"If your name be Richard of Woodville, sir," said the boy, "the King will see you now, while he is putting off his heavy robes and taking some repose."
"I follow, young sir," replied Woodville; and, accompanying the page, he turned towards the palace, while Ned Dyram, after a moment's hesitation, pursued the same course as his master, "in order," as he said mentally, "always to give himself a chance."
CHAPTER VIII.
[THE DAY OF FESTIVAL.]
Crossing through the great Hall of the palace of Westminster, where so many a varied scene has been enacted in the course of English history, where joy and sorrow, mirth, merriment, pageantry, fear, despair, and the words of death, have passed for well nigh a thousand years, and do pass still, Richard of Woodville followed the page amidst tables and benches, serving-men, servers, guards, and ushers, till they reached a small door at the left angle, which, when opened, displayed the first steps of a small stone staircase. Up these they took their way, and then, through a corridor thronged with attendants, past the open door of a large room on the right, in which mitres and robes, crosses and swords of state, met the young gentleman's eye, to a door at the end, which the page opened. Within was a small antechamber containing several squires and pages in their tabards, waiting either in silence, or at most talking to each other in whispers. They made way for their comrade, and the gentleman he brought with him, to pass, and, approaching an opposite door, the boy knocked. No one answered; but the door was immediately opened; and Richard of Woodville was ushered into a bedchamber, where, seated in a large chair, he found the King, attended by two men dressed in their habits of state. One of these had just given the visitor admission; but the other was engaged in pulling off the boots in which the monarch had walked to and from the Abbey, and in placing a pair of embroidered shoes upon his feet instead.
"Welcome, Richard of Woodville," said Henry, as soon as he beheld him; "so you have come to see Hal of Hadnock before you depart?"
"I have come to see my gracious Sovereign, Sire," replied Woodville, advancing, and bending the knee to kiss his hand, "and to wish him health and long life to wear his crown, for his own honour and the happiness of his people."
"Nay, rise, Richard, rise," said Henry, smiling kindly; "no court ceremonies here. And I will tell you, my good friend, that I do really believe, there is not one of all those who have shouted on my path to-day, or sworn to support my throne, who more sincerely wishes my prosperity than yourself. But say, did you guess, that Hal of Hadnock was the Prince of Wales?"
"I knew it, Sire," replied Woodville, "from the first moment you entered my uncle's hall. I had served under your Grace's command in Wales."
"I suspected as much," replied the monarch, "from some words you let fall."