*CHAPTER VI.*
*FAIR AND FICKLE.*
"Wel were hym that wyste To whom he mytte tryste; Beter were hym that knewe The false fro the trewe." --OLD POEM OF FIFTEENTH CENTURY.
The hidden intentions of the Princess were very soon revealed. Rogerand his suite were transferred from Bermondsey House to Woking Manor,the seat of Thomas, Earl of Kent, the eldest son of the Princess, andhalf-brother of the King. The Countess of Kent was a sister of the Earlof Arundel, but of a quieter and less decided character than most of herfamily. Her children, in whom Roger felt more interest than in herself,were six in number, exclusive of two boys who had died in the cradle.They were Alianora, aged fourteen; Thomas, aged twelve; Anne, aged six;Edmund, aged three; Joan, aged two; and Margaret, an infant. The eldestboy was of course the Tom to whom the Princess had alluded. He waspresent when Roger was introduced to the Countess, and Roger wasgratified to discover that Tom, though by a few months the younger, wastaller than himself. All the Holands of Kent were tall, fullydeveloped, of very fair complexion, and exceedingly handsome. ButRoger's eyes had not reached beyond Tom, when they lighted on some oneelse who was entering the room, and from that moment he had eyes for noother.
If it be true, as it has been said, that the metaphorical gentlemantermed Cupid usually takes the severest vengeance on those who despisehis power, he must have been in that mind with regard to Roger Mortimer.One instantaneous glance proved sufficient to awaken in the bosom ofRoger, who hated and despised all girls, a fervent boyish passion whichreached down to his heart's core, and never left him until his life'send.
The girl of whom the sight proved thus potent was the Lady Alianora deHoland, eldest daughter of the Earl and Countess of Kent. Though onlyfourteen, she was so tall and stately that she had a grown-up aspect.She stood, when Roger saw her, just in the doorway, her arms full offlowers which she had been gathering in the garden, and her abundantfair hair falling about her like a golden glory. Her little brotherEdmund had pulled it down in play; and had she known of the existence ofvisitors in the hall, the Lady Alianora, who was quite old enough to beparticular about her personal appearance, would never have presentedherself before them in this dishevelled guise. She stopped, blushed,and hastily dropping her flowers on the nearest form, fled to herchamber to make herself presentable,--leaving on Roger's mind animpression of angelic loveliness.
No such impression was conveyed to Lawrence Madison. Roger, who was inan exalted mood which disposed him, knight-errant-like, to insist uponall beholders' instantaneous acknowledgment of the pre-eminence of thelady of his heart, was quite put out by the cool, indifferent tone inwhich Lawrence assented to his rapturous comments on the beauty of theLady Alianora. Accustomed as he was to sudden changes in his impulsivemaster, yet this one took Lawrence by surprise. He had not expectedRoger to alter in that direction. Love, to him, was not a blow to bestruck all at once, but a plant to ripen by degrees. The sudden andabsorbing passion which had taken possession of Roger's heart byassault, was not merely unexpected to Lawrence; it was incomprehensible.
The transfer of Roger from the care of the Earl of Arundel to that ofthe Earl of Kent was marked by one peculiarity very unusual at the time.It was purely a personal transfer, and did not include any change withregard to the administration of the estates, which were still left inthe hands of Arundel, except that the Earls of Warwick andNorthumberland were joined with him in the guardianship. The care ofthe heir and of the estate so generally went together as to rouse thesuspicion in this case that the severance was a fresh clever move on thepart of the Princess. To leave the estate in the enemy's hands might beintended as a hidden purchase of his acquiesence in the transfer of theboy. It was a sacrifice of the casket to secure the safety of the gem.Perhaps the Princess was also sagacious enough to divine that--as itturned out--there would be no sacrifice in the matter. Arundel provedin this case an honourable man, and administered the estates well,resigning them without difficulty into Roger's hands when he was calledupon to do so.
Between Roger and Thomas, eternal friendship was sworn without delay.Their characters were somewhat alike, save that Roger was slightly themore impulsive, and considerably the more self-willed. The youngerchildren were in Roger's eyes quite beneath his contempt.
There was one point of the matter in respect to which Lawrence was by nomeans indifferent. The style in which the Lady Alianora behaved to heryouthful admirer enraged him beyond words. The beautiful girl was aborn coquette. And she treated Roger to every variety of behavioursuggested by that despicable type of character. One day she would lifthim up to the heights of ecstacy with her notice and favour, and on thenext would plunge him into the lowest depths of despair. It appeared todelight her to play with his feelings like a cat with a mouse. That shehad any of her own Lawrence could not discover. But as time went on,and they grew older, and the sentimental adoration of the boy, insteadof fading away, blossomed into the solid and enduring love of the man,the sensation of aversion on Lawrence's part became stronger than ever.He would never have used Roger as she did, had he been in her place.
