CHAPTER V: WHITTINGTON S FEAST
The next day the royal train set forth from Pontefract, and ere mounting,James presented his young kinsman to the true Joan Beaufort--fair-haired,soft-featured, blue-eyed, and with a lovely air of graciousness, as shegreeted him with a sweet, blushing, sunny smile, half that of the queenin anticipation, half that of the kindly maiden wishing to set a strangerat ease. So beautiful was she, that Malcolm felt annihilated at thethought of his blunder of last night.
As they rode on, James was entirely occupied with the lady, and Malcolmwas a good deal left to himself; for, though the party was numerous, heknew no one except the Duke of Bedford, who was riding with the King andLord Warwick, in deep consultation, while Sir Nigel Baird, Lord Marmion,and the rest were in the rear. He fell into a mood of depression such ashad not come upon him since he passed the border, thinking himselfdespised by all for being ill-favoured and ill-dressed, and chafing,above all, at the gay contempt he fancied in young Ralf Percy's eye. Hebecame constantly more discontented with this noisy turmoil, and moreresolved to insist on returning to the peaceful cloister where alone hecould hide his head and be at rest.
The troop halted for what they called their noon meat at the abode of ahospitable Yorkshire knight; but King Henry, in order that the goodgentleman's means should not be overtasked, had given directions thatonly the ladies and the princes should enter the house, while the rest ofthe suite should take their meal at the village inn.
King James, in attending to Joan, had entirely forgotten his cousin; andMalcolm, doubtful and diffident, was looking hesitatingly at the gateway,when Ralf Percy called out, 'Ha! you there, this is our way. That isonly for the royal folk; but there's good sack and better sport downhere! I'll show you the way,' he added, good-naturedly, softened, asmost were, by the startled, wistful, timid look.
Malcolm, ashamed to say he was royal, but surprised at the patronage, wasgratefully following, when old Bairdsbrae indignantly laid his hand onthe rein. 'Not so, Sir; this is no place for you!'
'Let me alone!' entreated Malcolm, as he saw Percy's amazed look andwhistle of scorn. 'They don't want me.'
'You will never have your place if you do not take it,' said the oldgentleman; and leading the trembling, shrinking boy up to the door, hecontinued, 'For the honour of Scotland, Sir!' and then announcing Malcolmby his rank and title, he almost thrust him in.
Fancying he detected a laugh on Ralf Percy's face, and a sneer on that ofthe stout English porter, Malcolm felt doubly wretched as he was usheredinto the hall and the buzz of talk and the confusion made by theattendance of the worthy knight and his many sons, one of whom, waitingwith better will than skill, had nearly run down the shy limpingScotsman, who looked wildly for refuge at some table. In his height ofdistress, a kindly gesture of invitation beckoned to him, and he foundhimself seated and addressed, first in French, and then in carefulforeign English, by the same lady whom he had yesterday taken for Joan ofSomerset, namely, Esclairmonde de Luxemburg.
He was too much confused to look up till the piece of pasty and the winewith which the lady had caused him to be supplied were almost consumed,and it was not till she had made some observations on the journey that hebecame at ease enough to hazard any sort of answer, and then it was inhis sweet low Scottish voice, with that irresistibly attractive look ofshy wistful gratitude in his great soft brown eyes, while his un-Englishaccent caused her to say, 'I am a stranger here, like yourself, my Lord;'and at the same moment he first raised his eyes to behold what seemed tohim perfect beauty and dignity, an oval face, richly-tinted olivecomplexion, dark pensive eyes, a sweet grave mouth smiling withencouraging kindness, and a lofty brow that gave the whole face amagnificent air, not so much stately as above and beyond this world. Itmight have befitted St. Barbara or St. Katherine, the great intellectualvirgin visions of purity and holiness of the middle ages; but thekindness of the smile went to Malcolm's heart, and emboldened him toanswer in his best French, 'You are from Holland, lady?'
'Not from the fens,' she answered. 'My home lies in the borders of theforest of Ardennes.'
And then they found that they understood each other best when she spokeFrench, and Malcolm English, or rather Scotch; and their acquaintancemade so much progress, that when the signal was again given to mount, theLady Esclairmonde permitted Malcolm to assist her to her saddle; and ashe rode beside her he felt pleased with himself, and as if Ralf Percywere welcome to look at him now.
On Esclairmonde's other hand there rode a small, slight girl, whomMalcolm took for quite a child, and paid no attention to; but presentlyold Sir Lewis Robsart rode back with a message that my Lady ofWestmoreland wished to know where the Lady Alice Montagu was. A gentle,timid voice answered, 'O Sir, I am well here with Lady Esclairmonde. Praytell my good lady so.'
And therewith Sir Lewis smiled, and said, 'You could scarcely be inbetter hands, fair damsel,' and rode back again; while Alice was stillentreating, 'May I stay with you, dear lady? It is all so strange andnew!'
Esclairmonde smiled, and said, 'You make me at home here, Mademoiselle.It is I who am the stranger!'
'Ah! but you have been in Courts before. I never lived anywhere but atMiddleham Castle till they fetched me away to meet the Queen.'
For the gentle little maiden, a slender, fair-haired, childish-facedcreature, in her sixteenth year, was the motherless child and heiress ofthe stout Earl of Salisbury, the last of the Montacutes, or Montagues,who was at present fighting the King's battles in France, but had senthis commands that she should be brought to Court, in preparation forfulfilling the long-arranged contract between her and Sir Richard Nevil,one of the twenty-two children of the Earl of Westmoreland.
