When I reached my room I sat down for a moment and thought. Then I arose and walked about the room, and thought, of nothing but my great happiness, and my good fortune in having at last accomplished that which I had for so long desired.
Was it not delightful to be certain that some day my darling Hazel was to be the mistress of Bradley House, which had stood without a mistress for so long a time.
I pictured to myself how I would have the place altered and brightened, that it might be in better keeping with its fair inmate. I could even hear her light-hearted song, as she fluttered about the house, and played among the flowers, like a gayly-colored butterfly. I saw us strolling through our park. Her fair hand was resting on my shoulder, and mine arm did encircle her fairy waist. The sun was pouring through the trees like streams of fine gold. The birds were singing all around us, and all nature seemed trying to keep in harmony with our love and add unto our happiness. Now and then would I stoop and pick a flower and place it in her beauteous, dark brown hair. Then did I see my father's faithful old servant, Dickon, come shuffling across the lawn to tell us that it was time for dinner.
And so my dream goeth on, till it is interrupted by Harleston, who enters my room. He was dressed in a long flowing robe, and there was nothing about his appearance that would tell us he had been to a ball that night.
"Well upon my soul, Bradley, art thou still sitting up? Why, methought that I was the only late bird about the Castle. And your clothes still on. Come, come, Walter, thou must be careful and do not let this flood of happiness drown thy reason."
"Fear not for that," I replied; "for the said flood is so thick that my reason doth float upon the surface."
"Indeed thou dost put it well. But come now, I must to that which brought me here at this unseemly hour. When you did take me into that small room, this evening, thou saidst that thou hadst two communications of importance to make. So far you have made but one: it was my desire to hear the other that brought me here to-night."
"Ah, yes, I had forgot," I replied. "Now the second is this, and I will not so hesitate in the telling of it as I did with the first." Then I told him all I had overheard, and how I came to be the unwilling listener.
When I had finished he said:—"Thou mayst thank Heaven that thou didst overhear that same conversation; for it doth give us the key unto the puzzle which Richard will present to England, in case the King doth not recover. The Queen should be warned," he continued.
"And yet it might avail nothing. In case we warned the Queen, and the King recovered, we might find our heads upon the block for having interfered. It is a dangerous matter to play with royalty; for," I continued, "his Majesty King Edward is a good and kind master, but he is also one which doth not like his family matters pried into. When he is roused he is the very devil in human form. We have the Duke of Clarence for an example. We had better think of his grave of malmsey, and so profit by the picture, and hold our peace." Methought it better to warn him; for I began to fear that my dear friend's honesty might lead off his better judgment, and so he might fall into disfavor with the King, should his Majesty recover, and this was ever but the first step in the ladder leading up the scaffold.
"Perhaps thou art right," he said. "I shall at least keep mine own counsel so long as the King doth live; for I have no desire to have my head decorate the walls of the Tower."
"And now, my friend," said I; "there is another matter that I wish to speak with thee about." Then I told him of my tilt of the tongue with Catesby, and asked him to arrange matters so that we might have a meeting at his earliest convenience.
"I do not like to see thee fight him," said Sir Frederick, when I had finished the asking of my request; "for he is a friend of my Lord Hastings, and though I detest the fellow, yet do I treat him with civility on the Chancellor's account. However, Walter, after what has passed, there is nothing left but the swords; at which game methinks that thou hast little to fear from any man in England."
"Thou art wrong there, my friend, for this Catesby is the pupil of a great French swordsman, and there are few in England which dare to stand before him. However," I continued, with some pride, "it shall never be said of a Bradley that he quietly did rest with an insult still hanging to his cheek, and never burning it."
"Well, thou shalt have fair play at least," said my friend, "and though he may have studied the art of swordsmanship with a score of Frenchmen, yet have I no doubt as to the result. I have seen thee use the foils enough to feel satisfied that Catesby shall have no advantage over thee; and besides, he hath not more than half thy strength."
"Yea, that is true."
"But no matter how thou mayst feel towards him be sure and do not kill him; for he stands in great favour with Gloucester, whom we cannot now afford to offend. Run him through the arm or shoulder and thine honour will be satisfied."
I knew my friend was talking thus in order that he might lend mine arm more confidence. But this was not necessary; for even though Catesby were a skilled swordsman, yet did I account myself his match at the game, and besides it was true what Harleston said, I had more strength, which is not the least thing to be taken into account in these affairs.
Early the next day Sir Frederick saw Catesby and gave him my challenge.
"And so," said the lawyer, "your friend grows tired of this life and desires to join the saints?"
"Indeed, sir," my friend replied, "the chances of your going to another world are equally good; though whether thy companions there will be saints or no, I cannot tell."
To this retort Catesby made no reply.
The place and time of our meeting were settled. At sundown that evening we were to meet near the far end of the Little Park, where a large oak doth stand alone. This time and place were decided on in order to make certain that we should not be interrupted; for this spot was never frequented at that hour.
That evening, at about the half of an hour before the appointed time I, accompanied by Harleston, set out by a round about way, so that when Catesby and his second should go to the meeting place no one Would suspect our object. They, however, having taken the more direct and therefore shorter path, had reached the spot and were waiting when we arrived.
Sir Richard Ratcliffe was to act as Catesby's second.
