Two Penniless Princesses

by Charlotte M. Yonge

  CHAPTER 3. FALCON AND FETTERLOCK

  'Ours is the sky Where at what fowl we please our hawk shall fly.' --T. Randolph.

  Beyond York that species of convoy, which ranged between protection andsupervision, entirely ceased; the Scottish party moved on their own wa oftener through heath, rock, and moor, for England was not yet thicklyinhabited, though there was no lack of hostels or of convents to receivethem on this the great road to the North, and to its many shrines forpilgrimage.

  Perhaps Sir Patrick relaxed a little of his vigilance, since the goodbehaviour of his troop had won his confidence, and they were less likelyto be regarded as invaders than by the inhabitants of the districtnearer their own frontier.

  Hawking and coursing within bounds had been permitted by both the Knightof Berwick and the Canon of Durham on the wide northern moors; but SirPatrick, on starting in the morning of the day when they were enteringNorthamptonshire, had given a caution that sport was not free in themore frequented parts of England, and that hound must not be loosed norhawk flown without special permission from the lord of the manor.

  He was, however, riding in the rear of the rest, up a narrow laneleading uphill, anxiously discussing with Father Romuald the expediencyof seeking hospitality from any of the great lords whose castles mightbe within reach before he had full information of the present state offactions at the Court, when suddenly his son Malcolm came riding back,pushing up hastily.

  'Sir! father!' he cried, 'there's wud wark ahead, there's a flight ofunco big birds on before, and Lady Jean's hawk is awa' after them, andJeanie's awa' after the hawk, and Geordie Red Peel is awa' after Jean,and Davie's awa' after Geordie; and there's the blast of an Englishbugle, and my mither sent me for you to redd the fray!'

  'Time, indeed!' said Sir Patrick with a sigh, and, setting spurs to hishorse, he soon was beyond the end of the lane, on an open heath, wheresome of his troop were drawn up round his banner, almost forciblykept back by Dame Lilias and the elder Andrew. He could not stop forexplanation from them, indeed his wife only waved him forward towardsa confused group some hundred yards farther off, where he could see anumber of his own men, and, too plainly, long bows and coats of Lincolngreen, and he only hoped, as he galloped onward, that they belongedto outlaws and not to rangers. Too soon he saw that his hope was vain;there were ten or twelve stout archers with the white rosette of Yorkin their bonnets, the falcon and fetterlock on their sleeves, andthe Plantagenet quarterings on their breasts. In the midst was a deadbustard, also an Englishman sitting up, with his head bleeding; Jeanwas on foot, with her dagger-knife in one hand, and holding fast to herbreast her beloved hawk, whose jesses were, however, grasped by one ofthe foresters. Geordie of the Red Peel stood with his sword at his feet,glaring angrily round, while Sir Patrick, pausing, could hear his sonDavid's voice in loud tones--

  'I tell you this lady is a royal princess! Yes, she is'--as there was akind of scoff--'and we are bound on a mission to your King from the Kingof Scots, and woe to him that touches a feather of ours.'

  'That may be,' said the one who seemed chief among the English, 'butthat gives no licence to fly at the Duke's game, nor slay his forestersfor doing their duty. If we let the lady go, hawk and man must havetheir necks wrung, after forest laws.'

  'And I tell thee,' cried Davie, 'that this is a noble gentleman ofScotland, and that we will fight for him to the death.'

  'Let it alone, Davie,' said George. 'No scathe shall come to the ladythrough me.'

  'Save him, Davie! save Skywing!' screamed Jean.

  'To the rescue--a Drummond,' shouted David; but his father pushed hishorse forward, just as the men in green, were in the act of stringing,all at the same moment, their bows, as tall as themselves. They were notso many but that his escort might have overpowered them, but only withheavy loss, and the fact of such a fight would have been most disastrous.

