“Are there, then, any such traitors, who threaten their king?” asked Henry, with a dark frown.
“Ay, there are such traitors!”
“Name them to me!” said the king, trembling with passionate impatience. “Name them to me, that my arm may crush them and my avenging justice overtake the heads of the guilty.”
“It is superfluous to mention them, for you, King Henry, the wise and all-knowing—you know their names.”
And bending down closer to the king’s ear, Earl Douglas continued: “King Henry, I certainly have a right to call myself your most faithful and devoted servant, for I have read your thoughts. I have understood the noble grief that disturbs your heart, and banishes sleep from your eyes and peace from your soul. You saw the foe that was creeping in the dark; you heard the low hiss of the serpent that was darting his venomous sting at your heel. But you were so much the noble and intrepid king, that you would not yourself become the accuser—nay, you would not once draw back the foot menaced by the serpent. Great and merciful, like God Himself, you smiled upon him whom you knew to be your enemy. But I, my king—I have other duties. I am like the faithful dog, that has eyes only for the safety of his master, and falls upon every one that comes to menace him. I have seen the serpent that would kill you, and I will bruise his head!”
“And what is the name of this serpent of which you speak?” asked the king; and his heart beat so boisterously that he felt it on his trembling lips.
“It is called,” said Earl Douglas, earnestly and solemnly—“it is called Howard!”
The king uttered a cry, and, forgetting his gout and his pains, arose from his chair.
“Howard!” said he, with a cruel smile. “Say you that a Howard threatens our life? Which one is it? Name me the traitor!”
“I name them both—father and son! I name the Duke of Norfolk and the Earl of Surrey! I say that they both are traitors, who threaten the life and honor of my king, and with blasphemous arrogance dare stretch out their hands even to the crown!”