The spot chosen was one which seemed made by nature purposely for such contests. For the distance of about a score of feet all around the great oak—which arose in the centre like an ever watchful sentinel guarding that portion of the park—the ground was clear and level as a round green table. As I looked up at that fine old veteran which had braved the storms of centuries, and still showed no other signs of its contests than his battle scarred old features, methought of the many engagements he had watched, and the tales of bloodshed he might tell if he but could.
The sun was no longer shining where we stood, but the top of the great tree still caught his last gleams as he sank below the horizon. As the last of these rays left the old oak our time was up, so we began to strip for the encounter. We took off our cloaks, belts and doublets, and gave them unto our seconds, who laid them in two heaps, one on each side of the open space. I rolled up my right sleeve to the shoulder, and Harleston handed unto me my naked sword. My friend and Ratcliffe spoke together in whispers, for a moment, and then the latter, standing with his back to the tree, said in a loud clear voice:—
"Gentlemen:—Sir Frederick Harleston and I have agreed, in your behalf, in case either of you should be disarmed, or placed in a position where it should be impossible for you to defend yourself, the fight shall be stopped until such time as ye shall again be upon an equal footing. Both Sir Frederick and I do insist that this rule shall be observed, otherwise we do refuse to act. Should either of you take advantage of your opponent's being unarmed or placedhors de combat, and so take his life, the one so breaking this rule shall be proclaimed a coward throughout the length and breadth of England. This shall be his punishment for his unknightly conduct. Have I made all perfectly clear?"
We both replied in the affirmative, and agreed to be bound by this rule, which was a very humane and fair one.
Ratcliffe then took his place behind Catesby, and Harleston behind me.
The signal was then given, and we approached each other cautiously, each looking for an opening. Then our swords came together with a sharp click, and slid along each other like two icicles being rubbed together. The moment I felt his sword against mine I knew that I had not been misinformed when I heard that Catesby was a pupil of one of the greatest swordsmen in Europe. His wrist was like steel, and his point began to play on either side of mine with such rapidity as warned me to stand on the defensive until I got more used to his ways. Suddenly he lunged with murderous and savage swiftness, his point aimed at my heart. I met him with a quick and firm guard, and for the next few moments we did content ourselves with sounding each other with an occasional lunge. Then he changed his tactics, in the twinkling of an eye, and flew at me like lightning. His sword seemed everywhere at once. I felt a sharp sting in my sword arm, as his weapon scratched it. Then I felt it higher up and near unto my shoulder. I slowly began to give ground, as it had been the part of a fool to stand still in an attack of this kind, which I knew could be of no long duration. In this I was right; for seeing that he could not reach my chest, and that he was soon wearing himself out with this furious pace, he slowed his attack somewhat and made more careful lunges. I now saw that I could, in a short time, wear down his strength, by keeping a cool head and a wary eye. Soon I touched him lightly on the shoulder, and had the satisfaction of seeing his shirt stained with his blood. This, however, seemed to refresh him; for he made another of his fierce attacks, which again compelled me to give ground. In this I did not divine his object, which was to force me back against the tree. As I stepped back to avoid a lunge more savage than the others, I felt my heel strike the tree. This put me something off my guard. He seized the opportunity, and drove his sword at my chest with all the remaining strength in his villainous body. I stepped aside, and gave him my straight point in the right shoulder, near the neck. However, I had not been quick enough; for I felt a sharp twinge in the fleshy part of my left arm, as he nailed it to the oak. His sword snapped off short, and I was left pinned to the tree, as I have seen boys do with butterflies. Catesby fell, bathed in blood; but methinks it were more from exhaustion than from his wound that he did fall; for the latter was but little more serious than mine own. Sir Frederick pulled at the blade with his handkerchief wound around his hand, and at length set me free. Catesby soon regained consciousness, and we were bandaged carefully with cloths that had been brought for the purpose.
"The signal was then given.""The signal was then given."
"The signal was then given.""The signal was then given."
As I saw him walk off, leaning on the arm of Ratcliffe, I regretted that I had not given him my point lower down.
But there came a time when I would have given ten years of my life for the same opportunity of ridding the world of this accursed villain. But ye, my children, shall judge of that later on in this story.
Mine arm was quite sore and stiff for some weeks; but as I had at that time no duties to attend to, it did attract but little attention. I kept to my rooms most of the time, but occasionally took a walk through the park with my fair Hazel by my side.
She was greatly alarmed when she learned that I had been wounded; and she lectured me most severely for so exposing myself to such "foolish dangers," as she was pleased to call them.
"For you know," said she, looking up at me with her head held to the one side, and her face most serious, "if thou shouldst be killed, it would kill me too; so, for my sake, promise me that thou wilt fight no more those fearful duels. Heaven knows 'tis bad enough when thou, as a soldier, hast to fight battles; but this murder should not be permitted in a Christian land."
"But, my darling," I replied, "when one man doth insult another the one which is insulted must avenge himself."
"Yes, but if men would ever learn not to insult each other there should be then no cause for these horrible affairs."
I attempted to argue the point with her; but found it of no avail. Had I been the age I now am I might have saved my breath.
"However," she said, after I had given up the task of trying to convince her that I was right, "I am glad that thou didst wound him."
"Why?" I asked.
"Well," she said, slowly, and at the same time watching me closely, "that night of the ball—" and she stopped there long enough for a very pretty blush to cover her face, as a veil, "the impudent fellow had the temerity to try and make love to me."
"What?" I cried, as I grasped my scabbard, and started my wound to pain afresh. "I'll kill the knave the first time I see his sneering face!"