  'What means this, sirs?' he exclaimed, in a tone of authority, wavingback his own men; and his dignified air, as well as the banner withwhich Andrew followed him, evidently took effect on the foresters, whoperhaps had not believed the young men.

  'Sir Patie, my hawk!' entreated Jean. 'She did but pounce on yon uncougsome bird, and these bloodthirsty grasping loons would have wrung herneck.'

  'She took her knife to me,' growled the wounded man, who had risen tohis feet, and showed bleeding fingers.

  'Ay, for meddling with a royal falcon,' broke in Jean. ''Tis thou, falseloon, whose craig should be raxed.'

  Happily this was an unknown tongue to the foresters, and Sir Patrickgravely silenced her.

  'Whist, lady, brawls consort not with your rank. Gang back doucely to myleddy.'

  'But Skywing! he has her jesses,' said the girl, but in a lower tone, asthough rebuked.

  'Sir ranger,' said Sir Patrick courteously, 'I trust you will letthe young demoiselle have her hawk. It was loosed in ignorance andheedlessness, no doubt, but I trow it is the rule in England, aselsewhere, that ladies of the blood royal are not bound by forest laws.'

  'Sir, if we had known,' said the ranger, who was evidently of gentleblood, as he took his foot off the jesses, and Jean now allowed David toremount her.

  'But my Lord Duke is very heedful of his bustards, and when Roger therewent to seize the bird, my young lady was over-ready with her knife.'

  'Who would not be for thee, my bird?' murmured Jean.

  'And yonder big fellow came plunging down and up with his sword--so ashe was nigh on being the death of poor Roger again for doing his duty.If such be the ways of you Scots, sir, they be not English ways under myLord Duke, that is to say, and if I let the lady and her hawk go, forestlaw must have its due on the young man there--I must have him up toFotheringay to abide the Duke's pleasure.'

  'Heed me not, Sir Patrick!' exclaimed Geordie. 'I would not have thoseof your meinie brought into jeopardy for my cause.'

  David was plucking his father's mantle to suggest who George was, whichin fact Sir Patrick might suspect enough to be conscious of the fullawkwardness of the position, and to abandon the youth was impossible.Though it was not likely that the Duke of York would hang him if awareof his rank, he might be detained as a hostage or put to heavy ransom,or he might never be brought to the Duke's presence at all, but be putto death by some truculent underling, incredulous of a Scotsman's tale,if indeed he were not too proud to tell it. Anyway, Sir Patrick feltbound to stand by him.

  'Good sir,' said he to the forester, 'will it content thee if we all gowith thee to thy Duke? The two Scottish princesses are of his kin, andnear of blood to King Henry, whom they are about to visit at Windsor. Iam on a mission thither on affairs of state, but I shall be willing tomake my excuses to him for any misdemeanour committed on his lands by myfollowers.'

  The forester was consenting, when George cried--

  'I'll have no hindrance to your journey on my account, Sir Patrick. Letme answer for myself.'

  'Foolish laddie,' said the knight. 'Father Romuald and I were only nowconferring as to paying the Duke a visit on our way. Sir forester, weshall be beholden to you for guiding us.'

  He further inquired into the ranger's hurts, and salved them with apiece of gold, while David thought proper to observe to George--

  'So much for thy devoir to thy princess! It was for Skywing's craig shecared, never thine.'

  George turned a deaf ear to the insinuation. He was allowed free handsand his own horse, which was perhaps well for the Englishmen, for RinganRaefoot, running by his stirrup, showed him a long knife, and said witha grin--

  'Ready for the first who daurs to lay hands on the Master! Gin I couldhave come up in time, the loon had never risen from the ground.'

  George endeavoured in vain to represent how much worse this would havemade their condition.

