nothing through its bars admits, save day</span><br /> -<span class="i0">And tasteless food.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i20">BYRON.</span> -</div></div></div> - -<p> -The Lady Katherine, no longer trusting the good intentions of the -insolent tyrant, was eager to communicate with her royal cousin of -Scotland, to urge him to save from death or disgrace, if not to effect -the liberation of him to whom he had given her hand. The difficulty of -finding a messenger was great. The queen, all amiable and sorrowing as -she was, shrunk from any act, which, if discovered, would enrage the -king. Where did Monina tarry while her friend was in this strait? Of all -his sometime associates was there not one who would risk all to retard -the last steps of fate. Since York's escape she had been so vigilantly -guarded, that a thousand schemes she had formed for her own evasion -proved abortive at their very outset. -</p> - -<p> -Help was at length afforded her unexpectedly, when most despairing. -Edmund Plantagenet stood before her—changed indeed from what he had -been; she had not seen him since the siege of Exeter, where he was -wounded; but slight was his bodily hurt in comparison to the death-blow -his mind received. -</p> - -<p> -Plantagenet was one of those concentrated characters, whose very outward -show of softness and gentleness serves the more to force the texture of -their souls to receive one indelible impression. He had passed a boyhood -of visions, given up to mighty aspirations and engrossing reverie. His -thoughts were stirring as the acts of others; his forest-school had so -tutored him, that he could live in bodily repose, while his mind -ruminated: he could be quickened to hope and fear, to lofty ambition, to -generosity, and devoted courage, feeling in his heart the keenest -impulses—while around him were the mute trees of the wild wood and -pathless glades. He could be satisfied with such dreamy illusions; so -that action with him was never the result of physical restlessness, nor -of youthful emulation, nor of that stirring spirit of life which forces -us to abhor repose. It flowed from an imperious sense of duty; it welled -up from the very sources of his soul. Other men perform the various -parts allotted to them, and yet are something else the while; as is the -actor, even while he struts in the garb of royalty: but Edmund yielded -himself wholly up, and was the mere creature of the thought within. -</p> - -<p> -To be great and good—great from the good he should effect, was his -boyhood's aspiration. It is probable that, if he had not been subjected -to extraneous influence, he would have devoted himself to religion, and -become a saint or martyr; for his all, his understanding, heart, and -person, would have been given up to the holy cause he espoused. His -being led to King Richard's tent, the night before the battle of -Bosworth Field, gave a new and inextinguishable law to his life. Unknown -duties were imposed. The first and dearest was, to redeem his father's -soul from the guilt of murderous ambition, by elevating his injured -nephew to his original greatness. He devoted himself to his cousin. Soon -he learned to love Richard as the work of his own hands. He had reared -his tender infancy; he had been his tutor in martial exercises, teaching -him to curb the fiery steed, to wield the lance, and, more than all, to -meet danger in the field fearlessly: to be honourable, brave, and kind. -He had led him to war, and shielded him with his own body from the cruel -Moor. If ever they were divided, his thoughts dwelt only the more -carefully with him. Last, he had brought him from glorious combats in -Spain, to conquer his ancestral kingdom, and set him up the rival of a -powerful king—the mark of his vengeance. -</p> - -<p> -It was all over. Edmund possessed no innate strength to rise from the -blow; he was a mariner on the wide ocean, without compass or rudder. The -universe had one central point for him; that was destroyed, and a total -blank remained. York's first surrender visited him as a death-stroke; he -struggled against it. Enfeebled by his wound, more by despair, he passed -over to Ireland; there he expected to find friends of the White Rose; he -found only enemies of Duke Perkin: men eager to exculpate themselves -from the charges of ill faith or ingratitude, gladly adopted a -phraseology, or a belief, that reduced to dust the golden glories of -poor Edmund's idol. Perkin Warbeck! Oh thou flower of York! thou -nursling of love, though child of calamity, is even thy bright name so -to be tainted? Not by those immediately arrayed by self-interest against -thee; but by, the vulgar crew, ever eager to crush the fallen. There was -no hope in Ireland. Keating, the Prior of Kilmainham, was dead. The earl -of Desmond was reconciled to the English government. Lord Barry had fled -to Spain. The citizens of Cork were busy redeeming, by eager servility, -their mayor's disloyalty. -</p> - -<p> -Overcome by these sad changes, a malignant fever seized on Edmund: in -addition to every other disappointment, he had the consciousness that -his aid was necessary to his cousin: that his absence was probably -misinterpreted by his friends as cowardly dereliction. York was calling -on him in vain. Monina perhaps suspected his truth. Next to the sun of -his life, the noble Richard, Monina lay nearest his heart. It was a -mixture of many feelings; and even love, subdued by hopelessness, -quickened them to greater intensity. As soon as he could rise from his -couch, he directed his course to England. He arrived in London on the -day of the duke of York's worst disgrace. It was reported to him as the -gossip of the town: at the fatal word a mortal change seized upon his -frame: his limbs were as if struck by palsy; his cheeks fell in; his -hair grew white. On his arrival he had taken up his abode in a monastery -in the habit of a poor pilgrim: the sage monks, who beheld his state, -possessed no leech-craft to administer his cure: he lay with beating -pulses and open eyes, while the work of the grave appeared already in -operation against him: he wasted into a fleshless skeleton. And then -another secret change came over him; he conquered death, and crawled -forth, the ghost of what he was, into the hopeless world. -</p> - -<p> -He contrived to gain admission to the princess. She did not recognize -him, such was the pale disguise disease had put upon him. His voice, -hollow as from a tomb, was altered; his dark, melancholy eyes, occupying -too large a portion of his face, gleamed from under his streaked and wan -brow. Yet his was a visit of comfort, for he could do her mission to -Scotland, and invite the forgetful James to succour his friend and -kinsman. Edmund listened eagerly to this proposal: a draught of soothing -balm descended into his frame, with the thought that yet all was not -lost. His physical energy almost returned: he hurried to depart—"How -will you traverse this wide kingdom?" asked the lady. "Cannot the Adalid -come as before, to aid and speed you on your way?" -</p> - -<p> -"The Adalid is sailing on the far ocean sea," replied Plantagenet; "we -are all as dead, in the eyes of De Faro and our Monina." -</p> - -<p> -"Faithless girl!" -</p> - -<p> -With a trace of his ancient warmth and sweetness, Edmund entered upon -the gentle maiden's exculpation. He related that a poor fellow lay on -the bed next his in the convent hospital, whom he recognized to be an -Irishman, who had escaped from Waterford, and sailed with them in the -Adalid to Cornwall. From him he heard the tale of what had befallen De -Faro and his child. He heard how the mariner had long haunted the -English coast waiting for an opportunity to carry off the prince; of the -fatal night, when snatching his daughter from the watery peril, he saw -Richard, as he believed, perish in the waves. What more had the Moorish -mariner and his daughter to do with this miserable, guilty island? He -called his men together; he told them his resolve finally to quit the -eastern world for the golden islands of the west, inviting those who -were averse to the voyage to go on shore at once, before the fair wind -that was rising should hurry them into the open sea. The poor Irishman -alone desired to land: before he went he saw the Spanish damsel; he -described her as calm and mild, though there was something unearthly in -her gleaming eyes and in the solemn tone of her voice. "If," she said, -"you meet any of our friends, any who ask for De Faro and his daughter, -if you see Lady Brampton, Lord Barry, or Sir Edmund Plantagenet, tell -them that Monina lives, that she tarries with her father, and tasks -herself to be his comfort and support. We seek the Western Indies; well -may it betide us that we never reach the unknown strand; or we may be -cast away in an uninhabited solitude, where my care and companionship -may stead my dear father much; or I may teach the sacred truths of our -religion to the wild Indians, and speak the dear name of Christ to the -unbaptized of those wilds; or soften, as best I may, the cruel Spaniard, -and save the devoted people from their barbarity. Tell them, whichever -way I look, I perceive a thousand duties to which our great Taskmaster -calls me, and these I live to fulfil, if so my feeble body will permit; -tell them that my only hope is death; that, and that by my obedience to -the Almighty will, I may partly merit to join in Paradise the earthly -angel who now survives there." -</p> - -<p> -Tears choked further speech; she imprinted her words by a gift of gold. -The boat which had been hailed, came alongside. The man on board, the -sails of the Adalid swelled proudly in the gale; the little caravel ran -lightly along on the top of the roughening waters. In less than two -hours she was out of sight, speeding swiftly over the sea towards the -wild western ocean. -</p> - -<p> -Plantagenet departed; and the princess was yet more cheered when she -found that no further injury 'was meditated against her lord. -Imprisonment in the Tower was his sole punishment. Her pure, gentle mind -could not divine the full extent of King Henry's villany, nor guess how -he undermined the edifice he claimed praise for not levelling with the -ground. -</p> - -<p> -Nor could her resigned, patient, feminine spirit conceive the cruel, -biting impatience of his lot that York endured. He had yielded at first -to the overwhelming sense of disgrace, and felt that last, worst emotion -of the injured, which answers the internal question, "What have I done -so to be visited?" in the poet's words,— -</p> - -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i16">"I cannot charge</span><br /> -<span class="i2">My memory with much save sorrow—but</span><br /> -<span class="i2">I have been so beyond the common lot</span><br /> -<span class="i2">Chastened and visited, I needs must think</span><br /> -<span class="i2">That I was wicked."