She was under the charge of the Countess--a stately dame, with all theBeaufort pride; and much afraid of her she was, as everything that wasshy or forlorn seemed to turn towards the maiden whose countenance notonly promised kindness but protection.
Presently the cavalcade passed a gray building in the midst of greenfields and orchards, where, under the trees, some black-veiled figuressat spinning.
'A nunnery!' quoth Esclairmonde, looking eagerly after it as she rodepast.
'A nunnery!' said Malcolm, encouraged into the simple confidingness of ayoung boy. 'How unlike the one where my sister is! Not a tree is nearit; it is perched upon a wild crag overhanging the angry sea, and thewinds roar, and the gulls and eagles scream, and the waves thunder roundit!'
'Yet it is not the less a haven of peace,' replied Esclairmonde.
'Verily,' said Malcolm, 'one knows what peace is under that cloister,where all is calm while the winds rave without.'
'You know how to love a cloister,' said the lady, as she heard his soft,sad tones.
'I had promised myself to make my home in one,' said Malcolm; 'but myKing will have me make trial of the world first. And so please you,' headded, recollecting himself, 'he forbade me to make my purpose known; sopray, lady, be so good as to forget what I have said.'
'I will be silent,' said Esclairmonde; 'but I will not forget, for I lookon you as one like myself, my young lord. I too am dedicated, and onlylonging to reach my cloistered haven.'
She spoke it out with the ease of those days when the monastic was asrecognized a profession as any other calling, and yet with something ofthe desire to make it evident on what ground she stood.
Lady Alice uttered an exclamation of surprise.
'Yes,' said Esclairmonde, 'I was dedicated his my infancy, and promisedmyself in the nunnery at Dijon when I was seven years old.'
Then, as if to turn the conversation from herself, she asked of Malcolmif he too had made any vow.
'Only to myself,' said Malcolm. 'Neither my Tutor nor the Prior ofColdingham would hear my vows.' And he was soon drawn into telling hiswhole story, to which the ladies both listened with great interest andkindness, Esclairmonde commending his resolution to leave the care of hislands and vassals to one whom he represented as so much better fitted tobear them as Patrick Dr
ummond, and only regretting the silence King Jameshad enjoined, saying she felt that there was safety and protection inbeing avowed as a destined religious.
'And you are one,' said Lady Alice, looking at her in wonder. 'And yetyou are with _that_ lady--' And the girl's innocent face expressed acertain wonder and disgust that no one could marvel at who had heard theFlemish Countess talk in the loudest, broadest, most hoydenish style.
'She has been my very good lady,' said Esclairmonde; 'she has, under thesaints, saved me from much.'
'Oh, I entreat you, tell us, dear lady!' entreated Alice. It was not areticent age. Malcolm Stewart had already avowed himself in his ownestimation pledged to a monastic life, and Esclairmonde of Luxemburg hadreasons for wishing her position and intentions to be distinctlyunderstood by all with whom she came in contact; moreover, there was acertain congeniality in both her companions, their innocence andsimplicity, that drew out confidence, and impelled her to defend herlady.
'My poor Countess,' she said, 'she has been sorely used, and has sufferedmuch. It is a piteous thing when our little imperial fiefs go to thespindle side!'
'What are her lands?' asked Malcolm.
'Hainault, Holland, and Zealand,' replied the lady. 'Her father wasCount of Hainault, her mother the sister of the last Duke of Burgundy--himthat was slain on the bridge of Montereau. She was married as a merebabe to the Duke of Touraine, who was for a brief time Dauphin, but hedied ere she was sixteen, and her father died at the same time. Some saythey both were poisoned. The saints forfend it should be true; but thusit was my poor Countess was left desolate, and her uncle, the Bishop ofLiege--Jean Sans Pitie, as they call him--claimed her inheritance. Youshould have seen how undaunted she was!'
'Were you with her then?' asked Alice Montagu.
'Yes. I had been taken from our convent at Dijon, when my dear brothers,to whom Heaven be merciful! died at Azincourt. My _oncles a la mode deBretagne_--how call you it in English?'
'Welsh uncles,' said Alice.
'They are the Count de St. Pol and the Bishop of Therouenne. They cameto Dijon. In another month I should have been seventeen, and beenadmitted as a novice; but, alack! there were all the lands that camethrough my grandmother, in Holland and in Flanders, all falling to me,and Monseigneur of Therouenne, like almost all secular clergy, cannotendure the religious orders, and would not hear of my becoming a Sister.They took me away, and the Bishop declared my dedication null, and theywould have bestowed me in marriage at once, I believe, if Heaven had notaided me, and they could not agree on the person. And then my dearCountess promised me that she would never let me be given without my freewill.'
'Then,' said Alice, 'the Bishop did cancel your dedication?'
'Yes,' said Esclairmonde; 'but none can cancel the dedication of myheart. So said the holy man at Zwoll.'
'How, lady?' anxiously inquired Malcolm; 'has not a bishop power to bindand unloose?'
