CHAPTER VII: THE SIEGE OF MEAUX
Wintry winds and rains were sweeping over the English tents on the banksof the Marne, where Henry V. was besieging Meaux, then the stronghold ofone of those terrible freebooters who were always the offspring of alengthened war. Jean de Gast, usually known as the Bastard de Vaurus,nominally was of the Armagnac or patriotic party, but, in fact, pillagedindiscriminately, especially capturing travellers on their way to Paris,and setting on their heads a heavy price, failing which he hung them uponthe great elm-tree in the market-place. The very suburbs of Paris wereinfested by the forays of this desperate _routier_, as such highwayrobbers were called; the supplies of previsions were cut off, and thecitizens had petitioned King Henry that he would relieve them from sointolerable an enemy.
The King intended to spend the winter months with his queen in England,and at once attacked the place in October, hoping to carry it by a _coupde main_. He took the lower city, containing the market-place andseveral large convents, with no great difficulty; but the upper city, ona rising ground above the river, was strongly fortified, well victualled,and bravely defended, and he found himself forced to invest it, and makea regular siege, though at the expense of severe toil and much sicknessand suffering. Both his own prestige in France and the welfare of thecapital depended on his success, and he had therefore fixed himselfbefore Meaux to take it at whatever cost.
The greater part of the army were here encamped, together with the chiefnobles, March, Somerset, Salisbury, Warwick, and likewise the King ofScots. James had for a time had the command of the army which besiegedand took Dreux while Henry was elsewhere engaged, but in general he actedas a sort of volunteer aide-de-camp to his brother king, and MalcolmStewart of Glenuskie was always with him as his squire. A great changehad come over Malcolm in these last few months. His feeble, sicklyboyhood seemed to have been entirely cast off, and the warm genial summersun of France to have strengthened his frame and developed his powers. Hehad shot up suddenly to a fair height, had almost lost his lameness, andgained much more appearance of health and power of enduring fatigue. Hisnerves had become less painfully sensitive, and when after his firstskirmish, during which he had kept close to King James, far too muchterrified to stir an inch from him, he had not only found himselfperfectly safe, but had been much praised for his valour, he had been somuch pleased with himself that he quite wished for another occasion ofdisplaying his bravery; and, what with use, and what with the increasingspirit of pugnacity, he was as sincere as Ralf Percy in abusing theFrench for never coming to a pitched battle. Perhaps, indeed, Malcolmspoke even more eagerly than Ralf, in his own surprise and gratificationat finding himself no coward, and his fear lest Percy should detect thathe ever had been supposed to be such.
So far the King of Scots had succeeded in awakening martial fire in theboy, but he found him less the companion in other matters than he hadintended. When at Paris, James would have taken him to explore thelearned hoards of the already venerable University of Paris, where youngJames Kennedy--son to Sir James Kennedy of Dunure, and to Mary, an eldersister of the King--was studying with exceeding zeal. Both James and Dr.Bennet were greatly interested in this famous abode of hearing--the King,indeed, was already sketching out designs in his own mind for a similarinstitution in Scotland, designs that were destined to be carried outafter his death by Kennedy; and Malcolm perforce heard many inquiries andreplies, but he held aloof from friendship with his clerkly cousinKennedy, and closed his ears as much as might be, hanging back as ifafraid of returning to his books. There was in this some real dread ofRalf Percy's mockery of his clerkliness, but there was more real distastefor all that appertained to the past days that he now despised.
The tide of vitality and physical vigour, so long deficient, had, whom ithad fairly set in, carried him away with it: and in the activity of bodynewly acquired, mental activity had well-nigh ceased. And therewith wentmuch of the tenderness of conscience and devout habits of old. Theydropped from him, sometimes for lack of time, sometimes from false shame,and by and by from very weariness and distaste. He was soldier now, andnot monk--ay, and even the observances that such soldiers as Henry andJames never failed in, and always enforced, were becoming a burthen tohim. They wakened misgivings that he did not like, and that must waittill his next general shrift.
And Esclairmonde? Out of her sight, Malcolm dreamt a good deal abouther, but more as the woman, less as the saint; and the hopes, so low inher presence, burnt brighter in her absence as Malcolm grew inself-confidence and in knowledge of the world. He knew that when heparted with her he had been a miserable little wretch whom any womanwould despise, yet she had shown him a sort of preference; how would itbe when he returned to her, perhaps a knight, certainly a brave man likeother men!