</span> -</div></div> - -<p> -But soon his eager, eagle spirit spurned the tame debasing thought: he -resolved again to struggle, and at last to conquer; the fire burned -brighter for its short smouldering; almost with a light heart he -laughed, as he resolved again to endeavour. -</p> - -<p> -His prison life was more than irksome; it was unendurable. No change, -which is the soul of enjoyment, varied it. No sympathy, the parent of -content, came anear. In his young days he had trod on the verge of -life's wave, watching it recede, and fancying that it would discover -glittering treasures as it retreated into the ocean of eternity: now the -tide ebbed sullenly; the barren sands grew dark; and the expanse before -afforded no hope—what was to be done? -</p> - -<p> -He was in the Tower, whence he had twice escaped; where the earl of -Warwick was immured, pining in fruitless vegetation, rather than living. -Should he do as he had done, and become a cipher, a forgotten prisoner, -a mere thing to wake and sleep, and be as nothing? The very dog that -guards a cottage-door from nightly harm had more dignity and purpose in -his life than this victim of ambition. The bird that alighted on the -sill of his iron-barred casement, and carried off a crumb for her -nestlings, was an emblem of utility and freedom in comparison, which -Warwick, cut off from all, must weep to mark. How different was -Richard's fate; he had dear friends ready to risk all for him, whose -life's sacrifice he could repay only by being true to himself; he had a -wife, wedded to him in youth's early flower, whose happiness was -unalterably linked to his. He had courage, fortitude, energy; he would -not cast these gifts away, a thankless boon: he valued them at their -price: if death crowned his efforts, it were well; he was a mere toy in -the hands of God, and he submitted; but as a man, he was ready to cope -with men, and though defeated never to be vanquished. Not a month after -his removal to the Tower he had observed his facilities, marked his -instruments, and resolved to enter on his schemes: they were quickened -by other circumstances. -</p> - -<p> -Warwick heard of his cousin's arrival; and he believed this to be the -signal of his own deliverance. His first chief desire was to have -communication with him. Among his attendants there was one to whom he -could apply; he was a lank, tall fellow, with little understanding and -but one idea—gratitude to the duke of Clarence. This man, called -Roger, and nicknamed Long Roger, his length being his chief distinction, -had been very poor, and burthened besides with several infant children: -accidents and a bad season brought them to the verge of starvation, when -a chance threw him in the way of the duke of Clarence, who got him made -servitor in the Tower. When this unfortunate prince was imprisoned -within its fatal walls. Long Roger underwent a thousand perils to wait -on him by stealth, and to do what service he might. Long Roger had a -prodigious appetite, and his chief delight was to smuggle dainties, -cooked by his Madge, into the prison chamber of the duke. The manner of -Clarence's death, which Roger affirmed to accord with the popular -tradition, alone consoled the faithful sympathizing fellow. Now he had -turned the key for thirteen years on the duke's hapless son: in spite of -his watchful care and proffered cates, he had seen the poor youth -dwindle to a skeleton, when suddenly the progress of delay was checked -by Our Lady: it was a miracle to see Lord Edward grow fat and comely to -look upon, changing his woe-begone looks into gracious smiles: by the -mass, there was witchcraft in it! Warwick often thanked Long Roger, and -told him what he would do when restored to freedom and rank: which will -never be, Roger said, except among the saints in Paradise; unless it -pleased God to remove his majesty, when my lady the queen should fully -know how fervently her cousin prayed for her; and, forsooth, with sweet -prince Arthur, his royal mother would be all-powerful. Long Roger's -visions went not beyond. He never imagined the possibility of effecting -the earl's escape; his limited understanding suggested no relief, save a -bottle of Canary, or bunches of white roses in June, which in fact was -Dame Madge's feminine idea; and often had the simple flowers soothed -Warwick's care. To this man the poor prisoner applied, to enable him to -see and converse with the newly-arrived Richard: two are better than one -to a feast; and, the next time Roger meditated a dainty supper for his -lord, he resolved to endeavour that York should partake it with him as a -guest. -</p> - -<p> -In his own guileless way, the simple-hearted man began to practise on -and bribe one of his fellows, without whom it had been difficult to -accomplish his desire. Abel Blewet had lately been appointed to his -service: he was nearly a dwarf, with bushy eyebrows and red hair: there -was something of ill omen in his physiognomy, but as the tall yeoman -looked over the head of his comrade, his courage rose: "The -whipper-snapper could not rebuff me," he thought, as he drew himself up -to his full height, and began to propound the mighty deed of conducting -Perkin by mistake to the Lord Edward's chamber, on his return from -vespers. Roger paused suddenly; for, in spite of his stature, he was -appalled by the glance Blewet shot up from under his penthouses of -brows: still he gave a willing assent, and even took upon himself the -chief risk of the undertaking. -</p> - -<p> -The following evening, while Richard was yet pondering how to commence -his machinations, undecided, though resolved; and while he made up his -mind not to betray his thoughts to the sinister-looking being before -him, he was surprised to find that he was led through an unaccustomed -gallery; and still more on entering the chamber into which he was -introduced, to recognise it as that where he had unexpectedly found -refuge during his last visit to the Tower, and to perceive that Warwick -himself was there expecting him. -</p> - -<p> -Was this the thin, wasted being he had seen three years before? Had -Warwick been then set free to hunt upon the hills, he had not regained -more flesh and bloom than now that hope had been his only medicine. His -cousin York had inspired him with marvellous confidence; his last -entrance into the formidable Tower, and his speedy exit, had appeared a -miracle to the poor earl, to whom these high walls and sad chambers -formed a world, from which, as from the larger one, death only promised -egress. He had pined and wasted in his appetite to be free, to be -without those gates, beyond that fosse and giant battlements that girded -him in: these portentous, insuperable obstacles were mere cobweb chains -to Richard. He had come in, he had departed, and all as easily, so -Warwick thought, as the unregarded fly, that had perhaps flown from -Westminster, from Elizabeth's chamber, to light upon his cheek. In all -the subsequent tales of York's checks and overthrow, he smiled at the -idea that one born to victory could be thus overcome. He laughed at the -chains Henry had thrown over him; and his transfer to the Tower elated -him with a firm belief that liberty was at hand. Dwelling on these -thoughts, Warwick ceased to be the dead alive; he was cheerful, erect, -elastic in his gait, his complexion glowed with health, while sickness -lingered still on the cheek of the younger Plantagenet, and a more -subdued spirit dwelt in his heart. -</p> - -<p> -Long Roger beheld the cousins embrace: he heard the earl call him, named -Perkin, his liege, and most dear kinsman: from that moment the -opprobrious name was banished from Roger's lips: he was convinced of -York's truth, and the Lord Edward's friend became an object of reverence -and of love. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h4><a id="chap55"></a></h4> - -<h4>CHAPTER LV -<br /><br /> -ATTEMPT TO ESCAPE</h4> - - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i16">Gentle cousin,</span><br /> -<span class="i0">If you be seen, you perish instantly</span><br /> -<span class="i0">For breaking prison.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i14">No, no, cousin,</span><br /> -<span class="i0">I will no more be hidden, nor put off</span><br /> -<span class="i0">This great adventure to a second trial.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i20">TWO NOBLE KINSMEN.</span> -</div></div></div> - -<p> -Quick on the first greeting followed Warwick's question. "And, noble -cousin, what have you projected? when shall we escape?" -</p> - -<p> -Richard's being in durance with him, seemed sufficient pledge, that -without delay they should both be free. While York, wearied by -opposition to his mighty foe, just foiled in his endeavours to preserve -his freedom, even when he had attained it, saw giant obstacles in his -path; and, although resolved to endeavour all, was fully conscious of -the fatal end that must wait upon his too probable failure. His reply -was dictated by these feelings; he was averse to drag one so -inexperienced, and so unhappy, into the pit he believed that he was -digging for himself. He besought the earl well to weigh the value he set -upon life; to place the fatal scaffold in prospect; to teach himself to -know what death was, and to be ready to meet it, before he planned -escape from the wily Tudor. Warwick listened with impatient wonder; but -when Richard concluded with affirming, that he himself, in sober -sadness, preferred hazarding all to the remaining in prison, and that he -would be free, the earl's countenance again grew light and gladsome. -"But when, coz—when?" was still his eager question. -</p> - -<p> -Thus they had changed characters. Warwick, so many years secluded from -the world, was in total ignorance of its ways. Had the Tower-gates been -opened to him, he had trembled to walk forth alone; but restraint had -made him feminine; and with his cousin he would have rushed upon an army -of spears, in sure belief that some unseen aegis would protect him. His -position rendered him timid, indolent, and dependent; but he relied on -Richard, as a woman on her lover. York beheld all things in their clear, -true light; he was aware of every difficulty; of the means he possessed -for overcoming