'Yea,' said Esclairmonde, 'such power that if my childish promise hadbeen made without purpose or conscience thereof, or indeed if my willwere not with it, it would bind me no more, there were no sin in wedlockfor me, no broken vow. But my own conscience of my vow, and my sensethat I belong to my Heavenly Spouse, proved, he said, that it was not myduty to give myself to another, and that whereas none have a parent'sright over me, if I have indeed chosen the better part, He to whom I havepromised myself will not let it be taken from me, though I might have tobear much for His sake. And when I said in presumption that such wouldlie light on me, he bade me speak less and pray more, for I knew not thecost.'
'He must have been a very holy man,' said Alice, 'and strict withal. Whowas he?'
'One Father Thomas, a Canon Regular of the chapter of St. Agnes, a verysaint, who spends his life in copying and illuminating the HolyScripture, and in writing holy thoughts that verily seem to have beenbreathed into him by special inspiration of God. It was a sermon of hisin Lent, upon chastening and perplexity, that I heard when first I wassnatched from Dijon, that made me never rest till I had obtained hisghostly counsel. If I never meet him again, I shall thank Heaven forthose months at Zwoll all my life--ere the Duke of Burgundy made myCountess resign Holland for twelve years to her uncle, and we left theplace. Then, well-nigh against her will, they forced her into a marriagewith the Duke of Brabant, though he be her first cousin, her godson, anda mere rude boy. I cannot tell you how evil were the days we often hadthen. If he had been left to himself, Madame might have guided him; butill men came about him; they maddened him with wine and beer; theyexcited him to show that he feared her not; he struck her, and more thanonce almost put her in danger of her life. Then, too, his mother marriedthe Bishop of Liege, her enemy--
'The Bishop!'
'He had never been consecrated, and had a dispensation. That marriagedeprived my poor lady of even her mother's help. All were against herthen; and for me too it went ill, for the Duke of Burgundy insisted on mybeing given to a half-brother of his, one they call Sir Boemond ofBurgundy--a hard man of blood and revelry. The Duke of Brabant was allfor him, and so was the Duchess-mother; and though my uncles would nothave chosen him, yet they durst not withstand the Duke of Burgundy. Itried to appeal to the Emperor Sigismund, the head of our house, but Iknow not if he ever heard of my petition. I was in an exceeding strait,and had only one trust, namely, that Father Thomas had told me that themore I threw myself upon God, the more He would save me from man. Butoh! they seemed all closing in on me, and I knew that Sir Boemond hadsworn that I should pay heavily for my resistance. Then one night myCountess came to me. She showed me the bruises her lord had left on herarms, and told me that he was about to banish all of us, her ladies, intoHolland, and to keep her alone to bear his fury, and she was resolved toescape, and would I come with her? It seemed to me the message ofdeliverance. Her nurse brought us peasant dresses, high stiff caps,black boddices, petticoats of many colours, and therein we dressedourselves, and stole out, ere dawn, to a church, where we knelt till theSieur d'Escaillon--the gentleman who attends Madame still--drove up in afarmer's garb, with a market cart, and so forth from Bruges we drove. Wecause to Valenciennes, to her mother; but we found that she, bypersuasion of the Duke, would give us both up; so the Sieur d'Escaillongot together sixty lances, and therewith we rode to Calais, where neverwere weary travellers more courteously received than we by LordNorthumberland, the captain of Calais.'
'Oh, I am glad you came to us English!' cried Alice. 'Only I would ithad been my father who welcomed you. And now?'
'Now I remain with my lady, as the only demoiselle she has from hercountry; and, moreover, I am waiting in the trust that my kinsmen willgive up their purpose of bestowing me in marriage, now that I am beyondtheir reach; and in time I hope to obtain sufficient of my own goods fora dowry for whatever convent I may enter.'
'Oh, let it be an English one!' cried Alice.
'I have learnt to breathe freer since I have been on English soil,' saidEsclairmonde, smiling; 'but where I may rest at last, Heaven only knows!'
'This is a strange country,' said Malcolm. 'No one seems afraid ofviolence and wrong here.'
'Is that so strange?' asked Alice, amazed. 'Why, men would be hanged ifthey did violence!'
'I would we were as sure of justice at my home,' sighed Esclairmonde.'King Henry will bring about a better rule.'
'Never doubt,' cried Salisbury's daughter. 'When France is once subdued,there will be no more trouble, he will make your kinsmen do you right,dear demoiselle, and oh! will you not found a beauteous convent?'
'King Henry has not conquered France yet,' was all Esclairmonde said.
'Ha!' cried the buxom Countess Jaqueline, as the ladies dismounted,'never speak to me more, our solemn sister. When have I done worse thanlure a young cavalier, and chain him all day with my tongue?'
'He is a gentle boy!' said Esclairmonde, smiling.
'Truly he looked like a calf turned loose among strange cattle! How gathe into the hall?'
'He is of royal Scottish blood,' said Esclairmonde 'cousin-german to KingJames.'
'And our grave nun has a fancy to tame the wild Scots, like a second St.Margaret! A king's grandson! fie, fie! what, become ambitious,Clairette? Eh? you were so occupied, that I should have been left to noone but Monseigneur of Gloucester, but that I was discreet, and rode withmy Lord Bishop of Winchester. How he chafed! but I know better than tohave _tete-a-tetes_ with young sprigs of the blood royal!'
Esclairmonde laughed good-humouredly, partly in courtesy to her hoydenmistress, but partly at the burning, blushing indignation she beheld inthe artless face of Alice Montagu.
