The King's Achievement

by Robert Hugh Benson

  CHAPTER XI

  THE KING'S HIGHNESS

  As Chris knelt with the others, and the door closed behind him, he wasaware of a great room with a tall window looking on to the river on hisleft, tapestry-hung walls, a broad table heaped with papers in thecentre, a high beamed ceiling, and the thick carpet under his knees.

  For a moment he did not see the King. The page who had beckoned them inhad passed across the room, and Chris's eyes followed him out through aninner door in the corner.

  Then, still on his knees, he turned his eyes to see the Archbishop goingtowards the window, and up the step that led on to the dais thatoccupied the floor of the oriel.

  Then he saw the King.

  * * * * *

  A great figure was seated opposite the side door at which they hadentered on the broad seat that ran round the three sides of the window.The puffed sleeves made the shoulders look enormous; a gold chain layacross them, with which the gross fingers were playing. Beneath, thevast stomach swelled out into the slashed trunks, and the scarlet legswere crossed one over the other. On the head lay a broad plumed velvetcap, and beneath it was the wide square face, at once jovial and solemn,with the narrow slits of eyes above, and the little pursed mouth fringedby reddish hair below, that Chris remembered in the barge years before.The smell of musk lay heavy in the air.

  Here was the monstrous carrion-beast then at last, sunning himself andwaiting.

  * * * * *

  So the party rested a moment or two, while the Archbishop went across tothe dais; he knelt again and then stood up and said a word or tworapidly that Chris could not hear.

  Henry nodded, and turned his bright narrow eyes on to them; and thenmade a motion with his hand. The Archbishop turned round and repeatedthe gesture; and Chris rose in his place as did the others.

  "Master Torridon, your Grace," explained the Archbishop, with adeferential stoop of his shoulders. "Your Grace will remember--"

  The King nodded abruptly, and thrust his hand out.

  Chris touched his father behind.

  "Go forward," he whispered; "kiss hands."

  The old man went forward a hesitating step or two. The Archbishopmotioned sharply, and Sir James advanced again up to the dais, sankdown, and lifted the hand to his lips, and fell back for the others.

  When Chris's turn came, and he lifted the heavy fingers, he noticed fora moment a wonderful red stone on the thumb, and recognised it. It wasthe Regal of France that he had seen years before at his visit to St.Thomas's shrine at Canterbury. In a flash, too, he remembered Cromwell'screst as he had seen it on the papers at Lewes--the demi-lion holding upthe red-gemmed ring.

  Then he too had fallen back, and the Archbishop was speaking.

  "Your Grace will remember that there is a Mr. Ralph Torridon in theTower--an agent of Mr. Cromwell's--"

  The King's face moved slightly, but he said nothing.

  --"Who is awaiting trial for destroying evidence. It is that, at least,your Grace, that is asserted against him. But it has not been proved.Master Torridon here tells me, your Highness, that it cannot be proved,but that he wishes to acknowledge it freely on his son's behalf."

  Henry's eyes shot back again at the old man, ran over the others, andsettled again on Cranmer's face, who was standing beside him with hisback to the window.

  "He is here to plead for your Grace's clemency. He wishes to lay beforeyour Grace that his son erred through over-faithfulness to Mr.Cromwell's cause; and above all that the evidence so destroyed has notaffected the course of justice--"

  "God's Body!" jarred in the harsh voice suddenly, "it has not. Nor shallit."

  Cranmer waited a moment with downcast eyes; but the King was silentagain.

  "Master Torridon has persuaded me to come with him to your Grace tospeak for him. He is not accustomed--"

  "And who are these fellows?"

  Chris felt those keen eyes running over him.

  "This is Master Nicholas Maxwell," explained the Archbishop, indicatinghim. "Master Torridon's son-in-law; and this, Mr. Herries--"

  "And the priest?" asked the King.

  "The priest is Sir Christopher Torridon, living with his father atOverfield."

  "Ha! has he always lived there then?"

  "No, your Grace," said Cranmer smoothly, "he was a monk at Lewes untilthe dissolution of the house."

  "I have heard somewhat of his name," mused Henry. "What is it, sir, thatI have beard of you?"

  "It was perhaps Mr. Ralph Torridon's name that your Grace--" beganCranmer.

  "Nay, nay, it was not. What was it, sir?"

  Chris's heart was beating in his ears like a drum now. It had come,then, that peril that had always been brooding on the horizon, and whichhe had begun to despise. He had thought that there could be no danger inhis going to the King; it was so long since Lewes had fallen, and hisown part had been so small. But his Grace's memory was good, it seemed!Danger was close to him, incarnate in that overwhelming presence. Hesaid nothing, but stood awaiting detection.

  "It is strange," said Henry. "I have forgot. Well, my Lord?"

  "I have told your Grace all," explained the Archbishop. "Mr. RalphTorridon has not yet been brought to trial, and his father hopes thatyour Grace will take into consideration these two things: that it was amistake of over-faithfulness that his son committed; and that it has nothindered the course of justice."

