_The Story of the Satraps_
In the year of grace 1381 (Nicolas begins) was Dame Anne magnificentlyfetched from remote Bohemia, and at Westminster married to SireRichard, the second monarch of that name to reign in England. Thisking, I must tell you, had succeeded while he was yet an infant, tothe throne of his grandfather, the third King Edward, about whom Ihave told you in the story preceding this.
Queen Anne had presently noted a certain priest who went forbiddinglyabout her court, where he was accorded a provisional courtesy, and whowent also into many hovels, where pitiable wrecks of humankindreceived his alms and ministrations.
Queen Anne made inquiries. This young cleric was amanuensis to theDuke of Gloucester, she learned, and was notoriously a by-blow of theDuke's brother, dead Lionel of Clarence. She sent for this EdwardMaudelain. When he came her first perception was, "How wonderful ishis likeness to the King!" while the thought's commentary ran,unacknowledged, "Yes, as an eagle resembles a falcon!" For here, tothe observant eye, was a more zealous person, already passion-wasted,and a far more dictatorial and stiff-necked person than the lazy andamiable King; also, this Maudelain's face and nose were somewhat toolong and high: the priest was, in a word, the less comely of the pairby a very little, and to an immeasurable extent the more kinglike.
"You are my cousin now, messire," the Queen told him, and innocentlyoffered to his lips her own.
He never moved; but their glances crossed, and for that instant shesaw the face of a man who has just stepped into a quicksand. She grewred, without knowing why. Then he spoke, composedly, of trivialmatters.
Thus began the Queen's acquaintance with Edward Maudelain. She was bythis time the loneliest woman in the island. Her husband granted her abright and fresh perfection of form and color, but desiderated anyappetizing tang, and lamented, in his phrase, a certain kinship to theimpeccable loveliness of some female saint in a jaunty tapestry;bright as ice in sunshine, just so her beauty chilled you, hecomplained: moreover, this daughter of the Caesars had been fetchedinto England, chiefly, to breed him children, and this she had neverdone. Undoubtedly he had made a bad bargain,--he was too easy-going,people presumed upon it. His barons snatched their cue and esteemedDame Anne to be negligible; whereas the clergy, finding that sheobstinately read the Scriptures in the vulgar tongue, under theirrelevant plea of not comprehending Latin, began to denounce her fromtheir pulpits as a heretic and as the evil woman prophesied byEzekiel.
It was the nature of this desolate child to crave affection, as anecessary, and pitifully she tried to purchase it through almsgiving.In the attempt she could have found no coadjutor more ready thanEdward Maudelain. Giving was with these two a sort of obsession,though always he gave in a half scorn of his fellow creatures whichwas not more than half concealed. This bastard was charitable andpious because he knew his soul, conceived in double sin, to be doublyevil, and therefore doubly in need of redemption through good works.
Now in and about the Queen's lonely rooms the woman and the priest metdaily to discuss now this or that point of theology, or now (to cite asingle instance) Gammer Tudway's obstinate sciatica. Consideratepersons found something of the pathetic in their preoccupation bythese matters while, so clamantly, the dissension between the youngKing and his uncles gathered to a head. The King's uncles meant tocontinue governing England, with the King as their ward, as long asthey could; he meant to relieve himself of this guardianship, and themof their heads, as soon as he was able. War seemed inevitable, the airwas thick with portents; and was this, then, an appropriate time, thejudicious demanded of high Heaven, for the Queen of imperilled Englandto concern herself about a peasant's toothache?
Long afterward was Edward Maudelain to remember this quiet and amiableperiod of his life, and to wonder over the man that he had beenthrough this queer while. Embittered and suspicious she had found him,noted for the carping tongue he lacked both power and inclination tobridle; and she had, against his nature, made Maudelain see that everyperson is at bottom lovable, and that human vices are but the stainsof a traveller midway in a dusty journey; and had incited the priestno longer to do good for his soul's health, but simply for hisfellow's benefit.
In place of that monstrous passion which had at first view of herpossessed the priest, now, like a sheltered taper, glowed an adorationwhich made him yearn, in defiance of common-sense, to suffer somehowfor this beautiful and gracious comrade; though very often pity forher loneliness and knowledge that she dared trust no one save himwould throttle Maudelain like two assassins, and would move thehot-blooded young man to a rapture of self-contempt and exultation.
Now Maudelain made excellent songs, it was a matter of common report.Yet but once in their close friendship did the Queen command him tomake a song for her. This had been at Dover, about vespers, in thestarved and tiny garden overlooking the English Channel, upon whichher apartments faced; and the priest had fingered his lute for anappreciable while before he sang, more harshly than was his custom.
