Sir John Grey smiled, saying--"That is so much the man I left. He had even then outlived the memory of his own young days, when lady's love was all his thought but arms, and looked upon everything, but that lofty and more shadowy devotion to the fair, which was the soul of olden chivalry, as little better than youthful idleness. He kept you, then, even to the last, without knowledge of her fate and history? He did well, too, for so I wished it; but I will now tell you all; and there is not, indeed, much to say. I raised my lance, with the rest, for my sovereign, King Richard; was taken and pardoned; but swore no allegiance to one whom I could not but hold as an usurper. When occasion served again, I was not slack to do the same once more, and, with my friends, fought the lost battle of Shrewsbury. My life was saved by a poor faithful fellow of our army, who gave his own, I fear, for mine; and flying, more fortunately than others, I escaped to this land. Here I soon heard that I was proclaimed a traitor, my estate seized, my name attainted, and my child sought for to make her a ward of the crown, and to give her and the fortune which her mother inherited, to some minion of the court. She was then a mere child, and, by your uncle's kindly care, was taken first to Wales, and thence brought to his own house, where he has ever treated her as a daughter. I lingered on in this and other lands from year to year; and many an effort was made to entrap or drive me back into the net. The King of France was instigated to expel me from his dominions; the Duke of Burgundy was moved to follow his example, but would not so debase himself to any king on earth. But why should I tell all that I have suffered? Every art was used, and every means of persecution tried, till at length, taking refuge in this town of Ghent, under a false name, I have known a short period of tranquillity. Then came the thought of my child upon me: it grew like a thirst, till I could bear no more, and I sent for her. I knew not then that the late King was dead, or I might have waited to see the result; for often, when this Prince was but a child, I have had him on my knee; and I too taught him to handle the bow when he was seven years old; for, till his father stretched a hand towards the crown, he was my friend; and Harry of Hereford and John Grey were sworn brothers."
"The more the friendship once, the more the hate," replied Richard of Woodville; "so says an old song, noble knight; but now, that enmity is over, I trust, for ever. The Earl of March, the only well-founded obstacle in the way of Henry's rights, acknowledges them fully."
"And if he did not," answered Sir John Grey, with a stern brow, "I would never draw my sword for him. The Earl of March--I mean the old Earl--by tame acquiescence in the deeds of Henry of Bolinbroke, set aside his title. He held out no hand to help his falling kinsman Richard; and if the crown was to be given away, it was the Peers and Commons of England had the right to give it; and they rightly gave it to the brave and wise, rather than to the feeble and the timid. It was Richard Plantagenet was my King, and not the Earl of March. To the one I swore allegiance, and owed much; to the other I had no duty, and owed nothing. I did not wrangle which son of a king should succeed, but I upheld the monarch who was upon the throne. Neither did I ever, my young friend, regard the Duke of Lancaster with private enmity, as you seem to think. He was ambitious; he usurped his cousin's throne; and I drew the sword against him because he did so; but I will acknowledge that, if there was one man in England fitted to fill that throne with dignity, he was the man. He, on the contrary, hated me, because his own conduct had changed a friend into an enemy; and so it is ever in this world. But who is it rings the bell so fiercely? Hark! perhaps it is my child!"--and, opening the door, he turned his head eagerly to listen to the sounds that rose from below.
Richard of Woodville also gave ear, for a word is sufficient to make hopes, however improbable, rise up like young plants in a spring shower--at least, in our early days. But the next moment, the steps of two persons sounded in the passage, and one of the servants, whom Woodville had seen in the ante-chamber of Sir Philip de Morgan, appeared, guided by the Flemish maid.
"My master greets you well, sir," he said, addressing Sir John Grey, "and has sent you, by the King's order, some of the money belonging to you, for your present need;" and thus saying, he laid a heavy bag of what appeared to be coin upon the table. "He bids me say," continued the man, "that the rest of the money will arrive soon, and that you had better appear at the Court of my Lord Count, as early as may be, that all the world may know you have the King's protection."
Sir John Grey gazed at the bag of money with a mournful smile. "How ready men are," he said, "when fortune favours! How far and how long might I have sought this, when I was in distress!"--and untying the bag, he took out a large piece of silver, saying to the servant, "There, my friend, is largess. Tell your master I will follow counsel. He has heard of this, Richard;--you bore him letters, I suppose;" he added, as the man quitted the room, with thanks for his bounty. "Well, 'tis no use to expect of men more than they judge their duty; yet this knight was the instrument who willingly urged the Duke of Burgundy to drive me forth from Dijon."
CHAPTER XXII.
[THE COUNT OF CHAROLOIS.]
Clothed in the most splendid array with which he had been able to provide himself, his tight-fitting hose displaying to the highest advantage his graceful yet powerful limbs, with the coat of black silk, spotted with flowers of gold, cut wide, but gathered into numerous pleats or folds round the collar and the waist, and confined by a rich girdle to the form, while the sleeves, fashioned to the shape of the arm, and fastened at the wrist, showed the strong contour of the swelling muscles, Richard of Woodville stood before the door of the inn, as handsome and princely a man in his appearance as ever graced a royal court. Over his shoulders he wore a short mantle of embroidered cloth, trimmed with costly fur, the sleeves of which, according to the custom of the day, were slashed down the inner side so as to suffer the arm to be thrust out from them, while they, more for ornament than use, hung down to the bend of the knee. On his feet he wore the riding boots of the time, thrust down to the ankle; and--in accordance with a custom then new in the courts of France and Burgundy, but which ere long found its way to England--his heavy sword had been laid aside, and his only arm was a rich hilted dagger, suspended by a gold ring from the clasp of his girdle. His head was covered with a small bonnet, or velvet cap, ornamented by a single long white feather, showing that he had not yet reached knightly rank; and round it curled in large masses his glossy dark-brown hair.
Likewise, arrayed with all the splendour that the young gentleman's purse had permitted him to procure, six of his servants stood ready by their horses' sides to accompany him to the dwelling of the Count of Charolois; and a glittering train they formed, well fitted to do honour to Old England in the eyes of a foreign court. It was evident enough that they were all well pleased with themselves; but their self-satisfaction was of the cool and haughty kind, so common to our countrymen, partaking more of pride than vanity. They looked down upon others more than they admired themselves; and, unlike the French or the Burgundians, seemed to care little what others thought of them,--quite contented with feeling that their garb became them, and that, should need be, they could give a stroke or bide a buffet with the best.