"No, no, Walter, do nothing of the kind. That was the reason I did not tell thee ere this; I knew it would set thee mad. Oh, dear! thou hast such an evil temper. He is now punished enough; so promise me that thou wilt do nothing to bring about another duel;" and she laid her hand on mine arm, and coaxed me so nicely that I had to make the promise; though later I did regret it.
Since the night of the ball the King's health had been getting worse with every day that passed. His Majesty, seeing that he had not long to live, now called a meeting of the different factions who were ever jangling with each other, for the purpose of reconciling them; for he feared, that when he should be dead, their quarrels might lead to great strife in the kingdom, and endanger the rule of his son.
These parties, as ye must all know, were, first—the Queen and her favorites, secondly—Buckingham and the most powerful of the ancient nobility—to which party belonged my Lord Hastings—and thirdly,—Gloucester himself, for the reason that he did not wish to be connected with—and so be dependent on—either of the other parties.
When all these were come unto his bedside, the King addressed them thus:—"You all must know that I am about to leave this fair kingdom, where I have had such strife and yet such happiness, to join that other land to which spirits alone can go. Before I leave it is my pleasure to have ye all at peace with one another. In case this strife should continue, it will surely lead to great troubles for poor England, which we all do love so dearly. Therefore, my faithful subjects and friends, bethink ye of your duty. Here in this room, before ye leave my presence, I wish to see ye all embrace each other and swear by my death-bed to live in peace together.
"My brother Richard, I charge thee to look after my children, which shall soon be fatherless, and may God deal with thee as thou dost deal with them. I wish thee to be the protector of my son Edward, and to assist him in his government until such time as he doth come unto years of discretion."
So there by his bedside they went through the forms which the King did ask of them. I say, went through the forms; for that was all they did. I do not believe that one of those present ever intended to keep the oath he there made to the King; for their conduct after his death is sufficient evidence of their insincerity.
'Twas told to me afterwards, by one which saw all that which I have here described, that as Richard left the room, with his handkerchief to his eyes, it was to hide his laughter rather than his tears. And I do believe this to be so; for I consider it impossible for that man ever to have had the tenderness of heart necessary to produce one tear. Be that as it may, he was not long in demonstrating his love and charity towards his brother's children.
One morning, some days after this bedside gathering, when I met Hazel in the park, as was now my wont, her eyes were red with weeping.
"Come, come, my fair one, thou must not look so unhappy, or else I shall fear that thou hast ceased to love me. Now tell me what is the matter, that I may console thee."
"Hast thou then not heard the news?" she asked.
"I have not," I replied, "it must be evil news indeed, to make thee so unhappy."
"The King is dead," she said.
"When did he die?"
"About an hour since;" and then she wiped her eyes again.
"Why dost thou weep so for the King?" I asked; for I did not like to see Hazel weeping because another man had died.
"Oh, thou stupid!" she cried out impatiently; "cannot you see that it is on the poor Queen's account? I love her as I did my own dear, and now dead, mother; and when I see her in such sorrow it maketh me to feel as if 'twere mine own."
I felt abashed for not having seen this for myself; but men are so thick headed, in these matters, that they can never know the way a woman looks at things until she doth explain herself. Now I had rather face a regiment, single handed, than see a woman weep; so I stood there as on a pillory, saying nothing, but feeling uncommon uncomfortable.
Presently she looked up sharply, and said,—"Well, what art thou staring at? Is there anything about me that does not please thee?"
To this I made no reply, as I knew silence to be the best remedy for these little outbursts of temper. Remember, my dears, at that time Hazel had considerable fire in her make up. And I would not give an old gauntlet for a maid which had not; for this I do consider to be the very salt of one's character; and what is a fine dish without it be seasoned properly.
When I had stood quietly for some moments, I saw some signs of relenting begin to betray themselves in a softening of the face. "Is the storm passed?" I asked. This brought a smile. All the temper had vanished, and she was more loving than ever.
"Thou must not think badly of me because I was cross with thee, dear," she said, looking up at my face in the most coaxing and bewitching manner—of which she so well knew the power: "I felt so sorrowful when I saw the dear Queen weeping and wringing her hands in despair, that I did not know myself. Thou wilt forgive me, wilt thou not, Walter?"
Then I made a great show of granting her pardon, that I might have a good reason for a certain show of tenderness.
'Twas like a little whirlwind in a dusty road, when the particles of sparkling sand have settled back to their proper level the way is more smooth than ever.
When we were seated upon a bench beneath a fine old oak, which stood in a place more private than its brethren, as though its dignity had made it to hold itself aloof from their society, like the head of some most ancient house keeps ever from the vulgar herd, she asked me how I thought the King's death should affect the kingdom.
"Ah! my dear," I replied, "that is the question which I have been trying to answer since some time before his Majesty did leave us. If Gloucester can be honest all shall be well; for he is a man of great ability and can, if he will, keep the little King firmly seated on the throne. What I do fear is, that, when he tastes the sweets of ruling, he may not be willing to give it up; but like a tiger, when he once hath tasted blood, must needs have more. Young Edward, in his hands, will be as wax, and moulded to the form that best suits Gloucester. The King need not fear his humbler subjects, but must still hold a wary eye upon his uncle."
I did not think it well to tell her the conversation I had overheard the night of the great ball; for it could have done no good, and should but have alarmed her.
"And dost thou then think that the Duke of Gloucester is not honest?" asked Hazel. "Why, he seems to be most honourable and just, so far as I have seen."
