The Last of the Barons — Complete

by Baron Edward Bulwer Lytton Lytton

  CHAPTER V. THE WOODVILLE INTRIGUE PROSPERS.--MONTAGU CONFERS WITHHASTINGS, VISITS THE ARCHBISHOP OF YORK, AND IS MET ON THE ROAD BY ASTRANGE PERSONAGE.

  And now the one topic at the court of King Edward IV. was the expectedarrival of Anthony of Burgundy, Count de la Roche, bastard brother ofCharolois, afterwards, as Duke of Burgundy, so famous as Charlesthe Bold. Few, indeed, out of the immediate circle of the Duchess ofBedford's confidants regarded the visit of this illustrious foreigner asconnected with any object beyond the avowed one of chivalrous encounterwith Anthony Woodville, the fulfilment of a challenge given by thelatter two years before, at the time of the queen's coronation. Theorigin of this challenge, Anthony Woodville Lord Scales has himselfexplained in a letter to the bastard, still extant, and of which anextract may be seen in the popular and delightful biographies of MissStrickland. [Queens of England, vol. iii. p. 380] It seems that, on theWednesday before Easter Day, 1465, as Sir Anthony was speaking to hisroyal sister, "on his knees," all the ladies of the court gatheredround him, and bound to his left knee a band of gold adorned with stonesfashioned into the letters S. S. (souvenance or remembrance), and tothis band was suspended an enamelled "Forget-me-not." "And one of theladies said that 'he ought to take a step fitting for the times.'" Thisstep was denoted by a letter on vellum, bound with a gold thread, placedin his cap; and having obtained the king's permission to bring theadventure of the flower of souvenance to a conclusion, the gallantAnthony forwarded the articles and the enamelled flower to the Bastardof Burgundy, beseeching him to touch the latter with his knightly hand,in token of his accepting the challenge. The Count de la Roche didso, but was not sent by his brother amongst the knights whom Charoloisdespatched to England, and the combat had been suspended to the presenttime.

  But now the intriguing Rivers and his duchess gladly availed themselvesof so fair a pretext for introducing to Edward the able brother ofWarwick's enemy and the French prince's rival, Charles of Burgundy;and Anthony Woodville, too gentle and knightly a person to have abettedtheir cunning projects in any mode less chivalrous, willingly consentedto revive a challenge in honour of the ladies of England.

  The only one amongst the courtiers who seemed dissatisfied with themeditated visit of the doughty Burgundian champion was the Lord Montagu.This penetrating and experienced personage was not to be duped by anaffectation of that chivalry which, however natural at the court ofEdward III., was no longer in unison with the more intriguing andambitious times over which presided the luxurious husband of ElizabethWoodville. He had noticed of late, with suspicion, that Edward had heldseveral councils with the anti-Nevile faction, from which he himself wasexcluded. The king, who heretofore had delighted in his companionship,had shown him marks of coldness and estrangement; and there was anexulting malice in the looks of the Duchess of Bedford, which auguredsome approaching triumph over the great family which the Woodvilles soopenly laboured to supplant. One day, as Marmaduke was loitering inthe courtyard of the Tower, laughing and jesting with his friends, LordMontagu, issuing from the king's closet, passed him with a hurried stepand a thoughtful brow. This haughty brother of the Earl of Warwick hadso far attended to the recommendation of the latter, that he had withsome courtesy excused himself to Marmaduke for his language in thearchery-ground, and had subsequently, when seeing him in attendanceon the king, honoured him with a stately nod, or a brief "Good morrow,young kinsman." But as his eye now rested on Marmaduke, while the groupvailed their bonnets to the powerful courtier, he called him forth, witha familiar smile he had never before assumed, and drawing him apart, andleaning on his shoulder, much to the envy of the standers by, he saidcaressingly,--

  "Dear kinsman Guy--"

  "Marmaduke, please you, my lord."

  "Dear kinsman Marmaduke, my brother esteems you for your father's sake.And, sooth to say, the Neviles are not so numerous in court as theywere. Business and state matters have made me see too seldom those whomI would most affect. Wilt thou ride with me to the More Park? I wouldpresent thee to my brother the archbishop."

  "If the king would graciously hold me excused."

