With Ring of Shield Part 22

Sometimes this drives him to his more fitting path; again it maketh him to despair, and, filled with spleen and useless stubbornness, he ploddeth on along a path not suited to his step, when there, within reach of his sight, had he but turned his head, doth lie his own fair way. Some few hills there are, of course; but these are suited to his stature."

"By my troth thou hast been changed by Frederick into a full-fledged philosopher," laughed Hazel. "But tell me the lesson that this should teach to me, and why I should not longer tarry with the Queen."

"'Tis this," I replied. "Her Majesty's path is now blocked up with obstacles. 'Tis right that thou shouldst sympathize with her, and cheer her on. Yea, if it be within thy power to lend to her a.s.sistance, thou art bound by the bonds of love and grat.i.tude to give it. Still, it is not required of thee, by either of these enn.o.bling masters, that thou shouldst tread her path thyself. Nay," I continued, as I saw a look that told me I had gained my point steal o'er her face, "'tis even wrong for thee to leave the way that Nature chose for thee to cheer."

"Thine eloquence hath won me from the doubt that haunted me and made me to feel ungrateful. But truly, Walter, thou must stop thy bursts of poetic speeches, lest in the future thy songs do change the minds of people, and Master Chaucer's wit then be forgot," and she laughed in mine earnest face, until I joined her in her gaiety.

When we reached the Palace imagine our surprise and horror to learn that Lord Hastings, whilst at the meeting in the Tower, to discuss the coronation of young Edward, had, through some thoughtless remark dropped in the presence of Gloucester, given to that most murderous tyrant a poor excuse for putting on a towering rage and ordering the execution of the Chancellor. Seized as he sat at the table of the council he was hurried, by that murderer, Tyrrell, whose list of crimes were now being added to with lightning swiftness, to the black-stained block within the courtyard of the Tower, and there his head was severed from the trunk, and the bleeding trophy carried to the Duke. A fitting meal it was, indeed, for the vengeance of such a man to feed on.

This speech of Hastings' that had caused his soul to follow, within so short a time, the spirits of his rivals, who met their fate at Pomfret, served also, as I verily believe Richard had foreplanned it should, to postpone the discussion of the young King's coronation.

"Richard hath pulled harder on the line," said Harleston, when we had heard the complement of the news--namely, that Lord Stanley had been wounded, by accident, during the arrest of Hastings. "Another obstacle hath been removed from the course of his heavy s.h.i.+p and cargo. The line still bears the strain. Wait with patience and expectancy: he'll pull again; observe the result."

CHAPTER XIX

A MESSAGE IS SENT TO RICHMOND

Harlston's statement, that the line of Richard's success must part, and that he could not gain the s.h.i.+p's cargo, proved to be wrong.

Gloucester had met with success where'er he turned.

Hastings' death had been received with but grumblings of discontent and not, as we had hoped, with clamorous outbursts of b.l.o.o.d.y insurrection.

Stanley, for remonstrating with Gloucester, in an attempt to save his friend, Hastings, from his fate, was now confined within the Tower's walls. The Archbishop of York and the Bishop of Ely here kept him company.

Whisperings there now were of the coronation of a different King from Edward. Richard's full hand was now being shown to the whole broad world. Most of those which lived at court had seen it, ere this last card was laid upon the board.

Rumours to the effect that young Edward's father's marriage with the Lady Grey, the young King's mother, had been illegal now had a n.o.ble circulation. 'Twas whispered in the court, and gossipped o'er. 'Twas the sole story on the tradesman's lips. The urchin in the street had heard it told, and each ear did either credit or despise the tale, that Edward, the father of our present King, had been united by the bonds of wedlock with the Lady Eleanor Talbot, daughter of the Earl of Shrewsbury, previous to his union with the Lady Grey. This tale, 'tis scarce necessary for me to say, was but one of many similar inventions of Richard to throw discredit on the rightful Sovereign, and thus help him to reach that awful height to which he was determined to climb.

As my friend and I were one day pa.s.sing the great Church of St. Paul, we were attracted by a surging crowd of people trying, as best they might, to see some poor soul who had just finished doing penance in a sheet of white, and who now stood, in pitiful abashment, upon the church's steps. Behold her as she stands there, an object of curiosity and derision. Hear the coa.r.s.e jests of the vulgar rabble, who, in their delight at the sight of fallen power, hurl at her defenseless ears all the filthy epithets in the vocabulary of the indecent.

