Darnley; or, The Field of the Cloth of Gold

by G. P. R. James

  CHAPTER XXXIX.

  Let some o' the guard be ready. _Cran_.--For me? Must I go like a traitor then?--Shakspere.

  And where was Osborne Darnley all this while?

  Wait a little, dearly-beloved, and you shall hear more. It was not yetfive o'clock in the morning, and a sweet morning it was; the sun hadjust risen, and, spreading all over the eastern sky, there was that,soft, lustrous tint of early light that surely ought to be calledhope-colour, it promises so many bright moments for the coming day. Itwas not yet five o'clock in the morning when the western sally-port ofthe castle of Ardres was opened by a little page not higher than mythumb, as the old story-book goes, who looked cautiously about, firstto the right and then to the left, to see if any one was abroad andstirring; but the only person who had risen was the matutinal sun, sothat the page could see nothing but the blue sky, and the greenfields, and the grey stone walls of the castle, whose great age, likethe antiquity of a beggar's coat, had plastered them all over withpatches of green and yellow lichens. Having looked to his heart'scontent, he next listened; but no sound could he hear save the lightsinging of the lark and the loud snoring of the sentinel on theneighbouring bastion, who, with head propped on his halberd, keptanything but silent watch, while the vigilant sun, looking over thewall, spied out all the weaknesses of the place; and now, havinglistened as well as looked, the boy withdrew once more within thewalls. He left, however, the door open, and in a few minutes twohorsemen rode forth, each wrapped up in a large Spanish cloak, with achaperon, at Fleurange calls it, or, in other words, an immense hood,which covered the whole head and disguised the person completely.

  As soon as they were fairly out, the page who had accompanied them sofar returned and closed the sally-port, and the two travellerscantered lightly over the green to a little wood that lay before thecastle. When they were fully concealed by the trees, among which theywound along, following the sinuosities of a little sandy road, whereintwo, but only two, might ride abreast, they both, as by commonconsent, threw back their hoods, and, letting their cloaks fall upontheir horses' cruppers, discovered the two powerful forms of the goodknight Osborne Lord Darnley, and Francis the First King of France.

  "Well, my friend and my deliverer," said the king, as they rode on,"'twill go hard but I will restore you to your king's favour; and evenshould he remain inexorable, which I will not believe, you must makeFrance your country. We will try to win your fair Constance for youfrom that suspicious cardinal, of which fear not, for I know a certainway to gain him to anything; and then I see no cause why, in so fair aland as France, and favoured by her king, you may not be as happy asin that little seabound spot called England."

  Before proceeding farther, however, it may be necessary to say a fewwords concerning the events which had occurred since the knight'scourage and skill had saved the king's life from Shoenvelt and hisadventurers. One may well imagine what anxiety had reigned amongst themonarch's followers in the forest near Lillers, when they found thatFrancis, after having separated from their party, did not rejoin themon the track appointed for the hunt. Such occurrences, however, havingseveral times happened before, and the king having always returned insafety, they concluded that he and Count William of Firstenberg musthave taken the other road to Aire, and that they would find him thereon their arrival. When they did reach that town, their inquiriesimmediately discovered that the king was missing.

  The news spread rapidly to the whole court, and soon reached the earsof his mother the Duchess of Angoul?me, who became almost frantic onhearing it, giving him up for lost from that moment, as she had goodreasons to believe that Count William entertained designs against hislife. Her active spirit it was that first discovered the treachery ofthe Burgundian, which she had instantly communicated to the king; butthe generous mind of Francis refused all credit to the news, and hecontinued his confidence towards Firstenberg without the slightestalteration, till at length more certain proofs of his designs wereobtained, which induced the monarch to act with that fearlessmagnanimity which we have seen him display towards his treacherousfavourite in the forest of Lillers.

  Immediately that the king's absence was known, bands of horsemen weresent out in various directions to obtain news of him, but in vain.Convinced, by the account of the hunters, that he had quitted thewood, and that if he were therein they could not find him by night,they searched in every other place than that in which they were likelyto be successful; so that, the whole night that Francis spent sleepingtranquilly in the charbonier's cottage, his guards were out towardsPern?s, Fruges, and St. Pol, searching for him without success. Whenmorning came, however, fresh parties were sent off to examine everypart of the forest, and it was one of these that came up to the spotnot long after the defeat of Shoenvelt and his companions.