  "The king, sir! when I--I forgot," said Montagu, checking himself--"oh,as to that, the king stirs not out to-day! He hath with him a score oftailors and armourers in high council on the coming festivities. I willwarrant thy release; and here comes Hastings, who shall confirm it."

  "Fair my lord!"--as at that moment Hastings emerged from the littlepostern that gave egress from the apartments occupied by the alchemistof the Duchess of Bedford--"wilt thou be pleased, in thy capacity ofchamberlain, to sanction my cousin in a day's absence? I would conferwith him on family matters."

  "Certes, a small favour to so deserving a youth. I will see to hisdeputy."

  "A word with you, Hastings," said Montagu, thoughtfully, and hedrew aside his fellow courtier: "what thinkest thou of this Burgundybastard's visit?"

  "That it has given a peacock's strut to the popinjay Anthony Woodville."

  "Would that were all!" returned Montagu. "But the very moment thatWarwick is negotiating with Louis of France, this interchange ofcourtesies with Louis's deadly foe, the Count of Charolois, is out ofseason."

  "Nay, take it not so gravely,--a mere pastime."

  "Hastings, thou knowest better. But thou art no friend of my greatbrother."

  "Small cause have I to be so," answered Hastings, with a quivering lip."To him and your father I owe as deep a curse as ever fell on the heartof man. I have lived to be above even Lord Warwick's insult. Yet young,I stand amongst the warriors and peers of England with a crest as haughtand a scutcheon as stainless as the best. I have drunk deep of theworld's pleasures. I command, as I list, the world's gaudy pomps, and Itell thee, that all my success in life countervails not the agony of thehour when all the bloom and loveliness of the earth faded into winter,and the only woman I ever loved was sacrificed to her brother's pride."

  The large drops stood on the pale brow of the fortunate noble as he thusspoke, and his hollow voice affected even the worldly Montagu.

  "Tush, Hastings!" said Montagu, kindly; "these are but a young man'sidle memories. Are we not all fated, in our early years, to love invain?--even I married not the maiden I thought the fairest, and heldthe dearest. For the rest, bethink thee,--thou wert then but a simplesquire."

  "But of as ancient and pure a blood as ever rolled its fiery essencethrough a Norman's veins."

  "It may be so; but old Houses, when impoverished, are cheaply held. Andthou must confess thou wert then no mate for Katherine. Now, indeed, itwere different; now a Nevile might be proud to call Hastings brother."

  "I know it," said Hastings, proudly,--"I know it, lord; and why?Because I have gold, and land, and the king's love, and can say, as theCenturion, to my fellow-man, 'Do this, and he doeth it;' and yet I tellthee, Lord Montagu, that I am less worthy now the love of beauty, theright hand of fellowship from a noble spirit, than I was then, when--thesimple squire--my heart full of truth and loyalty, with lips that hadnever lied, with a soul never polluted by unworthy pleasures or meanintrigues, I felt that Katherine Nevile should never blush to own herfere and plighted lord in William de Hastings. Let this pass, let itpass! You call me no friend to Warwick. True! but I am a friend tothe king he has served, and the land of my birth to which he has givenpeace; and therefore, not till Warwick desert Edward, not till he wakethe land again to broil and strife, will I mingle in the plots of thosewho seek his downfall. If in my office and stated rank I am compelled tocountenance the pageant of this mock tournament, and seem to honour thecoming of the Count de la Roche, I will at least stand aloof and freefrom all attempt to apply a gaudy pageant to a dangerous policy; and onthis pledge, Montagu, I give you my knightly hand."

  "It suffices," answered Montagu, pressing the hand extended to him. "Butthe other day I heard the king's dissour tell him a tale of some tyrant,who silently showed a curious questioner how to govern a land, bycutting down, with his staff, the heads of the tallest poppies; and theDuchess of Bedford turne
d to me, and asked, 'What says a Nevile tothe application?' 'Faith, lady,' said I, 'the Nevile poppies have oakstems.' Believe me, Hastings, these Woodvilles may grieve and wrong andaffront Lord Warwick, but woe to all the pigmy goaders when the lionturns at bay!"

  With this solemn menace, Montagu quitted Hastings, and passed on,leaning upon Marmaduke, and with a gloomy brow.

