<h4>CHAPTER XIX.</h4><div class="poem0" style="margin-left:20%">
<p class="ccontinue">What strange adventure do ye now pursue?<br/>
Perhaps my succour or advisement meet<br/>
Mote stead ye much.--<span class="sc">Spenser</span>.</p>
</div>
<p>A barber surgeon one day, bleeding a farrier, bound up his arm with a
piece of red tape, and pinned it. The farrier went the next day to
shoe one of the king of the country's horses; as he was driving the
nail, the pin pricked him, the nail went too near the quick, the
horse's foot grew tender, the king went out to hunt, the horse threw
him, the king was taken up dead, and was succeeded by his son, whom he
intended to have disinherited the next day for his cruel disposition.
The new king cut off his subjects' heads, made continual war upon all
the states around, conquered a great many countries, gained a great
many battles, robbed, murdered, and burned, and at last was
assassinated himself, when human nature could bear him no longer; and
at the end of his reign it was computed that a hundred millions of
treasure, and twenty millions of human lives, had been wasted, by a
barber pinning a piece of red tape, instead of tying it, like his
grandfather.</p>
<p>"The luckiest accident for you in the world has just happened!" cried
Lord Darby, entering Sir Osborne Maurice's apartment two full hours
before the time he had appointed. "Order your men to choose your best
suit of harness, to pack it on a strong horse, to lead your own
courser by the bridle, and to make all speed to the foot of the hill
at Greenwich, there to wait till they be sent for; and you come with
me: my barge waits at the duke's stairs."</p>
<p>"But what is the matter, my lord?" demanded Sir Osborne; "at least,
tell me if my horse must be barded."</p>
<p>"No, no; I think not," replied the earl; "at all events, we shall find
bards,<SPAN name="div4Ref_12" href="#div4_12"><sup>[12]</sup></SPAN> if we want them. But be quick, we have not a moment to
lose, though the tide be running down as quick as a tankard of bastard
over the throat of a thirsty serving-man; I will tell you the whole as
we go."</p>
<p>"Longpole," cried the knight to his follower, who, at the moment the
Earl entered, was in the room, putting the last adjustment to his
master's garments; "Longpole, quick! you hear what Lord Darby says.
Take the fluted suit----"</p>
<p>"Oh! the fluted, the fluted, by all means," interrupted the earl, "it
shows noble and knightly. So shall we go along as in a Roman triumph,
with flutes before, and flutes behind. The fluted by all means, good
Longpole, and lose no time on the road: for every flagon you do not
drink, you shall have two at Greenwich. Now, Maurice, are you ready?
By heaven! you make a gallant figure of it; your tailor deserves
immortality. 'Tis well! 'tis mighty well! But, to my taste, the cuts
in your blue velvet had been better lined with a soft yellow than a
white; the hue of a young primrose. The feather might have been the
same, but 'tis all a taste: white does marvellous well; the silver
girdle and scabbard too! But come; we waste our moments: let two of
your men come with us."</p>
<p>Lord Darby conducted his new friend to the barge, and as they
proceeded towards Greenwich with a quick tide, he informed him that
some knights, Sir Henry Poynings, Sir Thomas Neville, and several
others--having agreed to meet, for the purpose of trying some
newly-invented arms, the king had been seized with a desire of going
unknown to break a lance with them on Blackheath, and had privately
commanded the Earl of Devonshire to accompany him as his aid: but that
very morning, at his house in Westminster, the earl had slipped, and
had so much injured his leg, that his surgeon forbade his riding for a
month. "As soon as I heard it," continued Lord Darby, "I flew to his
lodging, and prayed him to let me be his messenger to the king, to
which petition he easily assented, provided I set off with all speed,
for his grace expects him early. Now, the moment that the king hears
that the earl cannot ride, he chooses him another aid, and I so hope
to manage, that the choice may fall upon you. If you break a lance to
his mind, you shall be well beloved for the next week at least; and
during that time you must manage to fix his favour. But first, let me
give you some small portraiture of his mind, so that by knowing his
humour, you may find means to find it."</p>
<p>The character which Lord Darby gave of Henry the Eighth shall here be
put in fewer words. He was then a very, very different being from the
bloated despot which he afterwards appeared. All his life had hitherto
been prosperity and gladness; no care, no sorrow, had called into
action any of the latent evil of his character, and he showed himself
to those around him as an affable and magnificent prince; proud
without haughtiness, and luxurious without vice. Endowed with great
personal strength, blessed with robust health, and flourishing in the
prime of his years, he loved with a degree of ostentation all those
manly and chivalrous exercises which were then at their height in
