CHAPTER XXIII.
A spirit fit to start into an empire, And look the world to law. He, full of fraudful arts, This well-invented tale for truth imparts--Dryden.
We must now for a while change our place of action, and endeavour tocarry the mind of the reader from the sweeter and more tranquil scenesof Richmond Park, one of the most favoured residences of Henry theEighth, to York Place, the magnificent dwelling of that pampered childof fortune, Cardinal Wolsey.
His progress, his power, and his fall; his arrogance, his splendour,and his vices; all the many changes that may be traced to hisgovernment of the realm, or to his artifices with the king, and ofwhich to this day we feel the influence--changes which, thoughbeneficial in their effects, like many of our most excellentinstitutions, originated in petty passions or egregious errors; inshort, all his vast faults and his vast powers have so often calledthe eyes of the world to the proud prelate, that he seems hardly oneof those remote beings which the cloud of past centuries has shadowedwith misty indistinctness. His image, as well as his history, isfamiliar to the mind's eye. He lives, he moves before us, starting outfrom the picture of the times of old to claim acquaintance with ourmemory, as something more tangibly real than the vague, undefinedforms that float upon the sea of history. Such skilful pens also havedepicted him in every scene and situation, that it becomes almostunnecessary, and, perhaps, somewhat presumptuous, to say moreconcerning him than that which strictly interweaves itself with theweb of this tale.
York Place, which, as every one knows, was afterwards calledWhitehall, though it offered an appearance very different from thebuilding at present known by that name, stood nearly on the same spotwhich it now occupies. Surrounded by splendid gardens, and ornamentedwith all that the arts of the day could produce of luxurious orelegant, so far from yielding in any degree to the various residencesof the king, it surpassed them all in almost every respect. Thecombination, also, of ecclesiastical pomp with the magnificence of alay prince, created in the courts and round the gates of the palace acontinual scene of glitter and brilliancy. Whether it were deputationsfrom abbeys and monasteries, the visits of other bishops, theattendance of noblemen and gentlemen come to pay their court, the haltof military leaders with their armed bands, prepared for service andwaiting for command, still bustle, activity, and splendour were alwaysto be met with in the open space before the building on every morningwhen the fineness of the weather permitted such display. There were tobe seen passing to and fro the rich embroidered robes of the clergy,in all the hues of green and purple and of gold; the splendid liveriesof the cardinal's own attendants, and of the followers of hisvisitors; the white dresses of the soldiery, traversed with the broadred cross of England; the arms of the leaders, and the many-colouredhousings of the horses; while above the crowd was often displayed thehigh-wrought silver cross or the glittering crook of bishop or mitredabbot, borne amongst banners, and pennons, and fluttering plumes.
It was on a morning when the scene before the palace was full of morethan usual life, owing to the arrival of the cardinal the night beforefrom York (which was, be it remarked, one day earlier than he had beenexpected), that Sir Payan Wileton rode through the crowd to the grandentrance. He was followed by ten armed attendants, the foremost ofwhom were Cornishmen, of that egregious stature which acquired fortheir countrymen in the olden time the reputation of sprouting outinto giants. These two Sir Payan had sent for expressly from hisestates in Cornwall, not without a purpose; and now, having dressedthem in splendid liveries, he gave orders for his train to halt atsuch a distance as to be plainly visible from the windows of thepalace.
Dismounting from his horse at the door, he gave him to his page, andentering the hall passed through the crowd of attendants with which itwas tenanted, and mounted the grand staircase with that sort of slow,determined step which is almost always to be found in persons whosereliance on their own powers of mind is founded in long experience andsuccess.
The number of people whom he met running up and down the widestaircase, with various papers in their hands, announced at once themultitude of affairs which the cardinal was obliged to despatch afterhis long absence at York, and foreshowed some difficulty in obtainingan audience. Here was a sandalled monk, slowly descending from whatseemed some disappointed suit; there, a light courtier hurryingforward in fear of being too late; now, the glad look of a satisfiedapplicant; now, the vexed mien of one whose expectations were delayed;while, ever between, the familiar servants of the place glided to andfro on their various errands, passing coldly amongst that crowd ofthrobbing bosoms as beings apart, whose feelings had no community withthe hopes, the fears, the wishes, and all the thronged emotions whichwere then excited or destroyed.
