"Prevent him not, madam. He shall be of the greatest possible a.s.sistance. He and your brother-in-law, the Duke of Buckingham, united should face the boar; and then, when victory doth rest upon their arms, the Duke can hold the Earl in check."

"A happy thought; I'll act upon it straight away. Ah! Sir Frederick, what should I do without thine ever sage advice? Pray G.o.d the time will soon come when I can reward my friends, with more than thanks.

When my son cometh to his own thou, Sir Frederick, shalt be his Counsellor."

This promise was doomed to never be fulfilled.

[1] Harleston's knowledge of scripture was evidently not great. K.M.

CHAPTER XX

BEFORE THE TOURNAMENT

Angry were the people with Richard for his savage murder of the young and rightful King. Discontent and a proper desire to punish the criminal for his act were discernible in the sullen manner in which the Usurper was received where'er he went among them. Scowls, and not resounding cheers, greeted him as he pa.s.sed through the streets of London, as was his almost daily habit.

Richard was not slow to comprehend the cause, and see what should be the outcome, of this unpopularity, were it permitted to take a firmer root in the minds of the people.

Some people, I know, contend that the best plan for killing discontent and opposition is to notice them not and they, in time, will realize their insignificance, and die by cold neglect. To me this seemeth but a poor device for ridding one of that which doth torment him. Methinks it is like the neglecting of a weed, in the hope that it will come to be disheartened by reason of its lack of opposition and wither up and die. To my poor way of thinking 'tis better, far, to remove the weed, with all its roots intact.

Richard was evidently of the same way of thinking; for he at once proceeded to remove this opposing growth, with all expediency.

Subsequent events shall show whether or no the roots came with the stalk and leaves. To accomplish his purpose it was necessary for him to please the people and gain their affection. The most easy and direct way to do this was to, in some manner, contribute to their happiness. In what way could this be so well accomplished as by appealing to the warlike spirit of England, by holding a grand tournament. Ever hath it been the custom of our country's rulers to hold these martial gatherings whenever the good will of all cla.s.ses is desired. Richard was not slow to follow the example of his predecessors. Therefore was it given out that our generous-hearted Sovereign, to in some small way show his appreciation of the honour done him by the people when they reposed the trust of England's crown with him, would straight-way give the grandest exhibition of all forms of war-like skill that ever England gazed with wondering eyes upon.

Catesby, who had been absent from court ever since the Usurper's coronation, on some business of Richard's (for now he seemed to be to Richard the properest man, though to all others a scoundrel) about this time returned. For this, my dears, I was truly pleasured; for dearly did I then desire an opportunity to be revenged on him for his insult to Hazel. I was determined that nothing should now prevent our meeting; for if he did not willingly enter for the contests I would openly challenge him to fight, the which to refuse, as ye all do know, would stamp him as a coward throughout all Christendom. This I knew well he would not bear; for Catesby, no matter what his failings were, was no physical coward.

Long seemed the time whilst we, with the spirit of impatience, were waiting for the tournament.

Hazel and I planned and decided on my making some excuse and leaving the court of Richard, so soon as the jousts should be ended. Settle down we would and live in peace and quiet within our happy home, far from the strife and intrigue of the court. 'Tis true I did not promise to lay aside the sword and shield forever. On the contrary, faithfully did I promise the ex-Queen to aid her party when the proper time arrived. And, besides, I had an oath to be fulfilled.

No longer could I bear to serve the murderous tyrant, even for mine ends. Indeed he treated me with great civility and some consideration.

Yet ever would there rise before my memory's eye the traitorous scene at Stony Stratford. 'Twas when Richard smiled I feared him most.

Beware, my children, of a man who smileth on ye all too frequently.

Such men are seldom to be trusted. Never did I fall asleep without the fear ahaunting me that I should never gaze upon the sun again; but that the three which murdered our young King would rid our present ruler of one which visited Elizabeth; for no hope of mine could be so sanguine as to cause me to believe that I had thus far escaped Richard's ever-watchful eye.

At length the day before the commencement of the tournament came around, and knights and squires all were busy with the work of preparation.

The place chosen by the King for the holding of the joust was just beyond the city's gates, between London and Westminster, and in the direction of the setting sun, that cast its fiery rays along the bosom of the earth, that it might point out to each separate champion the levelest spot for the pitching of his tent. Where'er the ground had received a wound, and the scar remained, the King of Day, as he settled down to rest, did paint the surrounding turf and leave a darker spot upon the earth, to guide the warrior's servants from their putting up his canvas house.

My friend and I both occupied the one tent, which was both high and broad.

My faithful Michael, and our other servants, bustled about in preparation for the morrow's work.

Pennons and streamers of England's n.o.blest sons now floated on the evening flower-scented breeze, which bore in its fairy arms the sounds of the armourer's anvils, as the men worked, putting on some fine completing touches. Some of these pleasant and familiar sounds were worn to such a thinness as to scarcely have existence, they having travelled from the far end of the field and, in their flight, visited the ears of many knights and squires who, fond of this sweet martial music, consumed a part each one. Others there were ranging in bodily strength until they reached a rich, full ring, proceeding from before our own tent door, where our armourers examined the suits given us by the late King Edward, and which had never since been tested with the lance.

