Part 14 (1/2)

Meanwhile Calote sat in the window-seat.

”Do not hold me on thy knee, Etienne,” said Richard presently; ”methinks 't is not fitting. I will stand on my feet. Where is the maid?”

”Drink, sire!” said Etienne. ”'T will cure thy head.” And he steadied the goblet at the lips of the King.

The page stood by, grinning.

”I listened,” quoth he. ”I was behind the arras when the messenger spake. I ran like the wind. Why doth yonder maid sit in the King's presence?”

”Mother of G.o.d!” exclaimed Calote, and jumped down in haste, very red.

And Richard laughed.

But in a moment he was grave again.

”Mayhap I should weep for my grandfather,” he said. ”I know he was a great king. But my father would have been a greater than he, an he had lived. I weep still, of nights, because my father is dead.”

”Begone!” whispered Etienne to the page. ”Haply they seek the King.

Tell the Queen-Mother he is here.”

Calote came and knelt on both her knees before Richard.

”Thou, also, shalt be a great king,” she cried.

But he shook his head.

”I do not know,” he mused. ”How little am I! The n.o.bles are great, and they do not love me,--not as my father loved. Men say mine uncle hath it in his heart to kill me.”

”O sire! the people love thee!” cried Calote. ”The people is thy friend; they hold to thee for thy father's sake; and if thou be friend and brother to them, be sure they will hold to thee for thine own.

Wilt thou be king of common folk, sire? Wilt thou right the wrongs of thy poor? Now G.o.d and Wat Tyler forgive me if I betray aught. But hearken! The people has a great plot whereby they hope to rise against this power of the n.o.bles, this evil power that eateth out the heart of this kingdom. If this thing come to pa.s.s, wilt thou go with the n.o.bles, or wilt thou go with thy poor?”

”I hate the n.o.bles!” cried Richard pa.s.sionately. ”Have I not told thee? I hate mine uncle the Duke, and Thomas of Woodstock that tosseth me in air as I were a shuttlec.o.c.k. I hate Salisbury, and Devon,--yea, even the Earl of March, Etienne. They do not love me. Their eyes are cold; and when they smile upon me I could kill them. I will go with the common folk, they are my people.”

”There will not be a king so great as thou, nor so beloved!” cried Calote. ”But this that I told thee is secret.”

”Is 't?--Well!” said Richard eagerly,--”I do love a secret. Etienne will tell thee how close I have kept his own.”

He swelled his little chest and spread his legs.

”Now am I right glad. Mine uncles have their secrets. So will I likewise. And I am King.”

Then the tapestry lifted, and there came into the room a n.o.ble lady, and two other following after; and all these had been a-weeping.

”O madame!” cried Richard, and went and cast himself into the arms of this lady. ”My grandfather is dead, and we are in sore straits. Would G.o.d my father were alive this day.” So he began to sob; and the Queen-Mother took him up in her arms and bore him away, and her ladies went also.

But of three young gentlemen that stood in the doorway with torches, for now the day was spent, one only departed,--and he perforce, for the pa.s.sage was darker than this room, and the ladies called for light. But the other two came in, and:--

”Here 's where thou 'rt hid!” they cried. ”By St. Thomas o'