Following one of these into the waiting-hall at the top of thestaircase, Sir Payan found it crowded almost to suffocation withpersons staying for an audience, either from Wolsey himself or fromone of his secretaries. Above their heads appeared a misty atmosphereof condensed human breath, and all around was heard the busy buzz ofmany voices murmuring in eager but whispered consultation.
The hall was a large chamber, cutting directly through the centre ofthe house, with a high Gothic window at each end, to the right andleft of which, at both extremities, appeared a door. The one oppositeto that by which Sir Payan entered stood open, though a small woodenbar prevented the entrance of the crowd into the room beyond, whichwas occupied by six or seven ordinary clerks, busily employed infilling up various papers, and speaking from time to time to thepersons who presented themselves on business. At each of the doors, atthe other end of the room, stood an usher with his rod and a marshalwith his staff, opposing the ingress of any but such as the highestrank or personal interest entitled to enter beyond the porch of thetemple; for there the right-hand path led to the privy chambers ofWolsey himself, and the left to the offices of his principalsecretaries. It was round this left-hand door that the crowd took itsdensest aspect; for many, who were hopeless of obtaining a hearingfrom the cardinal himself, fondly flattered themselves that theirplaint or petition might reach his ear through his secretary, if,either by bribe or flattery, they could secure the interest of thesecondary great man.
Winding in and out through the meandering path left by the variousgroups in the hall, Sir Payan approached the door which led to thecardinal's apartments, and demanded admission. There was something inhis tone which implied right, and the usher said, if he would give hisname he would inquire, though an applicant who had remained longunlistened to audibly murmured his indignation, and claimed to beadmitted first.
Sir Payan turned to look at him while the usher was gone, and at onceencountered the eyes of a near neighbour of his own, who, under hisfostering care, had dwindled from a rich landholder to a poor farmer,and thence had sunk to beggary, while his possessions, one by one, hadmerged into the property of Sir Payan, which, like the Norwegianwhirlpool, seemed to absorb everything that came within its vortex. Nosooner did the old man's eyes fall upon his countenance, and beholdwho it was that kept him from the light, than, giving way to his rage,he clasped his hands, and, stamping upon the ground, cursed him beforeall the multitude, with the energy of despair.
Sir Payan cast upon him a cold look, mingled of pity and contempt, andpassed through the door, which the usher now held open for hisentrance. The room at which he arrived was a large ante-room, occupiedby various groups of lords and gentlemen attached to the household ofthe cardinal, who, prouder than royalty ever needs to be, would atleast be equal with the king himself in the rank of his variousofficers. These were scattered about in various parts of the roomtalking with the select visitors whom the ushers had permitted toenter, or staring vacantly at the figures on the rich tapestry bywhich they were surrounded, wherein, though scrutinised a thousandtimes, they still found sufficient to occupy their idle eyes, whilewaiting till the minister should go forth. With almost every one hesaw Sir Payan was in some degree acquainted; but in their bow orgratulation, as he passed, there was none of
the frank, cordialwelcome of regard or esteem: it was simply the acknowledgment of arich, powerful man, whose only title to reverence was in his influenceand his wealth.
About the centre stood Lord Darby, and to him Sir Payan approachedwith a "Good morrow, my good lord!"
"Sir!" said the earl, looking him steadfastly in the face for amoment; then, turning on his heel, he walked to the other end of theroom. Nothing abashed, Sir Payan kept his ground, tracing the younglord with his eyes, in which no very amicable expression was visible;and then, after a moment, he approached a small table, near the doorof the minister's cabinet, whereat was seated a clerk, whom, as it sohappened, Sir Payan himself had recommended to the cardinal.