Of Patrick Drummond he had as yet heard nothing, and only believed him tobe among the Scots who fought on the French side under the Earls ofBuchan and Douglas. Indeed, James especially avoided places where heknew these Scots to be engaged, as Henry persisted in regarding them asrebels against him, and in hanging all who were made prisoners; nor hadMalcolm, during the courtesies that always pass between the outposts ofcivilized armies, made much attempt to have any communication with hiscousin, for though his own abnegation of his rights had never beenpermitted by his guardian, or reckoned on by his sister or her lover,still he had been so much in earnest about it himself, as, whileregarding it as a childish folly, to feel ill at ease in the remembrance,and, though defiant, willing to avoid all that could recall it.
Meantime he, with his king, was lodged in a large old convent, as part ofthe immediate following of King Henry. Others of the princes and nobleswere quartered in the market hall and lower town, but great part of thinetroops were in tents, and in a state of much discomfort, owing to theoverflowings of the Marne. Fighting was the least of their dangers,though their skirmishes were often fought ankle-deep in mud and mire;fever and ague were among them, and many a sick man was sent away torecover or die at Paris. The long dark evenings were a new trial to menused to summer campaigning, and nothing but Henry's wonderful personalinfluence and perpetual vigilance kept up discipline. At any hour of theday or night, at any place in the camp, the King might be at hand, with acheery word of sympathy or encouragement, or with the most unflinchingsternness towards any disobedience or debauchery--ever a presence to beeither loved or dreaded. An engineer in advance of his time, he waspersuaded that much of the discomfort might be remedied by trenching theground around the camp; but this measure proved wonderfully distastefulto the soldiery. How hard they laboured in the direct siege operationsthey cared not, but to be set to drain French fields seemed to themabsurd and unreasonable, and the work would not have proceeded at allwithout constant superintendence from one of the chiefs of the army,since the ordinary knights and squires were as obstinately prejudiced aswere the men.
Thus it was that, on a cold sleety December day, James of Scotland rodealong the meadows, splashing through thin ice into muddy water, andattended by his small personal suite, excepting Sir Nigel Baird, who wasgone on a special commission to Paris. Both he and Malcolm were plainlyand lightly armed, and wore long blue cloaks with the St. Andrew's crosson the shoulder, steel caps without visors, and the King's merelydistinguished by a thread-hike circlet of gold. They had breastplates,swords, and daggers, but they were not going to a quarter where fightingwas to be expected, and bright armour was not to be exposed to rustwithout need. A visit of inspection to the delvers was not a congenialoccupation, for though the men-at-arms had obeyed James fairly well whenhe was in sole command at Dreux, yet whenever he was obliged to enforceanything unpopular, the national dislike to the Scot was apt to showitself, and the whole army was at present in a depressed condition whichmade such manifestations the more probable.
But King Henry was not half recovered from a heavy feverish cold, whichhe had not confessed or attended to, and he had also of late beentroubled with a swelling of the neck. This morning, too, much to his
inconvenience and dismay, he had missed his signet-ring. The privateseal on such a ring was of more importance than the autograph at thattime, and it would never have left the King's hand; but no doubt, inconsequence of his indisposition, his finger, always small-boned, hadbecome thin enough to allow the signet to escape unawares, he wasunwilling to publish the loss, as it might cast doubt on the papers hedespatched, and he, with his chamberlain Fitzhugh, King James, Malcolm,Percy, and a few more, had spent half the morning in the vain search,ending by the King sending his chamberlain, Lord Fitzhugh, to carry toParis a seal already bearing his shield, but lacking the small privatemark that authenticated it as his signet. Fitzhugh would stand over thelapidary and see this added, and bring it back. Ralf Percy had meantimebeen sent to bring a report of the diggers, but he was long in returning;and when Henry became uneasy, James had volunteered to go himself, andHenry had consented, not because the air was full of sleety rain or snow,but because his hands were full of letters needing to be despatched toall quarters.
