The Last of the Barons — Complete

by Baron Edward Bulwer Lytton Lytton

  CHAPTER VIII. HOW THE BASTARD OF BURGUNDY PROSPERED MORE IN HIS POLICYTHAN WITH THE POLE-AXE.-AND HOW KING EDWARD HOLDS HIS SUMMER CHASE INTHE FAIR GROVES OF SHENE.

  It was some days after the celebrated encounter between the Bastard andLord Scales, and the court had removed to the Palace of Shene. The Countde la Roche's favour with the Duchess of Bedford and the young princesshad not rested upon his reputation for skill with the pole-axe, and ithad now increased to a height that might well recompense the diplomatistfor his discomfiture in the lists.

  In the mean while, the arts of Warwick's enemies had been attended withsignal success. The final preparations for the alliance now virtuallyconcluded with Louis's brother still detained the earl at Rouen, andfresh accounts of the French king's intimacy with the ambassador werecarefully forwarded to Rivers, and transmitted to Edward. Now, we haveEdward's own authority for stating that his first grudge against Warwickoriginated in this displeasing intimacy, but the English king was tooclear-sighted to interpret such courtesies into the gloss given them byRivers. He did not for a moment conceive that Lord Warwick was ledinto any absolute connection with Louis which could link him to theLancastrians, for this was against common-sense; but Edward, with allhis good humour, was implacable and vindictive, and he could not endurethe thought that Warwick should gain the friendship of the man hedeemed his foe. Putting aside his causes of hatred to Louis in theencouragement which that king had formerly given to the Lancastrianexiles, Edward's pride as sovereign felt acutely the slighting disdainwith which the French king had hitherto treated his royalty and hisbirth. The customary nickname with which he was maligned in Paris was"the Son of the Archer," a taunt upon the fair fame of his mother, whomscandal accused of no rigid fidelity to the Duke of York. Besides this,Edward felt somewhat of the jealousy natural to a king, himself sospirited and able, of the reputation for profound policy and statecraftwhich Louis XI. was rapidly widening and increasing throughout thecourts of Europe. And, what with the resentment and what with thejealousy, there had sprung up in his warlike heart a secret desire toadvance the claims of England to the throne of France, and retrieve theconquests won by the Fifth Henry to be lost under the Sixth. Possessingthese feelings and these views, Edward necessarily saw in the alliancewith Burgundy all that could gratify both his hate and his ambition. TheCount of Charolois had sworn to Louis the most deadly enmity, and wouldhave every motive, whether of vengeance or of interest, to associatehimself heart in hand with the arms of England in any invasion ofFrance; and to these warlike objects Edward added, as we have so oftenhad cause to remark, the more peaceful aims and interests of commerce.And, therefore, although he could not so far emancipate himself fromthat influence, which both awe and gratitude invested in the Earl ofWarwick, as to resist his great minister's embassy to Louis; and though,despite all these reasons in favour of connection with Burgundy, hecould not but reluctantly allow that Warwick urged those of a stilllarger and wiser policy, when showing that the infant dynasty of Yorkcould only be made secure by effectually depriving Margaret of the soleally that could venture to assist her cause,--yet no sooner had Warwickfairly departed than he inly chafed at the concession he had made, andhis mind was open to all the impressions which the earl's enemies soughtto stamp upon it. As the wisdom of every man, however able, can but runthrough those channels which are formed by the soil of the character, soEdward with all his talents never possessed the prudence which fearof consequences inspires. He was so eminently fearless, so scornfulof danger, that he absolutely forgot the arguments on whichthe affectionate zeal of Warwick had based the alliance withLouis,--arguments as to the unceasing peril, whether to his personor his throne, so long as the unprincipled and plotting genius of theFrench king had an interest against both; and thus he became only aliveto the representations of his passions, his pride, and his mercantileinterests. The Duchess of Bedford, the queen, and all the family ofWoodville, who had but one object at heart,--the downfall of Warwick andhis House,--knew enough of the earl's haughty nature to be aware thathe would throw up the reins of government the moment he knew that Edwardhad discredited and dishonoured his embassy; and, despite the suspicionsthey sought to instil into their king's mind, they calculated uponthe earl's love and near relationship to Edward, upon his utter andseemingly irreconcilable breach with the House of Lancaster, to renderhis wrath impotent, and to leave him only the fallen minister, not themighty rebel.

