‘See him you shall, my young lord, and if he be not in one of his trances, he will be right glad to see you and remember you. But he is scarce half a man,’ added Oxford, turning to Musgrave. ‘Cares for nought but his prayers! Keeps his Hours like a monk! We can hardly bring him to sit in the Council, and when he is there he sits scarce knowing what we say. ‘Tis my belief, when the Queen and Prince come, that we shall have to make the Prince rule in his name, and let him alone to his prayers! He will be in the church. ‘Tis nones, or some hour as they call it, and he makes one stretch out to another.’
They entered the low archway of St. Peter ad Vincula, and there Hal perceived a figure in a dark mantle just touched with gold, kneeling near the chancel step, almost crouching. Did he not know the attitude, though the back was broader than of old? He paused, as did his companions; but there was one who did not pause, and would not be left outside. Watch unseen had pattered up, and was rearing up, jumping and fawning. There was a call of ‘Watch! here sirrah!’ but ‘Watch! Watch! Good dog! Is it thou indeed?’ was exclaimed at the same moment, and with Watch springing up, King Henry stood on his feet looking round with his dazed glance.
‘My King! my hermit father! Forgive! Down, Watch!’ cried Hal, falling down at his feet, with one arm holding down Watch, who tried to lick his face and the King’s hand by turns.
‘Is it thou, my child, my shepherd?’ said Henry, his hands on the lad’s head. ‘Bless thee! Oh, bless thee, much loved child of my wanderings! I have longed after thee, and prayed for thee, and now God hath given thee to me at this shrine! Kneel and give the Lord thy best thanks, my lad! Ah! how tall thou art! I should not have known thee, Hal, but for Watch.’
‘It is well,’ muttered Oxford to Musgrave. ‘I have not seen him so well nor so cheery all this day. The lad will waken him up and do him good.’
CHAPTER XVII. — A CAPTIVE KING
And we see far on holy ground,
If duly purged our mental view.—KEBLE.
The King held Harry Clifford by the hand as he left St. Peter’s Church. ‘My child, my shepherd boy,’ he said, and he called Watch after him, and interested himself in establishing a kind of suspicious peace between the shaggy collie and his own ‘Minion,’ a small white curly-haired dog, which belonged to a family that had been brought by Queen Margaret from Provence.
His attendant knight, Sir Nicolas Romford, told Sir Giles Musgrave that he had really never seemed so happy since his deliverance, and Sir Nicolas had waited on him ever since his capture, six years previously. He led the youth along to the royal rooms, asking on the way after his sheep and the goodwife who had sent him presents of eggs, then showing him the bullfinch, that greeted his return with loving chirps, and when released from its cage came and sat upon his shoulder and played with his hair, ‘A better pet than a fierce hawk, eh, Hal?’ he said.