CHAPTER II
South of the armory of Westminster Palace lay the gardens, and here, onthe third day following the King's affront to De Vac, might have been aseen a black-haired woman gowned in a violet cyclas, richly embroideredwith gold about the yoke and at the bottom of the loose-pointed sleeves,which reached almost to the similar bordering on the lower hem of thegarment. A richly wrought leathern girdle, studded with precious stones,and held in place by a huge carved buckle of gold, clasped the garmentabout her waist so that the upper portion fell outward over the girdleafter the manner of a blouse. In the girdle was a long dagger ofbeautiful workmanship. Dainty sandals encased her feet, while a wimpleof violet silk bordered in gold fringe, lay becomingly over her head andshoulders.
By her side walked a handsome boy of about three, clad, like hiscompanion, in gay colors. His tiny surcoat of scarlet velvet was richwith embroidery, while beneath was a close-fitting tunic of whitesilk. His doublet was of scarlet, while his long hose of white werecross-gartered with scarlet from his tiny sandals to his knees. On theback of his brown curls sat a flat-brimmed, round-crowned hat in which asingle plume of white waved and nodded bravely at each move of the proudlittle head.
The child's features were well molded, and his frank, bright eyes gavean expression of boyish generosity to a face which otherwise would havebeen too arrogant and haughty for such a mere baby. As he talked withhis companion, little flashes of peremptory authority and dignity, whichsat strangely upon one so tiny, caused the young woman at times toturn her head from him that he might not see the smiles which she couldscarce repress.
Presently the boy took a ball from his tunic, and, pointing at a littlebush near them, said, "Stand you there, Lady Maud, by yonder bush. Iwould play at toss."
The young woman did as she was bid, and when she had taken her placeand turned to face him the boy threw the ball to her. Thus they playedbeneath the windows of the armory, the boy running blithely after theball when he missed it, and laughing and shouting in happy glee when hemade a particularly good catch.
In one of the windows of the armory overlooking the garden stood a grim,gray, old man, leaning upon his folded arms, his brows drawn together ina malignant scowl, the corners of his mouth set in a stern, cold line.
He looked upon the garden and the playing child, and upon the lovelyyoung woman beneath him, but with eyes which did not see, for De Vac wasworking out a great problem, the greatest of all his life.
For three days, the old man had brooded over his grievance, seeking forsome means to be revenged upon the King for the insult which Henry hadput upon him. Many schemes had presented themselves to his shrewdand cunning mind, but so far all had been rejected as unworthy of theterrible satisfaction which his wounded pride demanded.
His fancies had, for the most part, revolved about the unsettledpolitical conditions of Henry's reign, for from these he felt he mightwrest that opportunity which could be turned to his own personal usesand to the harm, and possibly the undoing, of the King.
For years an inmate of the palace, and often a listener in the armorywhen the King played at sword with his friends and favorites, De Vac hadheard much which passed between Henry III and his intimates that couldwell be turned to the King's harm by a shrewd and resourceful enemy.
With all England, he knew the utter contempt in which Henry held theterms of the Magna Charta which he so often violated along with hiskingly oath to maintain it. But what all England did not know, De Vachad gleaned from scraps of conversation dropped in the armory: thatHenry was even now negotiating with the leaders of foreign mercenaries,and with Louis IX of France, for a sufficient force of knights andmen-at-arms to wage a relentless war upon his own barons that he mighteffectively put a stop to all future interference by them with the royalprerogative of the Plantagenets to misrule England.
If he could but learn the details of this plan, thought De Vac: thepoint of landing of the foreign troops; their numbers; the first pointof attack. Ah, would it not be sweet revenge indeed to balk the King inthis venture so dear to his heart!
A word to De Clare, or De Montfort would bring the barons and theirretainers forty thousand strong to overwhelm the King's forces.
And he would let the King know to whom, and for what cause, he wasbeholden for his defeat and discomfiture. Possibly the barons woulddepose Henry, and place a new king upon England's throne, and then DeVac would mock the Plantagenet to his face. Sweet, kind, delectablevengeance, indeed! And the old man licked his thin lips as though totaste the last sweet vestige of some dainty morsel.
And then Chance carried a little leather ball beneath the window wherethe old man stood; and as the child ran, laughing, to recover it, DeVac's eyes fell upon him, and his former plan for revenge melted as thefog before the noonday sun; and in its stead there opened to him thewhole hideous plot of fearsome vengeance as clearly as it were writ uponthe leaves of a great book that had been thrown wide before him. And,in so far as he could direct, he varied not one jot from the detailsof that vividly conceived masterpiece of hellishness during the twentyyears which followed.
The little boy who so innocently played in the garden of his royalfather was Prince Richard, the three-year-old son of Henry III ofEngland. No published history mentions this little lost prince; only thesecret archives of the kings of England tell the story of his strangeand adventurous life. His name has been blotted from the records of men;and the revenge of De Vac has passed from the eyes of the world; thoughin his time it was a real and terrible thing in the hearts of theEnglish.