Sang Maudelain:
"Ave Maria! now cry we so That see night wake and daylight go.
"Mother and Maid, in nothing incomplete, This night that gathers is more light and fleet Than twilight trod alway with stumbling feet, Agentes semper uno animo.
"Ever we touch the prize we dare not take! Ever we know that thirst we dare not slake! Yet ever to a dreamed-of goal we make-- Est tui coeli in palatio!
"Long, long the road, and set with many a snare; And to how small sure knowledge are we heir That blindly tread, with twilight everywhere! Volo in toto; sed non valeo!
"Long, long the road, and very frail are we That may not lightly curb mortality, Nor lightly tread together steadfastly, Et parvum carmen unum facio:
"Mater, ora filium, Ut post hoc exilium Nobis donet gaudium Beatorum omnium!"
Dame Anne had risen. She said nothing. She stayed in this posture fora lengthy while, one hand yet clasping each breast. Then she laughed,and began to speak of Long Simon's recent fever. Was there no methodof establishing him in another cottage? No, the priest said, thepeasants, like the cattle, were always deeded with the land, and Simoncould not lawfully be taken away from his owner.
One day, about the hour of prime, in that season of the year whenfields smell of young grass, the Duke of Gloucester sent for EdwardMaudelain. The court was then at Windsor. The priest came quickly tohis patron. He found the Duke in company with the King's other uncleEdmund of York and bland Harry of Derby, who was John of Gaunt'soldest son, and in consequence the King's cousin. Each was a proud andhandsome man: Derby alone (who was afterward King of England) hadinherited the squint that distinguished this family. To-day Gloucesterwas gnawing at his finger nails, big York seemed half-asleep, and theEarl of Derby appeared patiently to await something as yet ineffablyremote.
"Sit down!" snarled Gloucester. His lean and evil countenance was thatof a tired devil. The priest obeyed, wondering that so high an honorshould be accorded him in the view of three great noblemen. ThenGloucester said, in his sharp way: "Edward, you know, as Englandknows, the King's intention toward us three and our adherents. It hascome to our demolishment or his. I confess a preference in the matter.I have consulted with the Pope concerning the advisability of takingthe crown into my own hands. Edmund here does not want it, and mybrother John is already achieving one in Spain. Eh, in imagination Iwas already King of England, and I had dreamed--Well! to-day theprosaic courier arrived. Urban--the Neapolitan swine!--dares give meno assistance. It is decreed I shall never reign in these islands. AndI had dreamed--Meanwhile, de Vere and de la Pole are at the King dayand night, urging revolt. As matters go, within a week or two, thethree heads before you will be embellishing Temple Bar. You, ofcourse, they will only hang."
"We must avoid England, then, my noble patron," the priest considered.
Angrily the Duke struck a clenched fist upon the table. "By the Cross!we remain in England, you and I and all of us. Others avoid. The Popeand the Emperor will have none of me.
They plead for the BlackPrince's heir, for the legitimate heir. Dompnedex! they shall havehim!"
Maudelain recoiled, for he thought this twitching man insane.
"Besides, the King intends to take from me my fief at Sudbury," saidthe Duke of York, "in order to give it to de Vere. That is both absurdand monstrous and abominable."
Openly Gloucester sneered. "Listen!" he rapped out toward Maudelain;"when they were drawing up the Great Peace at Bretigny, it happened,as is notorious, that the Black Prince, my brother, wooed in this townthe Demoiselle Alixe Riczi, whom in the outcome he abducted. It is notso generally known, however, that, finding this sister of the Vicomtede Montbrison a girl of obdurate virtue, my brother had prefaced theaction by marriage."
"And what have I to do with all this?" said Edward Maudelain.
Gloucester retorted: "More than you think. For this Alixe was conveyedto Chertsey, here in England, where at the year's end she died inchildbirth. A little before this time had Sir Thomas Holland seen hislast day,--the husband of that Joane of Kent whom throughout life mybrother loved most marvellously. The disposition of the lateQueen-Mother is tolerably well known. I make no comment save that toher moulding my brother was as so much wax. In fine, the two loverswere presently married, and their son reigns to-day in England. Theabandoned son of Alixe Riczi was reared by the Cistercians atChertsey, where some years ago I found you."