them, and of the hazards he ran in using these means. A -sentiment, born of the highest generosity made him hesitate before he -concerted any plan with Warwick. It was not alone that he was averse to -risking another life; but he felt that his cause would receive advantage -from this link with an undoubted Plantagenet; nay, that, in the prison -itself, the attachment and respect felt towards the son of Clarence, by -some of the very men he meant to use, would serve him. That he should -reap benefit from exposing the ill-fated prince to untried dangers, -revolted his high and independent nature. Warwick had recourse to many -an entreaty and persuasion, ere he brought Richard to consent that their -fortunes should be joined, and that, last of the White Rose, they would -rise or fall together. Still York was obliged to check his cousin's -impatience, and to show that they must slowly work out the end they had -in view. -</p> - -<p> -To gratify the earl's greedy curiosity, York related his adventures; -they afforded him an inexhaustible fund of surprise and delight. He -sighed over his tale of wedded happiness; and half wondered that angelic -woman, seated high on the throne of loveliness and love, should deign to -devote herself for man. A pang, not of envy, but of regret, on comparing -their fates, shot across him; soon the usual current of feeling -returned; and when he heard that his idolized, lost Elizabeth, was the -friend and companion of the devoted wife of York, his affection for -Richard was increased. Night was far advanced before they separated, and -then only in certain expectation of meeting again. -</p> - -<p> -York's hopes grew brighter, and he indulged in visions of the future, -which lately had been so blank. He verily believed that he might escape, -though still he doubted whether he should. He remembered the fondness of -the duchess of Burgundy for her brother Clarence, and how she had -deplored the hard destiny of his offspring; he would present that son, -liberated by him, to her. His junction with the prince must revive the -old Yorkists in his favour; this worst blast of fortune might be the -gale to speed him to the harbour of his hopes. The royal cousins met -again and again; nor was it long before their own desires, and Henry's -craft, began to weave that fatal web which entangled them even in the -very mode the hard-hearted king devised. -</p> - -<p> -Summer was gone: quicker than he was wont, the sun withdrew his -embattled array of light and heat; and cold and tempest, erewhile driven -to mountain fastnesses, or to their own frozen kingdoms in the north, -took courage and force, and broke with wild fury upon the defenceless -world: the bleak winds were their coursers; savagely they yelled and -howled over the land they desolated. First, the growth of flowers was -their prey; the fruits, and then the verdure of the earth, while the -sun, each day retreating, afforded further scope to their inroads. York -resolved not to pass another winter in prison. He had quickly perceived -that his purpose could only be effected by corrupting their guards, and -then all would depend upon the fidelity of these men. His first attempts -were followed by an almost too easy success: good-hearted, dull-headed -Long Roger heard with unreplying credulity the assertions of Warwick, -that Richard must succeed in all he undertook, and readily promised his -aid. Abel Blewet, in spite of his dogged, sinister aspects yielded at -once to the seduction of a promised bribe. Two others, by his advice, -were associated as necessary to their success. Strangeways, a ruffling -drunken fellow, who had been thrice dismissed, but whose pretty wife -each time procured his reappointment; and Astwood, a saving miser, who -lent money to his fellow-servitors on usury. With these instruments the -cousins went to work. Warwick in full belief of success: York, -perceiving treason and discovery close to them, but ready to defy these -bloodhounds to their worst. -</p> - -<p> -"And now, coz," said Warwick, "in very truth there needs no further -delay. Methinks were the drawbridge down, you would mistrust some gin, -and wait to throw an arch of your own across the moat. Sooth, my lord, I -am a weary of your sloth." -</p> - -<p> -There was a caressing sweetness in Warwick's voice and manner: an -ignorant, indolent, confiding enthusiasm, so unlike quick-witted -Clifford, or any of Duke Richard's former friends, that he felt a new -emotion towards him—hitherto he had been the protected, served, and -waited on, of his associates, now he played the protector and the -guardian. -</p> - -<p> -"My gentle cousin," he replied, "even as you trust, so you shall find -me—wait but a little, and all will be past. Yet I grieve to say, -where you see escape, I perceive an ambushment of death; and, though -ready to face the grim skeleton, we must arm ourselves against him. I -wish I could show you even as I see, the dangers that environ -us—perhaps you would shrink; and it is yet time. What do you do? -Not only plan escape, but ally yourself, and give the sanction of your -untarnished name, to one whom Tudor brands as an impostor, and abhors as -a rival. His vengeance will fall heavily for this deed, if he reach you. -While a few years, like the many already gone by, may lead him to his -grave, and you to liberty. I have too often met danger to be frightened -by him: and I endure worse than death, each day I pass of youth, apart -my sweet White Rose. You have no lady-love to beckon you across the path -of peril. Bethink you well, my ever dear lord, will you not regret this -prison, when the cruel axe glitters before your eyes?" -</p> - -<p> -"Do you refuse then to take me with you?" said Warwick, mournfully. -</p> - -<p> -"Be the choice yours; to go with me is fraught with danger—to -stay—" -</p> - -<p> -"Hush, cousin!" cried the earl, eagerly, "speak not the ill-omened word. -Stay,—to endure days and nights of guarded doors; to eat viands served -up poisoned by the jailor's touch; to see the sky but through those iron -bars; alas! in my dreams, when heaven and its stars are before me, they -are crossed and paled by those accursed lines. Give me but an hour to -tread earth a free man—or, mark, cousin; sometimes I win good Roger -to lead me to the roof of the White Tower; it is high, and overhangs the -deep, dangerous river—the day you quit my side, I seek that tower, I -leap from its height, and the cold waters shall drink up my being, -rather than I endure another hour my prison-life." -</p> - -<p> -"My dear, dear cousin," said York, "it is written by the Fates, and I -yield—our fortunes shall be one. A few days now brings the hour; it -will move along the dial; it will become a portion of past time—what -it will leave us, is in the hands of God." -</p> - -<p> -That hour came—full soon it came—the evening hour which -preceded their escape. Long Roger served supper to the kinsmen, the last -they were to partake within the fated walls. The poor fellow heaved a -bitter sigh, as he waited by his lord's chair. "Thou art downcast, good -Roger," said the earl, "pledge me, my man, in this ruby wine of -Burgundy—think of to-morrow, not of to-night—to-morrow the -deed will be done." -</p> - -<p> -Roger quaffed the proffered bowl—he set it down with another sigh, -almost a groan, adding, "Better drown reason than life in the vat!" Then -recollecting to what he alluded, and before whom, he blushed scarlet to -his very ears, and like a bashful man he made it worse by going on -blunderingly, "I was never handy at these sort of things; it is for all -the world like turning out of a warm bed on a cold snowy morning, only -to think of them—and when they are about,—by the Cross, I -thought no hole far enough or dark enough, when my lord your father—" -</p> - -<p> -"Roger!" exclaimed Warwick. -</p> - -<p> -The wine had not decreased the man's terror, but it had opened his -mouth, and taken away his discretion; he continued: "It was an awful -night. We all knew what was going to be done. I am sure, as Thomas -Paulet said, we heard our very hearts beat. Then there was grim-faced -Hobler, who at the judgment might be taken for the born twin of Master -Abel, only he was taller by a span—even he looked uglier, nor spoke -above his breath—'Is he at his prayers?' asked he, and Sir Brakenbury -was as white as the earth itself—it was the beginning of Lent; and -the snow lay three feet deep on it." -</p> - -<p> -By no uncommon law of our nature, the dread design of the present night -awoke keen recollection in the usually drowsy mind of this man. At -first, with thrilling horror, Warwick interrupted him, but now the very -terrors of the theme he chose assumed an awful charm—he was -fascinated to listen, while his knees knocked together. Richard felt -also the magic of such perilous excitement. -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, Lord Edward," continued Roger, "these walls have seen fiendly -sights—the blood of many a Plantagenet, York, or Lancaster, is on its -pavement. Was it not in this room that the pious king Saint Henry, as -Father Piers calls him—you will not sleep another night in it, so -there is no harm now, telling you that his poor ghost has been seen on -the battlements coming from this very chamber, where he was murthered." -</p> - -<p> -The night wind rushed round the massy walls, the autumnal wind, fierce -and howling—York started up. "No more of this unreason, while we need -all our strength, and God's grace to boot, to nerve us to our task. Oh, -ghost of Lancaster! if indeed thou hauntest this spot, where those akin -to me did the foul deed, be thy pious soul propitiated now; many a mass -shall be told for thy repose?" -</p> - -<p> -Roger crossed himself, and said an Ave; then in his usual voice he -rejoined, Would the thing did not require blood. Master Abel vows by -the saints—'twere better when men make bad oaths to swear by the -fiends—that Sir John must die; old wrinkled Astwood squeaks out, -"By'r Lady, it were not worth while, with only promises for reward, if we -have not the rifling of the lieutenant's private chamber. They are -bloody-minded men, my lord; Mat Strangeways, when he is sober, and I, -fasting or feasting, hold out that we might bind him, and get the keys.' -'Blockhead,' says Master Blewet, saving your presence, 'thou goest the -way to hang us all.'" -</p> - -<p> -Another goblet had set Roger talking. Warwick had quitted the table. He -threw open the casement: it was very dark, and the wind howled -fearfully—"Oh, iron bars of my prison-house," cried the ill-fated -prince, "can only midnight-murder wrench ye