Long Will

by Florence Converse

  CHAPTER IV

  A Boon

  When Parliament was come to an end in Gloucester, and on the nightbefore the day that the court set out for London, Stephen craved aboon of his King.

  Richard sat on his bed's edge in his shirt, humming a tune and pickingit out on his lute with:--

  "Went it not this way, Etienne?" or "Was 't thus?" or "A plague on 't,but I 'll have it yet!" And then would he begin again.

  The squire was setting forth the morrow's riding-coat and gloves andfurred hood by the light of a cresset, for the start was early. A potof charcoal stood by the window. The night was cold, and Richard, ashe played on the lute, tucked his bare feet under him.

  "My lord," said Stephen, on a sudden, coming across to the bed andkneeling down, "I 've a grace to ask of thee."

  "Thou!" cried Richard, throwing away the lute. "Here 's a marvel!" andhe leaned out and flung his arms, linked, around Stephen's neck, andso peered, mischievous, into his face. "The others are at it all daylong, but when hast thou asked aught of me? Be sure 't is granted orever 't is spoke, sweet friend."

  "Natheless, my heart doth not so assure me, sweet lord," made answerStephen, very sad. "Belike I 'm froward, but I do believe thou lovestme dear, and for that cause 't will go hard with thee or thou grantthis boon."

  Richard wrinkled his brow. "What a riddle is here?" quoth he. "I 'lllove thee, and yet prove a churl to thy desire?"

  Stephen looked steadily beyond him for a moment before he began:--

  "Is it fitting, _beau sire_, that one so young and fair andhelpless as Calote should go alone through this realm on perilous andhaply hopeless business?"

  "Do not many so?" asked Richard uneasily.

  "They are but seldom young, my lord, nor never so fair. They go to ashrine to do penance for sins; they are old in the world's ways."

  There was a pause, then Richard broke forth hotly:--

  "If 't is not good that she go forth on this emprise, if 't is nottrue that the common folk is strong enough to put down the nobles,wherefore didst not thou prevent me when I gave consent? Thou artolder than I. Is this thy loyaute, to let thy King play the fool?"

  "Oh, my lord!" said Stephen, and hung his head; but not for shame ofhimself. Presently he looked up into the eyes of the sulky boy andspoke on: "I do not know if the people be strong enough and wiseenough to do this thing. I do not know the people. I have lived amongcourtiers since I was a little lad and my father died. But if they dofail, my lord, the world will but wag as it did afore. Thine is notthe blame; thou art too young to bear blame for 't; 't is the peoplethat will be blamed."

  Richard flushed slowly, and looked away.

  "But I will not be laughed at neither," he said, with quivering lip."I wish I had not given her my hunting-horn."

  "Trust me, sire," said Stephen, "if the people do ever rise up inEngland against the oppression of the nobles, 't will be no laughingmatter,--even though in the end it fail. And mayhap Calote knoweththat she speaketh,--mayhap 't will win."

  "I 'll not tell any one I gave her leave to use the King's name,"half-whispered Richard, shamefaced and scarlet; "nor must thou."

  "Of surety, no; 't would spoil all, to tell," Stephen assented, but hewas so filled with his own thoughts and how he should ask the boon hehad to ask, that he failed to see how the King was ashamed.

  Richard gave a quick sigh of relief. "Nay,--we 'll not tell," herepeated. "'T would not be wise for Calote's sake to tell." Yet hischeeks did not cool.

  "Oh, my lord, and my King, this that I would ask of thee is likewisefor Calote's sake," Stephen cried. "Thou dost know well, Calote is mylove and my lady. I have tried, but I cannot love no other damosel.And now she is going out to strange peril alone. My soul crieth shameto me, sire; shame, for that I stay behind a-living easefully. Is thisknightly demeanour? Is this to be a defender of ladies?"

  Richard's hand closed tight upon Stephen's collar, as if he felt himslipping away and would keep him.

  "My liege," the squire pleaded, "my lord, let me go follow my love!"

  The King sat up very straight on the bed; there was fright in hiseyes. It seemed almost he could not understand that he heard.

  "And leave me?" he said at last, in amaze.

  Stephen made no answer, and, after astonishment, anger came intoRichard's face.

  "A peasant maid!" he cried. "How am I scorned!" And then, "I hatethee!--I hate, hate, hate thee!"

  He pushed the squire from him. He tore his linen shirt open at thethroat and sprang to the floor.

  "Hear me!" Stephen begged.

  "Nay; I 've heard enough!" screamed Richard, his teeth chattering'twixt wrath and cold. "Go, an thou wilt! Go now; now! I 'll takeRobert de Vere to my love. I 'll make him thrice an earl and give himmy jewelled buckle. He 'll not leave me so cruel."

  "In pity, sire," protested Stephen; "the night is cold; thou 'lt takean ague standing on the stone floor."