  Sir Patrick, joining the ladies, informed them of the necessity ofturning aside to Fotheringay, which he had done not very willingly,being ignorant of the character of the Duke of York, except as one ofthe war party against Fra
nce and Scotland, whereas the Beauforts werefor peace. As a vigorous governor of Normandy, he had not commendedhim self to one whose sympathies were French. Lady Drummond, however,remembered that his wife, Cicely Nevil, the Rose of Raby, was youngersister to that Ralf Nevil who had married the friend of her youth, AliceMontagu, now Countess of Salisbury in her own right.

  Sir Patrick did not let Jean escape a rebuke.

  'So, lady, you see what perils to brave men you maids can cause by alittle heedlessness.'

  'I never asked Geordie to put his finger in,' returned Jean saucily.'I could have brought off Skywing for myself without such a clamjamfrieafter me.'

  But Eleanor and Annis agreed that it was as good as a ballad, and oughtto be sung in one, only Jean would have to figure as the 'dour lassie.'For she continued to aver, by turns, that Geordie need never havemeddled, and that of course it was his bounden duty to stand by hisKing's sister, and that she owed him no thanks. If he were hanged for ithe had run his craig into the noose.

  So she tossed her proud head, and toyed with her falcon, as all rode ontheir way to Fotheringay, with Geordie in the midst of the rangers.

  It was so many years since there had been serious war in England,that the castles of the interior were far less of fortresses than ofmagnificent abodes for the baronage, who had just then attained theirfullest splendour. It may be observed that the Wars of the Roses werefor the most part fought out in battles, not by sieges. Thus Fotheringayhad spread out into a huge pile, which crowned the hill above, with astrong inner court and lofty donjon tower indeed, and with mightywalls, but with buildings for retainers all round, reaching down tothe beautiful newly-built octagon-towered church; and with a great parkstretching for miles, for all kinds of sport.

  'All this enclosed! Yet they make sic a wark about their bustards, asthey ca' them,' muttered Jean.

  The forester had sent a messenger forward to inform the Duke of Yorkof his capture. The consequence was that the cavalcade had no soonercrossed the first drawbridge under the great gateway of the castle,where the banner of Plantagenet was displayed, than before it were seena goodly company, in the glittering and gorgeous robes of the fifteenthcentury.

  There was no doubt of welcome. Foremost was a graceful, slenderly-madegentleman about thirty years old, in rich azure and gold, who doffed hiscap of maintenance, turned up with fur, and with long ends, and, bowinglow, declared himself delighted that the princesses of Scotland, hisgood cousins, should honour his poor dwelling.

  He gave his hand to assist Jean to alight, and an equally gorgeous butmuch younger gentleman in the same manner waited on Eleanor. A tall,grizzled, sunburnt figure received Lady Drummond with recognition onboth sides, and the words, 'My wife is fain to see you, my honouredlady: is this your daughter?' with a sign to a tall youth, who tookAnnis from her horse. Dame Lilias heard with joy that the Countess ofSalisbury was actually in the castle, and in a few moments more she wasin the great hall, in the arms of the sweet Countess Alice of her youth,who, middle-aged as she was, with all her youthful impulsiveness had notwaited for the grand and formal greeting bestowed on the princesses byher stately young sister-in-law, the Duchess of York.

  There seemed to be a perfect crowd of richly-dressed nobles, ladies,children; and though the Lady Joanna held her head up in full state, andkept her eye on her sister to make her do the same, their bewildermentwas great; and when they had been conducted to a splendid chamber,within that allotted to the Drummond ladies, tapestry-hung, and withsilver toilette apparatus, to prepare for supper, Jean dropped upon ahigh-backed chair, and insisted that Dame Lilias should explain to herexactly who each one was.

  'That slight, dark-eyed carle who took me off my horse was the Duke ofYork, of course,' said she. 'My certie, a bonnie Scot would make shortwork of him, bones and all! And it would scarce be worth while to give aclout to the sickly lad that took Elleen down.'

  'Hush, Jean,' said Eleanor; 'some one called him King! Was he King Harryhimself?'