  At the gate of the palace waited the Lord Montagu's palfrey and hisretinue of twenty squires and thirty grooms. "Mount, Master Marmaduke,and take thy choice among these steeds, for we shall ride alone. Thereis no Nevile amongst these gentlemen." Marmaduke obeyed. The earldismissed his retinue, and in little more than ten minutes,--sodifferent, then, was the extent of the metropolis,--the noble and thesquire were amidst the open fields.

  They had gone several miles at a brisk trot before the earl opened hislips, and then, slackening his pace, he said abruptly, "How dost thoulike the king? Speak out, youth; there are no eavesdroppers here."

  "He is a most gracious master and a most winning gentleman."

  "He is both," said Montagu, with a touch of emotion that surprisedMarmaduke; "and no man can come near without loving him. And yet,Marmaduke (is that thy name?)--yet whether it be weakness or falseness,no man can be sure of his king's favour from day to day. We Neviles musthold fast to each other. Not a stick should be lost if the fagot is toremain unbroken. What say you?" and the earl's keen eye turned sharplyon the young man.

  "I say, my lord, that the Earl of Warwick was to me patron, lord, andfather, when I entered yon city a friendless orphan; and that, thoughI covet honours, and love pleasure, and would be loth to lift finger orspeak word against King Edward, yet were that princely lord--the head ofmine House--an outcast and a beggar, by his side I would wander, for hisbread I would beg."

  "Young man," exclaimed Montagu, "from this hour I admit thee to myheart! Give me thy hand. Beggar and outcast?--No! If the storm come, themeaner birds take to shelter, the eagle remains solitary in heaven!" Sosaying, he relapsed into silence, and put spurs to his steed. Towardsthe decline of day they drew near to the favourite palace of theArchbishop of York. There the features of the country presented a morecultivated aspect than it had hitherto worn. For at that period thelands of the churchmen were infinitely in advance of those of the laityin the elementary arts of husbandry, partly because the ecclesiasticproprietors had greater capital at their command, partly because theirsuperior learning had taught them to avail themselves, in somemeasure, of the instructions of the Latin writers. Still the prevailingcharacteristic of the scenery was pasture land,--immense tracts ofcommon supported flocks of sheep; the fragrance of new-mown hay breathedsweet from many a sunny field. In the rear stretched woods of Druidgrowth; and in the narrow lanes, that led to unfrequent farms andhomesteads, built almost entirely either of wood or (more primitivestill) of mud and clay, profuse weeds, brambles, and wild-flowers almostconcealed the narrow pathway, never intended for cart or wagon, andarrested the slow path of the ragged horse bearing the scanty produceof acres to yard or mill. But though to the eye of an economist orphilanthropist broad England now, with its variegated agriculture, itswide roads, its white-walled villas, and numerous towns, may present amore smiling countenance, to the early lover of Nature, fresh from thechild-like age of poetry and romance, the rich and lovely verdure whichgave to our mother-country the name of "Green England;" its wild woodsand covert alleys, proffering adventure to fancy; its tranquil heaths,studded with peaceful flocks, and vocal, from time to time, with therude scrannel of the shepherd,--had a charm which we can understandalone by the luxurious reading of our elder writers. For the countryitself ministered to that mingled fancy and contemplation which thestirring and ambitious life of towns and civilization has in muchbanished from our later literature.

  Even the thoughtful Montagu relaxed his brow as he gazed around, and hesaid to Marmaduke, in a gentle and subdued voice,--

  "Methinks, young cousin, that in such scenes, those silly rhymes taughtus in our childhood of the green woods and the summer cuckoos, of boldRobin and Maid Marian, ring back in our ears. Alas that this fair landshould be so often dyed in the blood of her own children! Here, how thethought shrinks from broils and war,--civil war, war between brotherand brother, son and father! In the city and the court, we forget othersovermuch, from the too keen memory of ourselves."

  Scarcely had Montagu said these words, before there suddenly emergedfrom a bosky lane to the right a man mounted upon a powerful roanhorse. His dress was that of a substantial franklin; a green surtoutof broadcloth, over a tight vest of the same colour, left, to theadmiration of a soldierly eye, an expanse of chest that might have viedwith the mighty strength of Warwick himself. A cap, somewhat like aturban, fell in two ends over the left cheek, till they touchedthe shoulder, and the upper part of the visage was concealed by ahalf-vizard, not unfrequently worn out of doors with such head-gear,as a shade from the sun. Behind this person rode, on a horse equallypowerful, a man of shorter stature, but scarcely less muscular a frame,clad in a leathern jerkin, curiously fastened with thongs, and wearing asteel bonnet, projecting far over the face.