"Can his grace be spoken with, Master Taylor?" demanded the knight, asthe clerk bowed low at his approach.
"He is busied, honoured sir," replied the man, with a second profoundreverence, "in conversation with the prior of his abbey of St. Albanson matters of deep importance----" A loud laugh from the chamberwithin reached Sir Payan's ear, through the door by which he stood;but he took no notice of this comment on the important business whichWolsey was transacting, and the clerk went on. "I am sorry to say,sir, also, that there are five or six persons of distinction who havewaited on his grace's leisure for near an hour."
"But the cardinal sent for me," said Sir Payan; "and besides----" Andhe whispered something to his former servant which seemed convincing.In a minute or two after, the door opened, and the prior of St. Albansissued forth. Rustling up to the table in his rich silk robes, he saidto the clerk, in a low and important voice, "His grace commands you tosend in the person of the highest rank that came next."
"Well, holy father," said the clerk rising; and then, appearing tosearch the room with his eyes, he waited till the prior was gone,when, turning to Sir Payan, he added in a loud voice, "Sir PayanWileton, the lord cardinal is waiting for you."
The knight instantly proceeded to the door, which was opened by one ofthe ushers who stood near; and passing on, he found himself directlyin the presence of the cardinal, who, seated in a chair of state,waited the next comer, with a countenance prepared to yield a good orbad reception, according to his rank and purpose.
He was, at that time, not apparently much above fifty-five; tall,erect, and dignified; with a face replete with thought and mind, and acarriage at once haughty and graceful. His dark eye was piercing andfull of fire; and lurking about the corners of his mouth might be seenthe lines of unbounded pride, striven against and repressed, but stillexisting with undiminished force. The robes of bright scarlet satin,which he wore without any other relief than a tippet of rich sables,made his cheek look almost ashy pale; and the shade of the broad hatwhich covered his brow gave an air of pensive solemnity to hisfeatures, which, joined with the fire of his eye, the pride of hislip, and the knowledge of his power, invested his presence with animpressiveness not devoid of awe.
As Sir Payan entered, Wolsey's brow gradually contracted into a frown;and fixing his glance full upon him, he let him stand for severalmoments before he motioned him to a seat. At length, however, hespoke.
"Sir Payan Wileton," said he, "I have sent for you to speak on manysubjects that may not be very agreeable for you to discuss. However,as they concern the welfare of society and the fame of the king'sjustice, they must be inquired into; nor must any man's rank or wealthshelter him from the even eye of equity."
"Your grace hardly does me justice," replied Sir Payan, resolving tokeep to vague professions till he had ascertained, as far as possible,what was passing in Wolsey's mind. "Had I been unwilling to discussany part of my conduct with your grace, should I have importuned yourgates every day for the last week in hopes of your return? and if, onthe most minute investigation, I found any of my acts which would notmeet the eye of equity itself, should I voluntarily present myselfbefore the Cardinal of York?"
"You were sent for, Sir Payan," replied Wolsey. "Last night themessenger set out."
"By your grace's pardon," said the knight, "if you but calculate, youwill find that I could not have come from a far part of Kent in soshort a space of time. It is true that I have received the packet, butthat was only by sending last night to know if you had then returned.My servant met your messenger at the very door, and received theletter intended to be sent to Chilham. But every day, as I have toldyour grace, since I have risen from a bed of sickness, where a crossaccident had thrown me, I have not ceased to seek your presence onbusiness of some import."
Wolsey, long accustomed to encounter every species of wily art, wasnot to be led away by the exhibition of a new subject; and pursuinghis first object, he proceeded:--
"We will speak of that anon. At present, it is my task to inform you,sir, that various are the complaints, petitions, and accusationsagainst you, that daily reach my hand. And many prayers have beenaddressed to his royal grace the king, by the very best and noblest ofthe land, to induce him to re-establish the house of Fitzbernard inthe lordship and estates of Chilham Castle. All these things haveled me to inquire--as indeed is but my duty as chancellor of thiskingdom--into the justice of your title to these estates, when I findthat the case stands thus: the Earl of Fitzbernard, in the last yearof his late majesty's reign, was accused by those two infamouscommissioners, Empson and Dudley, and was, upon the premises,condemned to the enormous fine of one hundred thousand pounds, underthe penal statutes; and, as a still further punishment for some wordslightly spoken, the king, then upon his death-bed, recalled thestewardship of Dover Castle, which involved, as was supposed, theforfeiture of Chilham Castle and its lands. Was it not so?"