  The joy occasioned by the king's safe return was not a littleheightened by the danger he had undergone; and every one to whom hislife was precious contended who should do most honour to his gallantdeliverer. Francis himself knew not what recompense to offer SirOsborne for the signal service he had rendered him; and, with thedelicacy of a truly generous mind, he exacted from him a particularaccount of his whole life, that he might adapt the gift or honour hewished to confer exactly to the situation of the knight. Darnleyunderstood the motive of the noble-hearted monarch, and told him allwithout reserve; and Francis, now furnished with the best means ofshowing his gratitude, resolved not to lose the opportunity.

  Thus, for the few days that preceded the meeting between Guisnes andArdres, the king highly distinguished the knight, made him manymagnificent presents, called a chapter of the order of St. Michael,and had him installed in form; but knowing the jealous nature of hisown nobles, he offered him no employment in his service; and even whenthe constable de Bourbon, who knew and appreciated Darnley's militarytalents, proposed to the king to give him a company of men-at-arms, asa reward for the great service he had rendered to the whole nation,Francis negatived it at once, saying openly that the Lord Darnley wasbut a visiter at the court of France.

  Having premised thus much, we will now take up the travellers again atthe moment of their entering into the wood near Ardres, through whichthey passed, conversing over the various circumstances of SirOsborne's situation.

  "It is strange!" said Francis, as the knight repeated the manner ofhis dismissal from the English court; "I do not comprehend it. It isimpossible that your going there under a feigned name, to win KingHenry's favour, should be construed as a crime and made matter of suchstrong accusation against you." After musing for a moment, heproceeded: "Do not think I would imply, good knight, that you could bereally guilty of any higher offence against your king; but be you suresomething has been laid to your charge more than you imagine."

  "On my honour as a knight," replied Darnley, "I have accused myself toyour highness of the worst crimes upon my conscience, as if your gracewere my confessor; though I will own that it appears to me also moststrange and inexplicable. I have heard, indeed, that the lord cardinalnever suffers any one to be too near the king's regard; and that if hesees any especial favour shown, he is sure to find some accusationagainst his object; but I can hardly believe that so great a man woulddebase himself to be a false accuser."

  "I know not! I know not!" answered Francis, quickly: "there is no oneso jealous as a favourite; and what will not jealousy do? My diademagainst a Spanish crown,"[18] he continued laughingly, referring tohis contention with the Emperor Charles, "Henry of England knows youunder no other name than that of Sir Osborne Maurice. However, I willbe polite, and know the whole before I speak. Do you put your honourin my hands? and will you abide by what I shall undertake for you?"

  "Most willingly, your highness," replied the knight: "whatever you sayfor me, that will I maintain, on horseback or on foot, with sword orlance, as long as my life do hold."

  Thus conversing they rode on, following the windings of the woody lanein which they were, till the forest, skirting on to the north-west ofArdres, opened out
upon the plain of Guisnes. As soon as the castleand town were in sight, the French monarch put his horse into a quickpace, saying with a smile to Sir Osborne, "Your prudent Wolsey and mygood brother Henry will be much surprised to see me in their castlealone, after all their grave precautions. By heaven! did kinglydignity imply suspicion of all the world like theirs, I would throwaway my crown and feed my mother's sheep."

  The night after the first meeting of the kings, Henry had retired tosleep in the fortress, rather than in his palace without the walls;part of which, comprising his private apartments, had been foundinsecure, from the hurry in which it had been built. Of thiscircumstance the King of France had been informed by some of hiscourt, who had passed their evening at Guisnes, and it was thereforeto the castle that he turned his rein.

  Passing amidst the tents, in most of which Somnus still heldundisturbed dominion, Francis and Sir Osborne galloped up to thedrawbridge, on which an early party of the guard were sunningthemselves in the morning light; some looking idly over into the moat,some gazing with half-closed eyes towards the sky; some playing at anantique and classical game with mutton-bones, while their captainstood by the portcullis, rubbing his hands and enjoying the sweetnessof the morning.