  The foremost of these strangers, coming thus unawares upon thecourtiers, reined in his steed, and said in a clear, full voice, "Goodevening to you, my masters. It is not often that these roads witnessriders in silk and pile."

  "Friend," quoth the Montagu, "may the peace we enjoy under the WhiteRose increase the number of all travellers through our land, whether inpile or russet!"

  "Peace, sir!" returned the horseman, roughly,--"peace is no blessing topoor men, unless it bring something more than life,--the means to livein security and ease. Peace hath done nothing for the poor of England.Why, look you towards yon gray tower,--the owner is, forsooth, gentlemanand knight; but yesterday he and his men broke open a yeoman's house,carried off his wife and daughters to his tower, and refuseth tosurrender them till ransomed by half the year's produce on the yeoman'sfarm."

  "A caitiff and illegal act," said Montagu.

  "Illegal! But the law will notice it not,--why should it? Unjust, if itpunish the knight and dare not touch the king's brother!"

  "How, sir?"

  "I say the king's brother! Scarcely a month since, twenty-four personsunder George Duke of Clarence entered by force a lady's house,and seized her jewels and her money, upon some charge, God wot, ofcontriving mischief to the boy-duke. [See for this and other instancesof the prevalent contempt of law in the reign of Edward IV.,and, indeed, during the fifteenth century, the extracts from theParliamentary Rolls, quoted by Sharon Turner, "History of England,"vol. iii. p. 399.] Are not the Commons ground by imposts for the queen'skindred? Are not the king's officers and purveyors licensed spoilers andrapiners? Are not the old chivalry banished for new upstarts? And in allthis, is peace better than war?"

  "Knowest thou not that these words are death, man?"

  "Ay, in the city! but in the fields and waste thought is free. Frownnot, my lord. Ah, I know you, and the time may come when the baron willact what the franklin speaks. What! think you I see not the signs of thestorm? Are Warwick and Montagu more safe with Edward than they were withHenry? Look to thyself! Charolois will outwit King Louis, and ere theyear be out, the young Margaret of England will be lady of your bravebrother's sternest foe!"

  "And who art thou, knave?" cried Montagu, aghast, and laying his glovedhand on the bold prophet's bridle.

  "One who has sworn the fall of the House of York, and may live to fight,side by side, in that cause with Warwick; for Warwick, whatever be hisfaults, has an English heart, and loves the Commons."

  Montagu, uttering an exclamation of astonishment, relaxed hold of thefranklin's bridle; and the latter waved his hand, and spurring his steedacross the wild chain of commons, disappeared with his follower.

  "A sturdy traitor!" muttered the earl, following him with his eye. "Oneof the exiled Lancastrian lords, perchance. Strange how they pierce intoour secrets! Heardst thou that fellow, Marmaduke?"

  "Only in a f
ew sentences, and those brought my hand to my dagger. Butas thou madest no sign, I thought his grace the king could not be muchinjured by empty words."

  "True! and misfortune has ever a shrewish tongue."

  "An' it please you, my lord," quoth Marmaduke, "I have seen the manbefore, and it seemeth to me that he holds much power over the rascalrabble." And here Marmaduke narrated the attack upon Warner's house, andhow it was frustrated by the intercession of Robin of Redesdale.

  "Art thou sure it is the same man, for his face was masked?"

  "My lord, in the North, as thou knowest, we recognize men by theirforms, not faces,--as in truth we ought, seeing that it is the sinewsand bulk, not the lips and nose, that make a man a useful friend ordangerous foe."

  Montagu smiled at this soldierly simplicity. "And heard you the name theraptrils shouted?"

  "Robin, my lord. They cried out 'Robin,' as if it had been a 'Montagu Ior a 'Warwick.'"