The air was so thick that it was not easy to see where were the sullengroup of diggers presided over by the quondam duellists of Thirsk, Kitsonand Trenton, now the most inseparable and impracticable of men; but Jamesand his companions had ridden about two miles from the market-place, whenRalf Percy came out of the mist, exclaiming, 'Is it you, Sir King? Maybeyou can do something with those rascals! I've talked myself blue withcold to make them slope the sides of their dyke, but the owl Kitson saysno Yorkshireman ditcher ever went but by one fashion, and none evershall; and when I lifted my riding-rod at the most insolent of therogues, what must Trenton do but tell me the lot were free yeomen, andI'd best look out, or they'd roll me in the mire if I meddled with a soulof them.'
'You didn't threaten to strike Trenton?'
'No, no; the sullen cur is a gentleman. 'Twas one of those lubberly men-at-arms! I told them they should hear what King Harry would say to theirmood. I would it were he!'
'So would I,' said James. 'Little chance that they will hearken to aScot when you have put them in such a mood. Hold, Ralf, do not go forthe King; he has letters for the Emperor mattering more than this dyke.'
He rode on, and did his best by leaping into the ditch, taking the spade,and showing the superior security of the angle of inclination traced bythe King, but all in vain; both Trenton and Kitson silently butobstinately scouted the notion that any king should know more aboutditches than themselves.
'See,' cried Percy, starting up, 'here's other work! The fellows, whencecame they?'
Favoured by the fog and the soft soil of the meadows, a considerable bodyof the enemy were stealing on the delvers with the manifest purpose ofcutting them off from the camp. They were all mounted, but the onlyhorses in the English party were those of James, Percy, Malcolm, and thehalf-dozen men of his escort. James, assuming the command at once, badethese to be all released; they would be sure to find their way to thecamp, and that would bring succour. Meantime he drew the whole of themen, about thirty in number, into a compact body. They were, properly,archers, but their bows had been left behind, and they had only theirpikes and bills, which were, however, very formidable weapons againstcavalry as long as they continued in an unbroken rank; and though thebogs, pools, sunken hedges, and submerged stumps made it difficult tokeep close together as they made their way slowly with one flank to theriver, these obstacles were no small protection against a charge ofhorsemen.
For a quarter of a mile these tactics kept them unharmed, but at lengththey reached a wide smooth meadow, and the enemy seemed preparing tocharge. James gave orders to close up and stand firm, pikes outwards.Malcolm's heart beat fast; it was the most real peril he had yet seen;and yet he was cheered by the King's ringing voice, 'Stand firm, ye merrymen. They must soon be with us from the camp.'
Suddenly a voice shouted, 'The Scots! the Scots! 'Tis the Scots!Treachery! we are betrayed. Come, Sir' (to Percy), 'they'll be on you.Treason!'
'An' it were, you fool, would a Percy turn his back?' cried Ralf,striking at the man; but the panic had seized the whole body; all wereshouting that the false Scots king had brought his countrymen down onthem; they scattered hither and thither, and would have fallen an easyprey if they had been pursued. But this did not seem to be the purposeof the enemy, who merely extended themselves so as to form a hedge aroundthe few who stood, sword in hand, disdaining to fly. These were, James,somewhat in advance, with his head high, and a lion look on his brow;Malcolm, white with dismay; Ralf, restless with fury; Kitson and Trenton,apparently as unmoved as ever; Brewster, equally steady: and Malcolm'sfollower, Halbert, in a glow of hopeful excitement.
'Never fear, friends,' said James, kindly; 'to you this can only bematter of ransom.'
'I fear nothing,' sharply answered Ralf.
'We'll stand by you, Sir,' said Kitson to Ralf; 'but if ever there werefoul treason--'
'Pshaw! you ass,' were all Percy's thanks; for at that moment a horsemancame forward from among the enemy, a gigantic form on a tall white horse,altogether a 'dark gray man,' the open visor revealing an elderly face,hard-featured and grim, and the shield on his arm so dinted, faded, andbattered, as scarce to show the blue chief and the bleeding crownedheart; but it was no unfamiliar sight to Malcolm's eyes, and with aslight shudder he bent his head in answer to the fierce whisper, 'OldDouglas himself!' with which Hotspur's son certified himself that he hadthe foe of his house before him. King James, resting the point of hissword on his mailed foot, stood erect and gravely expectant; and theScot, springing to the ground, advanced with the words, 'We greet youwell, my liege, and hereby--' he was bending his knee as he spoke, andremoving his gauntlet in preparation for the act of homage.