"It was so far, your grace," replied Sir Payan; "but allow me toobserve----"
"Hush!" said the cardinal, waving his hand; "hear me, and then yourobservations, if you please. Such being the case, as I have said, andthe wide barony of Chilham supposed to be vacant, the stewardship ofDover Castle, with those estates annexed, is bestowed upon you: how,or why, is not very apparent, though the cause alleged is servicerendered in the time of Perkyn Warbeck. Now it appears, from somedocuments placed in the hands of Lord Dacre, of the north, by the Dukeof Buckingham, that Chilham Castle was granted to Fulbert de Douvre,at a period much subsequent to the grant of the stewardship of Dover;that it was totally distinct, and held by tenure of chivalry, in feeand unalienable, except under attainder or by breach of tenure. Whatsay you now, Sir Payan?"
"Why, simply this, your grace," replied Sir Payan, boldly: "that thegood Duke of Buckingham--the noble Duke of Buckingham, as the commonscall him--seems to be nearly as much my good friend as he is to theking, his royal master, or to your grace;" and, knitting his brow andclenching his teeth, he fixed his eyes upon the rose in his shoe,remaining sternly silent, to let what he had said, and what he hadimplied, work fully on the mind of the cardinal.
Wolsey's hatred to the princely Buckingham was well known, and SirPayan easily understood that hatred to be the most maddening kind,called jealousy; so that not a word he had said but was meted to thetaste and appetite of the cardinal with a skilful hand. The minister'scheek flushed while the knight spoke; and when, after implying bytone, and look, and manner, that he could say more, Sir Payan suddenlystopped, and bent his eyes upon the ground, Wolsey had nearly burstforth in that impatient strain of question which would have betrayedthe deep anxiety he felt to snatch at any accusation against his noblerival. Checking himself, however, the politic churchman paused, andseemed to wait for some further reply, till, finding that Sir Payanstill maintained his silent attitude of thought, he said--
"Have you any reason, sir, to suppose that the duke is ill-disposedtowards his grace the king? Of myself I speak not. His envy touches menot personally; but where danger shows itself towards our royalmaster, it becomes a duty to inquire. Your insinuations, Sir Payan,were strong: you should be strongly able to support them."
"I know not, your grace," replied the knight, with the unhesitatingdaring that characterised all his actions, "how far a man's loyaltyshould properly extend; but this I
know, that I am not the tame andquiet dog that fawns upon the hand that snatches its mess from beforeits muzzle. What I know, I know; what I suspect remains to be proved;but neither knowledge, nor suspicion, nor the clue to guide judgmentthrough the labyrinth of wicked plotting, will I furnish to any one,with the prospect before my eyes of being deprived, for no earthlyfault, of my rightful property, granted to me by the free will of ournoble king Henry the Seventh."
An ominous frown gathered upon Wolsey's brow, and fain would he havepossessed the thunder to strike dead the bold man who dared thus towithhold the information that he sought, and oppose him withconditions in the plenitude of his power.
"You are gifted with a strange hardihood, sir," cried he, in a voice,the slight trembling of whose tone told the boiling of the soulwithin. "Did you ever hear of misprision of treason--say?"
