Part 4 (1/2)
Next came the Duke of Richmond, superbly accoutred. Laughing at Wyat's ill success, he bowed to the Fair Geraldine, and taking a lance from his esquire, placed it in the rest, and rode gallantly forward. But he was equally unsuccessful, and retired, looking deeply chagrined.
The third knight who presented himself was Surrey. Mounted on his favourite black Arabian-a steed which, though of fiery temper, obeyed his slightest movement-his light symmetrical figure was seen to the greatest advantage in his close-fitting habiliments of silk and velvet. Without venturing a look at the royal balcony, the earl couched his lance, and bounding forward, bore away the ring on its point.
Amid the plaudits of the spectators, he then careered around the arena, and approaching the royal balcony, raised his lance, and proffered the ring to the Fair Geraldine, who blus.h.i.+ngly received it. Henry, though by no means pleased with Surrey's success, earned as it was at the expense of his son, complimented him upon his skill, and Anne Boleyn joined warmly in his praises.
The lists were then closed, and the royal party retired to partake of refreshments; after which they proceeded to the b.u.t.ts erected in the broad mead at the north of the castle, where the Duke of Sh.o.r.editch and his companions shot a well-contested match with the long-bow.
During these sports, Surrey placed himself as near as he could to the Fair Geraldine, and though but few opportunities occurred of exchanging a syllable with her, his looks spoke a sufficiently intelligible language. At last, just as they were about to return to the palace, he breathed in an imploring tone in her ear- ”You will attend vespers at Saint George's Chapel this evening. Return through the cloisters. Grant me a moment's interview alone there.”
”I cannot promise,” replied the Fair Geraldine. And she followed in the train of the Lady Anne.
The earl's request had not been unheard. As the royal train proceeded towards the castle, Will Sommers contrived to approach the Duke of Richmond, and said to him, in a jeering tone ”You ran but indifferently at the ring to-day, gossip. The galliard Surrey rode better, and carried off the prize.”
”Pest on thee, scurril knave-be silent!” cried Richmond angrily; ”failure is bad enough without thy taunts.”
”If you had only missed the ring, gossip, I should have thought nothing of it,” pursued Will Sommers; ”but you lost a golden opportunity of ingratiating yourself with your lady-love. All your hopes are now at an end. A word in your ear-the Fair Geraldine will meet Surrey alone this evening.”
”Thou liest, knave!” cried the duke fiercely.
”Your grace will find the contrary, if you will be at Wolsey's tomb-house at vesper-time,” replied the jester.
”I will be there,” replied the duke; ”but if I am brought on a bootless errand, not even my royal father shall save thee from chastis.e.m.e.nt.”
”I will bear any chastis.e.m.e.nt your grace may choose to inflict upon me, if I prove not the truth of my a.s.sertion,” replied Sommers. And he dropped into the rear of the train.
The two friends, as if by mutual consent, avoided each other during the rest of the day-Surrey feeling he could not unburden his heart to Richmond, and Richmond brooding jealously over the intelligence he had received from the jester.
At the appointed hour the duke proceeded to the lower ward, and stationed himself near Wolsey's tomb-house. Just as he arrived there, the vesper hymn arose from the adjoining fane, and its solemn strains somewhat soothed his troubled spirit. But they died away; and as the jester came not, Richmond grew impatient, and began to fear he had been duped by his informant. At length the service concluded, and, losing all patience, he was about to depart, when the jester peered round the lower angle of the tomb-house, and beckoned to him. Obeying the summons, the duke followed his conductor down the arched pa.s.sage leading to the cloisters.
”Tread softly, gossip, or you will alarm them,” said Sommers, in a low tone.
They turned the corner of the cloisters; and there, near the entrance of the chapel, stood the youthful pair-the Fair Geraldine half reclining upon the earl's breast, while his arm encircled her slender waist.
”There!” whispered the jester, chuckling maliciously, ”there! did I speak falsely-eh, gossip?”
Richmond laid his hand upon his sword.
”Hist!” said the jester; ”hear what the Fair Geraldine has to say.”
”We must meet no more thus, Surrey,” she murmured: ”I feel I was wrong in granting the interview, but I could not help it. If, when a few more years have flown over your head, your heart remains unchanged.”
”It will never change!” interrupted Surrey. ”I here solemnly pledge my troth to you.”