'Hold, Earl Douglas,' said James, 'homage is vain to a captive.'
'You are captive no longer, Sir King,' said Earl Archibald. 'We havelong awaited this occasion, and will at once return to Scotland with you,with the arms and treasure we have gained here, and will bear down thecraven Albany.'
Kitson and Trenton looked at one another and grasped their swords, asthough doubting whether they ought not to cut down their king's prisonerrather than let him be rescued; and meanwhile the cry, 'Save King James!'broke out on all sides, knights leapt down to tender their homage, andamong the foremost Malcolm knew Sir Patrick Drummond, crying aloud, 'Mylord, my lord, we have waited long for you. Be a free king in freeScotland! Trust us, my liege.'
'Trust you, my friends!' said James, deeply touched; 'I trust you withall my heart; but how could you trust me if I began with a breach offaith to the King of England?'
Ralf Percy held up his finger and nodded his head to the Yorkshiresquires, who stood open-mouthed, still believing that a Scot must befalse. There was an angry murmur among the Scots, but James gazed atthem undauntedly, as though to look it down.
'Yes, to King Harry!' he said, in his trumpet voice. 'I belong to him,and he has trusted me as never prisoner was trusted before, nor will Ibetray that trust.'
'The foul fiend take such niceties,' muttered old Douglas; but, checkinghimself, he said, 'Then, Sir, give me your sword, and we'll have you homeas my prisoner, to save this your honour!'
'Yea,' said James, 'that is mine own, though my body be yours, and tillEngland put me to ransom you would have but a useless captive.'
'Sir,' said Sir John Swinton, pressing forward, 'if my Lord of Douglas beplain-spoken, bethink you that it is no cause for casting aside this onehope of freedom that we have sought so long. If you have the heart tostrike for Scotland, this is the time.'
'It is not the time,' said James, 'nor will I do Scotland the wrong ofstriking for her with a dishonoured hand.'
'That will we see when we have him at Hermitage Castle,' quoth Douglas tohis followers. 'Now, Sir King, best give your sword without moregrimace. Living or dead you are ours.'
'I yield not,' said James. 'Dead you may take me--alive, never.' Thenturning his eyes to the faces that gazed on him so earnestly indisappointment, in affection, or in scorn
, he spoke: 'Brave friends, whomay perchance love me the better that I have been a captive half my lifeand all my reign, you can believe how sair my heart burns for my bonnieland's sake, and how little I'd reck of my life for her weal. But brokenoaths are ill beginnings. For me, so notably trusted by King Henry, tobreak my bonds, would shame both Scots and kings; and it were yet morepaltry to feign to yield to my Lord of Douglas. Rescue or no rescue, Iam England's captive. Gentles, kindly brother Scots, in one way alonecan you free me. Give up this wretched land of France, whose troublesare but lengthened by your valour. Let me gang to King Harry and tellhim your swords are at his service, so soon as I am free. Then am I yourKing indeed; we return together, staunch hearts and strong hands, and thekey shall keep the castle, and the bracken bush keep the cow, though Ilead the life of a dog to bring it about.'
His tawny eye flashed with falcon light; and as he stood towering aboveall the tall men around, there were few who did not in heart own himindeed their king. But his picture of royal power accorded ill with thenotions of a Black Douglas, in the most masterful days of that family;and Earl Archibald, who had come to regard kings as beings meant to behectored by Douglases, resentfully exclaimed, 'Hear him, comrades; he hasavouched himself a Southron at heart. Has he reckoned how little itwould cost to give a thrust to the caitiff who has lost heart in hisprison, and clear the way for Albany, who is at least a true Scot?'
'Do so, Lord Earl,' said James, 'and end a long captivity. But let thesego scatheless.'
With one voice, Percy, Kitson, Trenton, and Brewster, shouted theirresolve to defend him to the last; and Malcolm, flinging himself onPatrick Drummond, adjured him to save the King.
'Thou here, laddie!' said Patrick, amazed; and while several more knightsexclaimed, 'Sir, Sir, we'll see no hand laid on you!' he thrust forward,'Take my horse, Sir, ride on, and I'll see no scathe befall you.'
'Thanks,' said James; 'but my feet will serve me best; we will keeptogether.'