  Edward had been thus easily induced to permit the visit of the Count dela Roche, although he had by no means then resolved upon the course heshould pursue. At all events, even if the alliance with Louis was totake place, the friendship of Burgundy was worth much to maintain. ButDe la Roche soon made aware by the Duchess of Bedford of the ground onwhich he stood, and instructed by his brother to spare no pains and toscruple no promise that might serve to alienate Edward from Louis andwin the hand and dower of Margaret, found it a more facile matter thanhis most sanguine hopes had deemed to work upon the passions and themotives which inclined the king to the pretensions of the heir ofBurgundy. And what more than all else favoured the envoy's mission wasthe very circumstance that should most have defeated it,--namely, therecollection of the Earl of Warwick; for in the absence of that powerfulbaron and master-minister, the king had seemed to breathe more freely.In his absence, he forgot his power. The machine of government, to hisown surprise, seemed to go on as well; the Commons were as submissive,the mobs as noisy in their shouts, as if the earl were by. There was nolonger any one to share with Edward the joys of popularity, the sweetsof power.

  Though Edward was not Diogenes, he loved the popular sunshine, andno Alexander now stood between him and its beams. Deceived by therepresentations of his courtiers, hearing nothing but abuse of Warwickand sneers at his greatness, he began to think the hour had come when hemight reign alone, and he entered, though tacitly, and not acknowledgingit even to himself, into the very object of the womankind abouthim,--namely, the dismissal of his minister.

  The natural carelessness and luxurious indolence of Edward's temper didnot however permit him to see all the ingratitude of the course he wasabout to adopt. The egotism a king too often acquires, and no king soeasily as one like Edward IV., not born to a throne, made him considerthat he alone was entitled to the prerogatives of pride. As sovereignand as brother, might he not give the hand of Margaret as he listed?If Warwick was offended, pest on his disloyalty and presumption! And sosaying to himself, he dismissed the very thought of the absent earl,and glided unconsciously down the current of the hour. And yet,notwithstanding all these prepossessions and dispositions, Edward mightno doubt have deferred at least the meditated breach with his greatminister until the return of the latter, and then have acted with thedelicacy and precaution that became a king bound by ties ofgratitude and blood to the statesman he desired to discard, but fora habit,--which, while history mentions, it seems to forget, inthe consequences it ever engenders,--the habit of intemperance.Unquestionably to that habit many of the imprudences and levities of aking possessed of so much ability are to be ascribed; and over his cupswith the wary and watchful De la Roche Edward had contrived to entanglehimself far more than in his cooler moments he would have been disposedto do.

  Having thus admitted our readers into those recesses of that corinscrutabile,--the heart of kings,--we summon them to a scene peculiarto the pastimes of the magnificent Edward. Amidst the shades of thevast park, or chase, which then appertained to the Palace of Shene, thenoonday sun shone upon such a spot as Armida might have dressed for thesubdued Rinaldo. A space had been cleared of trees and underwood, andmade level as a bowling-green. Around this space the huge oak andthe broad beech were hung with trellis-work, wreathed with jasmine,honeysuckle, and the white rose, trained in arches. Ever and anonthrough these arches extended long alleys, or vistas, gradually lostin the cool depth of foliage; amidst these alleys and around this spacenumberless arbours, quaint with all the flowers then known in England,were constructed. In the centre of the sward was a small art
ificiallake, long since dried up, and adorned then with a profusion offountains, that seemed to scatter coolness around the glowing air.Pitched in various and appropriate sites were tents of silk and thewhite cloth of Rennes, each tent so placed as to command one of thealleys; and at the opening of each stood cavalier or dame, with the bowor crossbow, as it pleased the fancy or suited best the skill, lookingfor the quarry, which horn and hound drove fast and frequent across thealleys. Such was the luxurious "summer-chase" of the Sardanapalus of theNorth. Nor could any spectacle more thoroughly represent that poeticalyet effeminate taste, which, borrowed from the Italians, made a shortinterval between the chivalric and the modern age. The exceeding beautyof the day, the richness of the foliage in the first suns of brightJuly, the bay of the dogs, the sound of the mellow horn, the fragranceof the air, heavy with noontide flowers, the gay tents, the rich dressesand fair faces and merry laughter of dame and donzell,--combined totake captive every sense, and to reconcile ambition itself, that eternaltraveller through the future, to the enjoyment of the voluptuous hour.But there were illustrious exceptions to the contentment of the generalcompany.