"So far as thou hast seen," I replied. "That distance is not great. My father—rest his soul—saw this same Richard stab to the heart, without provocation, and in the coldest blood, young Edward, son of Henry. I've heard my father, with tears upon his cheeks, tell the tale of that foul deed.
"The young Prince, after Tewkesbury, was brought before King Edward and his brothers.
"'What meanest thou, so to rebel against the laws of England and her Sovereign, by thus taking up arms to disturb the peace of this thy native land?' asked our now dead King.
"'Proud and rebellious York,' replied the youth; 'by what right dost thou question us, thy true and lawful Sovereign? Hadst thou the loyalty equal to thine impertinence, thou wouldst now be at our feet, craving our pardon for this show of force before us, England's only King.'
"My father said 'twas grand to see the young Prince, as he did finish this speech, so full of dignity and power. His face was flushed with excitement, and with pride; and as he raised his hand to Heaven, as though asking of the powers there to bear him out, he looked as though he were inspired.
"Then Richard of Gloucester, now ourpro tem.ruler, unable to look upon this righteous indignation, with his steel gauntlet, struck young Edward on that tender cheek. This proud bud of the noble flower of Lancaster could ill brook this insult; especially from one of a rival house. His hand flew to his dagger. Gloucester, who knew full well that this was but an impulse, pounced on the Prince, as doth the tiger on its tender prey, buried his weapon in that noble flesh, and, as the body fell upon the ground, he spurned it with his armoured foot. This," I continued, "doth show the tenderness of Richard, and the treatment that they may expect, which do not please his Highness, the Protector. His words and his actions are of but distant kin."
"Then dost thou not think he will be bound by his oath, made to the King before his Majesty deceased?" asked Hazel.
"Indeed who can tell?" I replied. "Mayhap a year will show, mayhap two. He may be honest, and he may be not. Which course he doth find to be most profitable, it is mine opinion, he will follow."
Thus we spent most of the morning, discussing the policy of the new Protector; and methinks the surmises we made that morning in the park turned out to be as true as the great majority of the prophecies which are, even now, so prevalent in this glorious and enlightened reign of his most gracious Majesty, King Henry, of that name the eighth, which, despite his faults—and we all must have our own—is a most noble master.
So the King was buried, with a great show of pomp, and much mourning, in the splendid chapel of Windsor Castle, by those which had followed him through his career of alternate sunshine and shadow. Many of these friends, who had basked in the rays of the sun of York, when the sky was clear, but who, when a cloud had come across its brilliant disk, found more congenial weather elsewhere, were now the loudest in their lamentations, as they followed the noble Edward's body to its last resting place.
The Queen scarce ate or slept for many days or nights; but walked her rooms, and wept and prayed. 'Twas a sad sight, as Hazel told me, to see her wander from one room to another, and gaze upon the articles which Edward so had loved. But when the King's body had been buried she seemed to cast off her sorrow as she would a garment. It was now her duty to protect the interests of her son. He must be brought from Ludlow Castle, whither he had been sent by his father, that his presence there might awe the Welsh, and keep them from revolting; for this was a habit that they had always had, and one which seemed hard for them to forget.
"Would that I had a faithful messenger to carry a letter to my brother. I cannot tell who may be trusted. My son, Dorset, might be sent; but yet I need him here to counsel me."
"I know of one whom you may trust," said Hazel, who was present when the Queen had thus spoken to herself.
"Thou hast ever been a true girl, Hazel, and I love thee well. Tell me who this champion is, for well would I like to see a true man about this court."
"Sir Walter Bradley, may it please your Majesty. He it was which brought the news of the taking of Berwick, and who was rewarded by the late King, your husband."
"Ah, yes! I do remember me," said the Queen. "He should be a swift messenger. I will send for him at once."
So I was sent for, and found, and brought into the Queen's apartments.
"Sir Walter, thou hast been recommended to me as one of my only too few faithful friends." As I glanced hastily in Hazel's direction, her Majesty smiled as though she had read my heart. "I wish thee to be the bearer of a letter unto my brother, Lord Rivers, which now resides at Ludlow Castle. This business concerns my son, your King, and is therefore of great importance. I shall have the packet ready to-morrow morning; so thou wilt not have much time for thine adieux." And again she glanced at Hazel, and then at me, smiling the while, with that sweet smile which could have sent me through fire and water to serve this most excellent, and yet unfortunate, Queen.
"I shall be ready and waiting for thine instructions, Madam," I replied, as I bowed myself from the room.
Hazel followed me into the next apartment, with an anxious look upon her dear face. "Is thine arm yet healed enough for thee to make this journey, Walter dear?" she asked. "I had forgot thy wound, until I saw thee try to open the door, just now. I was so proud to have thee chosen as the Queen's messenger, when there are so many upon whom she hath conferred favours, and yet which she doth not trust, that I thought not of thy wound. Had I not better tell the Queen, and have her choose another?"
"Not for the world, my dear. It is too great an honour to fling to one side on account of a scratch, when one is chosen from so many which are more worthy of her trust. Besides, my wound is almost well." This latter was not in strict conformity with the scripture, which commands us to speak the truth; but it was necessary for me to keep her from saying anything to the Queen that might put a stop to my going.
I hastened to my rooms and instructed my servant to have everything in readiness for my journey in the morning. Then I went in search of Sir Frederick. I found him in his room, seated near the window, and poring over a volume of Virgil.