The Scottish force seemed dividing into two: Douglas and his friends andretainers, mounted and holding together, as though still undecidedwhether to grapple with the King and his half-dozen companions; whileDrummond and about ten more lances were disposed to guard him at allrisks.
'Now,' said James to his English friends; and therewith, sword in hand,he moved with a steady but swift stride towards the camp, nor did Douglasattempt pursuit; some of the other horsemen hovered between, and PatrickDrummond, with a puzzled face, kept near on foot. So they proceeded tillthey reached a bank and willow hedge, through which horses could hardlyhave pursued them.
On the other side of this, James turned round and said, 'Thanks, SirKnight; I suppose I may not hope that you will become a follower of theknight adventurer.'
'I cannot fight under the English banner, my liege. Elsewhere I wouldfellow you to the death.'
'This is no time to show your error,' said James; 'and I thereforecounsel you to come no farther. The English will be pricking forth insearch of us: so I will but thank you for your loyal aid.'
'I entreat you, Sir,' cried Patrick, 'not to believe that we meant thismatter to go as it has done! It had long been our desire--of all of us,that is, save my Lord Buchan's retainers--to find you and release you;but never did we deem that Lord Douglas would have dared to conductmatters thus.'
'You would be little the better for me did Lord Douglas bring me back onhis own terms,' said James, smiling. 'No, no; when I go home, it shallbe as a free king, able to do justice to all alike; and for that I amcontent to bide my time, and trust to such as you to back me when itcomes.'
'And with all my heart, Sir,' said Patrick. 'Would that you were where Icould do so now. Ah! laddie,' to Malcolm; 'ye're in good hands. Mycertie, I kenned ye but by your voice! Ye're verily grown into a goodlyship after all, and ye stood as brave as the rest. My poor father wouldhave been fain to see this day!'
Malcolm flushed to the ears; somehow Patrick's praise was not as pleasantto him as he would have expected, and he only faltered, 'You know--'
'I ken but what Johnnie Swinton brought me in a letter frae the Abbot ofColdingham, that my father--the saints be with him!--had been set on andslain by yon accursed Master of Albany--would that his thrapple were inmy grip!--that he had sent you southwards to the King, and that yoursister was in St. Abbs. Is it so?'
Malcolm had barely time to make a sign of affirmation, when the Kinghurried him on. 'I grieve to balk you of your family tidings, but delaywill be ill for one or other of us; so fare thee well, Sir Patrick, tillbetter times.'
He shook the knight's hand as he spoke, cut short his protestations, andleapt down the bank, saying in a low voice, as he stretched out his handand helped Malcolm down after him, 'He would have known me again for yourguest if we had stood many moments longer; he looked hard at me as itwas; and neither in England nor Scotland may that journey of mine beblazed abroad.'
Malcolm was on the whole rather relieved; he could not help feelingguilty towards Patrick, and unless he could have full time forexplanation, he preferred not falling in with him.
And at the same moment Kitson stepped towards the King. 'Sir, you are anhonest man, and we crave your pardon if we said aught that seemed indoubt thereof.'
James laughed, shaking each honest hand, and saying, 'At least, goodsirs, do not always think Scot and traitor the same word; and thank youfor backing me so gallantly.'
'I'd wish no better than to back such as you, Sir,' said Kitson heartily;and James then turned to Ralf Percy, and asked him what he thought of theDouglas face to face.
'A dour old block!' said Ralf. 'If those runaways had but stayed withinus, the hoary ruffian should have had his lesson from a Percy.'
James smiled, for the grim giant was still a good deal more than a matchfor the slim, rosy-faced stripling of the house of Percy, whonevertheless simply deemed his nation and family made him invincible byeither Scot or Frenchman.
The difficulties of their progress, however, entirely occupied them.Having diverged from the regular track, they had to make their waythrough the inundated meadows; sometimes among deep pools, sometimes inquagmires, or ever hedges; while the water that drenched them was fastfreezing, and darkness came down on them. All stumbled or were bogged atdifferent times; and Malcolm, shorter and weaker than the rest, and hislameness becoming more felt than usual, could not help impeding theirprogress, and at last was so spent that but for the King's strong arm hewould have spent the night in a bog-hole.
At last the lights were near, the outskirts were gained, the pass-wordgiven to the watch, and the rough but welcome greeting was heard--'That'swell! More of you come in! How got you off?'