asunder? It is a dread act -to disobey God's word, and lay the soul under mortal sin—must it be -done?" -</p> - -<p> -"My dear cousin," said York, "do not mistake—a month ago the choice -was yours; now there is no going back. We have no right to draw these -poor men into peril, and then to quarrel at the precaution they take for -their safeties. We said, ay, when the matter was proposed. Again I -repeat the word; they must look to it, who so savagely have driven us to -the fatal pass. When Digby undertook the ungentle task of jailor, he -knew that he must hold it at the hazard of his life." -</p> - -<p> -"Sir John has ever been kind tome," said Warwick, "forgive the word, my -lord, I am firm now—away with mercy! To win an easy egress from -these murderous walls, I could myself plant the dagger." -</p> - -<p> -"We are not executioners," interrupted the duke, who felt none of -Warwick's vacillations, now sinking beneath the required tone, now wound -up far above it, and was perfectly calm, though his heart, he scarce -knew why, entertained no hope of success. Warwick believed that he -should win, and mourned the losers in the frightful game. Richard knew -that he might fail, and assuredly would, did he not meet each necessity -and hazard with a dauntless spirit. -</p> - -<p> -The sound of a bell from a neighbouring convent was brought fitfully by -the wind—"They are ringing matins—there is our signal," cried -Roger. -</p> - -<p> -"And Digby's knell." The door of the chamber opened as Warwick said -these words, and Blewet, with his usual catlike pace, slid in; he walked -straight up to Roger, and casting on him a glance from under his brows, -said only, "Come." -</p> - -<p> -"Are all at rest?" asked the earl. -</p> - -<p> -"Two hours agone," said Master Abel, "I have kept myself awake -sharpening my steel:" he touched the handle of a huge butcher's knife -stuck in his girdle, whose glittering blade did credit to his care. -Warwick turned pale and sick. "It will be dulled anon," continued -Blewet. -</p> - -<p> -"Where are thy comrades?" Richard asked. -</p> - -<p> -"They wait at the end of the corridor—Master Astwood is counting his -gains. Come, Long Roger." -</p> - -<p> -Poor Roger followed him to the door, then turning to the princes; "My -royal masters," said he, "if this deed goes ill, and I never see ye -more, by Christ and his Cross, I pray a blessing on ye; if I may pray, -but by the mass I fear I shall never pray, nor sup more." -</p> - -<p> -They were gone—Warwick strove to look, to be firm, but he grew ashy -white—a door clapped to at a distance made him almost faint. Richard -was pale also; but his hand shook not in the least, as he presented a -cup of wine to his cousin. "Give me water rather," said the earl, -shuddering, "that cup is red—hark—it is his groans!" -</p> - -<p> -"It is the wind around the turret, where my liege and brother died," -said York, endeavouring to give other thoughts to the poor prince, who -cried,— -</p> - -<p> -"It is the hell-born laugh of fiends viewing the deed." With the breeze -indeed came a sound of laughter. "Are we betrayed!" cried York: but the -sound passed away in wailing. Warwick was on his knees—"I cannot -pray," he cried, "a sea of blood is before me." -</p> - -<p> -"Hush!" -</p> - -<p> -Steps now approached along the corridor, and Blewet, his stained, -half-wiped knife in his hand, appeared—Again the monosyllable "Come," -was pronounced—fraught with how different a meaning. A life had been -torn from an innocent breast since then by that fell instrument. The -princes, awe-struck, one trembling with dread, the other striving to -quell his horror for a murderer, followed him, as he led through the -gallery—at the end stood Astwood with a bunch of keys—there -were no stains on his hands; he looked anxious, but brightened up when he -saw the prisoners. -</p> - -<p> -They trod stealthily along. Warwick's faltering steps scarce kept pace -with their conductor's. After passing through many narrow high passages, -they reached a low postern door. Astwood put the key in the lock—the -sound was magical to the fearful earl. "Farewell, old frightful walls," -he cried; "farewell, dark murderous prison-house, the Foul Fiend possess -thee! such is my benison." -</p> - -<p> -Blewet looked at him—York marked the sarcasm, the scorn of his -glance—the gate meanwhile was opened; at that moment a clash of arms -was heard. "The sentinels at the eastern gate," remarked Abel. -</p> - -<p> -"God grant it!" cried Warwick, "God grant—yet can it be! and am I -free?" -</p> - -<p> -He rushed through the open door, intent to seize upon liberty, as -Tantalus on his forbidden feast—his first step beyond the -threshold of his prison was followed by a shriek—almost a woman's -shriek, it was so shrill and piercing. What he quailed before, gave -presence of mind to York—experienced in ills. Whatever the new -evil might be, he went out to meet it calmly. A party of archers and -yeomen were drawn up in the courtyard. "This truly is a mime," he said, -"in which one at least wins. Our good lieutenant is safe; we are lost." -</p> - -<p> -Grim Sir John had much disliked even this masque of murder. He saw their -seizure with a grin of delight. He abhorred Richard, as the prime mover -of the meditated assassination; but he hated Warwick more, who thus -could lay in ambush for the life of one, who he believed had been a most -courteous and soft-hearted jailor to him—he commanded his myrmidons -to lead the royal kinsmen to the strongest ward-rooms of the Tower, with -dogged, savage joy. -</p> - -<p> -In dark and separate cells, in solitude and night, these ill-fated -victims of craft and ambition were consigned to biting reflection and -sinister anticipation. Warwick, worn out by the unusual excitement of -the last weeks, by his eager hopes, and overwhelming despair, had no one -thought, but ten thousand thoughts, making a chaos and hell of his poor -heart. Richard felt more for his cousin than for himself. "But for me," -he repeated internally, "he had still been a patient prisoner. Yet to -break prison is not crime capital—he may yet be saved. Elizabeth will -intercede; Tudor, for very shame, cannot do further wrong to one so near -akin, so powerless and unfortunate. For myself:—I am dead already: -the duke of York died, when first I became a slave. So that my memory -survive in my own White Rose's heart—let the victor dispose at his -pleasure of this mere shell of Richard." -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h4><a id="chap56"></a></h4> - -<h4>CHAPTER LVI -<br /><br /> -THE TRIAL</h4> - - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Tempestuous Fortune hath spent all her spite,</span><br /> -<span class="i2">And thrilling sorrow thrown his utmost dart</span><br /> -<span class="i0">Thy sad tongue cannot tell more heavy plight</span><br /> -<span class="i2">Than that I feel and harbour in my heart.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i20">SPENSER.</span> -</div></div></div> - -<p> -The morning of the first of November dawned: a cheery day. Men went to -their usual works: the earth, despoiled of her summer garniture, yet -bore the change with sober content; for the sun shone, and soft airs, -despite the coming winter, lightly shook the scant and altered foliage -of the woods:— -</p> - -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">All rose to do the task He set to each,</span><br /> -<span class="i2">Who shaped us to His ends, and not our own.</span><br /> -<span class="i18">And many rose</span><br /> -<span class="i2">Whose woe was such, that fear became desire.</span> -</div></div> - -<p> -Among such fate-hunted victims was the duke of York. Hope had died in -his heart; and his few remaining days were only to be spent in -celebrating her dark funeral. Morning opened its eyes on Prince -Richard's dungeon, showing him vanquished by grievous overthrow and -change. To look back through his tumultuous life, to dwell upon its -chances, to think of the many who had suffered for him, were sad but -fitting thoughts, to which he betook himself, till death became lovely -in his eyes. But intermingled with such retrospection were other -memories: his own sweet love was before him, in her tears or smiles; he -looked into her dear eyes, he closed his own, and thrilling kisses -pressed his burning lips, and soft, white arms were round him; at -thought of such he grew impatient of his chains, and the fearful cutting -off from all that awaited him. He began to calculate on the probability -that his life would be spared, and grew cowardly the while; to feed upon -those roseate lips, to drink life from those eyes, to clasp his -beautiful, fond wife, feeling that beyond the circle of his arms nought -existed worthy his desires, became a fierce, impatient hunger, to -gratify which he would call himself impostor, give up fame and -reputation, and become Perkin Warbeck in all men's eyes. -</p> - -<p> -There was but one refuge from this battle of youth and life with the -grim skeleton. With a strong effort he endeavoured to turn his attention -from earth, its victor woes, and still more tyrant joys, to the heaven -where alone his future lay. The struggle was difficult, but he effected -it: prayer brought resignation, calm; so when his soul, still linked to -his mortal frame, and slave to its instincts, again returned to earth, -it was with milder wishes and subdued regrets. Monina's lovely form -wandered into his mind; she was an angel now, a blessed spirit, he -believed; for, what deceived her, deceived him; and he fancied that he -alone had escaped from the watery perils of that night: she had arrived -there, where he soon should be, in the serene immutability of eternal -life; he began, in the revulsion of his thoughts, to pity those destined -still to exist. Earth was a scathed planet, a roofless, shelterless -home; a wild where the human soul wandered a little interval, tortured -by sharp, cruel storms; lost in thorny, entangled brakes; weary -repining, till the hour came when it could soar to its native -birthplace, and find refuge from its ills in promised Paradise. -</p> - -<p> -His cell was indeed the haven of peace, compared to the turbid, -frightful atmosphere in which his Katherine lived. Edmund had not -returned; every attempt she made to communicate with Scotland or -Burgundy failed. She had passed a summer of wretchedness, nor could the -tender attention of Elizabeth soothe her. In spite of all, the poor -queen was almost happier than she had ever been; for many years she had -been "the cannibal of her own heart," devouring her griefs in