"I have, your grace," replied Sir Payan, whose bold and determinedspirit was not made to quail even before that of Wolsey. Acting,however, coolly and shrewdly, he was moved by no heat as was thecardinal; and though calculating exactly the strength of his position,he knew that it was far from his interest to create an enemy in thepowerful minister, who, sooner or later, would find means to avengehimself. At the same time, he saw that he must make his undisturbedpossession of Chilham Castle the price of any information he couldgive, or that he might both yield his secret and lose his land. "Ihave heard, your grace," he said, "of misprision of treason, but Iknow not how such a thing can affect me. First, treason must beproved; then it must be shown that it was concealed with fullknowledge thereof. Doubts and suspicions, your grace knows, are notwithin the meaning of the law."
Sir Payan paused, and Wolsey remained in silence, as if almostdisdaining to reply. The knight clearly saw what was passing in hismind, and continued, after an affectation of thought, to give theappearance of a sudden return of affectionate submission to what hewas about to say.
"But why, your grace, why," cried he, "cast away from you one of yourmost faithful servants? Why must it be, when I have waited at yourdoor day after day, to give you some information, much for the state'sand for your grace's benefit to know, that the very first time I amadmitted to your presence, I find my zeal checked and my affectioncooled by an express intention to deprive me of my estates?"
"Nay, Sir Payan," said Wolsey, glad of an opportunity of yielding,without compromising either pride or dignity, "no such intention wasexpressed. You have mistaken entirely: I only urged these reasons,that you might know what had been urged to me; and I was about to putit to you what I could do if the young Lord Darnley came over to thiscountry and claimed these estates; for, probably, the old earl willnot have energy enough to make the endeavour. What could I do, I say?"
"Let him proceed by due course of law, my lord," replied Sir Payan,the calculation in whose mind was somewhat to the following effect,though passing more rapidly than it could when embodied inwords:--"Before his claim is made in law (thought he) he shall tasteof the axe of the Tower, or I am mistaken. However, I will not letWolsey know who he is, for then my interest in the business would beapparent, and I could claim no high recompense for ridding myself ofmy own enemy. No; I will crush him as Osborne Maurice, a perfectstranger to me: then will my zeal seem great. Pride will prevent himfrom owning his name till the death; and if he does own it, his cominghere concealed, joined to the crimes that I will find means to proveagainst him, shall but make him appear the blacker." Such was thetrain of thought that passed instantly through his mind; while, withan affectation of candour, he replied, "Let him proceed by due courseof law, my lord; then, if he succeed, let him have it, in God's name.All I ask is, that your grace will not moot the question; for one wordof the great Wolsey throws more weight into one or other of the scalesof justice than all the favour of a dozen kings."
Wolsey was flattered, but not deceived. However, it was his part notto see, at least for the time; and though he very well understood thatSir Payan would take special means to prevent the young lord fromseeking justice by law, he replied, "All that I could evercontemplate, Sir Payan, was to do equal right to any one that shouldbring his cause before me. It is not for me to seek out occasions formen to plunge themselves in law; and be you very sure, that unless thematter be brought before me in the most regular manner, I shall neveragitate the question, which is one that, even should it be discussed,would involve many, many difficulties. From what I say now you maysee, sir, that your haste has hurried you into unnecessary disrespect,which, heaven knows, I feel not as regards my person, but as ittouches my office I am bound to reprove you."
"Most deeply do I deplore it," replied Sir Payan, "if I have beenguilty of any disrespect to one whom I reverence more than any otheron the earth; but I think that the information which I have tocommunicate will at least be some atonement. I have then, my lord," heproceeded, lowering his voice--"I have then discovered, by a mostsingular and happy chance, as dangerous a conspiracy as ever stainedthe annals of any European kingdom; and I hold in my hand the mostirrefragable proofs thereof, together with the names of the principalpersons, the testimony of several witnesses which bears upon thesubject, and various letters which are in themselves conviction. Iwill now, with your grace's leave----"
At that moment one of the ushers opened the door of the cabinet, andwith a profound reverence informed Wolsey that the Earl of Knollesdesired to know when he could have an audience, as he had been waitinglong without.
"Ha! What!" exclaimed the cardinal, his eye flashing, and his lipquivering with anger at the interruption; "am I to be disturbed eachmoment? Tell him I cannot see him; I am busy; I am engaged; occupiedon more important things. Were he a prince I would not see him. Andyou, beware how you intrude again! Now, Sir Payan, speak on. This ismatter of moment indeed. What was the object of this conspiracy?"