  A courier had arrived that morning to apprise Edward of the unexpecteddebarkation of the Earl of Warwick, with the Archbishop of Narbonne andthe Bastard of Bourbon,--the ambassadors commissioned by Louis to settlethe preliminaries of the marriage between Margaret and his brother. Thisunwelcome intelligence reached Edward at the very moment he was sallyingfrom his palace gates to his pleasant pastime. He took aside LordHastings, and communicated the news to his able favourite. "Put spurs tothy horse, Hastings, and hie thee fast to Baynard's Castle. Bring backGloucester. In these difficult matters that boy's head is better than acouncil."

  "Your Highness," said Hastings, tightening his girdle with one hand,while with the other he shortened his stirrups, "shall be obeyed. Iforesaw, sire, that this coming would occasion much that my Lords Riversand Worcester have overlooked. I rejoice that you summon the PrinceRichard, who hath wisely forborne all countenance to the Burgundianenvoy. But is this all, sire? Is it not well to assemble also yourtrustiest lords and most learned prelates, if not to overawe LordWarwick's anger, at least to confer on the fitting excuses to be made toKing Louis's ambassadors?"

  "And so lose the fairest day this summer hath bestowed upon us?Tush!--the more need for pleasaunce to-day since business must cometo-morrow. Away with you, dear Will!"

  Hastings looked grave; but he saw all further remonstrance would be invain, and hoping much from the intercession of Gloucester, put spurs tohis steed and vanished. Edward mused a moment; and Elizabeth, who knewevery expression and change of his countenance, rode from the circle ofher ladies, and approached him timidly. Casting down her eyes, which shealways affected in speaking to her lord, the queen said softly,--

  "Something hath disturbed my liege and my life's life."

  "Marry, yes, sweet Bessee. Last night, to pleasure thee and thy kin (andsooth to say, small gratitude ye owe me, for it also pleased myself), Ipromised Margaret's hand, through De la Roche, to the heir of Burgundy."

  "O princely heart!" exclaimed Elizabeth, her whole face lighted up withtriumph, "ever seeking to make happy those it cherishes. But is it thatwhich disturbs thee, that which thou repentest?"

  "No, sweetheart,--no. Yet had it not been for the strength of the clary,I should have kept the Bastard longer in suspense. But what is doneis done. Let not thy roses wither when thou hearest Warwick is inEngland,--nay, nay, child, look not so appalled; thine Edward is noinfant, whom ogre and goblin scare; and"--glancing his eye proudly roundas he spoke, and saw the goodly cavalcade of his peers and knights, withhis body-guard, tall and chosen veterans, filling up the palace-yard,with the show of casque and pike--"and if the struggle is to comebetween Edward of England and his subject, never an hour more ripethan this; my throne assured, the new nobility I have raised around it,London true, marrow and heart true, the provinces at peace, the shipsand the steel of Burgundy mine allies! Let the white Bear growl as helist, the Lion of March is lord of the forest. And now, my Bessee,"added the king, changing his haughty tone into a gay, careless laugh,"now let the lion enjoy his chase."

  He kissed the gloved hand of his queen, gallantly bending over hissaddle-bow, and the next moment he was by the side of a younger if nota fairer lady, to whom he was devoting the momentary worship of hisinconstant heart. Elizabeth's eyes shot an angry gleam as she beheld herfaithless lord thus engaged; but so accustomed to conceal and controlthe natural jealousy that it never betrayed itself to the court or toher husband, she soon composed her countenance to its ordinary smoothand artificial smile, and rejoining her mother she revealed what hadpassed. The proud and masculine spirit of the duchess felt only joy atthe intelligence. In the anticipated humiliation of Warwick, she forgotall cause for fear. Not so her husband and son, the Lords Rivers andScales, to whom the news soon travelled.

  "Anthony," whispered the father, "in this game we have staked ourheads."

  "But our right hands can guard them well, sir," answered Anthony; "andso God and the ladies for our rights!"

  Yet this bold reply did not satisfy the more thoughtful judgment of thelord treasurer, and even the brave Anthony's arrows that day wanderedwide of their quarry.

