The Last of the Barons — Complete

  CHAPTER III. NEW DANGERS TO THE HOUSE OF YORK--AND THE KING'S HEARTALLIES ITSELF WITH REBELLION AGAINST THE KING'S THRONE.

  Oh, beautiful is the love of youth to youth, and touching the tendernessof womanhood to woman; and fair in the eyes of the happy sun is thewaking of holy sleep, and the virgin kiss upon virgin lips smiling andmurmuring the sweet "Good-morrow!"

  Anne was the first to wake; and as the bright winter morn, robust withfrosty sunbeams shone cheerily upon Sibyll's face, she was struck witha beauty she had not sufficiently observed the day before; for in thesleep of the young the traces of thought and care vanish, the achingheart is lulled in the body's rest, the hard lines relax into flexileease, a softer, warmer bloom steals over the cheek, and, relievedfrom the stiff restraints of dress, the rounded limbs repose in a morealluring grace! Youth seems younger in its slumber, and beauty morebeautiful, and purity more pure. Long and dark, the fringe of theeyelash rested upon the white lids, and the freshness of the partingpouted lips invited the sister kiss that wakened up the sleeper.

  "Ah, lady," said Sibyll, parting her tresses from her dark blue eyes,"you are here, you are safe!--blessed be the saints and our Lady! for Ihad a dream in the night that startled and appalled me."

  "And my dreams were all blithe and golden," said Anne. "What was thine?"

  "Methought you were asleep and in this chamber, and I not by your side,but watching you at a little distance; and lo! a horrible serpent glidedfrom yon recess, and, crawling to your pillow, I heard its hiss, andstrove to come to your aid, but in vain; a spell seemed to chain mylimbs. At last I found voice, I cried aloud, I woke; and mock me not,but I surely heard a parting footstep, and the low grating of somesliding door."

  "It was the dream's influence, enduring beyond the dream. I have oftenfelt it so,--nay, even last night; for I, too, dreamed of another,dreamed that I stood by the altar with one far away, and when Iwoke--for I woke also--it was long before I could believe it was thyhand I held, and thine arm that embraced me."

  The young friends rose, and their toilet was scarcely ended, when againappeared in the chamber all the stateliness of retinue allotted to theLady Anne. Sibyll turned to depart. "And whither go you?" asked Anne.

  "To visit my father; it is my first task on rising," returned Sibyll, ina whisper.

  "You must let me visit him, too, at a later hour. Find me here an hourbefore noon, Sibyll."

  The early morning was passed by Anne in the queen's company. Therefection, the embroidery frame, the closheys, filled up the hours.The Duchess of Clarence had left the palace with her lord to visitthe king's mother at Baynard's Castle; and Anne's timid spirits weresaddened by the strangeness of the faces round her, and Elizabeth'shabitual silence. There was something in the weak and ill-fated queenthat ever failed to conciliate friends. Though perpetually striving toform and create a party, she never succeeded in gaining confidenceor respect. And no one raised so high was ever left so friendless asElizabeth, when, in her awful widowhood, her dowry home became thesanctuary. All her power was but the shadow of her husband's royal sun,and vanished when the orb prematurely set; yet she had all gifts ofperson in her favour, and a sleek smoothness of manner that seemed tothe superficial formed to win; but the voice was artificial, and theeye cold and stealthy. About her formal precision there was aneternal consciousness of self, a breathing egotism. Her laugh wasdispleasing,--cynical, not mirthful; she had none of that forgetfulnessof self, that warmth when gay, that earnestness when sad, which createsympathy. Her beauty was without loveliness, her character withoutcharm; every proportion in her form might allure the sensualist; butthere stopped the fascination. The mind was trivial, though cunningand dissimulating; and the very evenness of her temper seemed butthe clockwork of a heart insensible to its own movements. Vain inprosperity, what wonder that she was so abject in misfortune? Whatwonder that even while, in later and gloomier years, [Grafton, 806]accusing Richard III. of the murder of her royal sons, and knowing him,at least, the executioner of her brother and her child by the bridegroomof her youth, [Anthony Lord Rivers, and Lord Richard Gray. Not the leastinstance of the frivolity of Elizabeth's mind is to be found in herwillingness, after all the woes of her second widowhood, and when shewas not very far short of sixty years old, to take a third husband,James III., of Scotland,--a marriage prevented only by the death of theScotch king.] she consented to send her daughters to his custody, thoughsubjected to the stain of illegitimacy, and herself only recognized asthe harlot?