"Nothing less, I can conceive, my lord, than to make the commonsdissatisfied with the government under which they live; to incite themto various insurrections, and, if possible, into general rebellion,under favour of which my Lord Duke of Buckingham might find his way tothe throne: at least, there are fixed his eyes."
"Ha, ha! my proud Lord of Buckingham!" cried Wolsey, with a triumphantsmile. "What! hast thou wired thine own feet? But you say you haveproofs, Sir Payan. We must have full proof; but you are not a man totread on unsteady ground: your proofs are sure?" he reiterated, with afeverish sort of anxiety to ascertain that his rival was fully in hispower.
"In the first place, read that, my lord," said Sir Payan, putting inhis hand one out of a bundle of papers that he had brought with him."That is the first step."
"Why, what is this?" cried Wolsey. "This is but 'the deposition ofHenry Wilson, of Pencriton, in the duchy of Cornwall, who maketh oathand saith, that the prisoner Osborne Maurice, _alias_ Sir OsborneMaurice, is the man whom he saw at the head of the Cornish miners ininsurrection, on the 3rd of January last, and who incited them, bycries and words, to burn and destroy all that came in their way, tillthey should have satisfaction in everything that they required; butfor the further acts of the said Osborne Maurice, he, the deponent,begs leave to refer to his former depositions, taken before Sir JohnBalham, knight, of the city of Penzance, in Cornwall; only upon oathhe declareth, that the said Osborne Maurice, now present, is theringleader or conductor of the mob mentioned in his former deposition,in witness whereof----' Ha!" said Wolsey, thoughtfully; "there is one,I find, of this same name, Sir Osborne Maurice, who, during myabsence, has crept into the king's favour. Surely it may be the same!"
"On my life, my lord, the very same!" replied Sir Payan. "'Twas butthe morning before last, that, at the justs at Richmond, I saw himwith our noble king, his chosen companion, with the Duke of Suffolk,to keep the barriers against all comers; and there he ruffled itamongst the best, swimming, as 'twere, on the top of the wave."
"Then will we lay this on his head," said Wolsey, placing hisforefinger emphatically on the paper, "and that shall sink him. Buthow does this touch the Duke of Buckingham?"
"Your gr
ace shall hear," replied Sir Payan. "This Wilson, who madethe deposition you there hold, came to me one day in the last ofMarch--you must know he is my bailiff--and told me a sad story of hiswoeful plight; how in a cottage hard by he had met the man whom he hadseen burn down his father's house in Cornwall, and who was thereemployed in the same devilish attempt to instigate the peasants torevolt. Wilson, it seems, accused him; whereon, being a most powerfuland atrocious traitor, he struck the bailiff to the ground, and lefthim for dead. This being sworn on oath before me, as a magistrate, Isent forth and had the villain arrested, after a most desperatestruggle. With the intention of sending him to Cornwall, I had himcommitted to the strong room of the manor; but somehow, during thenight, he contrived to escape through a window, and made his way tothe court----"
"But still, Sir Payan," interrupted the cardinal, "this does notimplicate the Duke of Buckingham, who, as I have good reason tobelieve, is but a scant lover of our royal king, and towards myselfbears most inveterate malice. I have heard many a rumour of his plotsand schemes. But it is proof, Sir Payan; it is proof that we musthave."
"And proof your grace shall have," replied the knight, counting thehatred that Wolsey bore towards the duke as his own gain, and enjoyingthe inveteracy of his malice not only with the abstract satisfactionof fellow-feeling, but as a fisherman delights to see the voraciousspring of the trout at the fly he casts before his snout. "Let yourgrace listen to me; for my story, though somewhat long, isnevertheless conclusive. This Osborne Maurice, in his escape, leftbehind him the leathern horsebags with which he rode when he wastaken, and, in my capacity as magistrate, I made free to openthem----"
"You did right, you did right!" cried Wolsey, almost forgetting hisdignity in eagerness. "What did you find? Say, Sir Payan! What did youfind?"