He spoke with a stifled voice, wrenching forth each sentence; and nowwith a stiff forefinger flipped a paper across the table. "_Inextremis_ my brother did more than confess. He signed,--your Majesty,"said Gloucester. The Duke on a sudden flung out his hands, like awizard whose necromancy fails, and the palms were bloodied where hisnails had cut the flesh.
"Moreover, my daughter was born at Sudbury," said the Duke of York.
And of Maudelain's face I cannot tell you. He made pretence to readthe paper carefully, but his eyes roved, and he knew that he stoodamong wolves. The room was oddly shaped, with eight equal sides: theceiling was of a light and brilliant blue, powdered with many goldenstars, and the walls were hung with smart tapestries whichcommemorated the exploits of Theseus. "Then I am King," this Maudelainsaid aloud, "of France and England, and Lord of Ireland, and Duke ofAquitaine! I perceive that Heaven loves a jest." He wheeled uponGloucester and spoke with singular irrelevance, "And what is to bedone with the present Queen?"
Again the Duke shrugged. "I had not thought of the dumb wench. We havemany convents."
Now Maudelain twisted the paper between his long, wet fingers andappeared to meditate.
"It would be advisable, your Grace," observed the Earl of Derby,suavely, and breaking his silence for the first time, "that youyourself should wed Dame Anne, once the Apostolic See has granted thenecessary dispensation. Treading too close upon the fighting requisiteto bring about the dethronement and death of our nominal lord theso-called King, a war with Bohemia, which would be only too apt tofollow this noble lady's assassination, would be highly inconvenient,and, lacking that, we would have to pay back her dowry."
Then these three princes rose and knelt before the priest; they wereclad in long bright garments, and they glittered with gold and manyjewels. He standing among them shuddered in his sombre robe. "Hail,King of England!" cried these three.
"Hail, ye that are my kinsmen!" he answered; "hail, ye that spring ofan accursed race, as I! And woe to England for that hour whereinManuel of Poictesme held traffic with the Sorceress of Provence, andthe devil's son begot an heir for England! Of ice and of lust and ofhell-fire are all we sprung; old records attest it; and fickle andcold and ravenous and without shame are all our race until the end. Ofyour brother's dishonor ye make merchandise to-day, and to-dayfratricide whispers me, and leers, and, Heaven help me! I attend. OGod of Gods! wilt Thou dare bid a man live stainless, having aforetimefilled his veins with such a venom? Then haro, will I cry from Thydeepest hell.... Oh, now let the adulterous Redeemer of Poictesmerejoice in his tall fires, to note that his descendants know of whatwood to make a crutch! You are very wise, my kinsmen. Take yourmeasures, messieurs who are my kinsmen! Though were I of any otherrace, with what expedition would I now kill you, I that recognizewithin me the strength to do it! Then would I slay you! without anyanimosity, would I slay you then, just as I would kill as manysplendid snakes!"
He went away, laughing horribly. Gloucester drummed upon the table,his brows contracted. But the lean Duke said nothing; big York seemedto drowse; and Henry of Derby smiled as he sounded a gong for thatscribe who would draw up the necessary letters. The Earl's time wasnot yet come, but it was nearing.
In the antechamber the priest encountered two men-at-arms dragging adead body from the castle. The Duke of Kent, Maudelain was informed,had taken a fancy to a peasant girl, and in remonstrance her misguidedfather had actually tugged at his Grace's sleeve.
Maudelain went into the park of Windsor, where he walked for a longwhile alone. It was a fine day in the middle spring; and now he seemedto understand for the first time how fair was his England. For allEngland was his fief, held in vassalage to God and to no man alive,his heart now sang; allwhither his empire spread, opulent in grain andmetal and every revenue of the earth, and in stalwart men (hischattels), and in strong orderly cities, where the windows would beadorned with scarlet hangings, and women (with golden hair and red laxlips) would presently admire as King Edward rode slowly by at the headof a resplendent retinue. And always the King would bow, graciouslyand without haste, to his shouting people.... He laughed to findhimself already at rehearsal of the gesture.
It was strange, though, that in this glorious fief of his so manypersons should, as yet, live day by day as cattle live, suspicious ofall other moving things (with reason), and roused from their incuriousand filthy apathy only when some glittering baron, like a resistlesseagle, swept uncomfortably near as he passed on some by-errand of themore bright and windy upper-world. East and north they had goneyearly, for so many centuries, these dumb peasants, to fight out theirmaster's uncomprehended quarrel, and to manure with their carcassesthe soil of France and of Scotland. Give these serfs a king, now, who(being absolute), might dare to deal in perfect equity with rich andpoor, who with his advent would bring Peace into England as his bride,as Trygaeus did very anciently in Athens--"And then," the priestparaphrased, "may England recover all the blessings she has lost, andeverywhere the glitter of active steel will cease." For everywhere menwould crack a rustic jest or two, unhurriedly. Virid fields wouldheave brownly under their ploughs; they would find that with practiceit was almost as easy to chuckle as it was to cringe.