  The king, meanwhile, had ridden out betimes alone, and no other of themale sex presumed in his absence to invade the female circle. It waswith all a girl's fresh delight that Anne escaped at last to her ownchamber, where she found Sibyll; and, with her guidance, she threadedthe gloomy mazes of the Tower. "Let me see," she whispered, "before wevisit your father, let me see the turret in which the unhappy Henry isconfined."

  And Sibyll led her through the arch of that tower, now called "TheBloody," and showed her the narrow casement deep sunk in the mightywall, without which hung the starling in the cage, basking its plumes inthe wintry sun. Anne gazed with that deep interest and tender reverencewhich the parent of the man she loves naturally excites in a woman; andwhile thus standing sorrowful and silent, the casement was unbarred,and she saw the mild face of the human captive; he seemed to talk tothe bird, which, in shrill tones and with clapping wings, answeredhis address. At that time a horn sounded at a little distance off; aclangour of arms, as the sentries saluted, was heard; the demoisellesretreated through the arch, and mounted the stair conducting to thevery room, then unoccupied, in which tradition records the murder of theThird Richard's nephews; and scarcely had they gained this retreat, eretowards the Bloody Gate, and before the prison tower, rode the king whohad mounted the captive's throne. His steed, gaudy with its housing, hissplendid dress, the knights and squires who started forward from everycorner to hold his gilded stirrup, his vigorous youth, so blooming andso radiant,--all contrasted, with oppressive force, the careworn facethat watched him meekly through the little casement of the Wakefieldtower. Edward's large, quick blue eye caught sudden sight of the oncefamiliar features. He looked up steadily, and his gaze encountered thefallen king's. He changed countenance: but with the external chivalrythat made the surface of his hollow though brilliant character, he bowedlow to his saddle-bow as he saw his captive, and removed the plumed capfrom his high brow.

  Henry smiled sadly, and shook his reverend head, as if gently to rebukethe mockery; then he closed the casement; and Edward rode into the yard.

  "How can the king hold here a court and here a prison? Oh, hard heart!"murmured Anne, as, when Edward had disappeared, the damsels bent theirway to Adam's chamber.

  "Would the Earl Warwick approve thy pity, sweet Lady Anne?" askedSibyll.

  "My father's heart is too generous to condemn it," returned Anne, wipingthe tears from her eyes; "how often in the knight's galliard shall I seethat face!"

  The turret in which Warner's room was placed flanked the wing inhabitedby the royal family and their more distinguished guests (namely,the palace, properly speaking, as distinct from the fortress), andcommunicated with the regal lodge by a long corridor, raised abovecloisters and open to a courtyard. At one end of this corridor a dooropened upon the passage, in which was situated the chamber of the LadyAnne; the other extremity communicated with a rugged stair of stone,conducting to the rooms tenanted by Warner. Leaving Sibyll to presenther learned father to the gentle Anne, we follow the king into thegarden, which he entered on dismounting. He found here the Archbishopof York, who had come to the palace in his barge, and with but a slightretinue, and who was now conversing with Hastings in earnest whispers.

  The king, who seemed thoughtful and fatigued, approached the two, andsaid, with a forced smile, "What learned sententiary engages you twoscholars?"

  "Your Grace," said the archbishop, "Minerva was not precisely thegoddess most potent over our thoughts at that moment. I received aletter last evening from the Duke of Gl
oucester, and as I know the loveborne by the prince to the Lord Hastings, I inquired of your chamberlainhow far he would have foreguessed the news it announced."

  "And what may the tidings be?" asked Edward, absently.

  The prelate hesitated.

  "Sire," he said gravely, "the familiar confidence with which both yourHighness and the Duke of Gloucester distinguish the chamberlain, permitsme to communicate the purport of the letter in his presence. The youngduke informs me that he hath long conceived an affection which he wouldimprove into marriage, but before he address either the demoiselle orher father, he prays me to confer with your Grace, whose pleasure inthis, as in all things, will be his sovereign law."