'The rogues got back, then?' said Kitson.
'Some score of them,' was the answer; 'but 'tis thought most are drownedor stuck by the French. The King is in a proper rage, as well he may be;but what else could come of a false Scot in the camp?'
'Have a care, you foul tongue!' Percy was the first to cry; and astorches were now brought out and cast their light on the well-knownfaces, the soldiers stood abashed; but James tarried not for theirexcuses; his heart was hot at the words which implied that Henrysuspected him, and he strode hastily on to the convent, where thequadrangle was full of horses and men, and the windows shone with lights.At the door of the refectory stood a figure whose armour flashed withlight, and his voice sounded through the closed visor--'I tell you,March, I cannot rest till I knew what his hap has been. If he have donethis thing--'
'What then?' answered James out of the darkness, in a voice deep withwrath; but Henry started.
'You there! you safe! Speak again! Come here that I may see. Where ishe?'
'Here, Sir King,' said James, gravely.
'Now the saints be thanked!' cried Henry, joyously. 'Where be thecaitiffs that brought me their false tale? They shall hang for it atonce.'
'It was the less wonder,' said James, still coldly, 'that they shouldhave thought themselves betrayed, since their king believed it of me
.'
'Nay, 'twas but for a hot moment--ay, and the bitterest I ever spent.What could I do when the villains swore that there were signals and Iknow not what devices passing? I hoped yet 'twas but a plea for theirown cowardice, and was mounting to come and see for you. Come, I shouldhave known you better; I'd rather the whole world deceived me than havedistrusted you, Jamie.'
There was that in his tone which ended all resentment, and James's handwas at once clasped in his, while Henry added, 'Ho, Provost-marshal! tothe gallows with these knaves!'
'Nay, Harry,' said James, 'let me plead for them. There was more thanordinary to dismay them.'
'Dismay! ay, the more cause they should have stood like honest men. If arogue be not to hang for deserting his captain and then maligning him,soon would knavery be master of all.'
'Hear me first, Hal.'
'I'll hear when I return and you are dried. Why, man, thou art an icicleerrant; change thy garments while I go round the posts, or I shall hearnought for the chattering of thy teeth.'
'Nor I for your cough, if you go, Harry. Surely, 'tis Salisbury'snight!'
'The more cause that I be on the alert! Could I be everywhere, mayhap afew winter blasts would not have chilled and frozen all the manhood outof the host.'
He spoke very sharply as he threw him on his horse, and wrapped his cloakabout him--a poor defence, spite of the ermine lining, against the frostof the December night for a man whose mother, the fair and wise Mary deBohun, had died in early youth from disease of the lungs.
James and the two young partners of his adventure had long been clad intheir gowns of peace, and seated by the fire in the refectory, James withhis harp in his hand, from time to time dreamily calling forth a fewplaintive notes, such as he said always rang in his ears after hearing aScottish voice, when they again heard Henry's voice in hot displeasurewith the provost-marshal for having deferred the execution of therunaways till after the hearing of the story of the King of Scots.
'His commands were not to be transgressed for the king of anything,' andhe only reprieved the wretches till morning that their fate might be moresignal. He spoke with the peremptory fierceness that had of late almostobscured his natural good-humour and kindliness; and when he entered therefectory and threw himself into a chair by the fire, he looked weariedout in body and mind, shivered and coughed, and said with unwonteddepression that the sullen fellows would make a quagmire of their campafter all, since a French reinforcement had come up, and the vigilancethat would be needed would occupy the whole army. At supper he atelittle and spoke less; and when James would have related his encounterwithin the Scots, he cut him short, saying, 'Let that rest till morning;I am sick of hearing of it! An air upon thy harp would be more to thepurpose.'
Nor would James have been unwilling to be silent on old Douglas's conductif he had not been anxious to plead for the panic-stricken archers, aswell as to extol the conduct of the two youths, and of the Yorkshiresquires; but, as he divined that the young Hotspur would regard praisefrom him as an insult, he deferred the subject for his absence, andlaunched into a plaintive narrative ballad, to which Henry listened,leaning back in his chair, often dozing, but without relaxation of theanxiety that sat on his pale face, and ever and anon wakening within aheavy sigh, as though his buoyant spirits were giving way under theweight of care he had brought on himself.