"I found several letters from his grace the Duke of Buckingham,"answered Sir Payan, "being principally written to bring this SirOsborne Maurice to the knowledge of persons about the court,recommending him as one that _may be trusted_. Your grace will markthose words, '_may be trusted_.' But amongst the rest was one whichshows for _what_ he may be trusted. Behold it here, my lord! You knowthe duke's hand and style;" and he presented the letter to Wolsey.
The cardinal snatched it eagerly; but remembering himself, he turnedmore composedly to the address, and read, "'Sir John Morton.' Ah!"cried he. "So! an old Perkyn Warbeckist! the last I believealive. But for the contents: '_Trusty and well-beloved friend!_'--um--um--um--'_everlasting friendship!_--of course, one traitorloves another. But let us see. How! the daring villain! '_toinform you, that before another year arrive, my head shall be thehighest in the realm, at least so promises Sir Osborne Maurice, whosepromises, as you know, are not such as fail!_' Ha, Sir Payan! ha! Didyou read it? This is treason, is it not? By my life, the duke's ownhand! But what says he farther? Ha! '_The butcher's cur Wolsey haslong wanted the lash, and he shall have it soon_.' See you how rank ishis malice! We will read no farther. This condemns him; and as for SirOsborne Maurice, to-night he shall have his lodging in the Tower."
"Though other proof might be deemed superfluous," said Sir Payan,"yet, my lord, when I came to the part where he calls your grace abutcher's cur" (and the knight dwelt somewhat maliciously on thewords), "my zeal and affection for your grace's service made meinstantly resolve to track this Osborne Maurice on his journey, afterescaping from prison. In person I could not do it, for a fall from myhorse laid me in my bed for three weeks. But I took care that itshould be done, and found that he returned straight to my Lord ofBuckingham's; from thence he went to the Benedictine Abbey atCanterbury, where he seems to have been sent to escort a Lady KatrineBulmer to the court. Then, passing by Rochester, he had an interviewwith the chief of the rioters at Hilham Green. Your grace will be atno loss to know how, and by whom, that memorable tumult wasinstigated. There he pretended to save a good simple priest from themob; but, by the clergyman's own account, they gave him up at a singleword from this Maurice, which shows what was his influence with them;for they were, the moment before, about to hang the man they yieldedso quietly after. The priest is at my lodging here. This was thetraitor's last adventure before arriving at the court, where, eitherby some sorcery or other damned invention, he has bewitched the betterjudgment of the king, so that none is so well loved as he. Perhaps hewaits but an opportunity to put his dagger in our royal master."
"Heaven forbid!" cried Wolsey. "We will instantly set off forRichmond. Without there! Let the barge be prepared directly: SirPayan, you have saved the realm, and may claim a high reward."
"The reward I most affect," replied the knight, in a well-acted toneof moderation, "is simply to remain in quiet possession of that whichI have. Life is now wearing with me, your grace, and I covet notgreater charges than those which I enjoy. Let me but be sure of them."
"Rest tranquil on that point," replied Wolsey. "I will look thereto."
"There are, indeed," continued Sir Payan, "some hereditary estates,which, though they should be mine, are held by another; and on thatscore I may claim your grace's assistance before I endeavour torecover them; for I put my whole actions in your grace's hands, that,like a mere machine, I may move but as you please."
"What estates are these, Sir Payan?" demanded Wolsey, with somethingvery nearly approaching to a smile, at the peculiar line of theknight's cupidity. "If they be truly yours, doubt not but you shallhave them."
"They are those estates in Cornwall," replied the knight, "lately heldby my cousin, the Earl de Grey, which have since passed to Constance,his daughter; though, by all custom of succession, according to theirtenure, I hold them to pass directly in the male line."