The girl was as shy as a fawn, frightened at every word from knight orlady, and much in awe of her future mother-in-law, a stiff and statelydame, with all the Beaufort haughtiness; so that Lady Westmoreland gladlyand graciously consented to the offer of the Demoiselle de Luxemburg toattend to the little maiden, and let her share her chamber and her bed.And indeed Alice Montagu, bred up in strictness and in both piety andlearning, as was sometimes the case with the daughters of the nobility,had in all her simplicity and bashfulness a purity and depth that madeher a congenial spirit with the grave votaress, whom she regarded on herside with a young girl's enthusiastic admiration for a grown woman,although in point of fact the years between them were few.
The other ladies of the Court were a little in awe of the Demoiselle deLuxemburg, and did not seek her when they wished to indulge in the gossipwhose malice and coarseness she kept in check; but if they were anxious,or in trouble, they always came to her as their natural consoler; and theCountess Jaqueline, bold and hoydenish as she was, kept the license ofher tongue and manners under some shadow of restraint before her, andthough sometimes bantering her, often neglecting her counsel, evidentlyfelt her attendance a sort of safeguard and protection.
The gentlemen were mostly of the opinion of the Duke of Gloucester, whosaid that the Lady Esclairmonde was so like Deborah, come out of aMystery, that it seemed to be always Passion-tide where she was; and she,moreover, was always guarded in her manner towards them, keeping hervocation in the recollection of all by her gravely and coldly courteousdemeanour, and the sober hues and fashion of her dress; but being awareof Malcolm's destination, perceiving his loneliness, and really attractedby his pensive gentleness, she admitted him to far more friendlyintercourse than any other young noble, while he revered and clung to hermuch as Lady Alice did, as protector and friend.
King James was indeed so much absorbed in his own lady-love as to havelittle attention to bestow on his young cousin, and he knew, moreover,that to be left to such womanly training as ladies were bound to bestowon young squires and pages was the best treatment for the youth, who wasreally thriving and growing happier every day, as he lost his awkwardnessand acquired a freedom and self-confidence such as he could never haveimagined possible in his original brow-beaten state, though withoutlosing the gentle modesty and refinement that gave him such a charm.
A great sorrow awaited him, however, at Leicester, where Easter was to bespent. A messenger came from Durham, bringing letters from Coldingham toannounce the death of good Sir David Drummond, which had taken place twodays after Malcolm had left him, all but the youth himself having wellknown that his state was hopeless.
In his grief, Malcolm found his chief comforter in Esclairmonde, whokindly listened when he talked of the happy old times at Glenuskie, andof the kindness and piety of his guardian; while she lifted his mind todwell on the company of the saints; and when he knew that her thoughtswent, like his, to his fatherly friend in the solemn services connectedwith the departed, he was no longer desolate, and there was almost asweetness in the grief of which his fair saint had taken up a part. Sheshowed him likewise some vellum pages on which her ghostly father, theCanon of St. Agnes, had written certain dialogues between the DivineMaster and His disciple, which seemed indeed to have been whispered byheavenly inspiration, and which soothed and hallowed his mourning for theguide and protector of his youth. He loved to dwell on her very name,Esclairmonde--'light of the world.' The taste of the day hung many a punand conceit upon names, and to Malcolm this--which had, in fact, beenculled out of romance--seemed meetly to express the pure radiance ofconsolation and encouragement that seemed to him to shine from her, andbrighten the life that had hitherto been dull and gloomy--nay, even togive him light and joy in the midst of his grief.
At that period Courts were not much burdened with etiquette. No feudalmonarch was more than the first gentleman, and there was no rigid line ofseparation of ranks, especially where, as among the kings of the RedRose, the boundaries were so faint between the princes and the nobility;and as Catherine of Valois was fond of company, and indolently heedlessof all that did not affect her own dignity or ease, the whole Court,including some of the princely captives, lived as one large family,meeting at morning Mass in church or chapel, taking their meals incommon, riding, hunting, hawking, playing at bowls, tennis, orstool-ball, or any other pastime, in such parties as suited theirinclinations; and spending the evening in the great hall, in conversationvaried by chess, dice, and cards, recitals of romance, and music,sometimes performed by the choristers of the Royal chapel, or sometimesby the company themselves, and often by one or other of the two kings,who were both proficients as well with the voice as with the lute andorgan.
Thus Malcolm had many opportunities of being with the Demoiselle ofLuxemburg: and almost a right was established, that when she sat in thedeep embrasure of a window with her spinning, he should be on thecushioned step beneath; when she mounted, he held the stirrup; and whenthe church bells were ringing, he led her by her fair fingers to herplace in the nave, and back again to the hall; and when the manchet andrere supper were brought into the hall, he mixed her wine and water, andheld the silver basin and napkin to her on bended knee, and had becomeher recognized cavalier. He was really thriving. Even the high-spiritedson of Hotspur could not help loving and protecting him.
'Have a care,' said Ralf to a lad of ruder mould; 'I'll no more see thatlame young Scot maltreated than a girl.'
'He is no better than a girl,' growled his comrade; 'my little brotherDick would be more than a match for him!'
'I wot not that,' said Percy; 'there's a drop of life and spirit at thebottom; and for the rest, when he looks up with those eyes of his, andsmiles his smile, it is somehow as if it were beneath a man to vex himwilfully. And he sees so much meaning in everything, too, that it is adozen times better sport to hear him talk than one of you fellows, whohave only wit enough to know a hawk from a heron-schaw.'