Europe; and placed, as it were, between the age of chivalry and the
age of learning, he in his own person combined many of the attributes
of each. In temper and in manner he was hasty but frank, and had much
of the generosity of youth unchilled by adversity. Yet he was ever
wilful and irritable, and in his history even at that time may be
traced the yet unsated luxurist, and the incipient tyrant, beginning a
career in splendour and pride that was sure to end in despotism and
blood.</p>
<p>It may well be supposed that the knight's heart beat quickly as the
boat came in sight of the palace at Greenwich. It had nothing,
however, to do with that agitation which men often weakly feel on
approaching earthly greatness. Accustomed to a court, though a small
one, if Sir Osborne had ever experienced those sensations, they had
long left him; but he felt that on what was to follow from the present
interview, perhaps on that interview itself, depended his father's
fortune and his own; more: his own happiness for ever.</p>
<p>Lord Darby's rowers had plied their oars to some purpose, and before
ten o'clock the barge was alongside the king's stairs at Greenwich.
"Come, Sir Osborne," cried the earl; "bearing a message which his
grace will think one of great consequence, I shall abridge all
ceremony, and find my way as quickly to his presence as I can."</p>
<p>The two young men sprang to the shore, followed by their attendants,
and passed the parade, which was quite empty, the king having taken
care to disperse the principal part of his court in various
directions, that his private expedition might pass unnoticed, feeling
a sort of romantic interest in the concealment and mystery of his
proceedings. The earl led the way across the vacant space to one of
the doors of the palace, which opened into a sort of waiting hall,
called the "Hall of Lost Steps," where the two friends left their
servants; and proceeding up a staircase that seemed well known to Lord
Darby, they came into a magnificent saloon, wherein an idle page was
gazing listlessly from one of the windows.</p>
<p>"Ha, Master Snell!" cried the earl; "may his grace be spoken with?"</p>
<p>"On no account whatever, my noble lord," replied the page, "I am
placed here expressly to prevent any one from approaching him: his
grace is at his prayers."</p>
<p>"Go then, good Master Snell," said the earl, "and bid our royal master
add one little prayer for the Earl of Devonshire, who has fallen in
his house at Westminster, and is badly hurt; and tell his grace that I
bear an humble message from the earl, who dared not confide it to a
common courier."</p>
<p>"I go directly, my noble lord," said the page. "The king will find
this bad news;" and making all haste, he left the room by a door on
the other side of the apartment.</p>
<p>"This is indeed a kingly chamber," said Sir Osborne, gazing around
upon the rich arras mingled with cloth of gold which covered the
walls. "How poor must the court of Burgundy have seemed to the king,
when he visited the Princess Regent at Lisle. And yet, perhaps, he
scarcely saw the difference."</p>
<p>Even while he spoke, the door by which the page had gone out was again
thrown open, and a tall, handsome man entered the apartment, with
haste and peevishness in his countenance. He was apparently about
thirty years of age, broad-chested and powerfully made, muscular, but
not fat, and withal there was an air of dignity and command in his
figure that might well become a king. He seemed to have been disturbed
half-dressed; for under the loose gown of black velvet which he wore
was to be seen one leg clothed in steel, while the other remained free
of any such cumbersome apparel. The rest of his person, as far as
might be discovered by the opening of the gown, was habited in simple
russet garments, guarded with gold, while on his head he wore a
small-brimmed black bonnet and a jewelled plume. Lord Darby and Sir
Osborne immediately doffed their hats as the king entered, the young
knight not very well pleased to see the irritable spot that glowed on
his brow.</p>
<p>"How now, lord? how now?" cried Henry, as they advanced. "What is this
the page tells me? Devonshire is hurt--is ill? What is it? what is it,
man? speak!"</p>
<p>"I am sorry to be the bearer of evil news to your grace," replied Lord
Darby, with a profound inclination; "but this morning, as my Lord of
Devonshire was preparing to set out to render his duty to your
highness, his foot slipped, heaven knows how! and his surgeons fear he
has dislocated one of the bones of the leg. He, therefore, being
unwilling to trust an ordinary messenger, begged me humbly, in his
name, to set forth his case before you, and to crave your gracious
pardon for thus unintentionally failing in his service."</p>
<p>"Tut! he could not help it," cried Henry. "The man broke not his bones
and wrenched not his leg to do me a displeasure; and yet in this is
Fortune cross-grained; for where now shall I find an aid who may
supply his place? But, how now! What is this? Who have you with you?