  No sooner did Francis perceive them, than, drawing his sword, hegalloped in amongst them, crying, "_Rendez vous, messieurs! rendezvous! La place est ? moi!_"

  At first, the archers scattered back confused, and some had theirhands on their short swords; but several, who had seen the king theday before, almost instantly recognised him, and the cry becamegeneral of "The King of France! the King of France!" In the mean time,Francis rode up to the captain, and, putting his sword's point to theofficer's throat, "Yield!" cried he, "rescue or no rescue, or you area dead man!"

  "I yield, I yield, my lord!" cried the captain, entering into theking's humour, and bending his knee. "Rescue or no rescue, I yieldmyself your grace's prisoner."

  "A castle soon taken!" cried Francis, turning to Sir Osborne. "Now,"added he to the officer, "since the place is mine, lead me to thechamber of my good brother the King of England."

  "His grace is at present asleep," replied the captain, hesitating. "Ifyour highness will repose yourself in the great hall, he shall beinformed instantly of your presence."

  "No, no," cried the king; "show me his chamber. Nothing will serve mebut that I will sound his _r?veillez_ myself. Come, Darnley!" andspringing from his horse he followed the officer, who, now forced toobey, led him into the castle, and up the grand staircase towards theking's bed-chamber.

  All was silence as they went. Henry and the whole court had revelledlate the night before, so that few even of the serving-men had thoughtfit to quit their truckle-beds so early in the morning. A single page,however, was to be seen as they entered a long corridor, which took upone whole side of the large square tower in the centre of the castle.He was standing before a door at the farther extremity, and to him thecaptain pointed. "The king's ante-room, your highness, is where yousee that page," said he; "and let me beg your gracious forgiveness ifI leave you here, for indeed I dare conduct you no farther."

  "Go, go!" cried the king, good-humouredly. "I will find it now myself.You, Darnley, stay here. I doubt not soon to send for you with goodnews."

  With his sword still drawn in his hand, the king now advanced to thepage, who, seeing a stranger come forward with so menacing an air,might have entertained some fears, had he not beheld the captain ofthe guard conduct him thither; not at all knowing the person ofFrancis, however, as he had not been present at the meeting of thekings, he closed the door of the ante-room, which had before been openbehind him, and placing himself in the way, prepared to oppose theentrance of any one.

  "Which is the chamber of my brother the King of England?" demandedFrancis, as he came up; but the page, not understanding a word ofFrench, only shook his head, keeping his back, at the same time,firmly against the door, thinking that it was some wild French lord,who knew not what was due to royalty.

  "It is the King of France," said Sir Osborne, advancing, as he beheldthe page's embarrassment. "Let him pass. It is the King of France."

  The page stared and hesitated; but Francis, taking him by theshoulder, twisted him round as he had been a child, and, opening thedoor, passed in. The page immediately closed it again, putting himselfbefore the knight, whose face he now remembered. "I must not let yourworship in," said he, thinking Sir Osborne wished to follow themonarch. "The King of France, of course, I dared not stop, but it isas much as my life is worth to suffer any one else to pass."

  "I seek not to enter, good Master Snell," said the knight. "Unless hisgrace sends for me, I shall not intrude myself on his royal presence."This said, with busy thoughts he began to walk up and down thegallery; and the page, presently after, retiring into theante-chamber, left him for the time to his own contemplations.

  Much subject had the knight for thought, though it was of that naturethat profiteth not; for little signified it, as it seemed, how muchsoever he took counsel with himself: his fate was in the hands ofothers, and beyond his power to influence or determine.

