"I will so," answered Richard; "but we must foresee events, Ratcliffe. The queen is dying. Men will say that I poisoned her; think you not so, Ratcliffe?"
"It matters little what men say, sire," answered the other, "since we well know that half they say is false."
"More than half," answered Richard. "Let a man look devout, and do some seemly acts of charity, till he has made a name for the trumpet of the multitude, and he may be luxurious, treacherous, false, avaricious, if he pleases, he shall still have a multitude to speak his praises to the sky. But let another, for some great object, do a doubtful deed, though justified perhaps by the end in view, the whole world will be upon his track, baying like hounds till they have run him down. Every accident that favours him, every event, the mere fruit of chance, that he takes advantage of, will be attributed to design and to his act. No man will die, whom he could wish removed, but what mankind will say, he poisoned him; no enemy will fall by the sword of justice, but it will be a murder; no truth will be told favouring him, but a falsehood will be found in it, and his best acts and highest purposes will be made mean by the mean multitude. Well, it matters not. We must keep on our course. While I hold the truncheon I will rule; and these turbulent nobles shall find that, slander me as they will, they have a master still. Oh, if Heaven but grant me life, I will so break their power, and sap their influence, that the common drudges of the cities, the traders who toil and moil after their dirty lucre, shall stamp upon the coronets of peers, and leave them but the name of the power which they have so long misused. But I must secure my house upon the throne. The queen is dying, Ratcliffe--I must have heirs, man, heirs."
Ratcliffe smiled meaningly, but replied not; for to mistake his purposes, while seeming to divine them, was somewhat dangerous with Richard.
The king remained in thought for a moment or two, and then enquired, in an altered tone--
"Who is in the castle?"
Ratcliffe looked at him in some surprise; for his question was not as definite as usual, and Richard went on to say--
"I heard that the princess Mary, of Scotland, had arrived last night. I sent too for Lord Fulmer. I will not have that marriage go forward till I am sure; and, if they dare to disobey me, let them beware."
"He is not yet arrived, sire," answered Ratcliffe; "but there has been hardly time. The princess, however, came last night. She went first to London by sea, it seems, and has since followed your grace hither. She has just returned to her apartments from visiting the queen."
"Ha! Has she been there?" said Richard. "That had been better not; but I will go and see her. Let some one go forward to say I wait upon her highness. We must have this marriage concluded speedily, betwixt the Duke of Rothsay and my niece Anne. Then, Harry of Richmond, thou hast lost a hand; and a Scotch hand is hard, as we have found sometimes. Go, good Ratcliffe, go to her yourself."