"Well, well!" cried I, "a pretty occupation for a soldier. For the love of Heaven leave such matters to the priests. I had too much of that ere I did buckle on the sword."
"My dear Bradley," he replied, "one can never have too much of such material.
"Do but listen:—
"'Jamaque ibat dicto pareus et dona CupidoRegia portabat Tyrüs, duce laetus Achate!'"
"Stop, stop! if thou dost have any love or respect for me!" I cried. "If thou goest on with that I shall surely die. The only Latin line that I do consider worth remembering was writ by one of those great pagans, and goeth somewhat in this manner:—'Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori.' That," I continued, "is a line for every soldier to remember.
"But come, leave the myth of a masquerading ancient for another time; for now, my friend, I must talk of other things, which are more real." Then I told him of the Queen's commission.
"Dost thou not desire to have a companion on this journey?" he asked. "Though, if I do go, this time thou must promise to not ride so fast as we did on our trip from Scotland."
"No, Frederick," I replied, "methinks it best that thou shouldst remain here. Your company, as thou knowest, would be greatly appreciated by me; yet do I think that thou couldst serve her Majesty better wert thou to stay at Windsor. All the nobles are now flocking unto Gloucester's side, and she thinks that they do aim at lessening her influence over the King. If it be possible for thee to serve her I know that thou wilt do so. Heaven knows she doth need all the assistance she can get, if she has to cope with Gloucester."
"And of what use can I be against men of such power?" he asked.
"Perhaps none; yet thou mayst in some way serve her."
The next morning, after I had said farewell to Hazel, the Queen, Mary and Harleston, I set out on my journey, accompanied by three picked men of my command. Two of these fellows were men which had served under me ever since I had been at court, and had proven to be, both, most excellent swordsmen and trusty servants; that is so far as most of these men are trusty—the which is not an over strong recommendation. The third was a mighty Irishman, by the name of Michael O'Brien, which had come to Windsor shortly after our return from Scotland. I knew nothing of him; but he had a face of exceeding honesty, and besides, his giant strength was equal to that of four soldiers of the general kind.
My trip was quite uneventful and monotonous.
In order that I may let you know the length of time that it doth take for news to travel in the country I will tell ye a little incident, by way of illustration.
When we reached Tewkesbury, near which Edward had won his battle, and where Henry's son was murdered, it was the time of day when we must needs rest and refresh ourselves. When I had entered an inn—which seemed the best afforded by the town—and was seated at table a sedate looking old gentleman came and sat himself down on the side opposite to me.
"I crave thy pardon, young sir, for my freedom in thus addressing thee, who are, to me, a stranger; but I perceive, from the trappings of thy horse, that thou dost come from court. Indeed at one time I did know the names of most all of the grand court ladies; for I have not always lived in these God forsaken parts," added the old man, with some show of pride. "But all this is beside the mark," he continued. "When I espied thee I came over to thee that I might enquire concerning the health of his Majesty."
"He hath not yet been brought to Windsor, or Westminster, and, as he now resides at Ludlow, of his health I cannot speak."
"But when went he unto Ludlow?" asked the inquisitive old man.
"Now that I do not remember," I replied; "but, as I think, it was some months before his father died."
"My dear young sir, his father died some twenty years ago."
I stared at him for several moments, thinking he must be mad. Then I saw what was the matter. "Why, hast thou not heard that his Majesty, King Edward IV is dead?" I asked, in surprise.
"Not until this moment," he replied.
So now, my children, ye can see how long it took for news to travel in those days, of which I am writing. True, the people are becoming more progressive now, but it is surprising still to learn how long it doth take for news to reach those distant parts, even yet.
We stayed that night in Tewkesbury.
The next evening we rode into the town of Ludlow, and entered the Castle.
I was admitted into the presence of the young King, who was, at that time, but twelve years of age. As I was ushered in I beheld the little King, and his uncle, Lord Rivers, sitting near his Majesty, by the casement. I went forward, and kneeling at young Edward's feet, I kissed his hand and said:—"Hail to your Majesty!"
At first he did not seem to comprehend my words; for he showed surprise on his fair young face. Then, as Rivers sprang to his feet, the boy's face became deadly pale, and he almost gasped out the words:—"Is my father dead?"
I did not answer; but stood with bowed head, mine eyes upon the floor; for I could not bear to hurt this young innocent with my cruel news.
The poor boy burst into a flood of tears, and buried his head beneath the arm of his uncle, who spake most kindly unto him, and tried to quiet him with soothing words.
Meantime I walked to the far end of the room and there, I feel no shame in the telling of it, I wiped mine eyes, which were by no means dry. The sight of this poor little fatherless King stole my manhood from me, and I wept.
I have no recollection of any other man ever having raised himself so much in mine estimation, in so short a time, as did Lord Rivers, when comforting our little Sovereign. I had always heard that he was a kind-hearted gentleman, and one of great refinement and education; but I had never known him, except most slightly. The kind and gentle manner of the man drew me to him at once.
"Weep not, my dear," said he. "I know how thy heart must ache for the loss of so noble and kind a parent. Be assured, Edward, we all do feel the loss most keenly. But think of thy poor mother, and how she must ache at heart. Remember, now it is your duty to comfort her. A great responsibility hath fallen upon thee. Think of that and call up thy courage and determination. Remember the motto which I taught to thee:—'Do but screw up thy resolution, and all things can be overcome;' yea, even thy sorrow."