After a grave Easter-tide spent at Leicester, the Court moved toWestminster, where Henry had to meet his parliament, and obtain suppliesfor the campaign which was to revenge the death of Clarence.
There was no great increase of gaiety even here, for Henry was extremelyoccupied, both with regulating matters for government during his absence,and in training the troops who began to flock to his standard; so thatthe Queen complained that his presence in England was of little serviceto her, since he never had any leisure, and there were no pastimes.
'Well, Dame,' said Henry, gaily, 'there is one revel for you. I havepromised to knight the Lord Mayor, honest Whittington, and I hear he ispreparing a notable banquet in the Guild Hall.'
'A city mayor!' exclaimed Queen Catherine, with ineffable disgust. 'Mybrothers would sooner cut off his _roturier_ head than dub him knight!'
'Belike,' said Henry, dryly; 'but what kind of friends have thy brothersfound at Paris? Moreover, this Whittington may content thee as to blood.Rougedragon hath been unfolding to me his lineage of a good house inGloucestershire.'
'More shame that he should soil his hands with trade!' said the Queen.
'See what you say when he has cased those fair hands in Spanish gloves.You ladies should know better than to fall out with a mercer.'
'Ah!' said Duke Humfrey, 'they never saw the silks and samites wherewithhe fitted out my sister Philippa for the Swedes! Lucky the b
ride whosewardrobe is purveyed by honest Dick!'
'Is it not honour enough for the mechanical hinds that we wear theirstuffs,' said Countess Jaqueline, 'without demeaning ourselves to eat attheir boards? The _outrecuidance_ of the rogues in the Netherlands wouldbe surpassing, did we feed it in that sort.'
''Tis you that will be fed, Dame Jac,' laughed Henry. 'I can tell you,their sack and their pasties, their march-pane and blanc-manger, farexceed aught that a poor soldier can set before you.'
'Moreover,' observed Humfrey, 'the ladies ought to see the romaunt of theCat complete.'
'How!' cried Jaqueline, 'is it, then, true that this Vittentone is themiller's son whose cat wore boots and made his fortune?'
'I have heard my aunt of Orleans divert my father with that story,'murmured Catherine. 'How went the tale? I thought it folly, and markedit not. What became of the cat?'
'The cat desired to test his master's gratitude, so tells Straparola,'said the Duke of Orleans, in his dry satirical tone; 'and whereas he hadbeen wont to promise his benefactor a golden coffin and state funeral,Puss feigned death, and thereby heard the lady inform her husband thatthe old cat was dead. "_A la bonne heure_!" said the Marquis. "Take himby the tail, and fling him on the muck-heap beneath the window!"'
'Thereof I acquit Whittington, who never was thankless to man or brute,'said King Henry. 'Moreover, his cat, or her grandchildren, must be nowin high preferment at the King of Barbary's Court.'
'A marvellous beast is that cat,' said James. 'When I was a child inScotland, we used to tell the story of her exchange for a freight of goldand spices, only the ship sailed from Denmark,'
'Maybe,' said Henry; 'but I would maintain the truth of Whittington's catwith my lance, and would gladly have no worse cause! You'll see his catpainted beside him in the Guild Hall, and may hear the tale from him, asI loved to hear him when I was a lad.
"Turn again, Whittington, Thrice Lord Mayor of London town!"
I told my good old friend I must have come over from France on purpose tokeep his third mayoralty. So I am for the City on Thursday; and whoeverloves good wine, good sturgeon, good gold, or good men, had best comewith me.'
Such inducements were not to be neglected, and though Queen Catherineminced and bridled, and apologized to Duchess Jaqueline for her husband'staste for low company, neither princess wished to forego the chance ofamusement; and a brilliant cavalcade set forth in full order ofprecedence. The King and Queen were first; then, to his great disgust,the King of Scots, with Duchess Jaqueline; Bedford, with Lady Somerset;Gloucester, with the Countess of March; the Duke of Orleans, with theCountess of Exeter; and Malcolm of Glenuskie found himself paired offwith his sovereign's lady-love, Joan Beaufort, and a good deal overawedby the tall horned tower that crowned her flaxen locks, as well as byknowing that her uncle, the Bishop of Winchester, the stateliest,stiffest, and most unapproachable person in all the Court, was ridingjust behind him, beside the Demoiselle de Luxemburg.
Temple Bar was closed, and there was a flourish of trumpets and a parleyere the gate was flung open to admit the royal guests; but Malcolm, inhis place, could not see the aldermen on horseback, in their robes ofscarlet and white, drawn up to receive the King. All that way upHolborn, every house was hung with tapestry, and the citizens formed agorgeously-apparelled lane, shouting in unison, their greetings attunedto bursts of music from trumpets and nakers.
Beautiful old St. Paul's, with the exquisite cross for open-air preachingin front, rose on their view; and before the lofty west door the princelyguests dismounted, each gentleman leading his lady up the nave to theseat prepared in such manner that he might be opposite to her. Theclergy lined the stalls, and a magnificent mass was sung, and wasconcluded by the advance of the King to the altar step, followed by afine old man in scarlet robes bordered with white fur, the collar of SS.round his neck, and his silvery hair and lofty brow crowning a face assagacious as it was dignified and benevolent.