  "Robin! ah, then I guess the man,--a most perilous and stanchLancastrian. He has more weight with the poor than had Cade the rebel,and they say Margaret trusts him as much as she does an Exeter orSomerset. I marvel that he should show himself so near the gatesof London. It must be looked to. But come, cousin. Our steeds arebreathed,--let us on!"

  On arriving at the More, its stately architecture, embellished by theprelate with a facade of double arches, painted and blazoned somewhat inthe fashion of certain old Italian houses, much dazzled Marmaduke. Andthe splendour of the archbishop's retinue--less martial indeed thanWarwick's--was yet more imposing to the common eye. Every office thatpomp could devise for a king's court was to be found in the householdof this magnificent prelate,--master of the horse and the hounds,chamberlain, treasurer, pursuivant, herald, seneschal, captain of thebody-guard, etc.,--and all emulously sought for and proudly held bygentlemen of the first blood and birth. His mansion was at once a courtfor middle life, a school for youth, an asylum for age; and thither, asto a Medici, fled the letters and the arts.

  Through corridor and hall, lined with pages and squires, passed Montaguand Marmaduke, till they gained a quaint garden, the wonder and envy ofthe time, planned by an Italian of Mantua, and perhaps the stateliestone of the kind existent in England. Straight walks, terraces, andfountains, clipped trees, green alleys, and smooth bowling-greensabounded; but the flowers were few and common: and if here and there astatue might be found, it possessed none of the art so admirable in ourearliest ecclesiastical architecture, but its clumsy proportions weremade more uncouth by a profusion of barbaric painting and gilding. Thefountains, however, were especially curious, diversified, and elaborate:some shot up as pyramids, others coiled in undulating streams, each jetchasing the other as serpents; some, again, branched off in the form oftrees, while mimic birds, perched upon leaden boughs, poured waterfrom their bills. Marmaduke, much astonished and bewildered, muttereda paternoster in great haste; and even the clerical rank of the prelatedid not preserve him from the suspicion of magical practices in theyouth's mind.

  Remote from all his train, in a little arbour overgrown with thehoneysuckle and white rose, a small table before him bearing fruits,confectionery, and spiced wines (for the prelate was a celebratedepicure, though still in the glow of youth), they found George Nevile,reading lazily a Latin manuscript.

  "Well, my dear lord and brother," said Montagu, laying his arm on theprelate's shoulder, "first let me present to thy favour a gallant youth,Marmaduke Nevile, worthy his name and thy love."

  "He is welcome, Montagu, to our poor house," said the archbishop,rising, and complacently glancing at his palace, splendidly gleamingthrough the trellis-work. "'Puer ingenui vultus.' Thou art acquainted,doubtless, young sir, with the Humaner Letters?"

  "Well-a-day, my lord, my nurturing was somewhat neglected in theprovince," said Marmaduke, disconcerted, and deeply blushing, "and onlyof late have I deemed the languages fit study for those not reared forour Mother Church."

  "Fie, sir, fie! Correct that error, I pray thee. Latin teaches thecourtier how to thrive, the soldier how to manoeuvre, the husbandmanhow to sow; and if we churchmen are more cunning, as the profane call us(and the prelate smiled) than ye of the laity, the Latin must answer forthe sins of our learning."

  With this, the archbishop passed his arm affectionately through hisbrother's, and said, "Beshrew me, Montagu, thou lookest worn and weary.Surely thou lackest food, and supper shall be hastened. Even I, who havebut slender appetite, grow hungered in these cool gloaming hours."

  "Dismiss my comrade, George,--I would speak to thee," whispered Montagu.

  "Thou knowest not Latin?" said the archbishop, turning with acompassionate eye to Nevile, whose own eye was amorously fixed on thedelicate confectioneries,--"never too late to learn. Hold, here is agrammar of the verbs, that, with mine own hand, I have drawn up foryouth. Study thine amo and thy moneo, while I confer on Church matterswith giddy Montagu. I shall expect, ere we sup, that thou wilt havemastered the first tenses."

  "But--"

  "Oh, nay, nay; but me no buts. Thou art too tough, I fear me, forflagellation, a wondrous improver of tender youth,"--and the prelateforced his grammar into the reluctant hands of Marmaduke, and sauntereddown one of the solitary alleys with his brother.

  Long and earnest was their conference, and at one time keen were theirdispute's.