So he kept on, until he had quieted the child, which sat himself down and, resting his chin upon his hand, gazed thoughtfully out of the window. I could read the boy's thought. He was looking far away to Windsor, and the Palace there. He saw his mother and his dear father as he had last seen them. His sire took him in his arms and kissed him, ere he mounted his little palfrey to ride to Ludlow with his uncle. And now all should be changed. When he should arrive at the Palace his mother alone would meet him, and there would be tears in her eyes. I knew his mind was drawing the sad picture: and yet, had he but known what the reality was to be, he had rather stayed where he was, safe with his uncle, on the borders of Wales—of which he had heretofore been the Prince, but was now its King—than to have returned unto his mother. Then his Majesty moved, and this did break my reverie. I remembered my mission; so I walked across the room to Rivers, and handed him the Queen's letter, with an expression of regret for my forgetfulness. He waved mine apologies aside, with the best show of grace, thus showing his smooth and gentle nature. Indeed, during all the too short time I had the pleasure in being in this man's company I never saw him lose temper: and yet, remember, he was one of England's ablest warriors.
"What meaneth this?" he broke out suddenly. "'Levy an army, and march to London with the King, my son,'" he read aloud. "Why, Sir Walter, are things not well at Windsor?"
"As well as may be, under the circumstances," I replied. "His Royal Highness, the Duke of Gloucester, was appointed Protector by the late King, shortly before the noble Edward's death."
"So her Majesty informs me," he interrupted. "How acts Lord Hastings?"
"He seems to be uncommon friendly with the Prince, my lord."
"So I thought, so I thought," said he, speaking more unto himself than me.
"And what about Buckingham?" he asked, as he stopped suddenly in his walking back and forth across the room, with his head bent upon his chest, and his hands clasped behind him.
"He seems most friendly with the Duke of Gloucester; in fact they are inseparable." Then did I think it wise to tell him of the conversation that I had overheard. So I beckoned him to come unto the far end of the room, that the young King might not be alarmed by what I had to tell. I repeated it word for word as I had heard it; for it was so graven upon my memory that it can never be erased.
He listened attentively until I had finished, and then said in that quiet manner which so well became him:—"Bradley, there may be trouble afoot; however, we cannot be too cautious. I need not warn thee to keep thine own counsel. This is a dangerous time for England; one false step might cause irreparable damage." And then he asked me every question he could think of; and had ye but known him you might have had some idea of that number, which was indeed great.
The King kindly invited me to sup with them that night. Sir Richard Grey, one of her Majesty's sons by her first husband, was also present at supper.
Soon after the meal the young King retired; but we sat up late, and discussed the affairs of state, and laid plans for the levying of the forces to escort the King to London. Lord Rivers and Grey both seemed to fear that Richard did intend to take the young King away from their control and influence, unless they took a sufficient force to make such a step impossible. On this I did not express an opinion; for who could tell what move a man like Gloucester might make.
The next morning orders were sent out through several counties to raise troops.
When these commenced coming in, Lord Rivers, Sir Richard Grey and I were kept busy inspecting them and getting them properly equipped.
By the end of one week we had an army of above ten thousand men ready to march with our little Sovereign, and others were coming in with every hour that passed.
One evening we held a council at which it was decided to start for London on the second day following.
The next day, about the hour of noon, a gentleman arrived at the Castle and requested an audience with the Lord Rivers. We were at dinner when he arrived; so he was informed that his audience would be granted so soon as my lord had finished his repast.
The gentleman sent back word that he came from Windsor, as the messenger of the Queen.
When Rivers heard this he arose hurriedly and ordered him to be admitted at once.
Imagine my surprise when in walked Harleston.
He had never met Lord Rivers, so I presented him.
He handed a packet to his lordship, with the words:—"From the Queen, my lord."
Rivers tore open the packet in great excitement, and as he read its contents I saw a cloud of disappointment pass over his brilliant features. Grey went over to his uncle, and read the letter over the other's shoulder. When he had finished, his features wore the same look as did his uncle's, except that they also showed strong traces of anger.
"Well, Bradley," at length said Rivers, "our work hath been for nought. We are commanded, here, to have the army disbanded, and to take only a sufficient retinue to support the dignity of our young King."
"Then things have brightened?" I asked.
He shook his head sadly. "No, on the contrary, the prospect looks much darker. I only hope that I may be mistaken; but I do fear we shall have trouble in England, unless the nobles cease their wrangling."
Shortly after he and Grey retired, and, as Harleston had not yet dined, we sat at table; and whilst he ate he told me of the doings at court since I had left. And these, as you shall hear, were of importance to the kingdom.
I now go back to relate that which happened at Windsor, after I had left for Ludlow. What I am now about to put down was told to me, partly by Harleston, as we sat in my rooms in Ludlow Castle, and partly by Hazel, when next I saw her.
I had only been gone one day when Gloucester called to see the Queen. When he was admitted he saluted her Majesty in the most respectful and kindly manner, and spoke in that smooth and diplomatic way of which he so well knew the potency. "My dear sister," said he, "I have not come to thee before to-day, because I knew full well how useless, and even cruel, it is to speak of affairs of state to one whose heart hath so recently been caused to bleed, by the loss of a husband which was, and whose memory ever shall be, so dear to thee, and to us all. But now, my poor widowed sister, it is thy duty to bethink thee of thy son. He should be sent for, and be conducted here forthwith, in order that he may be crowned with proper expediency and pomp. Methought it was not well to let this matter stand too long; for we must not forget that Lancaster still doth cast a longing eye upon the crown of England. 'Twas but yester e'en I heard that they were corresponding with that bastard, which calls himself the Earl of Richmond."