It seemed a reversal of the ordinary ceremonial when the slender agileyoung man took in hand the sword, and laid the honour of knighthood onthe gray-headed substantial senior, whom he bade to arise Sir RichardWhittington. Jaqueline of Hainault had the bad taste to glance across toHumfrey and titter, but the Duke valued popularity among the citizens,and would not catch her eye; and in the line behind the royal ladiesthere was a sweet elderly face, beautiful, though time-worn, with blueeyes misty with proud glad tears, and a mouth trembling with tenderexultation.
After the ceremony was concluded, King Henry offered his hand to the LadyMayoress, Dame Alice Whittington, making her bright tears drop in gladconfusion at his frank, hearty congratulation and warm praise of herhusband; and though the fair Catherine could have shuddered when SirRichard advanced to lead her, she was too royal to compromise her dignityby visible scorn, and she soon found that the merchant could speak muchbetter French than most of the nobles.
Malcolm felt as averse as did the French princesses to burgher wealth andsplendour, and his mind had not opened to understand burgher worth andweight; and when he saw the princes John and Humfrey, and even his ownking, seeking out city dames and accosting them with friendly looks, itseemed to him a degrading truckling to riches, from which he was anxiousto save his future queen; but when he would have offered his arm to LadyJoan, he saw her already being led away by an alderman measuring at leasta yard across the shoulders; and the good-natured Earl of March, seeinghim at a loss, presented him to a round merry wife in a scarlet petticoatand black boddice, its plump curves wreathed with geld chains, who beganpitying him for having been sent to the wars so young, being, as usual,charmed into pity by his soft appealing eyes and unconscious grace; wouldnot believe his assertions that he was neither a captive nor aFrenchman;--'don't tell her, when he spoke like a stranger, and haltedfrom a wound.'
Colouring to the ears, he explained that he had never walked otherwise;whereupon her pity redoubled, and she by turns advised him to consultMaster Doctor Caius, and to obtain a recipe from Mistress--she meantDame--Alice Whittington, the kindest soul living, and, Lady Mayoress asshe was, with no more pride than the meanest scullion. Pity she had nochild--yet scarce pity either, since she and the good Lord Mayor werefather and mother to all orphans and destitute--nay, to all who had anycare on their minds.
Malcolm was in extreme alarm lest he should be walked up to the LadyMayoress for inspection before all the world when they entered the GuildHall, a building of grand proportions, which, as good Mistress Boltinformed him, had lately been paved and glazed at Sir RichardWhittington's own expense. The bright new red and yellow tiles, and thestained glass of the tall windows high up, as well as the panels of thewainscot, were embellished with trade-marks and the armorial bearings ofthe guilds; and the long tables, hung with snowy napery, groaned withgold and silver plate, such as, the Duke of Orleans observed toCatherine, no citizens would dare exhibit in France to any prince ornoble, at peril of being mulcted of all, with or without excuse.
On an open hearth beneath the louvre, or opening for smoke, burnt a firediffusing all around an incense-like fragrance, from the logs, composedof cinnamon and other choice woods and spices, that fed the flame. Theodour and the warmth on a bleak day of May were alike delicious; and KingHenry, after heading Dame Alice up to it, stood warming his hands andextolling the choice scent, adding: 'You spoil us, Sir Richard. How arewe to go back to the smoke of wood and peat, and fires puffed with ourown mouths, after such pampering as this--the costliest fire I have seenin the two realms?'
'It shall be choicer yet, Sir,' said Sir Richard Whittington, who hadjust handed the Queen to her seat.
'Scarce possible,' replied Henry, 'unless I threw in my crown, and that Icannot afford. I shall be pawning it ere long.'
Instead of answering, the Lord Mayor quietly put his hand into his furredpouch, and drawing out a bundle of parchments tied with a ribbon, heldthem towards the King, with a grave smile.
'Lo you now, Sir Richard,' said Henry, with a playful face
of disgust;'this is to save your dainty meats, by spoiling my appetite by thatunwelcome sight. What, man! have you bought up all the bonds I gave inmy need to a whole synagogue of Jews and bench of Loin-bards? I shallhave to send for my crown before you let me go; though verily,' he added,with frank, open face, 'I'm better off with a good friend like you for mycreditor--only I'm sorry for you, Sir Richard. I fear it will be longere you see your good gold in the stead of your dirty paper, even thoughI gave you an order on the tolls. How now! What, man, Dick Whittington!Art raving? Here, the tongs!'
For Sir Richard, gently smiling, had placed the bundle of bonds on theglowing bed of embers.
Henry, even while calling for the tongs, was raking them out with hissword, and would have grasped them in his hand in a moment, but the LordMayor caught his arm.
'Pardon, my lord, and grant your new knight's boon.'
'When he is not moon-struck!' said Henry, still guarding the documents.'Why, my Lady Mayoress, know you what is here?'
'Sixty thousand, my liege,' composedly answered Dame Alice. 'My husbandhath his whims, and I pray your Grace not to hinder what he hath so longbeen preparing.'
'Yea, Sir,' added Whittington, earnestly. 'You wot that God hathprospered us richly. We have no child, and our nephews are well endowed.How, then, can our goods belong to any save God, our king, and the poor?'
Henry drew one hand over his eyes, and with the other wrung that ofWhittington. 'Had ever king such a subject?' he murmured.
'Had ever subject such a king?' was Whittington's return.