  'Oh no,' said Dame Lilias, smiling; 'only King Harry of the Isle ofWight--a bit place about the bigness of Arran; but it pleased theEnglish King to crown him and give him a ring, and bestow on him therealm in a kind of sport. He is, in sooth, Harry Beauchamp, Earl ofWarwick, and was bred up as the King's chief comrade and playfellow.'

  'And what brings him here?'

  'So far as I can yet understand, the family and kin have gathered forthe marriage of his sister, the Lady Anne--the red-cheeked maiden in therose-coloured kirtle--to the young Sir Richard Nevil, the same who gavehis hand to thee, Annis--the son of my Lord of Salisbury.'

  'That was the old knight who led thee in, mother,' said Annis. 'Did yousay he was brother to the Duchess?'

  'Even so. There were fifteen or twenty Nevils of Raby--he was one of theeldest, she one of the youngest. Their mother was a Beaufort, aunt toyours.'

  'Oh, I shall never unravel them!' exclaimed Eleanor, spreading out herhands in bewilderment.

  Lady Drummond laughed, having come to the time of life when ladies enjoygenealogies.

  'It will be enough,' she said, 'to remember that almost all are, likeyourselves, grandchildren or great-grandchildren to King Edward ofWindsor.'

  Jean, however, wanted to know which were nearest to herself, and whichwere noblest. The first question Lady Drummond said she could hardlyanswer; perhaps the Earl of Salisbury and the Duchess, but the Duke wascertainly noblest by birth, having a double descent from King Edward,and in the male line.

  'Was not his father put to death by this King's father?' asked Eleanor.

  'Ay, the Earl of Cambridge, for a foul plot. I have heard my Lord ofSalisbury speak of it; but this young man was of tender years, andKing Harry of Monmouth did not bear malice, but let him succeed to thedukedom when his uncle was killed in the Battle of Agincourt.'

  'They have not spirit here to keep up a feud,' said Jean.

  'My good brother--ay, and your father, Jeanie--were wont to say theywere too Christian to hand on a feud,' observed Dame Lilias, at whichJean tossed her head, and said--

  'That may suit such a carpet-knight as yonder Duke. He is not so tall asElleen there, nor as his own Duchess.'

  'I do not like the Duchess,' said Annis; 'she looks as if she scornedthe very ground she walks on.'

  'She is wondrous bonnie, though,' said Eleanor; 'and so was the bairnieby her side.'

  In some degree Jean changed her opinion of the Duke, in consequence,perhaps, of the very marked attention that he showed her when the supperwas spread. She had never been so made to feel what it was to be at oncea king's daughter and a beauty; and at the most magnificent banquet shehad ever known.

  Durham had afforded a great advance on Scottish festivities; but in theabsence of its Prince Bishop, another Nevil, it had lacked much of whatwas to be found at Fotheringay in the full blossoming of the splendoursof the princely nobility of England, just ere the decimation that theywere to perpetrate on one another.

  The hall itself was vast, and newly finished in the rich culmination ofGothic work, with a fan tracery-vaulted roof, a triumph of architecture,each stalactite glowing with a shield or a badge of England, France,Mortimer, and Nevil--lion or lily, falcon and fetterlock, white rose anddun cow, all and many others--likewise shining in the stained glass ofthe great windows.

  The high table was loaded with gold and silver plate, and Venice glasseseven more precious; there were carpets under the feet of the noblerguests, and even the second and third tables were spread with morerichness and refinement than ever the sisters of James II had knownin their native land. In a gallery above, the Duke's musicians and thechoristers of his chapel were ready to enliven the meal; and as thechief guest, the Lady Joanna of Scotland was handed to her place by theDuke of York, who, as she now perceived, though small in stature, waseminently handsome and graceful, and conversed with her, not as a merechild, but as a fair lady of full years.