You are bold, young lord, to bring a stranger to my privy chamber! Ha!
how now! Mother of God, you are too bold!"</p>
<p>Hope sickened in Sir Osborne's bosom, and bending his head, he fixed
his eyes upon the ground, while Lord Darby replied, nothing abashed by
the king's reproof--</p>
<p>"Pardon me, my liege; but trusting to the known quality of your royal
clemency, which finds excuses for our faults, even when we ourselves
can discover none, I made bold to bring to your grace's presence this
famous knight, Sir Osborne Maurice, who, being himself renowned in
many courts in feats of arms, has conceived a great desire to witness
the deeds of our most mighty sovereign, whose prowess and skill,
whether at the tourney or in the just, at the barriers or with the
battle-axe, is so noised over Europe, that none who are themselves
skilful can refrain from coveting a sight of his royal daring. Allow
me to present him to your grace."</p>
<p>Sir Osborne advanced, and kneeling gracefully before the king, bent
his head over the hand that Henry extended towards him; while, pleased
with his appearance and demeanour, the monarch addressed him with a
smile: "Think not we are churlish, sir knight, or that we do not
welcome you freely to our court; but, by St. Mary! such young gallants
as these must be held in check, or they outrun their proper bounds.
But judge not of our poor doings by Darby's commendation: he has of a
sudden grown eloquent."</p>
<p>"On such a theme who might not be an orator?" said Sir Osborne,
rising. "Were I to doubt Lord Darby, I must think that Fame herself is
your grace's courtier, acting as your herald in every court, and
challenging a world to equal you."</p>
<p>"Fie, fie! I must not hear you," cried the king. "Darby, come hither:
I would speak with you. Come hither, I say!"</p>
<p>Sir Osborne drew a step back, and the king, taking the young earl into
the recess of a window, spoke to him for a moment in a low tone, but
still sufficiently loud for a great part of what he said to be audible
to the knight, especially towards the conclusion.</p>
<p>"A powerful man," said the king; "and, if he be but as dexterous and
valiant as he is strong, will prove a knight indeed. Think you he
would?"</p>
<p>"Most assuredly, my liege," replied the earl. "He is your grace's born
subject; only, his father having fallen into some unhappy error in the
reign of our last royal king, Sir Osborne has had his training at the
court of Burgundy, and received his knighthood from the sword of
Maximilian, the late emperor."</p>
<p>"Good, good!" said Henry: "I remember hearing of his father; 'twas
either Simnel, or Perkyn Warbeck, or some such treasonous cause he
espoused. But all that is past. Sir knight," he continued, turning to
Sir Osborne, "what if in my armoury we could find a harness that
would fit you? are you minded to break a lance as consort with the
king?--ha! This very morning--ay, this very hour? What say you?--ha!"</p>
<p>"That I should hold an honour never to be forgot, my liege," replied
the knight. "And for the arms, my own are here in Greenwich. They
might be brought in a moment."</p>
<p>"Quick, quick, then!" cried the king. "But we must be secret. Stop,
stop! You go, Lord Darby. Send for the arms quick. Is your horse here,
sir knight? By St. Mary, 'tis happy you came! Darby, bid them take the
knight's horse into the small court, and shut the gates. Quick with
his armour! Bid them put no bards on the horses, and be secret. I'll
go arm. You arm here, sir knight. Snell! stand firm at that door; let
no one pass but Lord Darby and the knight's armourer. Be quick, sir
knight! I charge you be quick: and, above all, let us be secret.
