“What!” cried Hepborne, with a strong expression of doubt in his face; “so King Richard doth deny all dishonourable intention against the Lady Beatrice? But what availeth it if he doth so? Hath he not sithence devoted her to certain destruction, by giving her up to one who hath already proved himself to be her enemy, yea, an assassin, who would have murdered her?”
“Sir Knight,” said Friar Rushak, after some moments’ thought, “trust me, the King had no hand in the disposal of her. He did never see the lady after that moment when thou didst force him to retreat before thine inconsiderate rage. But, an assassin—a murderer, saidst thou? How canst thou so accuse a brother of St. Francis?” [[578]]
“Because I have good reason to know that he did once steal into the chamber of the Lady Beatrice at the hour of midnight, armed with a dagger,” cried Hepborne impatiently; “and had she not saved herself by flight——”
“Thou must suffer me to tell thee that this strange tale is difficult of credence with me,” said Friar Rushak, interrupting him; “the more, too, that it cometh from the very knight whom report doth accuse of having taught the damsel to stray from the path of virtue, and to whom she oweth her present infamy.”
“What mean ye, friar?” cried Sir Patrick Hepborne, with mingled indignation and astonishment. “Who hath so foully and falsely dared to charge me and the Lady Beatrice—she who is pure as an angel of light—Who, I say, hath dared to prefer so foul and false an accusation?”
“The Franciscan whom thou——”
“Villain!” cried Sir Patrick, interrupting Friar Rushak, and giving way to a rage which he was quite unable to control; “villain, black and damnable villain! I swear by the honour of a knight, that this charge is false as hell. Pardon me, holy father, for my just ire. I do beseech thee, tell me what thou dost know of this wretch, of this assassin, who doth so foully stab reputation too, and who hath so imposed on thy too easy belief—What, I pray thee, dost thou know of him?”
“Nay, I am ashamed to say, I know not much,” replied Friar Rushak, already shaken in his opinion of the Franciscan by the solemnity of Sir Patrick’s asseverations; “yet what I do know I was about to tell thee, when thou didst break in on my speech. Being yesterday at the Franciscan Convent in the Newgate Street, a stranger brother of the order did claim a private audience of me, when he entreated mine aid to recover a damsel of good family from the house of the Lady de Vere. He stated his belief that she had come hither for the purpose of meeting with thee, with whom she had once lived in lawless love, hid in the disguise of a page, a connection which both were impatient to renew. He said that it was intended to bury her disgrace in a convent. Fearing, for certain reasons, that the King might see her at the Lady de Vere’s, and so be misled to take up with one so light, I resolved to do my best to assist in her removal, and to this I was afterwards the more spurred on by hearing that Richard had gone expressly to meet with her, as I did believe, by her own especial consent. Availing myself of my private knowledge of the palace, I did enable the stranger Franciscan to take her from the apartment, where she succeeded [[579]]in convincing me that she was no willing captive; and the King’s confession of this morning, the which I am so far permitted to impart to thee, hath satisfied me that I had weened too gravely of the matter as it did regard him, and that the whole of his share in it did but arise from a harmless piece of humour.”
“And whither hath the Lady Beatrice been carried by this villain?” cried Hepborne, in all the agony of apprehension for her safety.
“He took her hence by water,” said Friar Rushak, “and Scotland did seem to be the object of his voyage. But, of a truth, mine intercourse with the foul deceiver was so short that I had little leisure to question him.”