"Then I did well when I sent word unto my brother to levy a strong force and conduct my son to London," said the Queen, with a look of anxiety.
Gloucester seemed taken aback for a moment; but, quickly recovering himself, he said:—"I did not know that your Majesty had so instructed Lord Rivers; and indeed I do not know that this is the wisest course. The people of the City may not like to see this armed force thus march on London, as though the King's person were not safe without this strong protection. Thinkest thou it had not been better to have consulted with Lord Hastings, and some others, before taking a step so important to the peace of the kingdom? When didst thou so instruct thy brother?"
"But yesterday I sent him a letter by a trusted officer," answered the Queen, quite innocent, and put off her guard by the oily tongue and kindly manner of this deceitful hypocrite.
"What dost thou say? Shall we sound Lord Hastings, and have the benefit of his opinion before Lord Rivers doth proceed too far with his preparations?"
The Queen, suspecting nothing, walked into this trap, set with such cunning by the Duke (for well he knew the view that Hastings would take of such a measure) and consented to this course.
So soon as Gloucester had left the Queen he despatched two messengers, one to Buckingham, and the other to Hastings.
When these noblemen arrived they were conducted into the presence of the Protector. "Well, my friends," said Gloucester, when he had greeted them, "the Queen hath gained a march on us. Her Majesty seems determined to still rule England. She now intends to do it through her son, the young Edward, as she hath heretofore done through her husband, the older one."
"What dost thou mean, my lord?" asked Hastings; who, though an honest man, yet disliked the Queen, or rather, was jealous of her power.
Then Gloucester told them of his interview with the Queen, and the message she had sent to Lord Rivers.
When he had finished speaking, Buckingham broke out:—"By Heaven!" said he, "if her Majesty has Rivers march on London, as though it were the stronghold of a band of outlaws, he shall be met with a force stronger than his own." Then speaking to Lord Hastings, he said, whilst he pointed to Richard:—"Here sits the Lord Protector, which was appointed the guardian of the King by the boy's late lamented father; and the Queen and her brother take it upon themselves to assume his office, and to issue orders for the raising of an army, without his consent, or even knowledge; 'tis monstrous! What sayest thou, my Lord Hastings? Should they not be made to answer for this insult to our Royal Protector?"
Then Richard put in a cunning word for himself. "Yes, it seems as though I am quite forgot. By Saint Paul, I have no love for the office; but sith it was put upon me, by my dear dead brother, I do consider it my duty to fulfill the trust he then reposed in me."
This last stroke brought Hastings to their side. "By the light of Heaven!" cried he, "unless this order be countermanded, myself will return to the government of Calais, and the whole damn kingdom may rot ere I will ever serve under a government led by the Queen and her upstart kinsmen."
"Then, my friends, ye think it best for me to inform the Queen that we do not consider it a wise step on her part to thus make show of force, which the people of the City would consider a slur upon their loyalty," said Richard, in his softest tones.
"Indeed, my lord, had I the saying of it, I would not put it in such gentle terms," said Buckingham; "what dost thou say, Lord Hastings? Were it not better that we tell the Queen and her following, in no fixed, courteous phrases, that we—the ancient nobility of England—will not put up with such treatment at their hands?"
To this the Chancellor replied in the affirmative; so Richard made another call upon the Queen and, after telling her the result of his conversation with Hastings (he having taken care not to mention Buckingham's name) asked the Queen what answer he might have the honor to take to the Chancellor.
Now whilst Gloucester had been consulting with Buckingham and Hastings (which conversation I have just put down, and which I had from Harleston, who got it from a page, which had been concealed in the room whilst they were talking) the Queen had been consulting with her son, the Marquis of Dorset, and was therefore resolved to hold firmly unto her plans.
"Tell Lord Hastings that I will not countermand the order I have sent unto my brother."
"But, madam, he threatens to return to Calais unless this be done."
"What! doth he threaten? Let him go to Calais, and there may he abide; methinks that England can manage without him better than can he without her;" and the Queen, as she said these words, arose and looked like a defiant lioness defending her cub.
"It is my poor opinion that thou art making a mistake in thus opposing a man of such influence; however, I will tell Lord Hastings that your Majesty hath fully made up your mind to not withdraw the order."
Hazel, who was present during this interview, told me that Richard, as he said this speech, looked so kind and gentle that it was well nigh impossible for her to believe what I had told her of his cruelty.
This wrangling went on for a whole week.
Gloucester was always careful to not bring himself into any of these disputes; but to place himself as the messenger from one side to the other.
At length one day Gloucester brought word to the Queen that Hastings had decided to himself take up arms and forcibly prevent Lord Rivers from escorting the young King to London, with an army.
This was the final blow. The poor Queen could resist no longer; so she consented to write to her brother and instruct him to bring only a sufficient retinue to sustain the dignity of the King, who was to be brought unto Westminster Palace, where the Queen would be ere her little son did there arrive.
Harleston was chosen as her messenger; so that was how it came about that he followed me to Ludlow.
Now I will tell of other matters which happened whilst I was absent from court; and this part, although it does not bear on history, was of the utmost importance to me; for it was but the prologue to the history of my greatest troubles, as ye shall learn anon.
