In a small room, in the stranger's lodging at the abbey of St. Clare of Atherston, lay the form of a wounded man, upon a low bed. A lady sat by the pillow weeping; and the abbess was near the head of the bed, with her eyes overflowing too, while the priest stood near, with a boy in white garments behind him.
"Not yet, not yet, good father," said the wounded man; "I am still very strong--too strong. Nay, weep not, Mary, you have shed tears enough for me already in your life; and in good sooth thus would I die. My heart is light and happy, my dear wife, and I look up in trust and hope. Knightly in my harness have I met my fate; and I am cheered by my lady's love. I trust Richmond will come before I go; for, as my journey is long, we might not meet again for many years; and I would fain insure all, that there be no shade on my departure."
"Lord Chartley expects him instantly, my noble son," replied the abbess; "he is waiting his arrival now under the gateway. Oh, had I known your rank, and dear ties to my poor brother St. Leger, when I but thought you a poor woodman, you should have had every tenant of the abbey to lead to fight for the house of Lancaster."
"The king!" said Chartley, opening the door; and, with a slow step, and look of sympathy, Henry entered and approached the dying man's bed-side.
"How can I enough thank you, sir?" he said; "and how can I enough regret the fate of such a knight?"
"Regret it not, sir," replied the other, gazing firmly in Henry's face; "for I regret it not. Nor do I need thanks. I have fought for that side on which I fought and bled in years gone by. I am content to die in arms. I wish no better. But I have a boon to crave, not for ought done in this day's field, but for a service rendered months ago, when Bishop Morton bore to Henry of Richmond the proof of a plot to yield him to the hands of his fell enemy."
"I remember well," replied Henry; "but he told me he had those proofs from a poor woodman, who was called Boyd."
"He told you true," replied the other; "the woodman lies before you, but, none the less, Thomas Boyd, earl of Arran."
Henry started, and his politic mind ran on into the future; but he replied, almost at once--
"I vowed that I would grant whatever boon was in my power to grant to that same woodman, and I will not break my oath. Name your request, my noble friend."
"It is but this," answered the earl, "that by your royal will and prerogative, passing over all opposition and obstacles, you will at once, and without delay, unite in marriage a lady, called the Lady Iola St. Leger, to that young lord standing behind you now."
"But," cried the abbess, "there is a contract--"
"Cease, cease, good mother," said the wounded man; "such contracts must be thrown in the fire. There is a better contract between her and Chartley."
"Nay, but my brother, her uncle," said the abbess, "he signed the contract on her behalf with the Lord Fulmer."
"A better than her uncle signed the contract with that young lord," replied the dying earl; "her father, lady abbess--her father, whom this Lord Fulmer slew. Ay, marvel not, lady! Your brother's daughter died, in his sad flight, when dark misfortune overwhelmed the house of Lancaster. There were then dangers and miseries as dark, over my hapless race; and that generous friend took my dear child, to save her and me from greater difficulties still, and passed her for his own. Slain by the foe, he had not time to tell his weaker but more prosperous brother, or yourself; but the proofs are in my hands. Did I not visit her here, more than ten years ago, and gaze at her, through my closed visor, lest the tears that washed my cheek should betray the secret? Have I not watched over her ever since that hour, when I fell wounded for the house of Lancaster? But here are the proofs, my lord. Take them, and grant my boon. I would fain have seen them wedded before I die; but that cannot be, for I am waning fast; and now, let no vain mourning for the dead impede their union--no, not an hour. Do you grant my boon, Henry of England?"
"I do, and willingly," replied Henry; "were that contract even valid, I would cast it to the winds, sooner than see the child wed the slaughterer of her father. But it cannot be valid. Nay, my good lord, I will do more. With these proofs in my hand, I will o'erstep all ceremonies. You said but now, that you would fain see this union ere your death. If you do really so will--if it will be comfort to you on your bed of pain, from which I trust you will yet rise to health--let the marriage take place at once, and I will justify it with my sanction. My first act of royalty shall be to bring a satisfaction to a friend who has served me."
"Alas, it cannot be, sir," replied the earl of Arran; "my child is far away--at Coventry, they tell me; and my race is well nigh run. I shall, indeed, rise from this bed to health, but it will be to health immortal, I do trust; but never more can I behold my child."
Sobs from the side of his pillow interrupted him, and, taking Mary's hand, he said, "Nay, Mary, nay!--My lord, the king, you were about to speak."
"'Twas but to say," replied Henry, "that this may not be so impossible as you think. I trust your hour is still far off. Your voice is strong."
"Because my will is strong; but I interrupt you rudely," said the earl.
"However that may be--if to see your child safe, guarded by a marriage bond with one who can protect her strongly, and will love her truly, or I am no judge of men," replied Henry, "can bring comfort to you, even in this hour, 'tis not impossible--All wait here a moment."
He left the room, and in a few minutes returned, leading in Iola herself.
"Now calmly, my good lord," he said, as the earl raised himself quickly to catch her in his arms, "I sent for her from Lichfield to Tamworth yesterday, thinking this good lord would meet her there. Three hours ago I sent for her on Bosworth field, bidding her join me here, and purposing to unite her to my noble friend at once. Thus your boon was granted, ere it was asked, and you must seek another. She has brought a bridesmaid with her, too, from Tamworth. The Lady Constance, too, I think they called her."
"Let it be quick," said the earl of Arran, in an altered voice, unclasping his arms from the fair form they held; "let it be quick!"
A few moments passed in explanation to Iola, and for a time she bent down her eyes and wept. But the earl repeated, "Let it be quick! Iola, lose no time;" and, drying her eyes, she said, sadly but sweetly,
"I will obey you to the last, my father."
There was a group ranged round the bedside of the dying man, some five minutes after. The princess Mary held his hand in hers, and leaned her head upon his shoulder. Iola's hand was clasped in that of Chartley; and the priest, with an open book, read hurriedly the binding words, while the low answer gave assent.
As he ended, the wounded man said, in a voice as strong as ever, "Amen!" and then placed his hand over his eyes.
It rested there.
They gazed upon him anxiously. He stirred not.
The priest hurried to his side, and removed the hand. He looked upon the face of the dead.
Footnote 1: The first mention that I find of the real arquibuse, or match lock, is in an account of the household of the Duke of Burgundy in 1474; but small cannons, called in France coulverines รก la main, were used long before. They are represented in the old miniatures, as resting on the shoulder of one soldier, while another takes the aim from behind, and the first applies the match at the word of command.
Footnote 2: For an account of the terrible effect--approaching to madness--of the death of Edward, Prince of Wales, upon Richard III. and his queen, see the history of Croyland Abbey.
Footnote 3: Richard's attempt to obtain possession of the person of Richmond by bribing Landais, the duke of Britanny's minister, is too well known to need particular notice.
Footnote 4: He referred, of course, to the superstitious notion prevalent not alone at that time but for long afterwards, that if the body of a murdered man was touched by the hand of his assassin, the wound of which he died would bleed. I may remark that such superstitions were recognised even in Scottish courts of justice long after they were extinct in England.
Footnote 5: This singular adventure of the earl of Richmond, when on his way between Lichfield and Tamworth, and the fact of his passing the night at a farm house, are not inventions of a romance writer, but historical facts.