voiceless, -friendless, solitude; her very joys, and they were those of maternity, -were locked up in her own bosom. It was the birth of happiness to share -her griefs with another; that other being so gentle, so wise, and yet so -sensitive, as the fair White Rose, who concealed her own worst pains, to -soothe those of one possessing less fortitude and fewer internal -resources than herself. Yet, while thus she forgot herself, she never -quitted in thought her Richard's side; since the day she had seen him -delivered over to ignominious punishment, pale and ill, he was as it -were stamped on every outward object, an image placed between her and -her thoughts; for, while those were employed apparently on many things, -he, in truth, was their first, last, all-possessing idea, more -engrossing than her own identity. At one time she spent every effort to -obtain an interview with him in prison; and then she learned, through -covert means, of the plots carrying on in the Tower for his escape, -while the name of Warwick, mingling in the tale, roused the latent -feelings of Elizabeth. When the last, worst hour came, it was less -replete with pain than these miserable, unquiet days, and sleepless, -tearful nights; the never-ending, still-beginning round of hours, spent -in fear, doubt, and agonizing prayer. -</p> - -<p> -After a restless night, the princess opened her eyes upon the day, and -felt even the usual weight at her heavy foreboding heart increased. The -tale was soon told of Richard's attempted escape and failure: "What can -be done?" "Nothing; God has delivered the innocent into the hands of the -cruel; the cruel, to whom mercy is as unknown as, methinks, it is even -to the awful Power who rules our miserable lives." Such words, with a -passionate burst of tears, burst from the timid Elizabeth, whose crushed -and burning heart even arraigned the Deity for the agony she endured. -</p> - -<p> -Katherine looked on her with sweet compassion, "Gentle one," she said, -"what new spirit puts such strange speech into your mouth, whose -murmurings heretofore were those of piety?" -</p> - -<p> -"It is a bad world," continued the queen; "and, if I become bad in it, -perchance I shall prosper, and have power to save: I have been too mild, -too self-communing and self-condemning; and the frightful result is, -that the sole being that ever loved me, perishes on the scaffold. Both -will perish, my White Rose, doubt it not. Your own York, and my devoted -only loved Edward. In his prison I have been his dream; he breaks it, -not to find liberty again, but Elizabeth. Wretched boy! knows he not -that he shall never again find her, who roamed with a free spirit the -woodland glades, talking to him of the future, as of a scene painted to -my will; faded, outworn, a degraded slave—I am not Elizabeth." -</p> - -<p> -"Did you know the dearest truth of religion," replied Katherine, "you -would feel that she, who has been tried, and come out pure, is a far -nobler being than—" -</p> - -<p> -"I am not pure, not innocent; much you mistake me," said the queen: -"wicked, impious thoughts harbour in my heart, and pollute my soul, even -beyond the hope of mediation. Sometimes I hate my beautiful children -because they are his; sometimes in the dark hour of night, I renounce my -nuptial vow, and lend ready, willing ear to fiendish whisperings which -borrow Edward's voice. I court sleep, because he wanders into my dreams: -and—what do I say, what am I revealing? Lady, judge me not: you -married him you loved, fulfilling thus the best destiny that can be -given in this hard world to woman, whose life is merely love. Though he -perish in his youth, and you weep for him for ever, hug yourself in the -blessed knowledge that your fate is bright as angels: for we reap -celestial joys, when love and duty, twined in sisterly embrace, take up -their abode together within us: and I—but Katherine, did you hear -me?—They perish even as I speak: his cruel heart knows no touch of -mercy, and they perish." -</p> - -<p> -"They shall not, dearest," said York's White Rose; "it cannot be, that -so foul a blot darken our whole lives. No; there are words and looks and -tones that may persuade. Alas! were we more holy, surely a miracle might -be vouchsafed, nor this Pharaoh harden his heart for ever." -</p> - -<p> -All her love-laden soul beaming in her eyes, with a voice that even -thrilled him, though it moved him not, the White Rose addressed Henry. -She had yet to learn that a tyrant's smile is more fatal than his frown: -he was all courtesy, for he was resolved, implacable; and she gathered -hope from what proved to be the parent of despair. She spoke with so -much energy, yet simplicity, in the cause of goodness, and urged so -sweetly her debt of gratitude; telling him, how from the altar of their -hearts, prayers would rise to the Eternal, fraught with blessings to -him, that he encouraged her to go on, that still he might gaze on -lineaments, which nobility of soul, the softest tenderness, and exalted -belief in good, painted with angelic hues. At length he replied that his -council were examining witnesses, that her cause depended on facts, on -its own justice; that he hoped report had blackened the crimes of these -rash men; for her sake he sincerely hoped their guilt, as it was -detailed to him, had been exaggerated. -</p> - -<p> -For a moment the princess was unaware what all this jargon might mean; -his next words were more perspicuous. "Indeed, fair dame, you must -forget this coil: if I consent, for the welfare of my kingdom, to -sacrifice the queen's nearest relative, you also must resign yourself to -a necessity from which there is no appeal. Hereafter you will perceive -that you gain, instead of losing by an act of justice which you -passionately call cruelty: it is mercy, heaven's mercy doubtless, that -breaks the link between a royal princess and a base-born impostor." -</p> - -<p> -A sudden fear thrilled Katherine: "You cannot mean that he should die," -she cried; "for your own sake, for your children's sake, on whom your -sins will be visited, you cannot intend such murder: you dare not; for -the whole world would rise against the unchristian king who sheds his -kinsman's blood. All Europe, the secret hearts of those nearest to you, -your own knowledge, all proclaim your victim, your rival—to be your -brother, and will brand you a fratricide. You are Lancaster, your -ancestors were kings, you conquered this realm in their name, and may -reign over it in peace of conscience; but not so may you destroy the -duke of York. His mother avouched him, the duchess of Burgundy -acknowledges him; I was given to him by my royal cousin, as to one of -equal rank, and he upholds him. More than all, his princely self -declares the truth; nor can evil counsellors, nor false chroniclers, -stand between you and heaven and the avenging world. You vainly seek to -heap accusation on him you term Crookback's head: time will affix the -worst indelible stain upon you. You cannot, will not slay him." -</p> - -<p> -What were words to the fixed mind of Henry? A summer breeze, whispering -round a tempest-withstanding watch-towers—he might grow chill at this -echo of the fears his own heart spoke: but still he smiled, and his -purpose was unshaken. It became known that the princes were to be -arraigned for treason: first the unhappy, misnamed Perkin was tried, by -the common courts, in Westminster Hall. When a despot gives up the -execution of his revenge to the course of law, it is only because he -wishes to get rid of passing the sentence of death upon his single -authority, and to make the dread voice of misnamed justice, and its -executors, the abettors of his crime. -</p> - -<p> -When tragedy arrays itself in the formal robes of law, it becomes more -heart-rending, more odious, than in any other guise. When sickness -threatens to deprive us of one, round whom our heart-strings have -twined—we think inextricably—the skill of man is our friend: if -merciless tempest be the murderer, we feel that it obeys One whose ways -are inscrutable, while we strive to believe that they are good. Groping -in darkness, we teach our hearts the bitter lesson of resignation. Nor -do we hate nor blame the wild winds and murderous waves, though they -have drunk up a life more precious and more beloved than words have -power to speak. But that man's authority should destroy the life of his -fellow-man; that he who is powerful, should, for his own security and -benefit, drive into the darksome void of the tomb one united to our -sun-visited earth by ties of tenderness and love—one whose mind was -the abode of honour and virtue; to know that the word of man could still -bind to its earthly tabernacle the being, voice, looks, thoughts, -affections of our all; and yet that the man of power unlocks the secret -chamber, rifles it of all its treasures, and gives us, for the living -mansion of the soul, a low, voiceless grave:—against such tyranny, -the softest heart must rebel; nor scarcely could religion in its most -powerful guise, the Catholic religion, which almost tore aside for its -votaries the veil between time and eternity, teach submission to the -victims. -</p> - -<p> -Days flowed on. However replete with event, the past is but a point to -us; however empty, the present pervades all things. And when that -present is freighted with our whole futurity, it is as an adamantine -chain binding us to the hour; there is no escape from its omnipotence -and omnipresence; it is as the all-covering sky. We shut our eyes; the -monster's hollow breath is on our cheek; we look on all sides: from each -his horrid eyes glare on us; we would sleep; he whispers dreams. Are we -intelligible? Will those possessed by present tell us whether any -bondage, any Bastille, can suggest ideas of more frightful tyranny, -misery, than the cruel present, which clings to us, and cannot be -removed. -</p> - -<p> -"It is so; he attempted to escape, and was discovered; he is low in his -dungeon; his dear eyes are faint from disappointed hope. He will be -tried. Tyranny will go forth in a masque, and with hideous antics fancy -that she mantles with a decorous garb her blood-thirsty acts. He will be -condemned; but he will not die! not die! Oh no, my Richard is -immortal—he cannot die!" -</p> - -<p> -"My royal cousin, when you gave me to my sweet love, and pledged your -word that in weal or woe I should be his; and I promised myself still -dearer things, to be the guardian angel and tutelar genius of his life; -and took pleasure, fond, foolish girl that I was, in the anticipation of -misfortunes that I should