  "Well, well," said Henry, "and that sounds to be in reason. We have nonetoo much of either faithfulness or justice in these days. And there isno other charge against the fellow?"

  "There is no other charge, your Grace."

  There fell a complete silence for a moment or two.

  Chris glanced up at his father, his own heart uplifted by hope, and sawthe old man's face trembling with it too. The wrinkled eyes were full oftears, and his lips quivered; and Chris could feel the short cloak thathung against him shaking at his hand. Nicholas's crimson face showed amingling of such emotion and solemnity that Chris was seized with aninternal hysterical spasm; but it suddenly died within him as hebrought his eyes round, and saw that the King was staring at himmoodily....

  The Archbishop's voice broke in again.

  "Are we to understand, your Grace, that your Grace's clemency isextended to Mr. Ralph Torridon?"

  "Eh! then," said the King peevishly, "hold your tongue, my Lord. I amtrying to remember. Where is Michael?"

  "Shall I call him, your Grace?"

  "Nay, then; let the lawyer ring the bell!"

  Mr. Herries sprang to the table at the King's gesture, and struck thelittle hand-bell that stood there. The door where the page haddisappeared five minutes before opened silently, and the servant stoodthere.

  "Michael," said the King, and the page vanished.

  There was an uncomfortable silence. Cranmer stood back a little with anair of patient deference, and his quick eyes glanced up now and again atthe party before him. There was a certain uneasiness in his manner, asChris could see; but the monk presently dropped his eyes again, as hesaw that the King was once more looking at him keenly, with tight pursedlips, and a puzzled look on his forehead.

  The thoughts began to race through Chris's brain. He found himselfpraying with desperate speed that Michael, whoever he was, might notknow; and that the King might not remember; and meanwhile throughanother part of his being ran the thought of the irony of his situation.Here he was, come to plead for his brother's life, and on the brink ofhaving to plead for his own. The quiet room increased his sense of theirony. It seemed so safe and strong and comfortable, up here in the richroom, with the tall window looking on to the sunlit river, in a palacegirt about with guards; and yet the very security of it was his danger.He had penetrated into the stronghold of the great beast that ruledEngland: he was within striking distance of those red-stained claws andteeth.

  Then suddenly the creature stirred and snarled.

  "I know it now, sir. You were one of the knaves that wou
ld not sign thesurrender of Lewes."

  Chris lifted his eyes and dropped them again.

  "God's Body," said the King, "and you come here!"

  Again there was silence.

  Chris saw his father half turn towards him with a piteous face, andperceived that the lawyer had drawn a little away.

  The King turned abruptly to Cranmer.

  "Did you know this, my Lord?"

  "Before God, I did not!"--but his voice shook as he answered.

  Chris was gripping his courage, and at last spoke.

  "We were told it was a free-will act, your Grace."

  Henry said nothing to this. His eyes were rolling up and down the monk'sfigure, with tight, thoughtful lips. Cranmer looked desperately at SirJames.

  "I did not know that, your Grace," he said again. "I only knew that thispriest's brother had been very active in your Grace's business."

  Henry turned sharply.

  "Eh?" he said.

  Sir James's hands rose and clasped themselves instinctively. Cranmeragain looked at him almost fiercely.

  "Mr. Ralph Torridon was one of the Visitors," explained the Archbishopnervously.

  "And this fellow a monk!" cried the King.

  "They must have met at Lewes, your Grace."

  "Ah! my Lord," cried Sir James suddenly. "I entreated you--"

  Henry turned on him suddenly.

  "Tell us the tale, sir. What is all this?"

  Sir James took a faltering step forward, and then suddenly threw out hishands.

  "Ah! your Grace, it is a bitter tale for a father to tell. It is true,all of it. My son here was a monk at Lewes. He would not sign thesurrender. I--I approved him for it. I--I was there when my son Ralphcast him out--"

  "God's blood!" cried the King with a beaming face. "The one brother castthe other out!"

  Chris saw the Archbishop's face suddenly lighten as he watched the Kingsideways.

  "But I cannot bear that he should be saved for that!" went on the oldman piteously. "He was a good servant to your Grace, but a bad one toour Lord--"

  The Archbishop drew a swift breath of horror, and his hands jerked. ButHenry seemed not to hear; his little mouth had opened in a round hole ofamazed laughter, and he was staring at the old man without hearing him.

  "And you were there?" he said. "And your wife? And your aunts andsisters?"

  "My wife is dead," cried the old man. "Your Grace--"

  "And on which side was she?"

  "She was--was on your Grace's side."

  Henry threw himself back in his chair.

  * * * * *

  For one moment Chris did not know whether it was wrath or laughter thatshook him. His face grew crimson, and his narrow eyes disappeared intoshining slits; his fat hands were on his knees, and his great bodyshook. From his round open mouth came silent gusts of quick breath, andhe began to sway a little from side to side.