  Eleanor, who sat on his other hand beside the Earl of Salisbury, wasrather provoked with her sister for
never asking after the fate of herchampion; but was reassured by seeing his red head towering among thenumerous squires and other retainers of the second rank. It certainlywas not his proper place, but it was plain that he was not in disgrace;and in fact the whole affair had been treated as a mere pardonableblunder of the rangers. The superior one was sitting next to the youngScot, making good cheer with him. Grand as the whole seemed to thetravellers, it was not an exceptional banquet; indeed, the Duchessapologised for its simplicity, since she had been taken at unawares,evidently considering it as the ordinary family meal. There was ampleprovision, served up in by no means an unrefined manner, even to themultitudinous servants and retainers of the various trains; and beyond,on the steps and in the court, were a swarm of pilgrims, friars, poor,and beggars of all kinds, waiting for the fragments.

  It was a wet evening, and when the tables were drawn the guests devotedthemselves to various amusements. Lord Salisbury challenged Sir Patrickto a game at chess, Lady Salisbury and Dame Lilias wished for nothingbetter than to converse over old times at Middleham Castle; but theyounger people began with dancing, the Duke, who was only thirty yearsold, leading out the elder Scottish princess, and the young King of theIsle of Wight the stately and beautiful Duchess Cicely. Eleanor,who knew she did not excel in anything that required grace, and was,besides, a good deal fatigued, would fain have excused herself whenpaired with the young Richard Nevil; but there was a masterful lookabout him that somewhat daunted her, and she obeyed his summons, thoughwithout acquitting herself with anything approaching to the dexterityof her sister, who, with quite as little practice as herself, dancedwell--by quickness of eye and foot, and that natural elegance ofmovement which belongs to symmetry.

  The dance was a wreathing in and out of the couples, including allof rank to dance together, and growing more and more animated, tillexcitement took the place of weariness; and Eleanor's pale cheeks wereflushed, her eyes glowing, when the Duchess's signal closed the dance.

  Music was then called for, and several of the princely company sang tothe lute; Jean, pleased to show there was something in which her sisterexcelled, and gratified at some recollections that floated up of herfather's skill in minstrelsy, insisted on sending for Eleanor's harp.

  'Oh, Jean, not now; I canna,' murmured Eleanor, who had been sittingwith fixed eyes, as though in a dream.

  But the Duke and other nobles came and pressed her, and Jean whisperedto her not to show herself a fule body, and disgrace herself beforethe English, setting the harp before her and attending to the strings.Eleanor's fingers then played over them in a dreamy, fitful way, thatmade the old Earl raise his head and say--

  'That twang carries me back to King Harry's tent, and the good old timewhen an Englishman's sword was respected.'

  ''Tis the very harp,' said Sir Patrick; 'ay, and the very tune--'

  'Come, Elleen, begin. What gars thee loiter in that doited way?'insisted Jean. 'Come, "Up atween."'

  And, led by her sister in spite of herself, almost, as it were, withoutvolition, Eleanor's sweet pathetic voice sang--

  'Up atween yon twa hill-sides, lass, Where I and my true love wont to be, A' the warld shall never ken, lass, What my true love said to me.

  'Owre muckle blinking blindeth the ee, lass, Owre muckle thinking changeth the mind, Sair is the life I've led for thee, lass, Farewell warld, for it's a' at an end.'

  Her voice had been giving way through the last verse, and in the finalline, with a helpless wail of the harp, she hid her face, and sank backwith a strange choked agony.

  'Why, Elleen! Elleen, how now?' cried Jean. 'Cousin Lilias, come!'

  Lady Drummond was already at her side, and the Duchess and LadySalisbury proffering essences and cordials, the gentlemen offeringsupport; but in a moment or two Eleanor recovered enough to cling toLady Drummond, muttering--

  'Oh, take me awa', take me awa'!'

  And hushing the scolding which Jean was commencing by way of bracing,and rejecting all the kind offers of service, Dame Lilias led the girlaway, leaving Jean to make excuses and explanations about her sisterbeing but 'silly' since they had lost their mother, and the tune mindingher of home and of her father.