Roger appeared not to perceive this blemish in his chosen idol. Allthat she chose to do was perfection in his eyes.
It may perhaps strike the reader as hardly possible that a boy ofRoger's age could have entertained such feelings. But we have abundantevidence that our fathers, five hundred years ago, grew up much earlierthan we do--probably in part from the shorter average duration of humanlife, and in part from the forcing nature of the life they led. A boyof twelve, in 1385, had attained a period of life equivalent to that ofa youth of at least sixteen in the present day.
If it could have been whispered to Roger Mortimer that he was flingingaway his true and faithful heart upon a worthless weed, while there weremodest violets to be found under the leaves--that he was bartering hispriceless diamonds for glass beads which were not worth the pickingup--well, he would not have believed it. But in truth he had met withthe evil angel of his life, and he was yielding unto her fair falsehands the perfect trust and the passionate devotion which were only dueto God. Would he ever awake from the dream? and if he did, would it bewhile there was yet time left to repair his blunder, or only when it wastoo late, and there remained but a long weary stretch of the wildernessbefore the end should come?
Ah, the Good Shepherd goes after His lost sheep, until He find them.But they are apt to lead Him up arid steeps and into sunless gulfs,through thorns which tear their feet as well as His, and into dry placeswhere no water is beside the stream which flows from the smitten Rock.
Reserve and reticence were not in the nature of Roger Mortimer. ThePrincess very soon perceived, with equal amusement and delight, thefulfilment of her prophecy; and urged upon her royal son thedesirability of at once betrothing Roger and Alianora. The King,however, preferred a little delay. There was time enough, he said: bothwere yet very young; matters might alter before they were old enough tobe married. So the formal ceremony, though fully intended, wasdeferred, leaving an element of uncertainty which added to Roger'sintermittent misery.
The autumn which followed the spring of Roger's transference to Wokingwitnessed some most painful events. The second son of the Princess, SirJohn de Holand, entering into a squabble between his attendants out ofwhich he had far better have kept himself, killed Sir Ralph Stafford,the favourite squire of the young Queen. He was condemned to die, andthe Princess in an agony of grief, sent Sir Lewis Clifford to the Kingat York, earnestly beseeching for mercy to his brother. She wasrefused, and it was the first refusal which her royal son had ever givento an intercession of hers. As the event proved, he was ready enough togrant it as man, but he could not feel it his duty as King. ThePrincess laid it so to heart that her heart broke. A fortnight afterthe return of Sir Lewis from his fruitless errand, she lay dead atWallingford Castle.
In the first impulse of his anguish and remorse, King Richard gra
nted afull pardon to his brother, on condition of his making a pilgrimage toSyria. He was a man of the deepest affections, and next to his wife, hismother had been nearest to his heart. Perhaps it was the remembrance ofthis one rejected appeal and the agony of its result, which made Richardin after years so perpetual a pardoner of the transgressions of thosewhom he loved.
Another result of these sorrowful circumstances was to cause the King tocarry into immediate action various intentions which he knew had beenhis mother's wish. And in pursuance of one of these, on a morning inOctober, he sent for the Earl of March.
The royal officers conducted Roger, somewhat to his surprise, to theKing's private closet, and motioned to his suite to remain in theante-chamber. He was to pass in alone.
Roger found, however, that the interview was not to be _tete-a-tete_.Seated in a curule chair by the side of His Majesty was the uncle ofboth, Thomas, Duke of Gloucester, the most astute man in England, andthe evil angel of the King. Roger made his reverences to his royalkinsman, and was directed to seat himself on a velvet settle which facedthem. A slight motion from the young King appeared to be a preconcertedsignal at which Gloucester took up the word.
'Roger made his reverences to his royal kinsman, and wasdirected to seat himself on a velvet settle which faced them.']
"Methinks, fair Cousin," said he, addressing Roger, "that you be not nowto learn that your mother, the Lady Philippa of March, was daughter andheir unto my fair brother of Clarence, whom God assoil?"
Roger intimated that this was no news to him.
"And you may lightly guess, moreover, that, my said brother standingnext in age to my most honoured Lord the Prince, whom likewise may Godpardon, had the said Prince deceased unhappily without issue himoutliving, my said brother your grand-sire should have stood next to beking."