rob of all power to hurt; no thought, among -the many that strayed into futurity, told me of this desertion, this -impotence of effecting good. Alas! how deaf and cruel man is: I could -more easily tear asunder his prison-walls with my hands, and break with -my weak fingers his iron chains, than move one, as liable to suffer and -to die as even his victim, to pity!" -</p> - -<p> -Elizabeth listened pale and silent to these complaints—bitter as -they were, they were hushed to more heart-rending silence when the hour -of trial came—she should only pray to die, before the word that -spoke his condemnation met her ear. Accustomed as a princess—a -high-born and respected daughter of one most powerful, to be obeyed and -served; to find herself destitute of all influence, seemed to place her -in another planet—it was not men—not her fellow-creatures -that were around her; but fiends who wore the mask of humanity. An -uninhabited desert had not been more solitary than this populous land, -whose language she possessed not; for what is language, if it reach not -the heart and move it? -</p> - -<p> -Richard, the wonder of the time, gathered courage as ill-fortune pressed -more hardly upon him; in the hour of trial he did not quail, but stood -in bold, fearless innocence before the men, whose thoughts were armed -against his life. He was not guilty, he said, for he could not be guilty -of treason. When the indictment was read which treated him as a -foreigner and an alien, the spirit of the Plantagenet flashed from his -eyes, and the very stony-hearted clerk, who read, casting his regards on -him, faltered and stammered, overawed by a blaze of dignity, which, did -we foster antique creeds, we might believe was shed over him by some -such spirit as imparted divine majesty to the person of the king of -Ithaca. Proudly and silently Richard listened to the evidence on his -trial. It touched only on such points as would afterwards be most -material for inculpation of poor Warwick. In the end he was asked what -he had to plead, wherefore judgment should not pass upon him—but he -was bid to be brief, and to beware not to use any language derogatory to -the high and mighty prince Henry king of these realms. A smile curled -his lips at this admonition, and with even a playful air he said, "My -very good lord, I ask for nothing, save that a little mercy be extended -to the memory of my gracious uncle, my lord of Gloucester, who was no -child-murderer." -</p> - -<p> -At the word he was interrupted, and sentence pronounced. As the -ignominious words were said, Richard, who from the beginning had -abstracted himself in prayer, so that his ears might be as little -wounded as possible, by an unconquerable impulse put his hand where his -sword might have been. Its absence and the clanking of his chains -recalled him to the truth, and he muttered the words, "O basely murdered -York!" in recollection of his unhappy grandfather, to whose miserable -fate he often recurred, as an example of suffering and patience. -</p> - -<p> -Thus ended the bitter scene; one he had long expected, for which he had -nerved himself. During nearly the whole, his look was as if he were -absent from it. But who could read the secrets of his heart, while his -impassive eyes and lips were no index to the agonies that tortured it? -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h4><a id="chap57"></a></h4> - -<h4>CHAPTER LVII -<br /><br /> -THE PRISON OF LUDGATE</h4> - - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i12">So young to go</span><br /> -<span class="i0">Under the obscure, cold, rotting, wormy ground!</span><br /> -<span class="i0">To be nailed down into a narrow place;</span><br /> -<span class="i0">To see no more sweet sunshine; hear no more</span><br /> -<span class="i0">Blithe voice of living thing; muse not again</span><br /> -<span class="i0">Upon familiar thoughts, sad, yet thus lost—</span><br /> -<span class="i0">How fearful!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i20">SHELLEY.</span> -</div></div></div> - -<p> -"Speak to me, lady, sister, speak! your frozen glances frighten me; your -fingers, as I touch them, have no resistance or life. Dearest and best, -do not desert me—speak but one word, my own White Rose." -</p> - -<p> -Katherine raised her blue eyes heavenward: as if the effort were too -great, they fell again on the ground, as she said, in a voice so low -that Elizabeth could hardly catch the sound: "I must see him once again -before he dies." -</p> - -<p> -"And you shall, dearest, I promise you. Cheer up, my love, not to -affright him by looks like these. Indeed you shall see him, and I will -also; he shall know that he has a sister's prayers, a sister's love. -Patience, sweet Kate, but a little patience." -</p> - -<p> -"Would I could sleep till then!" replied the miserable wife: and she -covered her face with her hands, as if to shut out the light of day, and -sighed bitterly. -</p> - -<p> -When our purposes are inflexible, how do insurmountable obstacles break -before our strong will; so that often it seems that we are more -inconstant than fortune, and that with perseverance we might attain the -sum of our desires. The queen, the weak, despised, powerless queen, -resolved to gratify this one last wish of her beloved friend. Many a -motive urged her to it; compassion, love, and even self-interest. At -first she almost despaired; while Richard continued in the Tower it was -impossible; but on the twenty-third of November, two days before the -destined termination of his fatal tragedy, on the day of the trial of -poor Warwick, he was removed to the prison of Ludgate. And here, at dead -of night, Henry, being absent inspecting his new palace at Richmond, -Elizabeth, timid, trembling, shrinking now at the last—and Katherine, -far too absorbed in one thought to dream of fear, took boat at -Westminster, and were rowed along the dark, cold tide to Blackfriars. -They were silent; the queen clasped her friend's hand, which was chill -and deathlike. Elizabeth trembled, accustomed to hope for, to seek -refuge in her stronger mind, she felt deserted, now that she, engrossed -by passion, silent and still, the wife of the near prey of death, could -remember only that yet for a little while he was alive. Their short -voyage seemed endless; still the oars splashed, still the boat glided, -and yet they arrived not. Could it last for ever—with one hope ever -in view, never to know that he was dead? The thought passed into -Katherine's mind with the sluggish but absorbing tenacity of intense -grief, and at last possessed it so wholly, that it was with a scream of -fear that she found herself close to shore. -</p> - -<p> -The necessity of motion restored Katherine to her presence of mind, -while it deprived the queen of the little courage she possessed. -Something was to be said and done: Elizabeth forgot what; but Katherine -spoke in a clear, though unnatural voice, and followed their conductors -with a firm step, supporting the faltering queen. Yet she addressed her -not; her energies were wound up to achieve one thing; more than that it -would have cost her life to attempt. They reached the dark walls of -the prison; a door was unbarred, and they were admitted. The princess -passed the threshold with a quick step, as if overjoyed thus to be -nearer her wish. Elizabeth paused, trembled, and almost wished to turn -back. -</p> - -<p> -They crossed the high-walled court, and passed through several dark -galleries: it seemed as if they would never arrive; and yet both started -when they stopped at the door of a cell. -</p> - -<p> -"Does his grace expect us?" asked Katherine. -</p> - -<p> -The turnkey looked as not understanding; but their guides who was the -chaplain of the jail, answered,— -</p> - -<p> -"He does not. Fearful that some impediment might intervene, unwilling to -disturb by a disappointed hope a soul so near its heavenly home, I have -told him nothing." -</p> - -<p> -"Gently then," said Katherine, "let our speech be low." -</p> - -<p> -The door opened, and displayed the sou of the proud, luxurious Edward, -sleeping on a wretched mattress, chained to the pavement. The ladies -entered alone. Katherine glided noiselessly to his side; her first act -was to bend down her cheek, till his breath disturbed the ringlet that -rested on it; thus to assure herself that life was within his lips. -Elizabeth fixed her earnest gaze on him, to discover if in aught he -reminded her of the blue-eyed, flaxen-haired bridegroom of Anne Mowbray: -he more resembled a picture of her father in his early manhood; and then -again her aunt the duchess of Burgundy, whom she had seen just before -king Edward's death. He lay there in placid sleep; thought and feeling -absent: yet in that form resided the soul of Richard; a bright casket -containing a priceless gem: no flaw—no token of weakness or decay. -He lived—and at a word would come back from oblivion to her world of -love. A few days and that form would still exist in all its fair -proportion. But veil it quick; he is not there; unholy and false is the -philosophy that teaches us that lurid mockery was the thing we -loved. -</p> - -<p> -And now he woke, almost to joy; yet sadness succeeded quickly to -rapture. "My poor girl," he said, "weep not for me; weep for thyself -rather; a rose grafted on a thorn. The degraded and disgraced claims no -such sorrow." -</p> - -<p> -Katherine replied by an embrace; by laying her beautiful head on his -bosom, and listening with forgetful, delicious ecstasy to the throbbings -of his beating heart. -</p> - -<p> -"Be not unjust to thyself," said a soft, unknown voice, breaking the -silence of the lovers; "be not false to thy house. We are a devoted -race, my brother; but we are proud even to the last." -</p> - -<p> -"This is a new miracle," cried the prince. "Who, except this sainted -one, will claim kindred with Tudor's enemy?" -</p> - -<p> -"Tudor's wife; your sister. Do you not remember Elizabeth?" -</p> - -<p> -As these words were said, Katherine, who appeared to have accomplished -her utmost wish, sat beside him, her arms around him, her sweet head -reposing, her eyes closed. Kissing her soft hair and fair brow, York -disentwined her clasped hands, and rose, addressing the trembling -queen:— -</p> - -<p> -"My sister," he said, "you do a deed which calls for blessings from -heaven upon you and yours. Till now, such, was my unmanly spirit, the -stigma affixed to my name, the disgrace of my ignominious death, made me -odious to myself. The weakness of that thought is past; the love of this -sweetest sweet, and your kindness restore