Darnley; or, The Field of the Cloth of Gold

by G. P. R. James

The boat touched the shore; and while the chief yeoman of the barge, as his privilege, supported the arm of the cardinal, the two stout priests bearing the crosses hurried to land with the other attendants, and ranged themselves in order to proceed before him. Two of his running footmen sped on to announce his approach, and the rest, with the form and slowness of a procession, traversed the small space that separated them from the court, reached the gate, and entering the palace, Wolsey, more like an equal prince than a subject, passed towards the king's privy-chamber, amidst the profound bows and reverences of all the royal attendants, collected to do honour to his arrival.

Many had been the rumours in the palace during the morning respecting the king's health, and it was generally reported that the accident of the day before had thrown him into a fever. This, however, was evidently not the case; for a little before noon Sir Osborne Maurice had received a message by one of the royal pages, to the effect that at three o'clock the king would expect him in his privy-chamber. That hour had nearly approached, and the young knight was preparing to obey Henry's commands, when a note was put into his hands by Mistress Margaret, the waiting-woman of Lady Constance de Grey. It was a step which Sir Osborne well knew she would not have taken had it not been called for by some particular circumstance, and with some alarm he opened the paper and read--

The lord cardinal is here: remember your promise. Tarry not rashly, if you love Constance.

As Wolsey had ever been a declared enemy to his father, and a steady supporter of Sir Payan Wileton, Sir Osborne felt that the prospect was certainly in some degree clouded by his arrival; and while at the court, he had heard enough of the jealousy that the favourite entertained towards all who often approached the king, to make him uneasy with regard to the future. But yet he could not imagine that the regard of Henry would be easily taken from him, nor the service he he had rendered immediately forgotten; and strong in the integrity of his own heart, he would not believe that any serious evil could befall him; yet the warning of Sir Cesar still rung in his ears, and made an impression which he could not overcome.

It would be very easy to represent our hero as free from every failing and weakness, even from those of the age he lived in; easy to make him as perfect as ever man was drawn, and more perfect than ever man was known: but then we should be writing a romance, and not a true history. Sir Osborne was not perfect; and living in an age whose weakness it was to believe implicitly in judicial astrology, he shared in that weakness, though but in a degree; and might, indeed, have shared still less, had not the very man who seemed to take such an interest in his fate acquired in the court where he lived a general reputation for almost unerring perception of approaching events. No one that the young knight met, no one that he heard of, doubted for a moment that Sir Cesar possessed knowledge superhuman: to have doubted of the possibility of acquiring such knowledge, would have been in those times a piece of scepticism fully equal in criminality to doubting the sacred truths of religion; and therefore we cannot be surprised that he felt a hesitation, an uneasiness, a sort of presentiment of evil, as he approached the privy chamber of the king.

At the door of the ante-chamber, however, he found stationed a page, who respectfully informed him that the king was busy on affairs of state with the cardinal lord chancellor, and that his grace had bade him say, that as soon as he was at leisure he would send for him to his presence.

Sir Osborne returned to his own apartment, and after calling for Longpole, walked up and down the room for a moment or two, while some curious, vague feelings of doubt and apprehension passed through his mind.

"'Tis very foolish!" said he, at length; "and yet 'tis no harm to be prepared. Longpole, saddle the horses, and have my armour ready. 'Tis no harm to be prepared;" and quitting his own chambers, he turned his steps towards those of Lady Constance, which here, not like the former ones in the palace at Greenwich, were situated at the other extremity of the building. His path led him again past the royal lodgings; and as he went by, Sir Osborne perceived that the page gave entrance to a priest, whose figure was in some degree familiar to his eye. Where he had seen him he did not know; but, however, he staid not to inquire, and proceeded onward to the door of Lady Constance's apartments. One of her women gave him entrance, and he soon reached her sitting-chamber, where he found her calmly engaged in embroidery. But there, also, was good Dr. Wilbraham, who of late had shrewdly begun to suspect a thing that was already more than suspected by half the court; namely, that Sir Osborne Maurice was deeply in love with Constance de Grey, and that the lady was in no degree insensible to his affection. Now, though the good doctor had thought in the first instance that Lady Constance's marriage with Lord Darby would be the very best scheme on earth, he now began to think that the present arrangement would be a great deal better: his reasoning proceeding in the very inverse of Wolsey's, and leading him to conclude that as Lord Darby had quite enough of his own, it would be much better for Lady Constance to repair, with her immense wealth, the broken fortunes of the ancient house of Fitzbernard, and at the same time secure her own happiness by marrying the best and the bravest of men. Notwithstanding all this, he could not at all comprehend, and never for a moment imagined, that either Constance or her lover might in the least wish his absence; and therefore, with great satisfaction at beholding their mutual love, he remained all the time that Sir Osborne dared to stay, and conducted him to the door with that affectionate respect which he always showed towards his former pupil. While the old clergyman stood bidding Sir Osborne farewell, a man habited like a yeoman approached, inquiring for the lodging of Lady Constance de Grey; and on being told that it was before him, he put a folded note into the hands of Dr. Wilbraham, begging him to deliver it to the lady, which the chaplain promised to do.

And now, leaving the good clergyman to perform this promise, and Sir Osborne to return to his apartment, somewhat mortified at not having had an opportunity of conversing privately with Constance, even for a moment, we will steal quietly into the privy-chamber of the king, and seating ourselves on a little stool in the corner, observe all that passes between him and his minister.

"God save your royal grace!" said Wolsey, as he entered, "and make your people happy in your long and prosperous reign!"