Roger bowed his head. He began to wonder what was coming. Was evilabout to befall him for the crime of being a great-grandson of KingEdward?
"Bear with me, then, my fair Cousin, while I recount unto you the causesof that which I am about to lay before you under command of my Liegehere present."
One of the secrets of Gloucester's popularity was his exquisite veneer.Very few persons realised how thin the coating was, or what was thematerial which lay beneath. Least likely to discover it of all was theyoung King, in whose single-eyed nature suspicion had no place, andwhose warm heart was ready to take in every creature who professed ashred of devotion to himself.
"Maybe, being as you are but right youthful, fair Cousin," pursuedGloucester, "you shall have need to be told in words that after the oldcustom of England it was not used that, the King's son dying afore hisfather, his childre should be held to fill his place. This ancientcustom, howbeit, was changed by my redoubted Lord and father KingEdward, of set purpose that the King our Liege who here sitteth shouldsucceed him on the throne. In case, therefore, that our said Liegeshould leave no issue--which God defend!--he must needs appoint him asuccessor after his pleasure. Now my said Liege, accounting it ill (asin very sooth it should be) that men's minds should be unsettledtouching so weighty a matter, and knowing moreover that life standethalway at the pleasure of God, and that men may not dwell on middle earthno longer than it listeth Him--" there was a vast reservoir of piety inGloucester, but it went no lower than his tongue--"it hath pleased myLiege to make choice of him that shall succeed him, if in evil case heshould chance to decease without child. To make an end, fair Cousin,without further words, you are he whom my Lord hath chosen to sit on thethrone when the pleasure of God shall be fulfilled in him."
Roger sat dumfoundered. The last conclusion he had expected was the onethat had come upon him. Among all the suppositions as to the chosenheir which had been coursing through his thoughts while his uncle spoke,the faintest idea that it might be himself had never occurred to hismind.
He did not know that it had been in existence, nearly as long as he had,in the three governing minds of England, of which one had just passedaway. It was the only point of all their opinions in which the Princessand the Dukes of Lancaster and Gloucester were agreed. The privatereasons of each were utterly diverse from those of the other two. ThePrincess wished to secure two points--the happiness of her son, and thewelfare of the Lollard Church of which she was the nursing mother. Tothis end the heir must entertain a personal affection for His Majestywhich would prevent him from coveting his position, and must be broughtup in an atmosphere which would dispose him toward the Lollarddoctrines. The Duke of Lancaster's object was the welfare of England;added to which he did not want to reign himself, and Roger or hisbrother were the only persons who could reasonably be placed before him.The Duke of Gloucester's object was almost the opposite of the last. Hedid wish to reign, but he cared more for the reality of power than forthe semblance, and knowing that equity would be outraged by his beingpreferred to his elder brothers, he desired such a monarch as he wouldeasily be able to influence. This he fancied he saw inRoger,--warm-hearted, impulsive, readily swayed, and not too suspiciousof ulterior motives.
The only person, at that day, who had ever been able to read the truecharacter of Gloucester was the dead Princess. She must have been avery clever woman. Her feminine instinct penetrated all the joints ofhis closely-riveted armour, and without his being in the least aware ofit, "to her he had shown his naked heart." Somebody who could betrusted must be put in his way; and she read Roger also more accuratelythan he had done. Through all the outward impulsiveness she discernedthe heart's fidelity--through all the thorny surroundings of temptationthe ever straightforward aim at the one goal of right. Perhaps hercleverest move of all was just that which looked on the surface theleast likely to forward her intentions. She had removed him from thenoxious atmosphere of Bermondsey House, and had placed him in a familywhich was not marked by Lollard proclivities--a family of which, in thatrespect, even the anti-Lollard Gloucester could feel no suspicion. Butshe saw that Roger was more easily led than driven: that his intenselyLollard uncle, John de Montacute, "the most pestilent of all that sect,"was likely to have far more influence with him as an occasional andinteresting visitor, than as the man who decided his fate and sat injudgment on all his little peccadilloes; beside which, had he beenconsigned to the care of a distinctly Lollard family, Gloucester wouldhave been certain to scheme for his removal. He would probably becontent to leave him at Woking, where Lollardism was something quiteoutside the family notions--a matter which they left to the priesthood,whose business they considered it to be. His suspicions of any sinisterdesign on the part of the Princess would scarcely be aroused by her verynatural wish that her youngest son's chosen heir should be in the careof her eldest son.
