Volume I Part 40 (1/2)
James and his company, pa.s.sing through the ponderous and embattled gateway, entered into the great quadrangle, an area, it is reported, of sufficient size to contain six hundred men. Here he alighted, and was conducted in great state to the oaken chamber, where, royalty being very hot, a tankard of Rhenish wine, mingled with rosewater, was handed to him; of this he partook but sparingly, calling to Buckingham for a cup of muscadine and eggs.
Goring and Finett were not idle, but each of them fully employed in their respective vocations. Sir John had been pierced by a pair of dark eyes from the crowd upon the staircase, and Goring was making all haste for the royal hunt, his Majesty having signified that he would on that same evening kill a stag. James was, generally, as quick to resolve as he was impotent to execute; vacillating, and without any fixed purpose, in matters that required decision and prompt.i.tude of action.
With his usual pusillanimity the king went through the business of the hunt, the deer being literally driven into the very teeth of the dogs.
An hour having been thus occupied, he commanded that they should return, highly satisfied with his own skill and intrepidity. Ascending the hill with his favourite, Goring, and discoursing pleasantly on this n.o.ble pastime, the king turned round on the sudden, as though recollecting something he had lost.
”What! Jack Finett. Quhere? quhere, I say, is my Sienna balsam?” said he, laying a deep emphasis on the guttural. This sally was acknowledged with delight by the courtiers. But ”Jack” had not been seen or even remembered. Some trick or device was doubtless intended, and the king held himself in readiness for the expected surprise; but none was forthcoming. No magazine of mirth exploded; no mine was sprung; and James entered into his chamber without any visible expression of jocoseness issuing from the fertile brains of Sir John Finett. The irritation produced by his absence seemed to arise, not from any need of him, but from that tormenting desire which mortals universally feel for the possession of objects beyond their reach. Search was commanded for the truant, unsuccessfully; and supper was begun.
The eastern side of the hill on which the tower is built is bold and rugged, being steep and difficult of access. At its base the Darwen forces itself through a narrow channel, its waters tumbling over huge heaps of rock, and reeling in mazy eddies to the echo of their own voice. The river seems to have worked itself a pa.s.sage through the chasm; and the boiling and noisy torrent, struggling to free itself from observation, foams and bellows like the gorge of a whirlpool, from whence originates its name, ”The Orr,” not unlike in sound to the effect that is here produced.
On the opposite sh.o.r.e the rock is nearly perpendicular, the dog-rose and the bramble hiding its crevices, and the crawling campanula wreathing its bright bells about the sterile front, from which its sustenance was derived, like youth clinging to the cold and insensate bosom of age. The declivity sloping abruptly from the tower was then covered with a wild and luxuriant underwood, stunted ash and hazel twigs thinly occupying a succession of ridges to the summit. Here and there a straggling oak threw its ungraceful outline over a narrow path, winding immediately under the base of the hill,--its bare roots undermined by oozings from above, and giving way to the slow but certain operation of the destroyer. From the heat and dryness of the season the torrent was much diminished, rus.h.i.+ng into a succession of deep pools, which the full free light of heaven had scarcely ever visited. Now dimly seen through the hot gleams of a summer evening, they seemed wavering in the lurid reflection from surrounding objects.
Up this narrow gorge had strayed Sir John Finett with a companion, too busily engaged, it might seem, in their own converse to note the lapse of time, and the probable consequences of the king's displeasure.
”Fair lady,” said the gay cavalier, ”I am not more bold than my vocation holdeth meet. Your cousin, at Myerscough, was so liberal of his own suit, and my countenance therein, that he hath entrusted this love-billet to my keeping, warning me that I should let none but yourself be privy to its delivery.”
”Would that my cousin had eschewed letter-writing! I am averse to his suit, and yet he ceaseth not to vex me continually with his drivelling ditties. His ballad-mongering to these 'eyne' alone would set up one of your court rhymesters for a twelvemonth.”
”Yet may aversion cease, and your mislikings be not over difficult to a.s.suage,” said the courtier.
”I doubt not but Sir John Finett speaks of the capricious and changeable humours he hath witnessed;--our country fas.h.i.+on holdeth not so lightly by its affection or disfavour.”
”Then there be doubtless of those stout vessels that shall never leak out a lady's favour. That this lot were mine!”
Sir John, perhaps unconsciously, threw his dark eyes full upon the lady, who blushed deeply; but the gloom concealed this outward show of feeling, too unformed and indefinite for thought. She spoke not; but the knight, under cover of his errand, continued the discourse without awakening her alarm. He excelled in that specious, though apparently heedless raillery, which is so apt to slip without suspicion into a lady's ear; and he could ply his suit, under this disguise, with such seeming artlessness and unconcern, that a lodgement in the citadel was sometimes effected ere the garrison was aware of the intrusion.
This fair dame, Grace Gerard, was of gentle blood, a daughter of the Gerards of Ashton Hall, near Lancaster. At the earnest solicitations of the Hoghton family, she was induced to remain a guest with them during the royal visit. Of a sweet and excellent temper, her form and face were its very image and counterpart. The world was to her untried--fresh, fair, unblemished--she looked upon it as though she were newly alighted on ”some heaven-kissing hill,” from whence the whole round of life's journey was blent and mingled with the glowing beam that now encompa.s.sed her. Alas! that youth should so soon pluck and eat of the ”Tree of Knowledge!” that a nearer approach should dissipate the illusion! that our path, as it winds through those scenes we have looked on from afar in the light of our imagination, should at every step discover the tracks of misery,--a world of wretchedness and of woe!
Sir John, with all his faults, inseparable it may be from the society into which he had been thrown, was not vicious. Loving and beloved, he existed but as the object of woman's regard. This foible he indulged not farther. But many a bright eye waxed dim,--many a fond heart was withered, in the first spring-tide of its affection.
”Now that I have granted you this audience for my cousin's sake, and given him my reply, it is needful that we return. Besides, the night is coming on. The king and the feast demand your presence.”
”Nay, thou cruel tyrant, tell me not of my chain. The king's humour I can control, but”----
”Presume not on the favour of princes; an ancient but wholesome caution,” said the maiden, laughing at Sir John, who, for the first time, seemed to be aware of his duty, and was puzzling his brains for an excuse.
The bell now rang out l.u.s.tily from the Tower, increasing the knight's perplexity. The innocent cause of this delay only laughed at his concern, singing, as though to herself--
”'The bell has been rung, and the ma.s.s hath been sung, And the feast eat merrily, Merrily!'
”and the king's master of the ceremonies absent.”
The aspect of affairs was now more serious than he had antic.i.p.ated.
Supper was indeed commencing. Some scheme or witty device must be hit upon,--speedily too, or the king's displeasure might be difficult to a.s.suage.
”But for thy bright eyes and fair speech, my lady Grace, I had not been amissing from my duty.” He looked thoughtful, and it was the maiden's turn to rally.
They ascended the hill by a short but steep path. As they approached the summit, he seemed to awake from a deep reverie.
”Now have you granted me an audience for a lover's sake--to-morrow, let me be the amba.s.sador for another.”