  He could not help musing, however, over all the turns which hisfortune had taken within the brief space of the last three months; andstrangely mingled were his sensations, on finding himself, at the endof the review, standing there, once more within the precincts of thecourt of England, from which he had been driven hardly fifteen daysbefore. A thousand collateral ideas also presented themselves to hismind, suggesting a thousand doubts and fears for those he loved best.What had become of Constance de Grey? he asked himself; and thoughnever had her image for one moment left his mind in his wanderings,though it had been his companion in the journey, his solace in hiswaking hours, his dream by night, and his object in every thought andhope, still there was something in being amongst those objects, andnear those beings, amidst whom he had been accustomed to see her, thatrendered his anxiety about her more impatient; and he would have givenno small sum for the presence of one of the newsmongers of the court:those empty idle beings always to be found near the presence ofprinces, who, like scavengers' carts, make themselves the commonreceptacles for all the drift of the palace, and, hurrying on from oneto another, at once receive and spatter forth the rakings of allkennels as they go along.

  Time, ever long to those who wait, seemed doubly long to Sir Osborne,to whom so much was in suspense; and so little bustle and activity didthere seem in the castle, that he began to fancy its denizens musthave had their eyes touched with Hermes' wand to make them sleep sosoundly. He walked up and down the corridor, he gazed out of thewindow into the court-yard, he listened for every opening door. But itwas all in vain; no one came. Could Francis have forgotten him? heasked himself, at last; and then he thought how quickly from the lightmemories of the great pass away the sorrows or the welfare of theirfellow-creatures; how hardly they can remember, and how happily theycan forget. But no, he would not believe it. If ever man was renownedfor that best and rarest quality of a great man, a heedful remembranceof those who served him, a thoughtful care of those he esteemed, itwas Francis of France; and Darnley would not believe that in his casehe had forgotten.

  Still no one came. Though the various noises and the bustle he beganto hear in distant parts of the building announced that the world wasmore awake than when he arrived, yet the corridor in which he wasseemed more deserted than ever.

  At first it was nearly vacant, a few listless soldiers being its onlyoccupants; but soon there was opened on the other side a door whichcommunicated with a sort of barrack, situated near the chapel in theinner ballium, and from this proceeded a troop of soldiers andofficers at arms, with one or two persons mingled amongst them thatSir Osborne imagined to be prisoners. The height at which he wasplaced above them prevented his perceiving whether this was certainlythe case, or seeing their faces; for all that he could discern was theforeshortened figures of the soldiers and sergeants-at-arms,distinguished from the others by their official habiliments; andpassing along, s
urrounded by the rest, some persons in darker attire,round whom the guard appeared to keep with vigilant care. An instantbrought them to the archway just beneath the spot where he stood, andthey were then lost to his sight.

  The castle clock struck seven; but so slowly did the hammer fall uponthe bell, he thought it would never have done. He now heard a sound ofmuch speaking not far off, and thought that surely it was Francistaking leave of the King of England; but suddenly it ceased, and allwas again silence. Taking patience to his aid, he recommenced hisperambulations; and for another quarter of an hour walked up and downthe corridor, hearing still, as he passed the door of the anteroom, alow and indistinct murmuring, which might be either the page speakingin a subdued tone to some person therein, or some other voicesconversing much more loudly in the chamber beyond. The knight'sfeelings were wound up to the highest pitch of impatience, whensuddenly a deep groan, and then a heavy fall, met his ear. He paused,listened, and could plainly distinguish a door within open, andvarious voices speaking quick and high, some in French, some inEnglish; but among them was to be heard distinctly the tongue of Henryand that of Francis, though what they said was not sufficientlyaudible to be comprehended. His curiosity, as may be conceived, wasnot a little excited; but, satisfied of the safety of the two kings,and fearful of being suspected of eaves-dropping if any one cameforth, he once more crossed his arms upon his breast, and began pacingbackwards and forwards as before.

  A few minutes more elapsed in silence; but at length, when he was atthe farther extremity of the corridor, he heard the door of theante-chamber open, and, turning round, perceived a sergeant-at-arms,followed by four halberdiers, come forth from within and advancetowards him. Sir Osborne turned and met them, when the guard drew upacross the passage, and the officer stepped forward. "Sir OsborneDarnley!" said he, "commonly called Lord Darnley, I arrest you forhigh treason, in the name of Henry the Eighth, King of England andFrance and Lord of Ireland, and charge you to surrender to hiswarrant."