”And I return the pledge,” replied the Fair Geraldine earnestly. ”I vow to be yours, and yours only.”
”Would that Richmond could hear your vow!” said Surrey; ”it would extinguish his hopes.”
”He has heard it!” cried the duke, advancing. ”But his hopes are not yet extinguished.”
The Fair Geraldine uttered a slight scream, and disengaged herself from the earl.
”Richmond, you have acted unworthily in thus playing the spy,” said Surrey angrily.
”None but a spy can surprise interviews like these,” rejoined Richmond bitterly. ”The Lady Elizabeth Fitzgerald had better have kept her chamber, than come here to plight her troth with a boy, who will change his mind before his beard is grown.”
”Your grace shall find the boy man enough to avenge an insult,” rejoined Surrey sternly.
”I am glad to hear it,” returned the duke. ”Lady Elizabeth Fitzgerald, I must pray you to return to your lodgings. The king's jester will attend you. This way, my lord.”
Too much exasperated to hesitate, Surrey followed the duke down the pa.s.sage, and the next moment the clas.h.i.+ng of swords was heard. The Fair Geraldine screamed loudly, and Will Sommers began to think the jest had been carried too far.
”What is to be done?” he cried. ”If the king hears of this quarrel, he will a.s.suredly place the Earl of Surrey in arrest. I now repent having brought the duke here.”
”You acted most maliciously,” cried the Fair Geraldine; ”but fly, and prevent further mischief.”
Thus urged, the jester ran towards the lower ward, and finding an officer of the guard and a couple of halberdiers near the entrance of St. George's Chapel, told them what was taking place, and they immediately hastened with him to the scene of the conflict.
”My lords!” cried the officer to the combatants, ”I command you to lay down your weapons.”
But finding no respect paid to his injunctions, he rushed between them, and with the aid of the halberdiers, forcibly separated them.
”My lord of Surrey,” said the officer, ”you are my prisoner. I demand your sword.”
”On what plea, sir?” rejoined the other.
”You have drawn it against the king's son-and the act is treason,” replied the officer. ”I shall take you to the guard house until the king's pleasure is known.”
”But I provoked the earl to the conflict,” said Richmond: ”I was the aggressor.”
”Your grace will represent the matter as you see fit to your royal father,” rejoined the officer. ”I shall fulfil my duty. My lord, to the guard-house!”
”I will procure your instant liberation, Surrey,” said Richmond.
The earl was then led away, and conveyed to a chamber in the lower part of Henry the Eighth's gate, now used as a place of military punishment, and denominated the ”black hole.”
VIII.
Of Tristram Lyndwood, the old Forester, and his Grand- daughter Mabel-Of the Peril in which the Lady Anne Boleyn was placed during the chase-And by whom she was rescued.
In consequence of the announcement that a grand hunting party would be held in the forest, all the verderers, rangers, and keepers a.s.sembled at an early hour on the fourth day after the king's arrival at Windsor in an open s.p.a.ce on the west side of the great avenue, where a wooden stand was erected, canopied over with green boughs and festooned with garlands of flowers, for the accommodation of the Lady Anne Boleyn and her dames, who, it was understood, would be present at the chase.
At a little distance from the stand an extensive covert was fenced round with stout poles, to which nets were attached so as to form a haye or preserve, where the game intended for the royal sport was confined; and though many of the animals thus brought together were of hostile natures, they were all so terrified, and seemingly so conscious of the danger impending over them, that they did not molest each other. The foxes and martins, of which there were abundance, slunk into the brushwood with the hares and rabbits, but left their prey untouched. The harts made violent efforts to break forth, and, entangling their horns in the nets, were with difficulty extricated and driven back; while the timid does, not daring to follow them, stood warily watching the result of the struggle.
Amongst the antlered captives was a fine buck, which, having been once before hunted by the king, was styled a ”hart royal,” and this n.o.ble animal would certainly have effected his escape if he had not been attacked and driven back by Morgan Fenwolf, who throughout the morning's proceedings displayed great energy and skill. The compliments bestowed on Fenwolf for his address by the chief verderer excited the jealousy of some of his comrades, and more than one a.s.serted that he had been a.s.sisted in his task by some evil being, and that Bawsey herself was no better than a familiar spirit in the form of a hound.