  The archbishop had very little of the energy of Montagu or theimpetuosity of Warwick, but he had far more of what we now call mind, asdistinct from talent, than either; that is, he had not their capacitiesfor action, but he had a judgment and sagacity that made him considereda wise and sound adviser: this he owed principally to the churchman'slove of ease, and to his freedom from the wear and tear of the passionswhich gnawed the great minister and the aspiring courtier; his naturalintellect was also fostered by much learning. George Nevile had beenreared, by an Italian ecclesiastic, in all the subtle diplomacy of theChurch; and his ambition, despising lay objects (though he consented tohold the office of chancellor), was concentrated in that kingdom overkings which had animated the august dominators of religious Rome.Though, as we have said, still in that age when the affections areusually vivid, [He was consecrated Bishop of Exeter at the age oftwenty; at twenty-six he became Archbishop of York, and was under thirtyat the time referred to in the text.] George Nevile loved no humancreature,--not even his brothers; not even King Edward, who, with allhis vices, possessed so eminently the secret that wins men's hearts.His early and entire absorption in the great religious community, whichstood apart from the laymen in order to control them, alienated him fromhis kind; and his superior instruction only served to feed him with acalm and icy contempt for all that prejudice, as he termed it, held dearand precious. He despised the knight's wayward honour, the burgher'scrafty honesty. For him no such thing as principle existed; andconscience itself lay dead in the folds of a fancied exemption from allresponsibility to the dull herd, that were but as wool and meat to thechurchman shepherd. But withal, if somewhat pedantic, he had in hismanner a suavity and elegance and polish which suited well his highstation, and gave persuasion to his counsels. In all externals he was aslittle like a priest as the high-born prelates of that day usually were.In dress he rivalled the fopperies of the Plantagenet brothers; in thechase he was more ardent than Warwick had been in his earlier youth; anda dry sarcastic humour, sometimes elevated into wit, gave liveliness tohis sagacious converse.

  Montagu desired that the archbishop and himself should demand solemnaudience of Edward, and gravely remonstrate with the king on theimpropriety of receiving the brother of a rival suitor, while Warwickwas negotiating the marriage of Margaret with a prince of France.

  "Nay," said the archbishop, with a bland smile, that fretted Montaguto the quick, "surely even a baron, a knight, a franklin, a poor priestlike myself, would rise against the man who dictated to his hospitality.Is a king less irritable than baron, knight, franklin, and priest,--orrather, being, as it were, per legem, lord of all, hath he notirritability eno' for all four? Ay, tut an
d tush as thou wilt, John, butthy sense must do justice to my counsel at the last. I know Edward well;he hath something of mine own idlesse and ease of temper, but with moreof the dozing lion than priests, who have only, look you, the mildnessof the dove. Prick up his higher spirit, not by sharp remonstrance, butby seeming trust. Observe to him, with thy gay, careless laugh--which,methinks, thou hast somewhat lost of late--that with any other princeWarwick might suspect some snare, some humiliating overthrow of hisembassage, but that all men know how steadfast in faith and honour isEdward IV."

  "Truly," said Montagu, with a forced smile, "you understand mankind; butyet, bethink you--suppose this fail, and Warwick return to England tohear that he hath been cajoled and fooled; that the Margaret he hadcrossed the seas to affiance to the brother of Louis is betrothed toCharolois--bethink you, I say, what manner of heart beats under ourbrother's mail."

  "Impiger, iracundus!" said the archbishop; "a very Achilles, to whom ourEnglish Agamemnon, if he cross him, is a baby. All this is sad truth;our parents spoilt him in his childhood, and glory in his youth, andwealth, power, success, in his manhood. Ay! if Warwick be chafed,it will be as the stir of the sea-serpent, which, according to theIcelanders, moves a world. Still, the best way to prevent the danger isto enlist the honour of the king in his behalf,--to show that oureyes are open, but that we disdain to doubt, and are frank to confide.Meanwhile send messages and warnings privately to Warwick."

  These reasonings finally prevailed with Montagu, and the brothersreturned with one mind to the house. Here, as after their ablutions theysat down to the evening meal, the archbishop remembered poor Marmaduke,and despatched to him one of his thirty household chaplains. Marmadukewas found fast asleep over the second tense of the verb amo.