me. Indeed, my sister, I am -York—I am Plantagenet." -</p> - -<p> -"As such," replied the queen, "I ask a boon, for which, selfish as I am, -I chiefly came; my brother will not deny me?" -</p> - -<p> -"Trifler, this is vanity. I can give nothing." -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, everything," exclaimed the lady; "years of peace, almost of -happiness, in exchange for a life of bitter loneliness and suffering. -You, my dearest lord, know the celestial goodness of that fair White -Rose; in adversity and peril you have known it;—I, amidst the cold -deceits of a court. She has vowed never to return to her native land, to -bear a questioned name among her peers; or perhaps to be forced by her -father to change it for one abhorred. Though she must hate me as the -wife of her injurer, yet where can she better be than with your sister? -She would leave me, for I am Tudor's queen; bid her stay with, her -lord's nearest kinswoman; tell her that we will beguile the long years -of our too young life with talk of you; tell her that nowhere will she -find one so ready to bless your name as poor Elizabeth; implore her, ah! -on my knees do I implore you to bid her not to leave me, a dead-alive, a -miserable, bereft creature, such, as I was ere I knew her love." -</p> - -<p> -"What say'st thou, sweet?" asked Richard; "am I yet monarch of that soft -heart? Will my single subject obey the crownless Richard?" -</p> - -<p> -Katherine stretched out her hand to the queen, who was at York's feet, -in token of compliance: she could not speak; it was a mighty effort to -press the fingers of Elizabeth slightly; who said,— -</p> - -<p> -"Before heaven and your dear lord, I claim your promise; you are mine -for ever." -</p> - -<p> -"A precious gift, my Bess; was it not thus my infant lips called you? I -trust her to you; and so the sting of death is blunted. Yet let not too -fond a lingering on one passed away, tarnish the bright hours that may -yet be in store for her. Forget me, sweet ones; I am nought; a vapour -which death and darkness inhales—best unremembered. Yet while I live -I would ask one question—our victim-cousin, Edward of Warwick?" -</p> - -<p> -Elizabeth could no longer restrain her tears as she related, that -however weak Warwick might heretofore have seemed, he appeared a -Plantagenet on his trial. He disdained the insulting formalities of law, -where the bitter Lancastrian, Lord Oxford, was the interpreter of -justice; he at once declared himself guilty of plotting to put the -English crown on the head of his cousin, the duke of York. He was -quickly interrupted, and condemned to be beheaded. -</p> - -<p> -"Generous, unhappy Warwick. Ah! is not life a misery, when all of good, -except ye two angelic creatures, die?" -</p> - -<p> -The signal was now given that the interview must end. Elizabeth wept. -Katherine, still voiceless, clung closer to her husband; while he nerved -himself to support these gentle spirits with manly fortitude. One long, -affectionate kiss he pressed on the mouth of Katherine; and as her -roseate lips yet asked another, another and another followed; their -lives mingled with their breath. -</p> - -<p> -"We meet in Paradise, mine only one," whispered York: "through our -Lord's mercy assuredly we meet there." -</p> - -<p> -He unwound her arms; he placed her in those of Elizabeth, "Cherish, -preserve her. Bless thee, my sister; thee, and thy children. They at -least will, by my death, reign rightfully over this kingdom. Farewell." -</p> - -<p> -He kissed her hand, and then again the lifeless hand of his wife, who -stood a breathing statue. She had not spoken; no words could utter her -despair. Another moment, and their fair forms were gone; the door of his -cell was closed; and, but for the presence of the God he worshipped, -Richard was left alone to solitude and night. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h4><a id="chap58"></a></h4> - -<h4>CHAPTER LVIII -<br /><br /> -CONCLUSION</h4> - - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Love is too young to know what conscience is,</span><br /> -<span class="i0">Yet who knows not. Conscience is born of Love?</span><br /> -<span class="i0">Then, gentle cheater, urge not my amiss,</span><br /> -<span class="i0">Lest guilty of my faults thy sweet self prove.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i20">SHAKSPEARE.</span> -</div></div></div> - -<p> -Time,<a name="FNanchor_2_1" id="FNanchor_2_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_1" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> we are told by all philosophers, is the sole medicine for -grief. Yet there are immortal regrets which must endure while we exist. -Those who have met with one, with whose every feeling and thought their -thoughts and feelings were entwined, who knew of no divided past, nor -could imagine a solitary futurity, to them what balm can time bring? -Time, the giver of hours, months, and years, each one how barren, -contemptible, and heavy to bear to the bereft! -</p> - -<p> -There was no consolation for Katherine, which could make her for a -moment forget that her present existence was but the lees of life, the -spiritless remnants of a nectareous draught. But Katherine was gentle, -good, and resigned; she lived on, dispensing pleasure, adored by all who -approached her, and gladly hailing any visitation of happiness which -might reach one whose affections were too fondly linked to the grave. -</p> - -<p> -Years had passed since the last act of the sad tragedy which destroyed -her dearest hopes. She accompanied the queen of England on a progress -made by her, and they remained one night at Eastwell Place, the seat of -Sir Thomas Moyle. There was a park, and stately pleasure-grounds -belonging to the house, undulating uplands, shady copses, and sweet -running brooks to diversify the scene. A crowd of the noble and the gay -were there, and the royal party was unusually mirthful; fireworks, -masks, and dances were employed; and all joyously gave themselves up to -the spirit of the hour. The chords of a harp, a well-known air, first -awoke in the bosom of the White Rose that languid melancholy, so near -allied to pleasure, so close a neighbour to pain. By degrees memory grew -busy in her brain; she could no longer endure the laughter of her -companions, their sallies, nay, nor their kindness; for Elizabeth -perceived her dear friend's change of countenance, and was approaching, -when Katherine, making her a sign not to remark her, stole away, and -entering a straggling path, wandered on, struggling with the tears, -which the beauty of the evening, and the very hilarity which just before -she had shared, caused to gush warm and fast from her eyes. -</p> - -<p> -She reached a little streamlet, and was passing forward, when she became -aware of the presence of another in the scene. A labouring man, of -middle age (but his hair was grey and flowed on his shoulders) was -seated on the rustic masonry of a rude fountain, reading; he rose when -he saw the lady, and doffed his hat; she, with the cordial sweetness -that accompanied her slightest acts, gave him an evening benison. Her -voice, her look, her cordial manner moved to its depths a heart lately -hardened against her. As she passed on, the man followed hastily, -"Lady!" he cried. -</p> - -<p> -It struck the princess that this poor fellow had some request to prefer -to his master, and that he wished to do it through her medium; she -turned with a benevolent smile: "Can I do aught for you, good friend?" -</p> - -<p> -His voice failed him; he stretched out his hand, which held his book, -she took it: the tiny volume was no stranger to her eyes; as if a ghost -had looked on her lonely watching, she trembled and grew pale, when she -opened it, and saw written in fair characters, by a hand now dust, "La -Rosa Blanca." The rustic knelt before her. -</p> - -<p> -"Lady, queen!" he cried, "Sole relic of the unforgotten! is it thus that -we meet?" -</p> - -<p> -"My cousin Edmund!" -</p> - -<p> -"Hush! breathe not even to the silent woods the unknown word. Fancy not -that I am Plantagenet: for all that was of worth in him you name, died -when the White Rose scattered its leaves upon the unworthy earth." -</p> - -<p> -"Ah! would that we had all died in that hour," cried Katherine: "why, -when the ungrateful world lost him, did not all the good and true die -also, so that they might no longer suffer!" -</p> - -<p> -Plantagenet cast a reproachful glance on her, as he said, "Happy indeed -are those who die. O God! when I think of the many and the beloved, who, -a few years ago, were alive around me, and among whose low silent graves -I now walk alone, methinks I am dead; it is but the ghost of him you -knew that lingers upon earth." -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, they are all gone," said the princess; "all who linked me to the -past, and were portions of my Richard's being. They are gone from before -me. But are they truly no more, or do they live, like you, brooding over -the lost, disdaining to communicate with one who lives but to remember -them? Of the death of several I have heard; but often I have longed with -bitterness to hear of you, and of the Spanish maiden, Monina de Faro." -</p> - -<p> -"Her gentle soul," replied Edmund; "has flown to join him for whom she -lived and died. It is now two years since I was assured of this. A -friar, whom I had formerly well known, visited Lisbon; and I entreated -him to inquire for De Faro and his child. The commander of the Adalid -was almost forgotten; at last, an old sailor was found, who remembered -that, some years before, he had sailed for the Western Indies, and was -never heard of more." -</p> - -<p> -"His daughter accompanied him?" -</p> - -<p> -"In the churchyard of a convent, placed high among the foldings of those -lovely hills which overlook Lisbon, he was shown an humble tomb, half -defaced; her dear, sacred name is carved upon it, and half the date, the -14—, which showed that she died before the century began, in which -we now live.<a name="FNanchor_3_1" id="FNanchor_3_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_1" class="fnanchor">[3]</a> She could not have survived our prince many months; -probably she died before him, nor ever knew the worst pang of all, the -ignominy linked with his beloved memory." -</p> - -<p> -"And you, my kinsman, how long have you wedded penury and labour in this -obscure disguise?" -</p> - -<p> -"Penury and labour," said Plantagenet, "are not confined to the humble -occupation I have adopted. I was made poor by the death-blow of my -hopes; and my chief labour is to tame my heart to resignation to the -will of God. Obscure you may indeed call my destination. Would I could -shroud it in tenfold night! Dearer to me is the silence and loneliness -of this spot, where I can for ever commune undisturbed with the past, -than a pomp which is stained by the blood of him whom once I thought we -all loved so well. -</p> - -<p> -"When—oh, let me name not the frightful thing!