James was just singing of one of the many knightly orphans of romance,exposed in woods to the nurture of bears, his father slain, his motherdead of grief--a ditty he had perhaps chosen for its soporificpowers--when a gay bugle blast rang through the court of the convent.
'The French would scarce send to parley thus late,' exclaimed James; butthe next moment a joyful clamour arose without, and Henry, springing tohis feet, spoke not, but stood awaiting the tidings with the colourburning on cheek and brow in suppressed excitement.
An esquire, splashed to the ears, hurried into the room, and falling onhis knees, cried aloud, 'God save King Harry! News, news, my lord! TheQueen has safely borne you a fair son at Windsor Castle, five dayssince.'
Henry did not speak, but took the messenger's hand, wrung it, and left acostly ring there. Then, taking off his cap, he put his hands over hisface, uttering a few words of fervent thanksgiving almost within himself,and then turning to the esquire, made further inquiries after his wife'swelfare, took from him the letter that Archbishop Chicheley had sent,poured out a cup of wine for him, bade the lords around make him goodcheer, but craved license for himself to retire.
It was so unlike his usual hilarious manner that all looked at oneanother in anxiety, and spoke of his unusual susceptibility to fatigueand care; while the squire, looking at the rich jewel in his hand,declared within disappointment in his tone, that he would rather have hada mere flint stone so he had heard King Harry's own cheery voice.
James was not the least anxious of them, but long ere light the nextmorning Henry stood at his bedside, saying, 'I must go round the postsbefore mass, Jamie. Will you face the matin frost?'
'I am fitter to face it than thou,' said James, rising. 'Is there needfor this?'
'Great need,' said Henry. 'Here are these fresh forces all aglow withintheir first zeal, and unless they are worse captains than I suppose them,they will attempt some mischief ere long--nor is any time so slack ascock-crow.'
James was speedily ready, and, within some suppressed sighs, so wasMalcolm, who knew himself in duty bound to attend his master, and waskept on the alert by seeing Ralf Percy also on foot. But it was a greatrelief to him that the young gentleman murmured in no measured termsagainst the intolerable activity of their kings. No other attendantswent within them, since Henry was wont to patrol his camp with as littledemonstration as possible.
'I would scarcely ask a dog to come out with me this wintry morn,' saidhe, as he waved back his sleepy chamberlain, Fitzhugh, and took hisbrother king's arm; 'but I could not but crave a turn with thee, Jamie,ere the hue and cry of rejoicing begins.'
'That is poor welcome for your heir,' said James.
'Poor child!' said Henry; then, after they had walked some space insilence, he added, 'You'll mock me, but I would that this had notbefallen at Windsor. I had laid my plans that it should be otherwise;but ladies are ill to guide.'
'And wherefore should it not have been at fair Windsor? If I can love itas a prison, sure your son may well love it as a cradle.'
'No dishonour to Windsor,' said Henry; 'but, sleeping or waking, thiswhole night hath this adage rung in my ears--
"Harry, born at Monmouth, shall short time live and all get; Harry, born at Windsor, shall long time live and lose all."'
'A most choice piece of royal poesy and prophecy,' laughed James.
'Nay, do not charge me with it, thou dainty minstrel. It was sung to meby mime old Herefordshire nurse, when Windsor seemed as little within myreach as Meaux, and I never thought of it again till I looked to have ason.'
'Then balk the prophecy,' said James; 'Edward born at Windsor got enough,and lived long enough to boot!'
'Too late!' was the answer. 'The Archbishop christened the poor childHarry in the very hour of his birth.'
'Poor child!' echoed James, rather sarcastically.
'Nay, 'tis not solely the rhyme,' said Henry; 'but this has been awakeful night, and not without misgivings whether I am one who ought tolook for joy in his children.'
'What is past was not such that you alone should cry _mea culpa_,' saidJames.
'I never thought so till now,' said Henry. 'Yet who knows? My fatherwas a winsome young man ere his exile, full of tenderness to us all, atthe rare times he was with us. Who knows what cares may make of me eremy boy learns to knew me?'
'You will not hold him aloof, and give him no chance of loving you?'
'I trow not! I'll have him with me in the camp, and he and my brave menshall be one another's pride. Which Roman emperor is it that hears thenickname his father's soldiers gave him as a child? Nay--Caligula wasit? Omens are ag
ainst me this morning.'