'Thou hast conquered, Whittington,' said the King, presently looking upwith a sunny smile. 'To send me over the seas a free man, beholden toyou in heart though not by purse, is, as I well believe, worth all thatsum to thy loyal heart. Thou art setting me far on my way to Jerusalem,my dear friend! Thank him, Kate--he hath done much for thine husband!'
Catherine looked amiable, and held out a white hand to be kissed, awarethat the King was pleased, though hardly understanding why he should beglad that an odour of singed parchment should overpower the gums andcinnamon. This was soon remedied by the fresh handful of spices thatwere cast into the flame, and the banquet began, magnificent withpeacocks, cranes, and swans in full plumage; the tusky bear crunched hisapple, deer's antlers adorned the haunch, the royal sturgeon floated inwine, fountains of perfumed waters sprang up from shells, towers ofpastry and of jelly presented the endless allegorical devices of mediaevalfancy, and, pre-eminent over all, a figure of the cat, with emerald eyes,fulfilled, as Henry said, the proverb, 'A cat might look at a king;' andtruly the cat and her master had earned the right; therefore his firsttoast was, 'To the Cat!'
Each guest found at his or her place a beautiful fragrant pair of gloves,in Spanish leather, on the back of which was once more embroidered, inall her tabby charms, the cat's face. Therewith began a lengthy meal;and Malcolm Stewart rejoiced at finding himself seated next to the LadyEsclairmonde, but he grudged her attention to her companion, a slender,dark, thoughtful representative of the Goldsmiths' Company, to whom shetalked with courtesy such as Malcolm had scorned to show his city dame.
'Who,' said Esclairmonde, presently, 'was a dame in a religious garb whomI marked near the door here? She hooked like one of the Beguines of myown country.'
'We have no such order here, lady,' said the goldsmiths, puzzled.
'Hey, Master Price,' cried Mistress Bolt, speaking across Malcolm, 'I cantell the lady who it was. 'Twas good Sister Avice Rodney, to whom theLady Mayoress promised some of these curious cooling drinks for the poorshipwright who hath well-nigh cloven off his own foot with his axe.'
'Yea, truly,' returned the goldsmith; 'it must have been one of thebedeswomen of St. Katharine's whom the lady has seen.'
'What order may that be?' asked Esclairmonde. 'I have seen nothing solike my own country since I came hither.'
'That may well be, madam,' said Mistress Belt, 'seeing that thesebedeswomen were first instituted by a countrywoman of your own--QueenPhilippa, of blessed memory.'
'By your leave, Mistress Bolt,' interposed Master Price, 'the hospital ofSt. Katharine by the Tower is of far older foundation.'
'By _your_ leave, sir, I know what I say. The hospital was founded Iknow not when, but these bedeswomen were especially added by the goodQueen, by the same token that mine aunt Cis, who was tirewoman to theblessed Lady Joan, was one of the first.'
'How was it? What is their office?' eagerly inquired Esclairmonde. AndMistress Bolt arranged herself for a long discourse.
'Well, fair sirs and sweet lady, though you be younger than I, you havesurely heard of the Black Death. Well named was it, for never waspestilence more dire; and the venom was so strong, that the very lips andeyelids grew livid black, and then there was no hope. Little thought ofsuch disease was there, I trow, in kings' houses, and all the fair younglords and ladies, the children of King Edward, as then was, were full ofsport and gamesomeness as you see these dukes be now. And never a onewas blither than the Lady Joan--she they called Joan of the Tower, beinga true Londoner born--bless her! My aunt Cis would talk by the hour ofher pretty ways and kindly mirth. But 'twas even as the children havethe game in the streets--
"There come three knights all out of Spain, Are come to fetch your daughter Jane."
'Twas for the King of Castille, that same Peter for whom the Black Princeof Wales fought, and of whom such grewsome tales were told. The prettyprincess might almost have had a boding what sort of husband they had forher, for she begged and prayed, even on her knees, that her father wouldleave her; but her sisters were all espoused, and there was no help forit. But, as one comfort to her, my aunt Cis, who had been about her fromher cradle, was to go with her; and oft she would tell of the longjourney in litters through France, and how welcome were the Englishtongues they heard again at Bordeaux, and how when poor Lady Joan saw herbrother, the Prince, she clung about his neck and sobbed, and how hesoothed her, and said she would soon laugh at her own unwillingness to goto her husband. But even then the Black Death was in Bordeaux, and beinglow and mournful at heart, the sweet maid contracted it, and lay down todie ere she had made two days' journey, and her last words were, "My Godhath shown me more pity than father or brother;" and so she died like alamb, and mine aunt was sent by the Prince to bear home the tidings tothe good Queen, who was a woeful woman. And therewith, here was thepestilence in London, raging among the poor creatures that lived in thewharves and on the river bank, in damp and filth, so that wholehouseholds lay dead at once, and the contagion, gathering force, spreadinto the city, and even to the nobles and their ladies. Then my goodaunt, having some knowledge of the sickness already, and being withoutfear, went among the sick, and by her care, and the food, wine, andclothing she brought, saved a many lives. And from whom should thebounties come, save from the good Queen, who ever had a great pity forthose touched like her own fair child? Moreover, when she heard from myaunt how the poor things lived in uncleanness and filth, and how, whatwith many being strangers coming by sea, and others being serfs fled fromhome, they were a nameless, masterless sort, who knew not where to seek aparish priest, and whom the friars shunned for their poverty, she deviseda fresh foundation to be added to the hospital of St. Katharine's in theDocks, providing for a chapter of ten bedeswomen, gentle andwell-nurtured, who should both sing in choir, and likewise go forthconstantly among the poor, to seek out the children, see that they learntheir Credo, Ave, and Pater Noster, bring the more toward to be furthertaught in St. Katharine's school, and likewise to stir poor folk up to goto mass and lead a godly life; to visit the sick, feed and tend them, andso instruct them, that they may desire the Sacraments of the Church.'