Remember, we will never raise our visors. These knights think of no
such encounter, but fancy they have it all amongst themselves. They
have kept their just mighty secret; but we will break their lances for
them--ha!"</p>
<p>The king now left Sir Osborne, who, delighted with the unexpected turn
which his humour had taken, waited impatiently for Lord Darby's
return, expecting every minute to see the other door open and Henry
re-appear before he had even received his armour. At length, however,
Lord Darby came, and with him our friend Longpole, who, as the page
would only allow one person to enter with the earl, received that part
of the armour which he did not carry himself from the attendant
without, and then flew to assist his lord. Sir Osborne lost no time,
and, expert by constant habit, he put on piece by piece with a
rapidity that astonished the young earl, who, accustomed alone to the
tilt-yard, was unacquainted with the facility acquired by the
unceasing exercises of the camp.</p>
<p>At length, while Longpole was buckling the last strap, the king
re-entered alone, completely armed, and with his beaver down.</p>
<p>"What! ready, sir knight?" cried he; "nay, 'faith, you have been
expeditious."</p>
<p>"Lord bless you, sir!" cried Longpole, never dreaming that he spoke to
the king, "my master puts on his arms as King Hal took Terouenne."</p>
<p>"How now!" cried Sir Osborne, afraid of what might coms next; but the
king held up his hand to him to let the man speak. "How is that, good
fellow?" demanded he.</p>
<p>"Why, he just puts his hand on it, and it is done," replied Longpole.</p>
<p>"Thou art a merry knave," said Henry, better pleased perhaps with the
unquestionable compliment of the yeoman than he would have been with
the more refined and studied praise of many an eloquent oration. "Thou
art a merry knave. Say, canst thou blow a trumpet?"</p>
<p>"Ay, that I can, to your worship's contentment," replied Longpole, who
began to see by the looks of Lord Darby and his master that something
was wrong. "I hope I have not offended."</p>
<p>"No, no," answered Henry, "not in the least. Snell, fetch him a
trumpet with a blanche banner. Now, fellow, take the trumpet that the
page will bring you, and, getting on your horse, follow us. When you
shall come to a place where you see lists up, blow me a defiance. Hast
thou never a vizard to put thy muzzle in? Darby, in that chamber you
will find him a masking vizard, so that we may not be recognised by
his face hereafter."</p>
<p>Longpole was soon furnished with one of the half masks of the day, the
long beard of which, intended to conceal the mouth and chin, as it had
been worn by the king himself, was composed of threads of pure gold,
so that the yeoman bore an ample recompense upon his face for the duty
the king put him on. He would fain have had his remark upon the
vizard; but beginning to entertain a suspicion of how the matter
really stood, he wisely forebore, and followed his master and Lord
Darby, who, preceded by the king, passed down a narrow back-staircase
into the smaller court, wherein stood the horses prepared for their
expedition.</p>
<p>All now passed in almost profound silence. The king and his aid
mounted, and, followed by Longpole with his trumpet, issued forth
through two gates into the park, where, taking the wildest and most
unfrequented paths, they made a large circuit, in order that their
approach might seem from any other quarter than the palace. After
gaining the forest on Shooter's Hill, the king led the way through one
of the roads in the wood, to what we may call the back of Blackheath,
on the very verge of which they might behold a group of gentlemen on
horseback, with a crowd of lookers-on afoot, disposed in such sort as
to show that their exercises were begun. The spot which they had
chosen was a very convenient one for their purpose: shaded on the
south by a grove of high elms, whose very situation has not been
traceable for more than two centuries, but which then afforded a width
of shade sufficient for several coursers to wheel and charge therein,
without the eyes of the riders being dazzled by the morning sunshine.
