Agincourt Part 51

But what means all this?--Why should Richard of Woodville fear to be seen by mortal man?"

"Oh, there are strange and false reports about, Richard," replied Dacre, with a sorrowful look;--"false, most false, I know them to be.

I am too well aware how men can lie and calumniate. But you will find all men, except some few true friends, against you here; for day by day, and hour by hour, these rumours have been increasing, and every one, even to the peasantry of the land, seem to be leagued against you."

"Give me but some food, Dacre, and a cup of wine," answered Richard of Woodville, "and I will meet them this minute face to face. Why, Dacre, I have nought to fear. I have had neither time nor opportunity to do one base act, if I had been so willed. I am but a few short days out of bonds,--and my first act will be to seek the King, and dare any man on earth to bring a charge against me."

"Not to-night, not to-night," cried Sir Harry Dacre; "let there be some preparation first--Hear all that has been said."

"Not an hour will I lie under a stain, Harry," replied his friend. "I am weary, faint, and exhausted for want of food. Give me some wine and bread--throw open the door of your tent; and let all your men see me.

Let them rejoice that I have come back to do myself right. I fear not to show my face to any one."

Dacre, with a slow step and thoughtful brow, went to the entrance of the tent and called to those without, to bring food and wine; and the board was soon spread with such provisions as the camp could afford.

Seating himself on a coffer of arms, Woodville ate sparingly, and drank a cup of wine, asking from time to time, "Where is Sir John Grey?--Where is my good uncle?--He will not be absent from an enterprise like this, I am right sure."

"Here, here; both here," answered Sir Henry Dacre; "and Mary and Isabel are even now at Calais,--but be advised, my friend. Do not show yourself to-night. The whole court is crowding round the King in the village down below. Let the battle be first over. You will do good service, I am sure. You can fight in armour not your own, and then--"

"Armour, Harry!" cried the young knight, "I have no armour; but the armour of a true heart; and that is proof against the shafts of calumny. It never shall be said that Richard of Woodville paused when the straightforward course of honour was before him. Thought, preparation, care, would be a slander on my own good name--I need no meditated defence. I have done nought on earth that an English knight should blush to do; and he who says so lies--. Now I am ready for the task--Ha, Hugh of Clatford, is that you?" he continued, as some one entered the tent. "You have just come in time to be my messenger."

"Full glad I am to see you, n.o.ble sir," answered the stout yeoman; "we have a world of liars amongst us, which is the only thing that makes me fancy these Frenchmen may win the day. But, now you are come, you will put them to silence, I am sure."

"Right, Hugh, right!" replied Woodville. "But you have some word for Sir Harry. Speak your message; and then I will give mine."

"'Tis no great matter, sir," said Hugh of Clatford. "Sir Philip begs you would send him two loads of arrows, Sir Henry, if you have any to spare; that is all," he continued, addressing Dacre; and when the knight had answered, Woodville resumed eagerly, "If you are a true friend, Hugh, you will go do down for me to the King's quarters, and say to the first high officer that you can speak to, that Sir Richard of Woodville, just escaped from a French prison, is here in camp, and beseeches his Grace to grant him audience, as he hears that false and calumnious reports, to which he gives the lie, have been spread concerning him, while he has been suffering captivity."

"I will call out our old knight himself," replied Hugh; "he is now with the King at the castle, and will do the errand boldly, I am sure."

"Away then, quick, good Hugh, for I am all impatience," said Woodville; and the yeoman retired.

When he was gone, Sir Harry Dacre would fain have spoken with his friend regarding all the reports that had been circulated of him during his absence; but Woodville would not hear; and, taking another cup of wine, he said, "I shall learn the falsehoods soon enough, Harry.--Now tell me of yourself and Isabel."

But Dacre waved his hand. "I cannot talk of that," he said, "'tis the same as ever. She knows how I love her, and her father too; but the phantom of a doubt still crosses her--even her; that I can see, and good Sir Philip answers bluffly as is his wont, that he knows it is false; but yet--but yet! Oh, that accursed 'but yet,' Richard. The plague spot is upon me still. That is enough. The breath of one foul vapour can obscure the sun, and the tongue of one false villain can tarnish the honour of a life."

"Poo, nonsense, Harry," answered his companion; "I will show you ere many hours be over, how lightly I can shake falsehood off. 'Tis still your own heart that swells the load. I had not thought my uncle was so foolish--so unkind."

He whiled him on to speak farther; but the same cloud was still upon Sir Henry Dacre's mind. It was unchanged and dark as ever. Study, to which he had given himself up, had done nought to clear it away; reflection had not chased it thence; time itself had not lightened it.

Half an hour pa.s.sed, and then there came a tramp as of armed men.

Dacre looked anxiously on his friend's face; but Woodville heard it calmly; and when the hangings were drawn back and a royal officer entered, followed by a party of archers, no change came upon his countenance.

"What is your pleasure, Sir William Porter?" asked Dacre, looking at him earnestly.

"I am sorry, sir, to have this duty," replied the officer; "but I am sent to arrest Sir Richard of Woodville, charged with high treason."

Woodville smiled; "Are your orders, sir, to bring me before the King?"

he demanded.

"No, sir knight," answered Sir William Porter, "I am to hold you a prisoner till his Grace's pleasure is known."