Meanwhile on every side the nobles tyrannized in their degree, wellclothed and nourished, but at bottom equally comfortless in condition.As illuminate by lightning Maudelain saw the many factions of hisbarons squabbling for gross pleasures, like wolves over a corpse, andblindly dealing death to one another to secure at least one moredelicious gulp before that inevitable mangling by the teeth of someburlier colleague. The complete misery of England showed beforeMaudelain like a winter landscape. The thing was questionless. He musttread henceforward without fear among frenzied beasts, and to theirultimate welfare. On a sudden Maudelain knew himself to be invincibleand fine, and hesitancy ebbed.
True, Richard, poor fool, must die. Squarely the priest faced thatstark and hideous circumstance; to spare Richard was beyond his power,and the boy was his brother; yes, this oncoming King Edward would be afratricide, and after death would be irrevocably damned. To burn, andeternally to burn, and, worst of all, to know that the torment waseternal! ay, it would be hard; but, at the cost of Richard's ignoblelife and of Edward's inconsiderable soul, to win so many men tomanhood was not a bargain to be refused.
The tale tells that Maudelain went toward the little garden whichadjoined Dame Anne's apartments. He found the Queen there, alone, asnowadays she was for the most part, and he paused to wonder at herbright and singular beauty. How vaguely odd was this beauty, hereflected, too; how alien in its effect to that of any other woma
n insturdy England, and how associable it was, somehow, with every wildand gracious denizen of the woods which blossomed yonder.
In this place the world was all sunlight, temperate but undiluted.They had met in a wide, unshaded plot of grass, too short to ripple,which everywhere glowed steadily, like a gem. Right and left, birdssang as if in a contest. The sky was cloudless, a faint and radiantblue throughout, save where the sun stayed as yet in the zenith, sothat the Queen's brows cast honey-colored shadows upon either cheek.The priest was greatly troubled by the proud and heatlessbrilliancies, the shrill joys, of every object within the radius ofhis senses.
She was splendidly clothed, in a kirtle of very bright green, tintedlike the verdancy of young ferns in sunlight, and wore over all a gownof white, cut open on each side as far as the hips. This garment wasembroidered with golden leopards and was trimmed with ermine. Abouther yellow hair was a chaplet of gold, wherein emeralds glowed. Herblue eyes were as large and shining and changeable (he thought) as twooceans in midsummer; and Maudelain stood motionless and seemed tohimself but to revere, as the Earl Ixion did, some bright unstablewisp of cloud, while somehow all elation departed from him as waterdoes from a wetted sponge compressed. He laughed discordantly.
"Wait--! O my only friend--!" said Maudelain. Then in a level voice hetold her all, unhurriedly and without any apparent emotion.
She had breathed once, with a deep inhalation. She had screened hercountenance from his gaze the while you might have counted fifty.Presently she said: "This means more war, for de Vere and Tressilianand de la Pole and Bramber and others of the barons know that theKing's fall signifies their ruin. Many thousands die to-morrow."
He answered, "It means a war which will make me King of England, andwill make you my wife."
"In that war the nobles will ride abroad with banners and gaysurcoats, and will kill and ravish in the pauses of their songs; whiledaily in that war the naked peasants will kill the one the other,without knowing why."
His thought had forerun hers. "Yes, some must die, so that in the endI may be King, and the general happiness may rest at my disposal. Theadventure of this world is wonderful, and it goes otherwise than underthe strict tutelage of reason."
"It would not be yours, but Gloucester's and his barons'. Friend, theywould set you on the throne to be their puppet and to move only asthey pulled the strings. Thwart them in their maraudings and they willfling you aside, as the barons have pulled down every king that daredoppose them. No, they desire to live pleasantly, to have fish onFridays, and white bread and the finest wine the whole year through,and there is not enough for all, say they. Can you alone contendagainst them? and conquer them? for not unless you can do this may Idare bid you reign."