"Nay, nay, Sir Payan," cried Wolsey, with a curl of his lip; "this istoo much! Constance de Grey is my ward, and shall not lose her estateslightly. She is, indeed," added he, thoughtfully, and speaking tohimself more than to the knight, though not a word was lost to hisattentive ears; "she is, indeed, somewhat wilful. That letter, inwhich she refuses to wed her cousin, though calm and humble, was fullof rank obstinacy. The fear of losing her estates, however----. But weshall see. Sir Payan, I must hold my opinion suspended till such timeas you lay before me some proofs of the matter. And now tell me: thinkyou, in this plot of Buckingham's, is there any other person of highrank implicated? Indeed there must be, for he would never undertakesuch daring schemes without some sure abettors. Sir Payan, these lordsare all too proud. We must find means to humble them. It may be aswell to let this arch-traitor Buckingham proceed for some short time,till we find who are his accomplices. But, for this Sir OsborneMaurice, he shall to the Tower to-night, for therein is the king'slife affected."
"Might it not be better, in your grace's good judgment," said SirPayan, "to take the duke's person at once? For assuredly, as soon ashe hears that his minion is committed, he will become alarmed, andfind security in some foreign land."
"He shall be so well watched," said Wolsey, closing his hand tightly,as if he grasped his enemy, "that were he no larger than a meagreermine, he should not escape me. No; we must let him condemn himselffull surely. But, Sir Payan, are you prepared to accompany me toRichmond?"
"If by any chance this Maurice were to see me with your grace,"replied Sir Payan, "he would lose no time, but fly instantly, beforeyou had speech of his grace the king. If you think it necessary, mylord, that I should attend you, it may be well to arrest the traitorimmediately on your arrival."
"Nay, nay, nay!" said Wolsey, shaking his head. "You know not Henry,Sir Payan; he is hard and difficult to rule, and, were I to arrest SirOsborne, would take for insult what was meant as a service. But youshall not go: there is, indeed, no need. These papers are quiteenough, with the testimony of the priest. Let him be sent downpost-haste to Richmond after me."
"He shall, my lord," replied Sir Payan. "But one word more, yourgrace. If the Duke of Buckingham be condemned, his estates, of course,are forfeited to the crown. Near me lies his beautiful manor of theHill, in Kent, and I know your grace will not forget your faithfulserva
nts." Wolsey paused, and Sir Payan went on. "To show howconstantly present your grace is to all my thoughts, you told me sometime ago that you desired to have two of the tallest men in the realmfor porters of the gate. Cast your eyes through that window, my lord,and I think you will see two that no prince in Europe can match in hishall."
No service that Sir Payan could have rendered, either to the state orto himself, would have given half so much pleasure to Wolsey as thepossession of the two gigantic Cornishmen we have before mentioned;for, amongst all his weaknesses, his passion for having tall men abouthim was one of the most conspicuous. As soon as for a moment or two hehad considered them attentively through the window, and compared themwith all the pigmy-looking race around, he thanked Sir Payan withinfinite graciousness for his care; and hinted, though he did notpromise, that Buckingham's manor in Kent might be the reward. While heyet spoke, a gentleman-usher entered, to announce that the barge wasready; and, giving some more directions to Sir Payan, in regard tosending the priest, Wolsey rose to proceed on his journey. Theprocession, without which he never moved, was already arranged in theante-chamber, consisting of marshals and gentlemen-ushers, with twostout priests bearing the immense silver crosses of his archbishopricand his legacy; and the moment he moved towards the door, the usherspressed forward, crying, "On before, my lords and masters! on before!Make way for the lord cardinal! Make way for my lord's grace! Onbefore! on before!"
Wolsey immediately followed, and proceeded to his barge; while SirPayan returned to his own house in Westminster, and despatched thepriest to Richmond, after which he sat himself down to write. What hedid write consisted of but a few lines, but they were of some import;and as soon as they were finished, he entrusted them to one of hisshrewdest and most assured servants, with many a long direction, andmany an injunction to speed.
Darnley; or, The Field of the Cloth of Gold Page 24