  When, with only Annis following, the chambers had been reached, Eleanorlet herself sink on a cushion, hiding her face against her friend, andsobbing hysterically--

  'Oh, take me awa', take me awa'! It's all blood and horror!'

  'My bairnie, my dearie! You are over-weary--'tis but a dreamy fancy.Look up! All is safe; none can harm you here.'

  With soothings, and with some of the wine on the table, Lady Drummondsucceeded in calming the girl, and, with Annis's assistance, sheundressed her and placed her in the bed.

  'Oh, do not gang! Leave me not,' she entreated. And as the lady sat byher, holding her hand, she spoke, 'It was all dim before me as the musicplayed, and--'

  'Thou wast sair forefaughten, dearie.'

  Eleanor went on--

  'And then as I touched mine harp, all, all seemed to swim in a mist ofblood and horror. There was the old Earl and the young bridegroom, andmany and many more of them, with gaping wounds and deathly faces--allbut the young King of the Isle of Wight and his shroud, his shroud,Cousin Lily, it was up to his breast; and the ladies' faces that wereso blithe, they were all weeping, ghastly, and writhen; and they werewhirling round a great sea of blood right in the middle of the hall, andI could--I could bear it no longer.'

  Lady Drummond controlled herself, and for the sake both of the sobbingprincess and of her own shuddering daughter said that this terriblevision came of the fatigue of the day, and the exhaustion and excitementthat had followed. She also knew that on poor Eleanor that fearfulEastern's Eve had left an indelible impression, recurring in anystate of weakness or fever. She scarcely marvelled at the strange andfrightful fancies, except that she believed enough in second-sight tobe concerned at the mention of the shroud enfolding the young Beauchamp,who bore the fanciful title of the King of the Isle of Wight.

  For the present, however, she applied herself to the comforting ofEleanor with tender words and murmured prayers, and never left her tillshe had slept and wakened again, her full self, upon Jean coming up tobed at nine o'clock--a very late hour--escorted by sundry of the ladiesto inquire for the patient.

  Jean was still excited, but she was, with all her faults, very fond ofher sister, and obeyed Lady Drummond in being as quiet as possible.She seemed to take it as a matter of course that Elleen should have herstrange whims.

  'Mother used to beat her for them,' she said, 'but Nurse Ankaret saidthat made her worse, and we kept them secret as much as we could. Tothink of her having them before all that English folk! But she will beall right the morn.'

  This proved true; after the night's rest Eleanor rose in the morningas if nothing had disturbed her, and met her hosts as if no visionshad hung around them. It was well, for Sir Patrick had accepted theinvitation courteously given by the Duke of York to join the greatcavalcade with which he, with his brothers-in-law, the Earl of Salisburyand Bishop of Durham, and the Earl of Warwick, alias the King of theIsle of Wight, were on their way to the Parliament that was summonedanent the King's marriage. The unwilling knights of the shire andburgesses of Northampton who would have to assist in the money granthad asked his protection; and all were to start early on the Monday--forSunday was carefully observed as a holiday, and the whole party in alltheir splendours attended high mass in the beautiful church.

  After time had been given for the ensuing meal, all the yeomen and youngmen of the neighbourhood came up to the great outer court of the castle,where there was ample space for sports and military exercises, shootingwith the long and cross bow, riding at the quintain and the like, incompetitions with the grooms and men-at-arms attached to the retinue ofthe various great men; and the wives, daughters, and sweethearts cameup to watch them. For the most successful there were prizes of leatherncoats, bows, knives, and the like, and refreshments of barley-bread,b
eef, and very small beer, served round with a liberal hand by thetroops of servants bearing the falcon and fetterlock badge, and all wasdone not merely in sport but very much in earnest, in the hope on thepart of the Duke, and all who were esteemed patriotic, that these youthsmight serve in retaining at least, if not in recovering, the Englishconquests.