  "Ah, Richard loves me with a truer love than George of Clarence! But whocan he have seen on the Borders worthy to be a prince's bride?"

  "It is no sudden passion, sire, as I before hinted; nay, it has been forsome time sufficiently notorious to his friends and many of the court;it is an affection for a maiden known to him in childhood, connected tohim by blood,--my niece, Anne Nevile."

  As if stung by a scorpion, Edward threw off the prelate's arm, on whichhe had been leaning with his usual caressing courtesy.

  "This is too much!" said he, quickly, and his face, before somewhatpale, grew highly flushed. "Is the whole royalty of England to be oneNevile? Have I not sufficiently narrowed the basis of my throne? Insteadof mating my daughter to a foreign power,--to Spain or to Bretagne,--sheis betrothed to young Montagu! Clarence weds Isabel, and nowGloucester--no, prelate, I will not consent!"

  The archbishop was so little prepared for this burst, that he remainedspeechless. Hastings pressed the king's arm, as if to caution himagainst so imprudent a display of resentment; but the king walked on,not heeding him, and in great disturbance. Hastings interchanged lookswith the archbishop, and followed his royal master.

  "My king," he said, in an earnest whisper, "whatever you decide, do notagain provoke unhappy feuds laid at rest. Already this morning Isought your chamber, but you were abroad, to say that I have receivedintelligence of a fresh rising of the Lancastrians in Lincolnshire,under Sir Robert Welles, and the warlike knight of Scrivelsby, SirThomas Dymoke. This is not yet an hour to anger the pride of theNeviles!"

  "O Hastings! Hastings!" said the king, in a tone of passionate emotion,"there are moments when the human heart cannot dissemble! Howbeit youradvice is wise and honest! No, we must not anger the Neviles!"

  He turned abruptly; rejoined the archbishop, who stood on the spot onwhich the king had left him, his arms folded on his breast, his facecalm, but haughty.

  "My most worshipful cousin," said Edward, "forgive the well-knownheat of my hasty moods! I had hoped that Richard would, by a foreignalliance, have repaired the occasion of confirming my dynasty abroad,which Clarence lost. But no matter! Of these things we will speak anon.Say naught to Richard till time ripens maturer resolutions: he is ayouth yet. What strange tidings are these from Lincolnshire?"

  "The house of your purveyor, Sir Robert de Burgh, is burned, his landswasted. The rebels are headed by lords and knights. Robin of Redesdale,who, methinks, bears a charmed life, has even ventured to rouse thedisaffected in my brother's very shire of Warwick."

  "O Henry," exclaimed the king, casting his eyes towards the turretthat held his captive, "well mightest then call a crown 'a wreath ofthorns!'"

  "I have already," said the archbishop, "despatched couriers to mybrother, to recall him from Warwick, whither he went on quitting yourHighness. I have done more; prompted by a zeal that draws me from thecare of the Church to that of the State, I have summoned the LordsSt. John, De Fulke, and others, to my house of the More,--praying yourHighness to deign to meet them, and well sure that a smile from yourprincely lips will regain their hearts and confirm heir allegiance, at amoment when new perils require all strong arms."

  "You have done most wisely. I will come to your palace,--appoint yourown day."

  "It will take some days for the barons to arrive from their castles. Ifear not ere the tenth day from this."

  "Ah," said the king, with a vivacity that surprised his listeners, awareof his usual impetuous energy, "the delay will but befriend us; asfor Warwick, permit me to alter your arrangements; let him employ theinterval, not in London, where he is useless, but in raising men inthe neighbourhood of his castle, and in defeating the treason of thisRedesdale knave. We will give commission to him and to Clarence to levytroops; Hastings, see to this forthwith. Ye say Sir Robert Welles leadsthe Lincolnshire varlets; I know the nature of his father, the LordWelles,--a fearful and timorous one; I will send for him, and thefather's head shall answer for the son's faith. Pardon me, dear cousin,that I leave you to attend these matters. Prithee visit our queen,meanwhile, she holds you our guest."