Roger, of course, had not the slightest conception of all these wheelswithin wheels which he now saw to his amazement were bearing him forwardto the throne. The result was to him the only thing apparent, and thatleft him in a state of speechless astonishment. The only two clearideas in his confused head, beyond surprise, were deep devotion to theroyal cousin who had marked him by such signal favour, and a rapturousthrob of his heart at the thought that now, at least, Alianora wassafely assured to him. He knew that a prospective crown would weighheavily with her, no less than with her parents: and as for him who woreit, and who certainly would weigh less, Roger's loyal heart was contentto accept the very crumbs of affection from the hand which he loved,rather than a plentiful board spread by any other.
The King's voice broke Roger's astounded silence.
"Methinks we have somewhat taken you by surprise, fair Cousin," said he,with that exquisitely sweet smile which Richard knew how to give.
"In very deed, my gracious Lord, but you so have!" was the answer."Mefeareth, my Liege, that your bestowal upon me is far over mydementing."
"Strive then to deserve the same, fair Cousin," said Gloucesterdidactically. "In all things submit you obeissantly to my Lord hispleasure."
A speech which meant much more than it said, since Gloucester aimed atgoverning Roger throu
gh the King. Like other astute persons, the formerscarcely comprehended a mind which had but one aim, and assuredly neverintended to strengthen Roger's personal love for his royal cousin. Hisreal intention was to attract it to himself. But Roger's powers ofdiscrimination were greater than those of King Richard, and he had anuneasy sense of some ulterior meaning on the part of his uncle, whichcooled his demeanour and lessened his words. He had no intention ofconfiding his heart's secrets to that over-clever relative.
"I am at ease thereanent," said the King, answering Roger with anothersmile. "And now, Cousin, God give you good day, for methinks you havefood enough for thought."
Roger could not have told whether he returned to Woking through smilingvalleys or barren mountains. The family of the Earl of Kent, the elderbranches of which had been admitted into the secret, were amused to seehow silent and meditative their young ward became after the proclamationof his future brilliant destiny. Roger was growing up fast--faster inmind than in body. Very grave and thoughtful grew the young heir. Theradiant crown which hung before him, though in a probably distantfuture, seemed to have descended upon his head not as an ornament, butas a weight. The Earl of Kent was much surprised at it. The side ofRoger's character which was outwardly exhibited--the lighter and morechildish side of it--was the only one which he had yet seen. But thedepths were there, and they had been stirred at last.
They were stirred in more ways than one. The prospective crown whichhad struck Roger into gravity, struck the Lady Alianora into a flutter.To her it was merely the most becoming decoration which could rest uponher head. The thought of any duty or responsibility in connection withit was entirely foreign to her mind. But it became desirable tocultivate Roger, and to let him see unmistakably that he was establishedin her good graces. To lose him now was not to be thought of for amoment. But had the King changed his mind, and transferred his favoursto any other person, what the Lady Alianora called her heart would havefollowed in their wake. The dog-like fidelity which characterisedLawrence Madison, and to which it would have been of no moment whetherhis master sat upon a throne or a dunghill, was simply inconceivable toher.
It was Sunday evening, and the churches were slowly emptying of theworshippers at vespers. Lawrence was making his way out at the westerndoor, when looking up he encountered a pair of bright eyes attentivelyregarding him. They belonged to a girl of about his own age, who wore adress of blue camlet, and was evidently in the middle class of life. Shewas very pretty, but apparently very shy. Her eyes dropped the instantthey encountered his, but kept returning to his face as if she foundsomething attractive in it. Behind her came an older woman whomLawrence felt certain, as soon as he glanced at her, that he had metsomewhere before. As soon as they were clear of the sacred edifice,Lawrence saw the girl turn round to the woman behind her, and addressher in an earnest whisper. The woman replied aloud.
"Nay, child: it were not like, methinks."
"But it might be! Will you not ask, Mistress Wenteline?"
The name solved Lawrence's difficulty in a moment. In another instanthe had pressed through the crowd, and was by the side of his old friend.
"Mistress Wenteline! Come you from Ludlow--from Usk? Know you notLawrence Madison?"
"Well, of a surety, but it is!" cried Guenllian, heartily enough. "Lad,how camest thou hither? The maid said it were like thee, but I neverthought--Is my Lord hereaway? My Lord of Arundel hath no place in thisvicinage, trow?"
"My Lord is not now in ward to him, good Mistress; but unto my Lord ofKent, that dwelleth at the Manor here."