  Across the Archbishop's face came a deferential and sympathetic smile,and he looked quickly and nervously from the King to the group and backagain. Sir James had fallen back a pace at the King's laughter, andstood rigid and staring. Chris took a step close to him and gripped hishand firmly.

  There was a footstep behind, and the King leaned forward again, wipingthe tears away with his sleeve.

  "Oh, Michael, Michael!" he sobbed, "here is a fine tale."

  A dark-dressed man stepped forward from behind, and stood expectant.

  "God! What a happy family!" said the King. "And this fellow here?"

  He motioned towards Nicholas, with a feeble gesture. He was still weakwith laughter.

  The young squire moved forward a step, rigid and indignant.

  "I am against your Grace," he said sharply.

  Henry grew suddenly grave.

  "Eh! that is no way to speak," he said.

  "It is the only way I can speak," said Nicholas, "if your Grace desiresthe truth."

  The King looked at him a moment; but the humour still shone in his eyes.

  "Well, well. It is the truth I want. Michael, I sent for you to knowabout the priest here; but I know now. And is it true that his brotherin the Tower--Ralph Torridon--was one of the Visitors?"

  The man pursed his lips a moment. He was standing close to Chris, alittle in front of him.

  "Yes, your Majesty."

  "Oh! well. We must let him out, I suppose--if there is nothing moreagainst him. You shall tell me presently, Michael."

  The Archbishop looked swiftly across at the party.

  "Then your Grace extends--"

  "Well, Michael, what is it?" interrupted the King.

  "It is a matter your Majesty might wish to hear in private," said thestranger.

  "Oh, step aside, my Lord. And you, gentlemen."

  The King motioned down to the further end of the room, as Michael cameforward.

  The Archbishop stepped off the low platform, and led the way down thefloor; and the others followed.

  * * * * *

  Chris was in a whirl of bewilderment. He could see the King's great faceinterested and attentive as the secretary said something in his ear, andthen suddenly light up with amusement again.

  "Not a word, not a word," whispered Henry harshly. "Very good, Michael."

  The secretary then whispered once more. Chris could hear the sharpsibilants, but no word. The King nodded once more, and the man steppeddown off the dais.

  "Prepare the admission, then," said the King after him.

  The secretary bowed as he turned and went out of the room once more.

  Henry beckoned.

  "Come, gentlemen."

  He watched them with a solemn joviality as they came up, the Archbishopin front, the father and son together, and the two others behind.

  "You are a sad crew," began the King, eyeing them pleasantly, andsitting forward with a hand on either knee, "and I am astonished, myLord of Canterbury, at your companying with them. But we will havemercy, and remember your son's services, Master Torridon, in the past.That alone will excuse him. Remember that. That alone. He is thestronger man, if he turned out the priest there. And I remember your sonvery well, too; and will forgive him. But I shall not employ him again.And his forgiveness shall cover yours, Master Priest; but you must beoff--you must be off, sir," he barked suddenly, "out of these realms ina week. We will have no more treason from you."

  The fierce overpowering personality flared out as he spoke, and Chrisfelt his heart beat sick at the force of it.

  "And you two gentlemen," went on the King, still smouldering, "you twohad best hold your tongues. We will not hear such talk in our presenceor out of it. But we will excuse it now. There, sir, have I saidenough?"

  Sir James dropped abruptly on his knees.

  "Oh! God bless your Grace!" he began, with the tears running down.

  Henry made an abrupt gesture.

  "You shall go to your son," he said, "and see how he fares, and tell himthis. And she shall have the order of release presently, from me oranother."

  Again the little mouth creased and twitched with amusement.

  "And I hope he will be happy with his mother. You may tell him that fromme."

  The Archbishop looked up.

  "Mistress Torridon is dead, your Grace," he said softly andquestioningly.

  "Oh, well," said the King; and thrust out his hand to be kissed.

  * * * * *

  Chris did not know how they got out of the room. They kissed handsagain; the old man muttered out his thanks; but he seemed bewildered bythe rush of events, and the supreme surprise. Chris, as he backed awayfrom the presence, saw for the last time those narrow royal eyes fixedon him, still bright with amusement and expectancy, and the greatred-fringed cheeks creased about the tiny mouth with an effort to keepback laughter. Why was the King laughing, he wondered?

  They waited a few minutes in the ante-room for the order that theArchbishop had whispered to them should be sent
out immediately. Theysaid nothing to one another--but the three sat close, looking into oneanother's eyes now and again in astonishment and joy, while Mr. Herriesstood a little apart solemn and happy at the importance of the r?le hehad played in the whole affair, and disdaining even to look at the restof the company who sat on chairs and watched the party.

  The secretary came to them in a few minutes, and handed them the order.

  "My Lord of Canterbury is detained," he said; "he bade me tell yougentlemen that he could not see you again."

  Sir James was standing up and examining the order.

  "For four?" he said.

  "Why, yes," said the secretary, and glanced at the four men.

  Chris put his hand on his father's arm.

  "It is all well," he whispered, "say nothing more. It will do forBeatrice."