'Then laughs them to scorn, and be yourself,' said James. 'Bless God forthe goodly child, who is born to two kingdoms, won by his father's andhis grandsire's swords.'
'Ah!' said Henry, depressed by failing health, a sleepless night, andhungry morning, 'maybe it were better for him, soul and body both, did Istand here Duke of Lancaster, and good Edmund of March yonder were headof realm and army.'
'Never would he be head of this army,' said James. 'He would be snoringat Shene; that is, if he could sleep for the trouble the Duke ofLancaster would be giving him.'
Henry laughed at last. 'Good King Edmund, he would assuredly never tryto set the world right on its hinges. Honest fellow, soon he will be ashearty in his congratulations as though he did not lie under a greatwrong. Heigh-ho! such as he may be in the right on't. I've marvelled oflate, whether any priest or hermit could bring back my old assurance,that all this is my work on earth, or tell me if it be all one granderror. Men there have been like Caesar, Alexander, or Charlemagne, whothought my thoughts and worked them out; and surely Church and nationscry aloud for purifying. Jerusalem, and a general council--I saw themonce clear and bright before me; but now a mist seems to rise up fromRichard's blood, and hide them from me; and there comes from it myfather's voice when he asked on his deathbed what right I had to thecrown. What would it be if I had to leave this work half done?'
He was interrupted by the sight of a young knight stealing into the camp,after a furtive expedition to Paris. It was enough to rouse him from hisdespondent state; and the severity of his wrath was in full proportion tothe offence. Nor did he again utter his misgivings, but was full of hisusual alacrity and life, as though daylight had restored his buoyancy.
James, on the way back to the thanksgiving mass, interceded for lastnight's offenders, as an act of grace suitable to the occasion; but Henrywas inexorable.
'Had they stood to die like Englishmen, they had not lied like dogs! 'hesaid; 'and as dogs they shall hang!'
In fact, in the critical state of his army, he knew that the only safetylay in the promptest and sternest justice; and therefore the threeforemost in accusing King James of treachery were hung long before noon.
However, he called for the two Yorkshiremen, and thus addressed them:'Well done, my masters! Thanks for showing Scots and Frenchmen whatstuff Englishmen are made of! I keep my word, good fellows. Kneel down,and I'll dub each a knight. How now! what are you blundering andwhispering for?'
'So please you, Sir,' said Kitson, 'this is no matter to win one's spursfor--mere standing still without a blow.'
'I would all had that same gift of standing still,' returned Henry. 'Whatis it sticks in your gizzard, friend? If 'tis the fees, I take them onmyself.'
'No, Sir,' hoarsely cried both.
And Kitson explained: 'Sir, you said you'd knight the one of us that wasforemost. Now, the two being dubbed, we shall be but where we werebefore as to Mistress Agnes of Mineshull, unless of your good-will youwould be pleased to let us fight out the wager of the heriard in allpeace and amity.'
Henry burst out laughing, with all his old merriment, as he said, 'For noMistress Agnes living can I have honest men's lives wasted, specially ofsuch as have that gift of standing still. If she does not knew her ownmind, one of you must get himself killed by the Frenchmen, not by oneanother. So kneel down, and we'll make your knighthood's feast fall inwith that of my son.'
Thus Sir Christopher Kitson and Sir William Trenton rose up knights; andbore their honours with a certain bluntness that made them butts, evenwhile they were the heroes of the day; and Henry, who had resumed his gaytemper, made much diversion out of their mingled shrewdness andgruffness.
'So,' muttered Malcolm to Ralf Percy, 'we are passed over in the self-same matter for which these fellows are knighted.'
'Tush!' answered Percy; 'I'd scorn to be confounded with a couple ofclowns like them! Moreover,' he added, with better reason, 'their valourwas more exercised than ours, inasmuch as they thought there wastreachery, and we did not. No, no; when my spurs are won, it shall befor some prowess, better than standing stock-still.'
Malcolm held his tongue, unwilling that Percy should see that he did feelthis an achievement; but he was vexed at the lack of reward, fancyingthat knighthood would be no small step in the favour of that imaginaryEsclairmonde whom he had made for himself.
'Light of the world' he loved to call her still, but it was in thecommonplace romance of his time, the mere light of beauty and graceilluminating the world of chivalry.