  "And if I do, what 's that to thee? Thou dost not love me!" shoutedthe King, his voice breaking in a sob. "Nay, do not touch me! I 'llnot to bed,--I 'll not to bed! I 'll stand all night and shiver. Letbe!--Ah, woe, harrow!"

  He beat at Stephen with both hands, wildly, when the squire would havewrapped a mantle round him.

  "My lord, thy gentlemen will hear."

  "I hope they may!" cried Richard, hoarse with screaming. "Mayhap I 'lldie of the cold, and then they 'll behead thee for a traitor, andquarter thee, and hang thee up over London Bridge,--and I 'll laugh."

  Thereupon he did, noisily, with tears.

  Stephen looked on him for a space in silence and then went out at thedoor and left him alone.

  When he came again, bringing wine, spiced and honeyed, in a cup,Richard's mood had changed. He lay on the bed, weeping.

  "Here 's good clarre will warm thee, sire,--drink!" coaxed Stephengently.

  "No!" said the King, strangling in his sobs, "No!--take away!" andstruck the cup out of Stephen's hand so that the wine flew all about.Then on a sudden he was in the squire's arms, shivering, clinging,crying:--

  "Etienne, Etienne, methought thou didst love me!"

  "And do I not so, my lord?"

  "Then stay with me. I am the King. What 's a peasant maid?"

  "What 's knighthood, my lord, what 's honour?"

  "Is no knighthood in following after a peasant," sobbed Richard."Such-like maids be for pleasure of the noblesse. Robert de Vere toldme."

  "I do never pattern my demeanour after his Lordship of Oxford," saidStephen coldly.

  "When I was a little lad, they sang me tales of how all the world didlove to do the bidding of the King," said Richard; "but it is nottrue. O me, it is not true! I hate Calote!"

  "Yet 't is she that puts body and soul in peril to do thee service."

  "I 'd liefer she stayed at home, and wedded thee peaceable."

  "God wot, so would I!" Stephen exclaimed. "But she will not."

  "I 'll bid her stay," cried Richard; "and I 'm the King."

  "The King is a truthteller, my lord; he may not give his word andtake it again. The King is pattern to his people and servant likewise;doth not the Vision say this?"

  "I 'm sick of the Vision," whined Richard, and clung more close to hissquire. "Thou 'lt not go! Say thou 'lt not go! How alone shall I be,and unloved, if thou go. Etienne, I want thee to stay with me."

  "And how alone will she be, that peasant maid that I have chose tomake my lady," said Stephen. "Think, sire! a kingdom is no plaything.Be sure Christ Jesus, of all men the Judge, will not let thee off ofthy devoir to the least man or maid born in England,--when the lastday cometh. And when thou and Calote stand face to face, and the greatangel a-blowing his trump, and all the world rising up fearful out ofits grave, wilt thou say to the Judge: 'Christ, King of Heaven, thiswas a maid that went out to do me service. My kingdom was full of aquarrel 'twixt peasant and noblesse, 'twixt monk and friar, andmerchant. There was no man but had a grievance against his
brother.And this maid said, I will bring love out of this hate, and truth outof this lying; the King and the peasant shall kiss the kiss of peace.'And wilt thou say again, 'I had knights and nobles in my court toguard me well and to do my will, O Christ! but I would not give one ofall these to go follow the maid and shield her from peril in herlonely pilgrimage. I would not let go even a squire to be herbody-guard. If she hath come to harm, it is by me, and in my cause.'"

  "No, no, no!" whispered Richard very piteous; "I will not do so." Hehad ceased his weeping, but now and again a sob shook him. "Etienne, Iwill be a true King. Ah, who will learn me to be true when thou artgone!"

  "The wisest men in the kingdom are at thy bidding, King Richard,"Stephen answered him gravely.

  "But they are too wise," the boy complained. "They weary me. I lovethee best."

  "Natheless, 't were scarce fitting that Master John Wyclif, or LordPercy of Northumberland, be sent to follow Calote in my stead," quothStephen, half-mischievous.

  The King laughed a tearful little laugh. But presently he said:--

  "Calote flouteth thee. She will not let thee go with her."

  "She shall not know," Stephen answered. "Will my lord hear what Ipurpose? 'T is no wonted adventure."

  "Yea," Richard agreed. "But do thou first cover me in bed, and give mea tippet; I 'm cold. Is there any of the clarre left in the cup?"

  Thereupon Stephen covered him and gave him the cup to drink, and aftertold him what he purposed to do,--a long tale.

  "O Etienne, what a true lover art thou!" sighed Richard. "But I shallmiss thee sore."

  "And I 'll lodge in poor men's cots, and take them to be my friend,and learn if they be strong enough to overcome the nobles."

  "I 'd rather be thou than the King," Richard said wistfully. "Here 'sa merry adventure, and 't is dull in the Palace at Westminster. Tellon!"

  So they spoke peacefully together, and at the last the King fell fastasleep, and Stephen kissed his hand very soft, and left him.