Darnley; or, The Field of the Cloth of Gold

by G. P. R. James

"I am afraid, Sir Osborne Maurice," said he, as the knight approached, "that the young lady you have just left has not demeaned herself as I could have wished, towards you; for she left me in one of those flighty moods which I had good hope would have been cured by her stay in the convent."

"She expected to find you still with the lady abbess," said Sir Osborne, avoiding the immediate subject of the abbot's inquiry; "and went with the intention of suing for pardon of your lordship, having given you, she said, some offence."

"I am glad to hear it, with all my heart!" said the monk; "for then she is penitent, which is all that God requires of us, and all that we can require of others. Indeed her heart is good; and though she commits many a fault, yet she repents the moment after, and would fain amend it. But come, sir knight! Though our own rules are strict, we must show our hospitality to strangers; and I hope our refectioner has taken care to remember that you will partake the fare of my table to-night. But first you had better seek your chamber, and disencumber yourself of this armour, which, though very splendid, must be very heavy. Ho! brother Francis, tell the hospitaller to come hither and conduct the knight to his apartment."

While this short conversation was taking place, the abbot had led Sir Osborne back into the cloisters on the male side of the building; and proceeding slowly along towards the wing in which was the scriptorium, and other apartments of general use, they were soon met by the hospitaller, who led the knight to a neat small chamber, furnished with a bed, a crucifix, and a missal. Here the worthy officer of the convent essayed with inexpert hands to disengage the various pieces of the harness, speaking all the while, and asking a thousand idle questions with true monastic volubility, without giving Sir Osborne either time to hear or to reply.

"Stay, stay!" said the knight at length, as the old man endeavoured to unbuckle the cuissards; "you cannot do it, my good father; and besides, it is an unworthy task for such a holy man as you."

"Not in the least, my son, not in the least!" replied the monk. "But, as I was saying, I dare say you have heard how the lord mayor and his men went to Hogsden Lane, especially if you have been lately in London; or have you been down in Cornwall, allaying the Cornish tumultuaries? A-well, a-well! it is very odd I cannot get that buckle out; though, perhaps, my son, you can tell me whether the prior of Gloucester has embraced the mitigated rule instead of the severe; and indeed the mitigated is severe enough: four days' fast in the week! If the Duke of Buckingham were to send us another fat buck, as he did last year: but I forget, it is not the season. Alack, alack! all things have their times and seasons, and truly I am of the season of old age; though, God help us all! I believe I must call your shield-bearer, for I cannot get the buckle out."

"Do so, my good father," said the knight, glad enough to get rid of him; "and bid him bring my casque hither."

Accordingly, our friend Longpole was soon brought to Sir Osborne's chamber, and by his aid the knight easily freed himself from that beautiful armour, which we, who are in the secret of all men's minds, may look upon as in a great degree a present from the Duke of Buckingham, although Sir Osborne himself did not begin to suspect that the just and the prizes had been entirely given to furnish him with money and arms, till the lapse of two or three days allowed calm consideration to show him the events in their true colours.

After once more admiring for a moment or two the beauty of the suit, and having given directions for its being carefully cleansed of all damp that it might have acquired on the road, he descended to the table of the lord abbot, which he found handsomely provided for his entertainment.

To the wine, however, and the costly viands with which it was spread, the abbot himself did little justice, observing almost the rigid abstinence of an ascetic; but to compensate for his want of good fellowship, the prior and sub-prior, who shared the same table, found themselves called upon to press the stranger to his food, and to lead the way.