The sun at length sank beneath the floor of earth, and the windows of Heaven began to throw forth their each particular ray of light. As we sat there, watching those far away, twinkling points, I could not refrain from wondering why the Saints and Angels there all seem so busy in the still night time; as can be seen by their pa.s.sing and repa.s.sing of the windows, in never ceasing numbers, each casting a fleeting shadow as he goes. As the light on earth kept fading, more shades in Heaven were drawn aback, as though the kindly folk up there would lend to us more cheer.

Then the pale and trouble-featured moon raised up her hairless head above the earth's surface, and slowly climbed she up the Heaven's arch.

As the sounds of the armourers and the grooms died out, the nightingale did make his voice more plainly heard, as he hurled down, from his perch beside the field, upon our ears, his darts of Heaven's own joy.

Aslanting did the music come, as borne by the gentle evening breeze it fell, like April's rain, into our ears and drenched our hearts with sweetness.

The wide-eyed frogs, far from the field, as they sat on their floating thrones, flung, from their baggy throats, at the stars, as countless as themselves, their quavering coward-challenges of battle. Yet no doubt these were as well meant as some we should hear to-morrow.

The moon now stood well up the sky and therefore, when the flap was closed a trifle, shone not far back into the tent.

The nightingale had ceased to sing.

The frogs still hurled their insolence.

Frederick and I, who had been in silence sitting for some time, arose and walked back under our covering. Michael followed, and, when we had laid down, stretched his huge frame across the opening. How like a lifeless statue there he lay; his arms locked o'er his chest. 'Twas seven feet of Hercules, as broad as two good men. Gazing at this picture of strength and loyalty, the latter shown in his firm-cut, honest face, with our shields beneath our heads, my friend and I sank into sleep.

CHAPTER XXI

THE TOURNAMENT

After a night of refreshing, sweet oblivion we awakened bright and strong, well fitted for a day of tilting. It was uncommon early to be stirring; but Richard had given out that the games should commence about the hour of ten; therefore it was necessary to rise early, in order that we might have ample time in which to look over the ground and judge its character, previous to our arming for the fray.

Cool and fresh was the morning; but the cloudless sky and bright-faced sun were indications of a greater warmth when the day should be further advanced.

Shortly after we had breakfasted the King, who had spent the night upon the field instead of at his Palace, rode around the lists, attended by Buckingham, Stanley, Lovell, Ratcliffe and Catesby. Richard wore not his armour; but all of the others were fully armed, but for the lack of their helms; instead of which they wore caps of velvet.

"Ah! Walter, thou art at last to have an opportunity to slake thy thirst for vengeance; for Catesby seemeth ready to take to the field at once," said Harleston, as we stood at the opening of our tent and watched them as they made their tour of inspection.

I smiled my satisfaction.

"Wilt thou ride with headless spear, or wilt thou use the point, and make thy prize his blood, as well as arms?"

"I desire not his steed nor arms," I answered. "No, Frederick, I would rather have the last red drop that now is in his heart than wear King Richard's crown. Long have I kept me quiet, and but little have I spoken of the insulting cur since first mine ears did hear of his black-coward's act. Well dost thou know the human heart, my friend, and mine the best of all. It must be plain to thee that when the coals are left upon the hearth, withouten wood to cause a showy flame, they burn with greater, though more quiet, heat. I made a promise to the Lady Hazel that I would not challenge him to meet me in a duel.

Therefore have I held my peace, and waited for such an opportunity as this for working my revenge upon him. If I can kill the knave upon this field I'll do so with as light a heart as any ever worn by man."

"Right, right! my friend," cried Frederick. "I wondered how thou, for this long time since, didst tie down that impatient spirit of thine, and wait with patience for thy vengeance. Thou art a true knight, Sir Walter. Mild when not roused; but when thy spleen is stirred thou art as fiery as the devil," and he grasped my hand and slapped me on the shoulder, as was his familiar custom.

The people from the city commenced now to arrive. Some were mounted, but the majority either rode in carts or came in the less pretentious style--afoot.

"By Heaven!" said Frederick, "and they stop not coming in such numbers we knights shall be compelled to withdraw us from the field and leave it to the tradesmen."

"Come," said I, "'tis time that we should arm. What ho! Michael!

where the devil art thou?" Michael, contrary to his habit, did not appear when I called. I walked to the tent door and called again.

Then, as I looked beyond the barriers that kept the spectators from crowding into the s.p.a.ce reserved for the tents of the knights, I saw him just leaving two old ladies, after having procured for them comfortable seats, in a position from where their eyes commanded an excellent view of the field; and being in that part opposite to where sat the King. I stood in the doorway, awaiting Michael's return, and wondering who the old ladies were to whom he showed such attention.

When Michael, as he hurried back, raised his eyes and beheld me gazing at him, I heard him mutter, in his short, quick way, which ever so amused me:--"Hill!"

When he came up to me he said:--"Pardon sor; but sor, thim ladies, Oi'm jist after asittin' down, is friends o' a wourthy and gallant knoight who hath ivir bin most koind to a poor orphan loike moysilf, sor; and they axed me to foind me a sate fer thim, sor, and Oi hadn't the heart to refuse thim, sor; though had Oi known that yer honour wanted me so soon Oi'd have bin a dale quicker than Oi was, sor."