  The astonishment of Sir Osborne may more easily be conceived thandescribed. The first appearance of the halberdiers had struck him asstrange, and their drawing up across his path might have been somewarning, but still he was not at all prepared.

  Trusting to the protection of the French king, who had virtuallyrendered himself responsible for his safety, he had never dreamed ofdanger; and for a moment or two he stood in silent surprise, till thesergeant demanded, "Do you surrender, my lord?"

  "Of course, of course!" replied the knight, "though I will own thatthis has fallen upon me unexpectedly. Pr'ythee, good sergeant, if thouknowest, tell me how this has come about, for to me it isinexplicable."

  "In truth, my lord, I Know nothing," replied the officer, "though Ibelieve that the whole arose from something that happened this morningin his grace's bed-chamber. I was sent for by the back staircase, andreceived orders to attach you here. It is an unpleasant duty, my lord,but one which we are too often called to perform: I can, therefore,but beg your forgiveness, and say that you must come with me."

  Sir Osborne followed in silence, meditating more than ever over hisstrange fate. His hopes had again been buoyed up, again to be castdown in a more cruel manner than before. There was not now a shade ofdoubt left: whatever he was accused of was aimed at him under his realname; and it was evident, from the unremitted persecution which hesuffered, that Wolsey, or whosoever it was that thus pursued him, wasresolved on accomplishing his destruction by all or any means.

  That Wolsey was the originator of the whole he could not doubt; andthe virulence of his jealousy was too well known to hope that justiceor clemency would be shown where his enmity had been incurred."However," thought the knight, "at last I can but die: I have fronteddeath a hundred times in the battle-field, and I will not shrink fromhim now." But to die as a traitor was bitter, he who had never beenaught but loyal and true; yet still his conscious innocence, hethought, would rob the block and axe of their worst horror; the proudknowledge that he had acted well in every relationship of life: to hisking, to his country, to those he loved. Then came the thought ofConstance de Grey, in all her summer beauty, and all her gentleloveliness, and all her sweet smiles: was he never to see them again?To be cut off from all those kind sympathies he had felt, to go downinto the cold dark grave where they could reach him never more--it wastoo much.

  While these thoughts were busy in his bosom, the sergeant-at-arms ledhim down the great staircase, and across the hall on the ground-floorof the castle; then, opening a door to the right, he entered into along narrow passage, but scantily lighted, that terminated in anotherspiral staircase, down which one of the soldiers, who had procured alamp in the hall, proceeded first to light them. Sir Osborne followedin silence, though his heart somewhat burned at the idea of beingcommitted to a dungeon. Arrived at the bottom of the steps, severaldoors presented themselves; and, seeing the sergeant examining a largebunch of keys, with whose various marks he did not seem very wellacquainted, the knight could not refrain from demanding, if it were bythe king's command that he was about to give him such a lodging.

  "No, my lord," replied the sergeant, "the king did not direct me toplace you in a dungeon; but I must secure your lordship's person tillsuch time as the horses are ready to convey you to Calais, and everyother place in the castle but that where I am going to put you isfull.

  "Well, sir," replied the knight, "only beware of what treatment you doshow me, lest you may be sorry for it hereafter."

  "Indeed, my lord," answered the man, with a good-humoured smile,rarely met with on the faces of his brethren, "I should be very sorryto make your lordship any way uncomfortable; and, if you will give meyour word of honour, as a knight, neither to escape nor to make anyattempt to escape while you are there, I will lock you up in thechapel of the new palace, which is empty enough, God knows, and forhalf-an-hour you will be as well there as anywhere else better than ina dungeon certainly."

  The knight readily gave his promise, and the sergeant, after examiningthe keys again, without better success than before, began to try them,one after another, upon a small iron door in the wall, saying thatthey could get out that way to the chapel. One of them at lengthfitted the lock, and two enormous bolts and an iron bar being removed,the door was swung back, giving egress from the body of the fortressinto a long lightsome passage, where the full sun shone through a longrow of windows on each side; while the gilded pillars and theenamelled ornaments round the windows, the rich arras hangings betweenthem, and the fine carpets spread over the floor, formed a strange andmagical contrast with the place they had just quitted, with its rough,damp stone walls, its dark and gloomy passages, and the massy rudenessof all its features.