  Amidst this gay scene, then, there were anxious and thoughtful bosoms.Lord Rivers was silent and abstracted; his son's laugh was hollow andconstrained; the queen, from her pavilion, cast, ever and anon, down thegreen alleys more restless and prying looks than the hare or the deercould call forth; her mother's brow was knit and flushed. And keenlywere those illustrious persons watched by one deeply interested in thecoming events. Affecting to discharge the pleasant duty assigned himby the king, the Lord Montagu glided from tent to tent, inquiringcourteously into the accommodation of each group, lingering, smiling,complimenting, watching, heeding, studying, those whom he addressed. Forthe first time since the Bastard's visit he had joined in the diversionsin its honour; and yet so well had Montagu played his part at the courtthat he did not excite amongst the queen's relatives any of the hostilefeelings entertained towards his brother. No man, except Hastings,was so "entirely loved" by Edward; and Montagu, worldly as he was, andindignant against the king as he could not fail to be, so far repaidthe affection, that his chief fear at that moment sincerely was not forWarwick but Edward. He alone of those present was aware of the cause ofWarwick's hasty return, for he had privately despatched to him the newsof the Bastard's visit, its real object, and the inevitable success ofthe intrigues afloat, unless the earl could return at once, his missionaccomplished, and the ambassadors of France in his train; and evenbefore the courier despatched to the king had arrived at Shene, aprivate hand had conveyed to Montagu the information that Warwick,justly roused and alarmed, had left the state procession behind atDover, and was hurrying, fast as relays of steeds and his own fieryspirit could bear him, to the presence of the ungrateful king.

  Meanwhile the noon had now declined, the sport relaxed, and the soundof the trumpet from the king's pavilion proclaimed that the lazy pastimewas to give place to the luxurious banquet.

  At this moment, Montagu approached a tent remote from the royalpavilions, and, as his noiseless footstep crushed the grass, he heardthe sound of voices in which there was little in unison with the worldlythoughts that filled his breast.

  "Nay, sweet mistress, nay," said a young man's voice, earnest withemotion, "do not misthink me, do not deem me bold and overweening. Ihave sought to smother my love, and to rate it, and bring pride to myaid, but in vain; and, now, whether you will scorn my suit or not,I remember, Sibyll--O Sibyll! I remember the days when we conversedtogether; and as a brother, if nothing else--nothing dearer--I pray youto pause well, and consider what manner of man this Lord Hastings issaid to be!"

  "Master Nevile, is this generous? Why afflict me thus; why couple myname with so great a lord's?"

  "Because--beware--the young gallants already so couple it, and theirprophecies are not to thine honour, Sibyll. Nay, do not
frown on me. Iknow thou art fair and winsome, and deftly gifted, and thy father may,for aught I know, be able to coin thee a queen's dower out of his awsomeengines. But Hastings will not wed thee, and his wooing, therefore, butstains thy fair repute; while I--"

  "You!" said Montagu, entering suddenly--"you, kinsman, may look tohigher fortunes than the Duchess of Bedford's waiting-damsel can bringto thy honest love. How now, mistress, say, wilt thou take this younggentleman for loving fere and plighted spouse? If so, he shall give theea manor for jointure, and thou shalt wear velvet robe and gold chain, asa knight's wife."

  This unexpected interference, which was perfectly in character with thegreat lords, who frequently wooed in very peremptory tones for theirclients and kinsmen, [See, in Miss Strickland's "Life of ElizabethWoodville," the curious letters which the Duke of York and the Earlof Warwick addressed to her, then a simple maiden, in favour of theirprotege, Sir R. Johnes.] completed the displeasure which the bluntMarmaduke had already called forth in Sibyll's gentle but proud nature."Speak, maiden,--ay or no?" continued Montagu, surprised and angered atthe haughty silence of one whom he just knew by sight and name, thoughhe had never before addressed her.

  "No, my lord," answered Sibyll, keeping down her indignation at thistone, though it burned in her cheek, flashed in her eye, and swelled inthe heave of her breast. "No! and your kinsman might have spared thisaffront to one whom--but it matters not." She swept from the tent as shesaid this, and passed up the alley into that of the queen's mother.

  "Best so; thou art too young for marriage, Marmaduke," said Montagu,coldly. "We will find thee a richer bride ere long. There is Mary ofWinstown, the archbishop's ward, with two castles and seven knight'sfees."

  "But so marvellously ill-featured, my lord," said poor Marmaduke,sighing.

  Montagu looked at him in surprise. "Wives, sir," he said, "are not madeto look at,--unless, indeed, they be the wives of other men. But dismissthese follies for the nonce. Back to thy post by the king's pavilion;and by the way ask Lord Fauconberg and Aymer Nevile, whom thou wilt passby yonder arbour, ask them, in my name, to be near the pavilion whilethe king banquets. A word in thine ear,--ere yon sun gilds the top ofthose green oaks, the Earl of Warwick will be with Edward IV.; and comewhat may, some brave hearts should be by to welcome him. Go!"

  Without tarrying for an answer, Montagu turned into one of the tents,wherein Raoul de Fulke and the Lord St. John, heedless of hind andhart, conferred; and Marmaduke, much bewildered, and bitterly wroth withSibyll, went his way.