Compare her authority of yesterday with her degradation of to-day. Not one of those who were helped to power and greatness, by this woman, now speak one word of sympathy or regret. Such a scene should find in h.e.l.l more fitting surroundings for its tragic action. So could I imagine the condemned souls revel and domineer when a Prince of Darkness hath been reduced to a lower level. Another triumph for the Protector.

This is Jane Sh.o.r.e, the mistress of the late lamented Edward.

Gloucester, the better to deceive the people, and make them to believe in his purity and religious ardour, compelled this poor woman, whose sole crime against the state was that her Creator had given her such beauty as to cause the amorous Edward to cast a longing eye upon her--which, with that fiery Sovereign, was ever the prologue to a history of a woman's loss of character--to thus do penance, draped in a sheet, before the insulting eyes of the sc.u.m of the city's population.

"Look at the shameless hussy standing, with bowed head, as though she cared a hair for all this gentle penance. See how she stands, blus.h.i.+ng, as a properer dame might do," said a heartless wretch, dressed in the garb of a gentleman.

Harleston stooped and, taking up a stone, he handed it to this fellow, with these words:--'There, my fine fellow, hurl thou this pebble at the woman there. 'Tis much to be regretted, sir, that thou didst not live in the days of Christ. He asked for such an one as thou to hurl the stone at Mary Magdalene."[1]

"And who art thou, sir, to criticise my words?"

"A gentleman," replied Harleston with a slight bow. Then, as the fellow stared stupidly into his face, my friend again said:--"I suppose, sir, that thou dost not e'en comprehend the meaning of that name. I should have used another word. This, then, is the definition of that article with which you have no doubt often met, and still you understand not. First, he is a man; second, his speech is courteous, to those whose manner doth deserve such speech; third, he protects the weak and defenceless, and doth not insult a helpless woman, as thou this day hast done; fourth, he is possessed of a quality known by the name of honour, the which to brush against or attempt to stain means death to the transgressor or himself; last, and yet first above all else, he must be brave, and not submit to insult such as thou dost bear; and 'twould be death for one to strike a blow upon his cheek, as I now do to thee." And, suiting the action to the word, Harleston gave him a stinging slap upon the ear that almost caused the other to drop upon his knees.

My friend's judgment of the knave was right. He was, as all these blackguards are, a coward through and through. A plenteous supply of bl.u.s.ter had he, to be sure, and this he commenced to fling at Harleston. However, he got not far in his list of compliments; for my friend, losing all patience with this blackguarding knave, took him by the ear, that now was the colour of a fiery sunset, and, turning him about, he placed his knee beneath his doublet tail and hurled him upon his hands and knees among the legs and feet of the surging crowd about.

I had never known Harleston to act thus before, and greatly was I surprised to see him so ready to pick up a quarrel.

When we left the crowd before the Church and continued on our way I thought to find him still heated with his indignation. But in this I had again misjudged this man whose brain seemed balanced with such an exactness. He was as quiet and unruffled as though he had been but talking with a priest about some books, of which he was most fond.

"Strange," said he in musing tone, "that men so love to see their fellows lowered. Why can they not mourn for their sorrows and exult when others do succeed? Instead of doing this, they glory in another's fall, and when the downcast tries to regain his feet, cruel and remorseless blows are heaped upon his head, till the poor creature, hopeless of success, lies back there where he falls, among the quick and devouring sands of vice, or other misery. Still he sinks lower, and, as he disappears, the sands put on their faces of harmlessness and tempting beauty, to await another victim. And the cold world jeers at the sufferer's dying struggles, and laughs, and he's soon forgot."

"Why, my friend, thou art quite mournful," I remarked.

"Nay, by my troth, mine heart was never lighter. Misunderstand me not.

The picture that my mind now draws is sad, 'tis true. But verily do I tell thee, Bradley, mine eye enjoys the sight. What song is there so sweet as that which telleth to our hearts a tale of woe?"

Again doth Richard triumph. The s.h.i.+p sails quickly through the water, brus.h.i.+ng aside the difficulties that would impede its progress.

Gloucester steps o'er the rail and takes possession of the cargo.

Thus, after the disgraceful scene in the Cathedral of St. Paul, when Doctor Shaw preached his now notorious sermon on the b.a.s.t.a.r.dy of young Edward and his brother, and after the Lord Mayor and the Duke of Buckingham had wrung from a small gathering of London's citizens an unwilling consent to the crown being placed upon the head of Richard, instead of on our gentle, rightful, boyish King, Richard was crowned with great pomp and ceremony, and ruled England as the rightful heir by birth, whilst his young nephew lay within the Tower, uncrowned, a stain attempting to hang upon his name, and treated as a malefactor, who should have worn the diadem of England.