The sun had grown too bright, too merciless, but as always she drewthe truth from him. "I could not venture to oppose in anything thebarons who supported my cause: for if I did, I would not endure afortnight. Heaven help us, nor you nor I nor any one may transformthrough any personal force this bitter world, this piercing, cruelplace of frost and sun. Charity and Truth are excommunicate, and aking is only an adorned and fearful person who leads wolves towardtheir quarry, lest, lacking it, they turn and devour him. Everywherethe powerful labor to put one another out of worship, and each tostand the higher with the other's corpse as his pedestal; and Lecheryand Greed and Hatred sway these proud and inconsiderate fools as windsblow at will the gay leaves of autumn. We walk among shining vapors,we aspire to overpass a mountain of unstable sparkling sand! We twoalone in all the scuffling world! Oh, it is horrible, and I think thatSatan plans the jest! We dream for a while of refashioning this brightdesolation, and know that we alone can do it! we are as demigods, youand I, in those gallant dreams! and at the end we can but poulticesome dirty rascal!"
The Queen answered sadly: "Once and only once did God tread thistangible world, for a very little while, and, look you, to whattrivial matters He devoted that brief space! Only to chat withfishermen, and to talk with light women, and to consort with rascals,and at last to die between two cutpurses, ignominiously! If ChristHimself achieved so little that seemed great and admirable, how shouldwe two hope to do any more?"
He answered: "It is true. Of anise and of cumin the Master gets Histithe--" Maudelain broke off with a yapping laugh. "Puf! Heaven iswiser than we. I am King of England. It is my heritage."
"It means war. Many will die, thousands will die, and to no bettermentof affairs."
"I am King of England. I am Heaven's satrap here, and answerable toHeaven alone. It is my heritage." And now his large and cruel eyeswere aflame as he regarded her.
And visibly beneath their glare the woman changed. "My friend, must Inot love you any longer? You would be content with happiness? Then Iam jealous of that happiness! for you are the one friend that I havehad, and so dear to me--Look you!" she said, with a light, wistfullaugh, "there have been times when I was afraid of everything youtouched, and I hated everything you looked at. I would not have youstained; I desired to pass my whole life between the four walls ofsome dingy and eternal gaol, forever alone with you, lest you becomelike other men. I would in that period have been the very bread youeat, the least perfume which delights you, the clod you touch incrushing it, and I have often loathed some pleasure I derived fromlife because I might not transfer it to you undiminished. For I wantedsomehow to make you happy to my own anguish.... It was wicked, Isuppose, for the imagining of it made me happy, too."
Now while he listened to this dear and tranquil speaking, EdwardMaudelain's raised hands had fallen like so much lead, and rememberinghis own nature, he longed for annihilation, before she had appraisedhis vileness. He said:
"With reason Augustine crieth out against the lust of the eyes. 'Forpleasure seeketh objects beautiful, melodious, fragrant, savory, andsoft; but this disease those contrary as well, not for the sake ofsuffering annoyance, but out of the lust of making trial of them!' Ah!ah! too curiously I planned my own damnation, too presumptuously I hadesteemed my soul a worthy scapegoat, and I had gilded my enormity withmany lies. Yet indeed, indeed, I had believed brave things, I hadplanned a not ignoble bargain--! Ey, say, is it not laughable,madame?--as my birth-right Heaven accords me a penny, and with thatonly penny I must presently be seeking to bribe Heaven."
Then he said: "Yet are we indeed God's satraps, as but now I cried inmy vainglory, and we hold within our palms the destiny of manypeoples. Depardieux! God is wiser than we are. Still, Satan offers nounhandsome bribes--bribes that are tangible and sure. For Satan, too,is wiser than we are."
They stood like effigies, lit by the broad, unsparing splendor of themorning, but again their kindling eyes had met, and again the manshuddered. "Decide! oh, decide very quickly, my only friend!" he said,"for throughout I am all filth!"
Closer she drew to him, and laid one hand upon each shoulder. "O myonly friend!" she breathed, with red lax lips which were very near tohis, "through these six years I have ranked your friendship as thechief of all my honors! and I pray God with an entire heart that I maydie so soon as I have done what I must do to-day!"
Now Maudelain was trying to smile, but he could not quite manage it."God save King Richard!" said the priest. "For by the cowardice andgreed and ignorance of little men is Salomon himself confounded, andby them is Hercules lightly unhorsed. Were I Leviathan, whose boneswere long ago picked clean by pismires, I could perform nothingagainst the will of many human pismires. Therefore do you pronounce mydoom."
"O King," then said Dame Anne, "I bid you go forever from the courtand live forever a landless man, friendless, and without even anyname. Otherwise, you can in no way escape being made an instrument tobring about the misery and death of many thousands. This doom I dareadjudge and to pronounce, because we are royal and God's satraps, youand I."