  "Nay, your Highness must vouchsafe my excuse; I also have your royalinterests too much at heart to while an hour in my pleasurement. I willbut see the friends of our House now in London, and then back to theMore, and collect the force of my tenants and retainers."

  "Ever right, fair speed to you, cardinal that shall be! Your arm,Hastings."

  The king and his favourite took their way into the state chambers.

  "Abet not Gloucester in this alliance,--abet him not!" said the king,solemnly.

  "Pause, sire! This alliance gives to Warwick a wise counsellor, insteadof the restless Duke of Clarence. Reflect what danger may ensue if anambitious lord, discontented with your reign, obtains the hand of thegreat earl's coheiress, and the half of a hundred baronies that commandan army larger than the crown's."

  Though these reasonings at a calmer time might well have had theireffect on Edward, at that moment they were little heeded by hispassions. He stamped his foot violently on the floor. "Hastings!" heexclaimed, "be silent! or--" He stopped short, mastered his emotion."Go, assemble our privy council. We have graver matters than a boy'smarriage now to think of."

  It was in vain that Edward sought to absorb the fire of his nature instate affairs, in all needful provisions against the impending perils,in schemes of war and vengeance. The fatal frenzy that had seized himhaunted him everywhere, by day and by night. For some days after theunsuspected visit which he had so criminally stolen to his guest'schamber, something of knightly honour, of religious scruple, of commonreason,--awakened in him the more by the dangers which had sprung up andwhich the Neviles were now actively employed in defeating,--struggledagainst his guilty desire, and roused his conscience to a less feebleresistance than it usually displayed when opposed to passion; but thesociety of Anne, into which he was necessarily thrown so many hours inthe day, and those hours chiefly after the indulgences of the banquet,was more powerful than all the dictates of a virtue so seldom exercisedas to have none of the strength of habit. And as the time drew near whenhe must visit the archbishop, head his army against the rebels (whoseforce daily increased, despite the captivity of Lord Welles andSir Thomas Dymoke, who, on the summons of the king, had first takensanctuary, and then yielded their persons on the promise of pardon andsafety), and restore Anne to her mother,--as this time drew near, hisperturbation of mind became visible to the whole court; but, with theinstinct of his native craft, he contrived to conceal its cause. For thefirst time in his life he had no confidant--he did not dare trust hissecret to Hastings. His heart gnawed itself. Neither, though constantlystealing to Anne's side, could he venture upon language that mightstartle and enlighten her. He felt that even those attentions, whichon the first evening of her arrival had been noticed by the courtiers,could not be safely renewed. He was grave and constrained, even when byher side, and the etiquette of the court allowed him no opportunity forunwitnessed conference. In this suppressed and unequal struggle withhimself the time passed, till it was now but the day before that fixedfor his visit to the More. And, as he rose at morning from his restlesscouch, the struggle was over, and the soul resolved to dare the crime.His first thought was to separate Anne from Sibyll. He affected torebuke the queen for giving to his high-born guest an asso
ciate belowher dignity, and on whose character, poor girl, rested the imputationof witchcraft; and when the queen replied that Lady Anne herself hadso chosen, he hit upon the expedient of visiting Warner himself, underpretence of inspecting his progress,--affected to be struck by thesickly appearance of the sage, and sending for Sibyll, told her, withan air of gracious consideration, that her first duty was to attend herparent; that the queen released her for some days from all court duties;and that he had given orders to prepare the room adjoining MasterWarner's, and held by Friar Bungey, till that worthy had retired withhis patroness from the court, to which she would for the present remove.

  Sibyll, wondering at this novel mark of consideration in the carelessking, yet imputing it to the high value set on her father's labours,thanked Edward with simple earnestness, and withdrew. In the anteroomshe encountered Hastings, on his way to the king. He started insurprise, and with a jealous pang: "What! thou, Sibyll! and from theking's closet! What led thee thither?"

  "His grace's command." And too noble for the pleasure of exciting thedistrust that delights frivolous minds as the proof of power, Sibylladded, "The king has been kindly speaking to me of my father's health."The courtier's brow cleared; he mused a moment, and said, in a whisper,"I beseech thee to meet me an hour hence at the eastern rampart."