The second morning after I had left Windsor, Hazel, feeling quiet, as she afterwards told me, strolled out into the park, that she might be alone. She seated herself in a secluded place beneath a beech tree, whose fresh new garments were fluttering in the soft and tender breeze of Spring. Bright and young were they, as she; yet why did not she feel as bright as did those green, fluttering young leaves o'er head? Still she did not, and her heart felt heavy and weary. Remember, this was the day after Gloucester's two interviews with the Queen, and she felt an inspiration which told her that trouble was brewing.
Looking back, she thought how happy her life had been before King Edward's death had cast a gloom o'er everything. She could not help thinking that the life at court would now be very different. Instead of the Queen having her way, the nobles, no longer held in check by the firm hand of Edward, would have control of everything. Here was the King scarce buried, and already Hastings had commenced to show his authority. All the life would be gone from the court, and instead of the round of amusements that the Queen had kept agoing, every thing should now be quiet, morose and cold.
How she did wish that I were back. She wondered when I would return, and if I still intended to remain at court, or would I ask her to fulfil the promise she had made me, to some day meet me at the altar. Indeed she wished the time would soon fly past till I should again return.
With these and kindred thoughts she had been so taken up that she had not heard the sound of approaching footsteps.
"Oh! I am so tired of this life at court. I wish I were away from it," said she, speaking aloud.
"Indeed I agree with thee, Lady Hazel. 'Tis not the life which best suits thee nor me."
She turned with a start and there, leaning over the back of the bench upon which she was sitting, stood Catesby. A smile was upon his face as he noted her startled expression. His right arm he still carried in a sling, and the sleeve of his doublet hung loose at his side.
"Well, sir, by what right dost thou come aspying upon ladies?" asked Hazel, as she arose and gazed upon him haughtily, and curled her lip in scorn.
"'Twas Cupid led me here, fair lady. Deform not that lovely mouth with such a scornful sneer; those lips of thine were never made for other purpose than the tender work of kissing." Then, as she turned her back and started to leave him, he hurried around the bench and stood in front of her, thus compelling her to stop.
"Stand aside, thou impudent cur, or thou shalt regret thine act," said Hazel, as she commenced to be frightened.
"Why, thou wilt not kill me with those flashes from thine eyes?" asked the scoundrel, as he stood and smiled in her face.
"No, but thou shalt answer for it to the one which made thee to wear thine arm, as best becomes thee—in a noose, and where thy neck should be."
"Ho, ho! sets the wind there? I might have known so much," said he, as he sneered, and shrugged his one sound shoulder.
"Be assured sir, thou shalt know more ere thou hast heard the last of this," said my dear maid, as she again turned to leave the knave.
"Nay, not so fast, my fair one. In sooth you escape not so;" and he tried to seize her by the arm.
But Hazel was now thoroughly frightened, and she avoided his hand and commenced to run. He sprang after her and caught her firmly by the wrist; but she, seeing that she was fairly caught, struggled like a tigress, and broke loose. Hotly did he pursue her, and again tried to seize her arm. She, however, swung quickly around a large oak. In following he struck his wounded shoulder against the tree; the wound, but partly healed, must have broken open afresh, for, with a groan, he fell down in a faint, as though by the hand of God. Hazel got but a glimpse of him as he fell; for she slackened not her pace until she reached her room and threw herself upon her bed, and burst out aweeping.
Gentle cousin Mary at last succeeded in comforting her; but after that the dear maids did not again walk in that park, until some great changes had been wrought at court, and throughout all England; and then, when they did go, they were guests, without attachment to the court.
Mary had told Harleston all about Hazel's experience with Catesby; so it was from him that I heard it.
When he had finished I leaped to my feet and swore an oath, which methinks it best not to set down in writ, as it might not have a good effect upon the morals of some of my younger grandsons.
"Calmly, my friend, calmly," said Frederick, in his quiet way; "have patience; thou shalt yet have an opportunity for making the scoundrel pay dearly for his act."
"Hell and furies! Harleston, speak not to me of being calm. Do but think of that dear girl being subject to such insults. By Heaven I swear I shall never rest in peace until I have caused his death!" and I tore about the room, stamping my feet, and overturning whatever furniture I did come across. "Heaven, why are such dogs permitted to live? Harleston, I would give my right hand to but have that low-lived knave by the throat." Here I clasped my hands, in a grip of steel and tried to imagine that I held him by the neck. 'Twas my wounded arm that stopped me from this practice.
When my passion had somewhat abated my friend asked me when I thought it likely that Lord Rivers would take the King to London.
"Indeed I know not," I replied; "but one thing is certain, and that is if he does not start at once I will set out alone. I cannot bear to think of what might happen unto my poor dear girl, whilst I am away from her side. That Catesby dare do anything; and that rogue, Gloucester, would back him up in all his villainy; for he hath been mighty friendly with the accursed dog of late. I know not what his object may be; but as I think, he doth intend to use him in order that he may win Hasting's friendship."
We spent the greater part of that afternoon in walking through the town of Ludlow, which Harleston had never seen before.
That night we sat up until a late hour, and talked of all the strange actions of those in power, and made surmises as to what the next move should be; but even our most pessimistic predictions fell far short of the reality.
When at length I fell asleep I had fully made up my mind to ask Lord Rivers, early the next morning, for his permission to leave for London that day, as I had private business to attend to.
However, many strange things did happen ere I did again see Hazel.