At the foot of these trees extended an ample green, soft, smooth, and
even, round which the tilters had pitched the staves and drawn the
ropes, marking the limits of the field; and at the northern end was
erected a little tent for them to arm in before, and rest after, the
course. The four knights themselves, who had met to try their arms,
together with several grooms, an armourer, a mule to bear the spears,
and two horses for the armour, with their several drivers, formed the
group within the lists, which, in the wide-extended plain whereon they
stood, looked but a spot, and would have seemed still less had it not
been for the crowd of idlers that hung about the ground, and the four
knightly pennons, which, disposed in a line, with a few yards'
distance between them, caught the eye as it wandered over the heath,
and attracted it to the spot by their flutter and their gaudy hues.</p>
<p>The king paused for a moment to observe them, and then beckoning
Longpole to come up, "Now, ride on, trumpet!" cried he; "blow a
challenge, and then say that two strange knights claim to break two
lances each, and pass away unquestioned."<SPAN name="div4Ref_13" href="#div4_13"><sup>[13]</sup></SPAN></p>
<p>At this command Longpole rode forward, and while Henry and his master
followed more slowly, blew a defiance on his trumpet at the entrance
of the lists, and then in a loud voice pronounced the message with
which the king had charged him.</p>
<p>As he finished, Henry and Sir Osborne presented themselves; and Sir
Thomas Neville, the chief of the other party, after some consultation
with his companions, rode up and replied: "Though we are here as a
private meeting, for our own amusement only, yet we will not refuse to
do the pleasure of the stranger knights; and as there are four of us,
we will each break a spear with one of the counter-party, which will
make the two lances a-piece that they require. Suffer the knights to
enter," he continued to the keeper of the barrier; and Henry, with the
young knight, taking the end of the ground in silence, waited till
their lances should be delivered to them.</p>
<p>Whether the tilters suspected or not who was the principal intruder on
their sport matters not, though it is indeed more than probable that
they did; for it was well known to everybody, that if Henry heard of
any rendezvous of the kind, he was almost certain to be present,
either privately or avowedly; and indeed on one occasion, recorded by
Hall, the chronicler of that day, this romantic spirit had almost cost
him dear, the sport being carried on so unceremoniously as nearly to
slay the gentleman by whom he was accompanied, and to bring his own
life into danger.</p>
<p>On the present occasion no words passed between the two parties, and
after a few minutes' conversation amongst the original holders of the
ground as to who should first furnish the course to the strangers, Sir
Thomas Neville presented himself opposite to the king, and Sir Henry
Poynings, one of the best knights of the day, prepared to run against
Sir Osborne. "Now do your best, my knight," said the king to his aid;
"you have got a noble opponent."</p>
<p>The spears were delivered, the knights couched their lances, and
galloping on against each other like lightning, the tough ash staves
were shivered in a moment against their adversaries' casques.</p>
<p>"Valiantly done!" said Henry to Sir Osborne, as they returned to their
place; "valiantly done! You struck right in the groove of the basnet,
and wavered not an inch. Who are these two, I wonder? They have their
beavers down."</p>
<p>While he spoke the spears were again delivered; and upon what impulse,
or from what peculiar feeling, would be difficult to say, but Sir
Osborne felt a strong inclination to unhorse his opponent; and
couching his lance with dexterous care, as far as possible to prevent
its splintering, he struck him in full course upon the gorget, just
above its junction with the corslet, and bore him violently backwards
to the ground, where he lay apparently deprived of sense.</p>
<p>By this time the king had shivered his lance, and some of the
attendants ran up to unlace the fallen man's helmet, when, to his
surprise, Sir Osborne beheld the countenance of Sir Payan Wileton. He
appeared to be much hurt by his fall; but that was a thing of such