'Ah! good Flemish Queen!' cried Esclairmonde. 'She learnt that of ourBeguines!'
'If your ladyship will have it so,' said Mrs. Bolt; 'but my aunt Cicelybegan!'
'Who nominates these bedeswomen?' asked Esclairmonde.
'That does the Queen,' said Mistress Bolt. 'Not
this young Queen, asyet, for Queen Joan, the late King's widow, holds the hospital till herdeath, unless it should be taken from her for her sorceries, from whichHeaven defend us!'
'Can it be visited?' said Esclairmonde. 'I feel much drawn thither, as Iever did to the Beguines.'
'Ay, marry may it!' cried delighted Mrs. Bolt. 'I have more than onegossip there, foreby Sister Avice, who was godchild to Aunt Cis; and ifthe good lady would wish to see the hospital, I would bear her companywith all my heart.'
To Malcolm's disgust, Esclairmonde caught at the proposal, which theScottish haughtiness that lay under all his gentleness held somewhatdegrading to the cousin of the Emperor. He fell into a state of gloom,which lasted till the loving-cup had gone round and been partaken of inpairs.
After hands had been washed in rose-water, the royal party took theirseats in barges to return to Westminster by the broad and beautifulhighway of the Thames.
Here at once Alice Montagu nestled to Esclairmonde's side, delighted withher cat gloves, and further delighted with an old captain of trainedbands, to whose lot she had fallen, and who, on finding that she was thedaughter of the Earl of Salisbury, under whom he had served, had launchedforth by the hour into the praises of that brave nobleman, both for hiscourage and his kindness to his troops.
'No wonder King Henry loves his citizens so well!' cried Esclairmonde.'Would that our Netherlandish princes and burghers could take pride andpleasure in one another's wealth and prowess, instead of grudging andfearing thereat!'
'To my mind,' said Malcolm, 'they were a forward generation. That citydame will burst with pride, if you, lady, go with her to see thosebedeswomen.'
'I trust not,' laughed Esclairmonde, 'for I mean to try.'
'Nay, but,' said Malcolm, 'what should a mere matter of old rockers andworn-out tirewomen concern a demoiselle of birth?'
'I honour them for doing their Master's work,' said Esclairmonde, 'andwould fain be worthy to follow in their steps.'
'Surely,' said Malcolm, 'there are houses fit for persons of high andprincely birth to live apart from gross contact with the world.'
'There are,' said Esclairmonde; 'but I trust I may be pardoned for sayingthat such often seem to me to play at humility when they stickle forbirth and dower with the haughtiest. I never honoured any nuns so muchas the humble Sisters of St. Begga, who never ask for sixteenquarterings, but only for a tender hand, soft step, pure life, and piousheart.'
'I deemed,' said Malcolm, 'that heavenly contemplation was the purpose ofconvents.'
'Even so, for such as can contemplate like the holy man I have told youof,' said Esclairmonde; 'but labour hath been greatly laid aside inconvents of late, and I doubt me if it be well, or if their prayers bethe better for it.'
'And so,' said Alice, 'I heard my Lord of Winchester saying how it werewell to suppress the alien priories, and give their wealth to foundcolleges like that founded by Bishop Wykeham.'
For in truths the spirit of the age was beginning to set againstmonasticism. It was the period when perhaps there was more of licenseand less of saintliness than at any other, and when the long continuanceof the Great Schism had so injured Church discipline that the clergy andecclesiastics were in the worst state of all, especially the monasticorders, who owned no superior but the Pope, and between the two rivalscould avoid supervision altogether. Such men as Thomas a Kempis, or thegreat Jean Gerson, were rare indeed; and the monasteries had letthemselves lose their missionary character, and become mere large farms,inhabited by celibate gentlemen and their attendants, or by thesuperfluous daughters of the nobles and gentry. Such devotion as ledEsclairmonde to the pure atmosphere of prayer and self-sacrifice had well-nigh died out, and almost every other lady of the time would haveregarded her release from the vows made for her its her babyhood a happyescape.
Still less, at a time when no active order of Sisters, save that of theBeguines in Holland, had been invented, and when no nun ever dreamt ofcarrying her charity beyond the quadrangle of her own convent, could anyone be expected to enter into Esclairmonde's admiration and longing forout-of-door works; but the person whom she had chiefly made her friendwas the King's almoner and chaplain, sometimes called Sir Martin Bennet,at others Dr. Bennet, a great Oxford scholar, bred up among William ofWykeham's original seventy at Winchester and New College, and now muchtrusted and favoured by the King, whom he everywhere accompanied. ThatSir Martin was a pluralist must be confessed, but he was mostconscientious in providing substitutes, and was a man of much thought andof great piety, in whom the fair pupil of the Canon of St. Agnes found acongenial spirit.
The Caged Lion Page 6