Richard's court was now removed to Crosby Place, where the boar bedecked himself and his surroundings with all the gaudy finery, of which he was so fond.

Then whisperings began to circulate, to the effect that both of the little Princes (for the people all believed that little York was also there) had been murdered in the Tower. This tale, which soon became general court gossip, was never contradicted by the friends of our new King Richard, and therefore it soon came to be believed about the court, from whence the people had it, and believed. Some said that Tyrrell, with an order from the usurping King, went to the Tower and took full charge thereof for but one night. That with him went three others which, whilst the young Princes slept, smothered them to death.

This was the version most generally believed, and, to my mind, it indeed seemeth a likely tale, in so far, of course, as it refers to young Edward; for well did my friend and I know that little York was far from London at that time; though where he was we knew not. We dreaded telling to the Queen this news, and therefore waited for some time before we again visited the Sanctuary. When at length we did go, we were saved from again inflicting torture on this poor woman. Lord Stanley, who had been released from his imprisonment but a few days previous and now had been appointed to the office of Steward at the Palace, had been there before us and told the Queen the whole sad story of how her son had, in the night, been murdered whilst he slept.

This time the Queen was not resigned nor stupefied. Bold determination and a hunger for revenge were imprinted on her features.

When I look back to those harsh, cruel days of misery for that woman, I compare her, in my mind, with those savage tribes which dwell in that distant land beyond the seas, discovered by that Genoese sailor. 'Twas told to me, by Cabot and his son, that they, when injured, show but little spleen; but with deliberation and the greatest care they plan, with wonderous skill, some grand invention that enables them to have revenge in the most complete and properest of ways.

Cold and deliberate was the ex-Queen, as she informed us that she had sent her son, Dorset (which had returned, after leaving the little Duke of York in a Sanctuary in France) with a letter to the Earl of Richmond, who then resided, in exile, at the court of Brittany, asking him to take up arms in her cause, and his own, and fight King Richard, with the crown of England as the stake.

"I have decided on this course," said the ex-Queen, "because I realize that my son, the Duke of York, may never rule so long as Richard lives.

If Richmond doth accept mine offer, and if he wins the crown away from the murderous Usurper, then will I make him regent during the minority of my little Richard. All this I have set forth distinctly in my letter to the Earl. I also promised him my daughter Elizabeth's hand in marriage. Such offers, methinks, no sane man would refuse, unless he be a coward, which 'tis not possible for him to be. 'Tis true he belongs to the Lancastrian party, which hath ever been our enemies; but, under the circ.u.mstances in which I now find myself placed, I cannot choose, but must accept that which is best for my poor son's welfare. Therefore I have asked for Richmond's aid."

"Madam," said Harleston, when Elizabeth had finished speaking, "I pray that thou wilt pardon the liberty I am about to take, in making a remark about thine own affairs. Mine excuse for doing so is that thou, madam, hast honoured me ere this by asking mine advice."

"Speak out, Sir Frederick," said Elizabeth. "Well dost thou know that no word of thine, intended for my help, will be considered as impertinent."

"Then, madam, I would ask if thou dost consider it as safe to thus invite the Earl of Richmond to your aid? Dost thou not fear that he--should he be successful--will claim the throne as his very own by right of conquest by the sword? 'Tis but a possibility, madam, but methinks 'tis worthy of consideration."

"But how could he claim the throne, having no right thereto?"

"Richard hath taken it."

"Ay, true, true, true!" wailed the poor Queen, as she walked about the room, wringing her hands.

"Dost thou not think, madam," continued Harleston, "that it would be better if thou wert to try and win over Buckingham to thy cause?"

"He is the friend of Richard."

"Ay, madam; but he is also ambitious. Two such men as he and the Usurper cannot for long agree. Richard must fear that some day Buckingham's prestige with the people will be too great. No doubt some jealousy doth exist already. Have Lord Stanley, in thy behalf, offer to the Duke some n.o.ble inducement to bring him to thy side. The people, indignant at the murder of thy son, could soon be tempted to revolt and make up a strong force; drive forth the Usurper from the throne and place the crown upon the rightful head."

"But how shall I prevent the Earl of Richmond from coming to mine aid, now that I have once invited him?"