"Now God be thanked therefor!" said Guenllian warmly.
Lawrence turned to the girl. "Methinks I should know you likewise: andin truth, you be like some one that I have known, but I cannot give youa name."
The bright eyes laughed, but their owner seemed too shy to speak.Guenllian looked at both with an amused expression.
"Nay, twain friends so dear as you were of old should not have forgoteach other," said she. "Lolly, dost not know thine old playfellow?'Tis Blumond's Beattie."
"Beattie!" broke from Lawrence with more warmth than usual. But as soonas the greeting was over, both relapsed into extreme shyness.
"And pray you, Mistress Wenteline, how came you hither?"
"Marry, lad, we be tarrying a two-three days, under the King's graciousleave, at his manor of Byfleet, and as Tuesday we journey onward toLondon town. Beattie and I, we thought we would come to Churchsomething a longer walk, and two of my Lord's squires be withus"--Guenllian paused and looked about for them--"I marvel whither theybe gone in this crowd. Beattie, canst see any whither Master Orewell orMaster Chauntemarle?"
Beattie thought she saw Master Chauntemarle's cap over yonder: butLawrence interposed with a question which he was burning to ask.
"But, Mistress Wenteline, how came you hither?"
"Why, look you, we be now of the following of the Lady de Percy, and theLord of these squires and of us is my Lord of Northumberland."
"And the Lady de Percy is at Byfleet? Me reckoneth my Lord were rightfain to see his sister."
"Aye, and the Lady Elizabeth was ever his favourite. But, Lolly, Iwould fain see my dear child. He is at the Manor here, trow?"
"If it like you to bide for compline, Mistress, you shall then see himwith no further travail; or if you will come up to the Manor, I restwell assured that Mistress Dayrell, which keepeth house, shall make youright welcome."
"Beattie, run thou to Master Orewell, which I see searching us o'er byyon yew-tree, and do him to wit of this. Say we will return withLawrence to the Manor, and ask at him if he or Master Chauntemarle listto come with us. If not, then will we leave our returning as it shallplease God."
Beatrice obeyed, and in a minute returned with Master Orewell, whointimated that his pleasure would be to accompany the ladies, but MasterChauntemarle preferred to return to Byfleet. Guenllian accordingly sentthrough the latter her excuses to Lady Northumberland, and the party setout for the Manor.
Lawrence left his friends in charge of Mistress Dayrell, who was wellpleased with the prospect of a gossip, and dashed up the stairs, threeat a time, in search of his young master. Roger was playing hand-tenniswith the other young people--an occupation the suitability of which toSunday evening it never occurred to him or any one else to doubt. Themoment that he heard who was below, he flung down his battledore, andrushed down the stairs as quickly as Lawrence had come up them.
Guenllian had not realised the change that years could make until Rogerstood before her. She had been unconsciously expecting to see the childof nine, and when the handsome boy of thirteen, who looked older than hewas, came into the room and welcomed her, she could scarcely believe hisidentity. But the warmth and brightness were those of the old Roger, andthey comforted Guenllian after all her fears and heart-sinkings lest heshould be changed and spoiled at Bermondsey House.
"Mine own dear child!" she said lovingly. "Verily, I ask yourLordship's pardon; but you shall seem always my child to me, even whenyou be a man grown."
Roger had arrived at the age when a boy is rather ashamed of beingkissed, and feels it a humiliation. But like a true gentleman as he wasin nature as well as name, he put his own feelings aside, and permittedhis old nurse to pet him to her heart's content.
"And now, mine heart, give me leave to ask you," inquired Guenllian, inwhose diction the new deference was somewhat at variance with the oldfamiliar love, "if you be welsome and happy hereaway?"
"Very, very happy," said Roger's eyes no less than his voice. The LadyAlianora had been unusually complaisant for the past week.
"And how did your Lordship like at Arundel Castle?"
"Very ill, Wenteline. I am rejoiced to be away thence."
Guenllian was privately rejoiced to hear it.
"Metrusteth Lawrence continueth a good lad?"
"Much better than Roger," said the owner of the latter name, with abright laugh. "He alway were so."
"And your Lo
rdship, as I do hear, is in right high favour with theKing?"
Roger smiled and blushed slightly. His honours were still fresh uponhim.
"Aye, Wenteline, I have been denounced[#] heir of England."
[#] Announced, proclaimed.
"But to think of it!" exclaimed she. "Well, my dear child, God givethee His grace! Thou shalt make but an ill King without it."
Guenllian thought that Roger's eyes responded, but his voice was silent.