  Since the return of Lord Hastings to the palace there had been anestrangement and distance in his manner, ill suiting one who enjoyed therights of an accepted suitor, and wounding alike to Sibyll's affectionand her pride; but her confidence in his love and truth was entire. Heradmiration for him partook of worship, and she steadily sought to reasonaway any causes for alarm by recalling the state cares which pressedheavily upon him, and whispering to herself that word of "wife," which,coming in passionate music from those beloved lips, had thrown a mistover the present, a glory over the future! and in the king's retentionof Adam Warner, despite the Duchess of Bedford's strenuous desireto carry him off with Friar Bungey, and restore him to his tasks ofalchemist and multiplier, as well as in her own promotion to the queen'sservice, Sibyll could not but recognize the influence of her powerfullover. His tones now were tender, though grave and earnest. Surely, inthe meeting he asked, all not comprehended would be explained. And so,with a light heart, she passed on.

  Hastings sighed as his eye followed her from the room, and thus said heto himself, "Were I the obscure gentleman I once was, how sweet a lotwould that girl's love choose to me from the urn of fate! But, oh! whenwe taste of power and greatness, and master the world's dark wisdom,what doth love shrink to?--an hour's bliss and a life's folly." Hisdelicate lip curled, and breaking from his soliloquy, he entered theking's closet. Edward was resting his face upon the palms of his hands,and his bright eyes dwelt upon vacant space, till they kindled intoanimation as they lighted on his favourite.

  "Dear Will," said the king, "knowest thou that men say thou artbewitched?"

  "Beau sire, often have men, when a sweet face hath captured thy greatheart, said the same of thee!"

  "It may be so with truth, for verily love is the arch-devil's birth."

  The king rose, and strode his chamber with a quick step; at lastpausing,--

  "Hastings," he said, "so thou lovest the multiplier's pretty daughter?She has just left me. Art thou jealous?"

  "Happily your Highness sees no beauty in looks that have the gloss ofthe raven, and eyes that have the hue of the violet."

  "No, I am a constant man, constant to one idea of beauty in a thousandforms,--eyes like the summer's light-blue sky, and locks like itsgolden sunbeams! But to set thy mind at rest, Will, know that I havebut compassionated the sickly state of the scholar, whom thou prizest sohighly; and I have placed thy fair Sibyll's chamber near her father's.Young Lovell says thou art bent on wedding the wizard's daughter."

  "And if I were, beau sire?"

  Edward looked grave.

  "If thou wert, my poor Will, thou wouldst lose all the fame for shrewdwisdom which justifies thy sudden fortunes. No, no; thou art the flowerand prince of my new seignorie,--thou must mate thyself with a name anda barony that shall be worthy thy fame and thy prospects. Love beauty,but marry power, Will. In vain would thy king draw thee up, if adespised wife draw thee down!"

  Hastings listened with profound attention to these words. The king didnot wait for his answer, but added laughingly,--

  "It is thine own fault, crafty gallant, if thou dost not end all herspells."

  "What ends the spells of youth and beauty, beau sire?"

  "Possession!" replied the king, in a hollow and muttered voice.

  Hastings was about to answer, when the door opened, and the officer inwaiting announced the Duke of Clarence. "Ha!" said Edward, "George comesto importune me for leave to depart to the government of Ireland, and Ihave to make him weet that I think my Lord Worcester a safer viceroy ofthe two."

  "Your Highness will pardon me; but, though I deemed you too generous inthe appointment, it were dangerous now to annul it."

  "More dangerous to confirm it. Elizabeth has caused me to see the follyof a grant made over the malmsey,--a wine, by the way, in which poorGeorge swears he would be content to drown himself. Viceroy of Ireland!My father had that government, and once tasting the sweets of royalty,ceased to be a subject! No, no, Clarence--"

  "Can never meditate treason against a brother's crown. Has he the wit orthe energy or the genius for so desperate an ambition?"

  "No; but he hath the vanity. And I will wager thee a thousand marks toa silver penny that my jester shall talk giddie Georgie into advancing aclaim to be soldan of Egypt or Pope of Rome!"