  "This is the passage made for his grace, between the palace and thecastle," said the sergeant-at-arms. "Let us haste on, my lord, forfear he should chance to come along it."

  Proceeding onwards, catching every now and then a glance at the gayscene of tents without, as they passed the different windows, theofficer conducted his prisoner to the end of the passage, where theyfound a door on either hand; and, opening that to the left, he usheredthe knight into the beautiful little building that had beenconstructed as a temporary chapel for the court, while inhabiting thepalace before Guisnes.

  "I know, my lord," said the officer, "that I may trust to yourknightly word and promise not to make any attempt to escape; for Imust not even leave a guard at the door, lest his grace the kingshould pass, and find that I have put you here, which might move hisanger. I therefore leave you for a while, reposing full confidence inyour honour, and will take care to have the horses prepared, and beback again before the hour of mass." Thus saying, he ascertained thatthe other door was fastened, and left Sir Osborne in the chapel,taking heed, notwithstanding his professions of reliance, to turn thekey upon him as he went out.

  It matters little whether it be a palace or a dungeon wherein hepasses the few last hours of life, to the prisoner condemned to die,unless he possesses one of those happy spirits that can, by the ai
d ofexternal objects, abstract their thoughts from all that is painful intheir fate. If he do, indeed, the things around may give him somerelief. So, however, could not Darnley; and in point of any mentalease, he might just as well have been in the lowest dungeon of thecastle as in the splendid oratory where he now was. Yet feeling howfruitless was the contemplation of his situation, how little but painhe could derive from thought, and how unnerving to all his energieswas the memory of Constance de Grey, under the unhappy circumstancesof the present, he strove not to think; and gazed around him to diverthis mind from his wayward fortunes, by occupying it with theglittering things around.

  Indeed, as far as splendour went, that chapel might have vied withanything that ever was devised. In length it was about fifty feet;and, though built of wood, its architecture was in that style which weare accustomed to call Gothic. Nothing, however, of the mere wallsappeared, for from the roof to the ground it was hung with cloth ofgold, over which fell various festoons of silk, breaking the straightlines of the hangings. To the right and left, Sir Osborne remarked twomagnificent closets, appropriated, as he supposed, to the use of theking and queen, where the same costly stuff that lined the rest of thebuilding was further enriched by a thick embroidery of preciousstones; each also had its particular altar, loaded, besides the pix,the crucifix, and the candlesticks, with twelve large images of gold,and a crowd of other ornaments.

  Sir Osborne advanced, and fixed his eyes upon all the splendid thingsthat were there called in to give pomp and majesty to the worship ofthe Most High; but he felt more strongly than ever, at that moment,how it was all in vain; and that the small, calm tabernacle of theheart is that wherein man may offer up the fittest prayer to hisMaker.

  Kneeling, however, on the step of the altar, he addressed hispetitions to heaven. He would not pray to be delivered from danger,for that he thought cowardly; but he prayed that God would establishhis innocence and his honour; that God would protect and bless thosethat he loved; and, if it were the Almighty's will he should fallbefore his enemies, that God would be a support to his father and ashield to Constance de Grey. Then rising from his knee, Darnley foundthat his heart was lightened, and that he could look upon his futurefate with far more calmness than before.

  At that moment the sound of trumpets and clarions met his ear from adistance: gradually it swelled nearer and more near, with gay andmartial tones, and approached close to where he was, while shouts andacclamations, and loud and laughing voices, mingled with the music,strangely at discord with all that was passing in his heart. Presentlyit grew fainter, and then ceased, though still he thought he couldhear the roar of the distant multitude, and now and then a shout; butin a few minutes these also ceased, and, crossing his arms upon hisbreast, he waited till the sergeant-at-arms should come to convey himto Calais, to prison, perhaps ultimately to death.

  In a few minutes some distant steps were heard; they came nearer,nearer still; the key was turned in the lock, and the door opened.