—when he was gone -for ever, the whole world was to me but one miserable tomb. I groped in -darkness, misery my mate, eternal lamentation my sole delight. The first -thing that brought peace to my soul, was the beauty of this visible -universe. When God permitted, for some inscrutable purpose, moral evil -to be showered so plentifully over us, he gave us a thousand resources -out of ourselves in compensation. If I mingled with my fellow-creatures, -how dearly should I miss him, who was single among men for goodness, -wisdom, and heaven-born nobility of soul. My heart sickens at the evil -things that usurp the shape of humanity, and dare deem themselves of the -same species: I turn from all, loathing. But here there is no change, no -falling off, no loss of beauty and of good: these glades, these copses, -the seasons' change and elemental ministrations, are for ever the -same—the type of their Maker in glory and in good. The loveliness of -earth saves me from despair: the Majesty of Heaven imparts aspiring -hope. I bare my bosom to the breeze, and my wretched heart throbs less -wildly. I drink in the balmy sweetness of the hour, and repose again on -the goodness of my Creator. -</p> - -<p> -"Yours is another existence, lady; you need the adulation of the -crowd—the luxury of palaces; you purchase these, even by communing -with the murderer of him who deserved a dearer recompense at your -hands." -</p> - -<p> -Katherine smiled sadly at these last words, which betrayed the thought -that rankled in her kinsman's mind. "I thank you," she replied, "for -your details. I will not blame you for the false judgment you pass on -me. When years and quiet thought have brought you back from the tempest -of emotion that shakes you, you will read my heart better, and know that -it is still faithfully devoted to him I have lost." -</p> - -<p> -"Ah! say those words again," cried Plantagenet, "and teach me to believe -them. I would give my right hand to approve your conduct, to love and -reverence you once again." -</p> - -<p> -"Will you have patience with me then, while I strive to justify myself?" -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, speak! My life, my soul's salvation, to hang upon your words." -</p> - -<p> -Katherine raised her blue eyes to the now starry sky, as if to adjure -that to be the witness of her innocent thoughts; and then she said, "We -are all, dear cousin, impelled by our nature to make ourselves the -central point of the universe. Even those, who as they fancy, sacrifice -themselves for the love of God, do it more truly for love of themselves; -and the followers of virtue too often see their duties through the -obscure and deceptive medium which their own single, individual feelings -create. Yet we have one unerring guide; one given us at our birth, and -which He who died on the Cross for us, taught us to understand and to -appreciate, commanding us to make it the master-law of our lives. Call -it love, charity, or sympathy; it is the best, the angelic portion of -us. It teaches us to feel pain at others' pain, joy in their joy. The -more entirely we mingle our emotions with those of others, making our -well or ill being depend on theirs, the more completely do we cast away -selfishness, and approach the perfection of our nature. -</p> - -<p> -"You are going to answer, perhaps to refute me—do not Remember I -am a woman, with a woman's tutelage in my early years, a woman's -education in the world, which is that of the heart—alas! for -us—not of the head. I have no school-learning, no logic—but -simply the voice of my own soul which speaks within me. -</p> - -<p> -"I try to forget; you force me back upon myself. You attack; and you -beseech me to defend myself. So to do, I must dwell upon the sentiments -of a heart, which is human, and therefore faulty, but which has neither -guile nor malice in it. -</p> - -<p> -"In my father's house—and when I wandered with my beloved outcast, -I had no difficulty in perceiving, nor—God was so gracious to -me—in fulfilling my duties. For in childhood I was cherished and -favoured by all; and when I became a wife, it was no wonder that I -should love and idolize the most single-hearted, generous, and kindly -being that ever trod the earth. To give myself away to him—to be a -part of him—to feel that we were an harmonious one in this -discordant world, was a happiness that falls to the lot of -few:—defeat, chains, imprisonment—all these were but shows; -the reality was deep in our hearts, invulnerable by any tyrant less -remorseless than death. If this life were the sum and boundary our -being, I had possessed the consummation and fulfilment of happiness. -</p> - -<p> -"But we are taught to believe that our existence here is but the -stepping-stone to another beyond, and that 'death is the beginning of -life.' When we reach the summit of our desires, then we fall, and death -comes to destroy. He was lost to me, my glory, and my good! Little could -I avail to him now. The caresses, love, and watchful care, the obedience -and the heart's sacrifice, of a poor thing who groped darkling upon -earth, could avail nought to a spirit in Paradise. I was forced to feel -that I was alone: and as to me, to love is to exist; so in that dark -hour, in the gaspings of my agony, I felt that I must die, if for ever -divided from him who possessed my affections. -</p> - -<p> -"Years have passed since then. If grief kills us not, we kill it. Not -that I cease to grieve; for each hour, revealing to me how excelling and -matchless the being was who once was mine, but renews the pang with -which I deplore my alien state upon earth. But such is God's will; I am -doomed to a divided existence, and I submit. Meanwhile I am human; and -human affections are the native, luxuriant growth of a heart whose -weakness it is, too eagerly and too fondly, to seek objects on whom to -expend its yearnings. My Richard's last act was to bestow me on his -sister: it were impious to retract a gift made by the dying. We wept -together—how long, and how bitterly!—the loss of our loved one; -and then together we turned to fulfil our duties. She had children; they -became as dear to me as to her. Margaret I cherish as the betrothed -bride of my ever dear cousin, the king of Scotland; and, when I -endeavour to foster the many virtues nature has implanted in the noble -mind of Prince Arthur, I am fulfilling, methinks, a task grateful in the -eyes of Richard, thus doing my part to bestow on the England he loved a -sovereign who will repair the usurper's crimes, and bestow happiness on -the realm. -</p> - -<p> -"Nor is this all—despise me if you will, but I confess that I regard -others among those with whom I associate, with a clinging affection that -forbids me to separate myself from them. Did I not love the noble and -good, even as he did, while Richard lived? Does he not now, in his -heavenly abode, love them? and must my living heart be stone, because -that dear form is dust which was the medium of my communication with his -spirit? Where I see suffering, there I must bring my mite for its -relief. We are not deities to bestow in impassive benevolence. We give, -because we love—and the meshes of that sweet web, which mutual good -offices and sympathy weave, entangle and enthral me, and force me to -pain and pleasure, and to every variety of emotion which is the portion -of those whom it holds within its folds. -</p> - -<p> -"I quarrel not with—I admire—those who can be good and -benevolent, and yet keep their hearts to themselves, the shrine of -worship for God, a haven which no wind can enter. I am not one of these, -and yet take no shame therefore: I feel my many weaknesses, and know -that some of these form a part of my strength; the reviled part of our -nature being a portion of that which elevates us to the godlike. My -reason, my sense of duty, my conscientious observance of its dictates, -you will set up as the better part; but I venerate also the freer -impulses of our souls. My passions, my susceptible imagination, my -faltering dependence on others, my clinging to the sense of -joy—this makes an integral part of Katherine, nor the worst part -of her. When my soul quits this 'bower of flesh,' these leaves and -flowers, which are perhaps the growth of it, may decay and die. I know -not; as it is, I am content to be an imperfect creature, so that I never -lose the ennobling attribute of my species, the constant endeavour to be -more perfect. -</p> - -<p> -"I do not blame you, my cousin, for seeking repose in solitude after -much endurance. But unquiet should I feel in the unreplying loneliness -which forms your peace. I must love and be loved. I must feel that my -dear and chosen friends are happier through me. When I have wandered out -of myself in my endeavour to shed pleasure around, I must again return -laden with the gathered sweets on which I feed and live. Permit this to -be, unblamed—permit a heart whose sufferings have been, and are, so -many and so bitter, to reap what joy it can from the strong necessity it -feels to be sympathized with—to love." -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="nind"><a name="Footnote_2_1" id="Footnote_2_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_1"><span class="label">[2]</span></a>I do not know how far these concluding pages may be deemed -superfluous: the character of the Lady Katherine Gordon is a favourite -of mine, and yet many will be inclined to censure her abode in Henry the -Seventh's court, and other acts of her after-life. I desired therefore -that she should speak for herself, and show how her conduct, subsequent -to her husband's death, was in accordance with the devotion and fidelity -with which she attended his fortunes during his life.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="nind"><a name="Footnote_3_1" id="Footnote_3_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_1"><span class="label">[3]</span></a>Richard was put to death in 1499.</p></div> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FORTUNES OF PERKIN WARBECK: ***</div> -<div style='text-align:left'> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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