  Those of gentle blood abstained from their warlike exercises on this dayof the week, but they looked on from the broad walk in the thickness ofthe massive walls; the Duke with his two beautiful little boys by hisside, the young Earls of March and Rutland, handsome fair children, inwhom the hereditary blue eyes and fair complexion of the Plantagenetsrecurred, and who bade fair to surpass their father in stature. Theirmother was by right and custom to distribute the prizes, but she alwaysdisliked doing so, and either excused herself, or reached them outwith the ungracious demeanour that had won for her the muttered nameof 'Proud Cis'. On this day she had avoided the task on the plea of theoccupations caused by her approaching journey, and the Duke put in herplace his elder boy and his little cousin, Lady Anne Beauchamp, thechild of the young King of the Isle of Wight--a short-lived littledelicate being, but very fair and pretty, so that the two childrentogether upon a stone chair, cushioned with red velvet, were like afairy king and queen, and there was many a murmur of admiration, and'Bless their little hearts' or 'their sweet faces,' as Anne's daintyfingers handled the prizes, big bows or knives, arrows or belts, andEdward had a smile and appropriate speech for each, such as 'Shoot at aFrenchman's breast next time, Bob'; 'There's a knife to cut up the deerwith, Will,' and the like amenities, at which his father nodded, wellpleased to see the arts of popularity coming to him by nature.Sir Patrick watched with grave eyes, as he thought of his belovedsovereign's desire to see his people thus practised in arms withoutperil of feud and violence to one another.

  Jean looked on, eager to see some of the Scots of their own escortexcel the English pock-puddings, but though Dandie and two or threemore contended, the habits were too unfamiliar for them to win any greatdistinction, and George Douglas did not come forward; the competitionwas not for men of gentle blood, and success would have brought himforward in a manner it was desirable to avoid. There was a good deal ofmerry talk between Jean and the hosts, enemies though she regardedthem. The Duke of York was evidently much struck with her beauty andliveliness, and he asked Sir Patrick in private whether there wereany betrothal or contract in consequence of which he was taking her toFrance.

  'None,' said Sir Patrick, 'it is merely to be with her sister, theDauphiness.'

  'Then,' said young Richard Nevil, who was standing by him, and seemed tohave instigated the question, 'there would be no hindrance supposing shestruck the King's fancy.'

  'The King is contracted,' said Sir Patrick.

  'Half contracted! but to the beggarly daughter of a Frenchman who callshimself king of half-a-dozen realms without an acre in any of them. Itis not gone so far but that it might be thrown over if he had sense andspirit not to be led by the nose by the Cardinal and Suffolk.'

  'Hush-hush, Dick! this is dangerous matter,' said the Duke, and SirPatrick added--

  'These ladies are nieces to the Cardinal.'

  'That is well, and it would win the more readily consent--even thoughSuffolk and his shameful peace were thrown over,' eagerly said thefuture king-maker.

  'Gloucester would be willing,' added the Duke. 'He loved the damsel'sfather, and hateth the French alliance.'

  'I spoke with her,' added Nevil, 'and, red-hot little Scot as she is,she only lacks an English wedlock to make her as truly English, whichthis wench of Anjou can never be.'

  'She would give our meek King just the spring and force he needs,' saidthe Duke; 'but thou wilt hold thy peace, Sir Knight, and let no whisperreach the women-folk.'

  This Sir Patrick readily promised. He was considerably tickled by theidea of negotiating such an important affair for his young King and hisprotegee, feeling that the benefit to Scotland might outweigh any qualmsas to the disappointment to the French allies. Besides, if King Henry ofWindsor should think proper to fall in love with her, he could not helpit; he had not brought her away from home or to England with any suchpurpose; he had only to stand by and let things take their course, solong as the safety and honour of her, her brother, and the kingdomwere secure. So reasoned the canny Scot, but he held his tongue to hisLilias.