Darnley; or, The Field of the Cloth of Gold

by G. P. R. James

Her heart sank when she saw it, and thought of all she might there have to endure. Under any other circumstances, however, it would have been a gay and a pleasing sight; so full of life and activity, glitter and show, was everything that met the eye.

To the southward of the town of Guisnes, upon the large open green that extended on the outside of the walls, were to be seen a vast number of tents, of all kinds and colours, with a multitude of busy human beings employed in raising fresh pavilions on every open space, or in decorating those already spread with streamers, pennons, and banners, of all the bright hues under the sun. Long lines of horses and mules loaded with armour or baggage, and ornamented with gay ribbons, to put them in harmony with the scene, were winding about, all over the plain, some proceeding towards the town, some seeking the tents of their several lords; while, mingled amongst them, appeared various bands of soldiers, on horseback and on foot, with the rays of the declining sun glancing upon the heads of their bills and lances, and, together with the white cassock and broad red cross, marking them out from all the other objects. Here and there, too, might be seen a party of knights and gentlemen cantering over the plain, and enjoying the bustle of the scene, or standing in separate groups, issuing their orders for the erection and garnishing of their tents; while couriers, and pursuivants, and heralds, in all their gay dresses, mingled with mule-drivers, lacqueys, and peasants, armourers, pages, and tent-stretchers, made up the living part of the landscape.

Behind lay the town of Guisnes, with the forest at its back; and a good deal nearer, the castle, with its protecting guns pointed over the plain; but the most striking object, and that which instantly caught the eye, was a building raised immediately in front of the citadel, on which all that art could devise, or riches could procure, had been lavished, to render it a palace fit for the luxurious king who was about to make it his temporary residence.

From the distance at which they were when it first struck her sight, Constance could only perceive that it was a vast and splendid edifice, apparently square, and seeming to offer a façade of about four hundred feet on every side, while the sun, reflected from the gilding with which it was covered, and the immense quantity of glass that it contained, rendered it like some great ornament of gold enriched with brilliants.

Although her heart was sad, and nothing that she saw tended to dispel its gloom, she could not refrain from gazing round with a half-curious, half-anxious glance upon all the gay objects that surrounded her; almost fearing to be recognised by some one who had known her at the court, now that she was led along as a kind of prisoner; a single woman amidst a band of rude soldiers. Sir John Hardacre, however, spurred on towards the bridge, which was nearly impassable from the number of beasts of burden and their drivers by which it was covered; and standing on but little ceremony with his fellow-lieges, he dashed through the midst of them all, cursing one, and striking another, and overturning a third, much to Constance's horror and dismay. Having reached the other side, and created by his haste as much confusion and discomfort as he could in his passage, the surly captain slackened his pace, muttering something about dignity, and turned his rein towards the temporary palace of the king. Proceeding slowly amidst a multitude, many of whom had seen her before, and whose notice she was very willing to escape, Constance's only resource was to fix her eyes upon the palace, and to busy herself in the contemplation of its splendour.

Raised upon a high platform, it was not only visible from every part of the plain, but itself commanded a view of the whole gay scene below, with its tents and its multitudes, standing as a sort of nucleus to all the magnificence around.

Before the gate to which Sir John Hardacre took his way, and which was itself a massy arch, flanked by two towers raised upon the platform, there stood two objects not unworthy of remark, as exemplifying the tastes of the day: the one was a magnificent fountain, richly wrought with arches and arabesques, painted in fine gold and blue, supporting a figure of Bacchus crowned with vine leaves, over whose head appeared inscribed, in letters of gold, "Faites bonne chère qui voudra." No unmeaning invitation, for the fountain below ceased not to pour forth three streams of various coloured wines, supplied by reservoirs in the interior of the palace. On the other side of the gate were seen four golden lions supporting a pillar of bronze, round the shaft of which twined up various gilt wreaths, interlaced together; while on the summit stood a statue of Venus's "purblind son and heir," pointing his arrows at those who approached the gate.

Nevertheless, it was not on the charmed cup of the one, or the bended bow of the other chicken deity, that the battlemented arch above mentioned relied for defence; for in the several windows were placed gigantic figures of men in armour, apparently in the act of hurling down enormous rocks upon the head of whatever venturous stranger should attempt to pass the prescribed bound. At the same time appeared round about various goodly paintings of the demigods of story: the Herculeses, the Theseuses, the Alexanders, fabulous and historical; while, showing strangely enough in such company, many a fat porter and yeoman of the lodge loitered about in rich liveries, as familiar with the gods and goddesses as if they had been born upon Olympus and swaddled in Tempé.

At the flight of steps which led to this gate Sir John Hardacre dismounted, and lifting Lady Constance from her horse, passed on into the inner court of the palace, which would indeed have been not only splendid, but elegant, had it not been for a few instances of the same refined taste which we have just noticed. The four inner faces of the building were perfectly regular, consisting of two stories, the lower one of which was almost entirely of glass, formed into plain and bow windows alternately, each separated from the other by a slight column of gold, and surrounded by a multitude of arabesques and garlands. Exactly opposite to the gate appeared a vestibule, thrown a little forward from the building, and surmounted by four large bow windows, supported on trimmers, the corbels of which represented a thousand strange gilt faces, looking out from a screen of olive branches, cast in lead and painted green; while various tall statues in silver armour were ranged on each side, as guards to the entrance.

It was towards this sort of hall that Sir John Hardacre led poor Constance de Grey, to whose heart all the gaiety and splendour of the scene seemed but to communicate a more chilling sensation of friendless loneliness; while the very gaze and whispering of the royal servants, who had all known of her flight, and now witnessed her return, made the quick blood mount into her beautiful cheek, as she was hurried along by the brutal soldier, without any regard to her feelings or compassion for her fears.