"Then I must ask a boon," replied Woodville; "which is simply this, that you will keep me here in ward, till one of your men convey this to the King. He gave it me long ago, and bade me in a strait like this, make use of it. Let your messenger say, that I claim his royal promise to be heard when I ask it." At the same time, he took a ring from his finger; but then, recollecting himself, he said, "But stay, I will write--so he commanded."

"You must write quickly, sir knight," replied Sir William Porter; "for the King retires early, and I must not wait long."

"My words shall be very few," answered Woodville; and Sir Harry Dacre, with hasty hands, produced paper and ink. The young knight's words were, indeed, few. "My Liege," he wrote, "I have returned from long captivity, and find that I have been charged with crimes while my tongue was silent in prison. I know not what men lay to my account; but I know that I have done no wrong. Your Grace once promised, that if I needed aught at your royal hands, and sealed my letter with the ring you then gave me, you would read the contents yourself, and at once. I do so now; but I have no boon to ask of you, my Liege, but to be admitted to your presence, to hear the charges made against me, and to give the lie to those who made them. Love to your royal person, zeal for your service, honour to your crown, I own I have ever felt; but if these be not crimes, I have committed none other against you, and am ready to be sifted like chaff, sure that my honesty will appear. G.o.d grant you, royal Sir, his great protection, victory over all your enemies, and subjects as faithful as

"Richard of Woodville."

He folded, sealed it, and delivered it to the royal officer, saying, "Let the King be besought to look at the seal. His royal promise is given that he will read it with his own eyes."

Sir William Porter examined the impression with a thoughtful look, and then replied abruptly, "I will take it myself.--Guard the tent," he continued, turning to his men, and withdrew.

With more speed than Woodville or Dacre had thought possible, he returned, and entering, bade the prisoner follow. "The King will see you, sir knight," he said; "your letter has had its effect."

"As all true words ever will have on his n.o.ble heart," replied Woodville, rising.

"I will go with you, Richard," exclaimed Sir Harry Dacre. "Who is with the King, Sir William?"

"His uncle, n.o.ble sir, his brothers, the Earl of Warwick, Sir Philip Beauchamp, Sir John Grey, Philip the Treasurer, and some others. But we must speed, for it is late;" and, leading the way from the tent, he walked on towards the small town of Blangy, with Woodville and his friend, followed by the archers, and one or two of Dacre's servants.

CHAPTER XLII.

THE CHARGES.

"We shall see, my good lord, we shall see," said Henry V. to the Earl of Stafford as he stood surrounded by his court in the hall of the old castle of Blangy. "I have, it is true, learned sad lessons, that those we most trust are often the least worthy.--Nay, let me not say 'often,' but rather, sometimes; and yet," he added, after a pause, "perhaps I am wrong there, too; for it has not happened to me in life, that one, of whom I have had no misgivings, has proved false.--May it never happen. Those, indeed, of whom I would not believe the strange and instinctive doubts which sometimes, from a mere look or tone, creep into the heart--those whom I have trusted against my spirit, may have, indeed, betrayed me; but there is something in plain straightforward honesty that may not always suit a monarch's humour, but which cannot well be suspected--and besides--but it matters not.

We shall see."

It was evident to all, that his thoughts turned to that dark conspiracy against his throne and life, which had been detected and punished at Southampton; and as every one knew it was a painful and a dangerous subject with the King--the only one, indeed, that ever moved him to a hasty burst of pa.s.sion, all were silent; and while the King still bent his eyes to the ground in meditation, Sir William Porter, afterwards raised to the then high office of grand carver, entered and approached his Sovereign.

"The prisoner is without, royal Sir," he said.

"Let him come in," answered Henry; and raising his face towards the door, he regarded Woodville as he walked forward, followed by Sir Henry Dacre, with that fixed unwavering glance that was peculiar to him. His eyelids did not wink, not the slightest movement of the lips or nostril could be observed by those nearest him; but the light of his eye fell calm and grave upon the young knight, like the beams of a wintry sun.

The demeanour of Woodville was not less like himself. With a rapid step, firm and free, with his broad chest expanded, his brow serene but thoughtful, and with his eyes raised to the monarch without looking to the right or left, he advanced till he was within two steps of Henry, and then bowed his head with an air of calm respect. He was quite silent, however, till the King spoke.

"You have asked to be admitted to our presence, Sir Richard of Woodville," said the King; "and, according to the tenour of a promise once made, we have granted your request. What have you to say to the charges made against you?"

"I know not what they are, my Liege," replied Woodville; "but, whatever they may be, if they lay to my account aught of disloyalty to you, I say that they are false."

"And have you heard nothing?" asked the King, in a tone of surprise; "has no one told you?"

"He would not hear me, Sire," said Dacre, stepping forward. "He said he would meet them unprepared in your own presence."

"It is well," rejoined Henry; "then you shall hear them from my lips, sir knight; and G.o.d grant you clear yourself; for none wishes it more than I do.--Did I not command you, sir, now well nigh twenty months ago, to retire from the forces of our cousin of Burgundy and return to your native land, for our especial service?"

"Such commands may have been sent, my Liege, but they never reached me," replied the young knight; "and when a mere rumour found its way to me, I was on the eve of setting out on that fatal enterprise in which I lost my liberty. I can appeal to the n.o.ble Lord of Croy when the tidings came, to speak how much pain they gave me, and how ready I was to abandon all and follow your commands."