Twice or thrice his dry lips moved before he spoke. He was aware ofinnumerable birds that carolled with a piercing and intolerablesweetness. "O Queen!" he hoarsely said, "O fellow satrap! Heaven hasmany fiefs. A fair province is w
asted and accords to Heaven norevenue. So wastes beauty, and a shrewd wit, and an illimitablecharity, which of their pride go in fetters and achieve no increase.To-day the young King junkets with his flatterers, and but rarelythinks of England. You have that beauty by which men are lightlyconquered, and the mere sight of which may well cause a man's voice totremble as my voice trembles now, and through desire of which--But Itread afield! Of that beauty you have made no profit. O daughter ofthe Caesars, I bid you now gird either loin for an unlovely traffic.Old Legion must be fought with fire. True that the age is sick, truethat we may not cure, we can but salve the hurt--" His hand had tornopen his sombre gown, and the man's bared breast shone in thesunlight, and on his breast heaved sleek and glittering beads ofsweat. Twice he cried the Queen's name. In a while he said: "I bid youweave incessantly such snares of brain and body as may lure KingRichard to be swayed by you, until against his will you daily guidethis shallow-hearted fool to some commendable action. I bid you liveas other folk do hereabouts. Coax! beg! cheat! wheedle! lie!" hebarked like a teased dog, "and play the prostitute for him that wearsmy crown, till you achieve in part the task which is denied me. Thisdoom I dare adjudge and to pronounce, because we are royal and God'ssatraps, you and I."
She answered with a tiny, wordless sound. But presently, "I take mydoom," the Queen proudly said. "I shall be lonely now, my only friend,and yet--it does not matter," the Queen said, with a little shiver."No, nothing will ever greatly matter now, I think, now that I may notever see you any more, my dearest."
Her eyes had filled with tears; she was unhappy, and, as always, thisknowledge roused in Maudelain a sort of frenzied pity and a hatred,quite illogical, of all other things existent. She was unhappy, thatonly he comprehended: and for her to be made unhappy was unjust.
So he stood thus for an appreciable silence, staying motionless savethat behind his back his fingers were bruising one another. Everywherewas this or that bright color and an incessant melody. It wasunbearable. Then it was over; the ordered progress of all happeningswas apparent, simple, and natural; and contentment came into his heartlike a flight of linnets over level fields at dawn. He left her, andas he went he sang.
Sang Maudelain:
"Christ save us all, as well He can, A solis ortus cardine! For He is both God and man, Qui natus est de virgine, And we but part of His wide plan That sing, and heartily sing we, 'Gloria Tibi, Domine!'
"Between a heifer and an ass Enixa est puerpera; In ragged woollen clad He was Qui regnat super aethera, And patiently may we then pass That sing, and heartily sing we, 'Gloria Tibi, Domine!'"
The Queen shivered in the glad sunlight. "I am, it must be, pitiablyweak," she said at last, "because I cannot sing as he does. And, sinceI am not very wise, were he to return even now--But he will notreturn. He will never return," the Queen repeated, carefully. "It isstrange I cannot comprehend that he will never return! Ah, Mother ofGod!" she cried, with a steadier voice, "grant that I may weep! nay,of thy infinite mercy let me presently find the heart to weep!" Andabout the Queen of England many birds sang joyously.
She sent for the King that evening, after supper, and they may wellhave talked of many matters, for he did not return to his ownapartments that night. Next day the English barons held a council, andin the midst of it King Richard demanded to be told his age.
"Your Grace is in your twenty-second year," said the uneasyGloucester, who was now with reason troubled, since he had been vainlyseeking everywhere for the evanished Maudelain.
"Then I have been under tutors and governors longer than any otherward in my dominion. My lords, I thank you for your past services, butI need them no more." They had no check handy, and Gloucester inparticular foreread his death-warrant, but of necessity he shoutedwith the others, "Hail, King of England!"
That afternoon the King's assumption of all royal responsibility wascommemorated by a tournament, over which Dame Anne presided. Sixty ofher ladies led as many knights by silver chains into thetilting-grounds at Smithfield, and it was remarked that the Queenappeared unusually mirthful. The King was in high good humor, apattern of conjugal devotion; and the royal pair retired at dusk tothe Bishop of London's palace at Saint Paul's, where was held a merrybanquet, with dancing both before and after supper.
THE END OF THE SIXTH NOVEL