Darnley; or, The Field of the Cloth of Gold

by G. P. R. James

The page stared and hesitated; but Francis, taking him by the shoulder, twisted him round as he had been a child, and, opening the door, passed in. The page immediately closed it again, putting himself before the knight, whose face he now remembered. "I must not let your worship in," said he, thinking Sir Osborne wished to follow the monarch. "The King of France, of course, I dared not stop, but it is as much as my life is worth to suffer any one else to pass."

"I seek not to enter, good Master Snell," said the knight. "Unless his grace sends for me, I shall not intrude myself on his royal presence." This said, with busy thoughts he began to walk up and down the gallery; and the page, presently after, retiring into the ante-chamber, left him for the time to his own contemplations.

Much subject had the knight for thought, though it was of that nature that profiteth not; for little signified it, as it seemed, how much soever he took counsel with himself: his fate was in the hands of others, and beyond his power to influence or determine.

He could not help musing, however, over all the turns which his fortune had taken within the brief space of the last three months; and strangely mingled were his sensations, on finding himself, at the end of the review, standing there, once more within the precincts of the court of England, from which he had been driven hardly fifteen days before. A thousand collateral ideas also presented themselves to his mind, suggesting a thousand doubts and fears for those he loved best. What had become of Constance de Grey? he asked himself; and though never had her image for one moment left his mind in his wanderings, though it had been his companion in the journey, his solace in his waking hours, his dream by night, and his object in every thought and hope, still there was something in being amongst those objects, and near those beings, amidst whom he had been accustomed to see her, that rendered his anxiety about her more impatient; and he would have given no small sum for the presence of one of the newsmongers of the court: those empty idle beings always to be found near the presence of princes, who, like scavengers' carts, make themselves the common receptacles for all the drift of the palace, and, hurrying on from one to another, at once receive and spatter forth the rakings of all kennels as they go along.

Time, ever long to those who wait, seemed doubly long to Sir Osborne, to whom so much was in suspense; and so little bustle and activity did there seem in the castle, that he began to fancy its denizens must have had their eyes touched with Hermes' wand to make them sleep so soundly. He walked up and down the corridor, he gazed out of the window into the court-yard, he listened for every opening door. But it was all in vain; no one came. Could Francis have forgotten him? he asked himself, at last; and then he thought how quickly from the light memories of the great pass away the sorrows or the welfare of their fellow-creatures; how hardly they can remember, and how happily they can forget. But no, he would not believe it. If ever man was renowned for that best and rarest quality of a great man, a heedful remembrance of those who served him, a thoughtful care of those he esteemed, it was Francis of France; and Darnley would not believe that in his case he had forgotten.

Still no one came. Though the various noises and the bustle he began to hear in distant parts of the building announced that the world was more awake than when he arrived, yet the corridor in which he was seemed more deserted than ever.

At first it was nearly vacant, a few listless soldiers being its only occupants; but soon there was opened on the other side a door which communicated with a sort of barrack, situated near the chapel in the inner ballium, and from this proceeded a troop of soldiers and officers at arms, with one or two persons mingled amongst them that Sir Osborne imagined to be prisoners. The height at which he was placed above them prevented his perceiving whether this was certainly the case, or seeing their faces; for all that he could discern was the foreshortened figures of the soldiers and sergeants-at-arms, distinguished from the others by their official habiliments; and passing along, surrounded by the rest, some persons in darker attire, round whom the guard appeared to keep with vigilant care. An instant brought them to the archway just beneath the spot where he stood, and they were then lost to his sight.

The castle clock struck seven; but so slowly did the hammer fall upon the bell, he thought it would never have done. He now heard a sound of much speaking not far off, and thought that surely it was Francis taking leave of the King of England; but suddenly it ceased, and all was again silence. Taking patience to his aid, he recommenced his perambulations; and for another quarter of an hour walked up and down the corridor, hearing still, as he passed the door of the anteroom, a low and indistinct murmuring, which might be either the page speaking in a subdued tone to some person therein, or some other voices conversing much more loudly in the chamber beyond. The knight's feelings were wound up to the highest pitch of impatience, when suddenly a deep groan, and then a heavy fall, met his ear. He paused, listened, and could plainly distinguish a door within open, and various voices speaking quick and high, some in French, some in English; but among them was to be heard distinctly the tongue of Henry and that of Francis, though what they said was not sufficiently audible to be comprehended. His curiosity, as may be conceived, was not a little excited; but, satisfied of the safety of the two kings, and fearful of being suspected of eaves-dropping if any one came forth, he once more crossed his arms upon his breast, and began pacing backwards and forwards as before.

A few minutes more elapsed in silence; but at length, when he was at the farther extremity of the corridor, he heard the door of the ante-chamber open, and, turning round, perceived a sergeant-at-arms, followed by four halberdiers, come forth from within and advance towards him. Sir Osborne turned and met them, when the guard drew up across the passage, and the officer stepped forward. "Sir Osborne Darnley!" said he, "commonly called Lord Darnley, I arrest you for high treason, in the name of Henry the Eighth, King of England and France and Lord of Ireland, and charge you to surrender to his warrant."

The astonishment of Sir Osborne may more easily be conceived than described. The first appearance of the halberdiers had struck him as strange, and their drawing up across his path might have been some warning, but still he was not at all prepared.