common occurrence in those days, that no further notice was ever taken
of an accident of the kind than by giving the injured person all the
assistance that could be administered at the time.</p>
<p>However, it may well be supposed that Sir Osborne Maurice felt no
ordinary interest in the sight before him. By an extraordinary
coincidence, overthrown by his hand, though without intention, and
apparently nearly killed, lay the persevering enemy who had swallowed
up the fortunes of his house, and had sought so unceasingly to sweep
it for ever from the face of the earth; and while he lay there,
prostrate at his feet, with the ashy hue of his cheek paler than ever,
and his dark eye closed as if in death, Sir Osborne still thought he
could see the same determined malignity of aspect with which he had
declared that he would found his title to the lordship of Chilham
Castle on the death of its heir.</p>
<p>Still holding the lance in his hand, the knight bent over the bow of
his saddle, and through the bars of his volant-piece contemplated the
face of his fallen adversary, till he began to unclose his eyes and
look around him; when Sir Thomas Neville, thinking that the stranger
was animated merely by feelings of humanity, turned to him, saying
that Sir Payan had only been a little stunned, and would do very well
now.</p>
<p>"Gentlemen," continued he, addressing the king and Sir Osborne, "we
must, according to promise, let you pass away unquestioned; but I will
say, that two more valiant and skilful knights never graced a field,
nor is it possible to say which outdoes the other; but ye are worthy
companions and true knights both, and so fare ye well."</p>
<p>The king did not reply, lest he should be recognised by his voice; but
bending low, in token of his thanks, rode out of the lists,
accompanied by Sir Osborne and followed by Longpole.</p>
<p>"Now, by my fay, sir knight!" cried Henry, when they had once more
reached the cover of the wood, "you have far exceeded my expectations;
and I thank you heartily--good faith, I do!--for your aid. But I must
have you stay with me. Our poor court will be much graced by the
addition of such a knight. What say you? ha!"</p>
<p>"To serve your grace," replied Sir Osborne, "is my first wish; to
merit your praise my highest ambition. It is but little to say that
you may command me when you command all; but if my zeal to obey those
commands may be counted for merit, I will deserve some applause."</p>
<p>"Wisely spoken," answered the king; "we retain you for ours from this
moment; and that you may be ever near our person, we shall bid our
chamberlain find your apartments in the palace. How say you, sir
knight? are you therewith contented?"</p>
<p>"Your grace's bounty outstrips even the swift wings of Hope," replied
Sir Osborne; "but I will try to fly Gratitude against it; and though,
perhaps, she may not be able to overtop, she shall, at least, soar an
equal pitch."</p>
<p>The knight's allusion to the royal sport of falconry was well adapted
to the ears that heard it. Every one must have remarked, that whatever
impressions are intended to be produced on the mind of man are always
best received when addressed to his heart through its most common
associations. Whether we wish to explain, to convince, to touch, or to
engage, we must refer to something that is habitual and pleasing; and,
therefore, the use of figures in eloquence is not so much to enrich
and to deck, as to find admission to the soul of the hearer, by all
the paths which its own habits have rendered most easy of access.</p>
<p>Thus, Sir Osborne, without knowing it, drew his metaphor from a sport
in which the king delighted; and, more convinced of his zeal by these
few words than if the young knight had spoken for an hour, the king
replied, "I doubt ye not; 'faith, I doubt ye not. But this night we
give a mummery unto our lady queen, when I will bring you to her
knowledge: 'tis a lady full of graciousness, and though 'tis I who say
it, one that will love well all that I love. But now let us haste, for
the day wears; and as you shall be my masking peer, we must think of
some quaint disguise: Darby shall be another; and being all light of
foot, we will tread a measure with the fair ladies. You are a proper
man, and may, perchance, steal some hearts, wherein you shall have our
favour, if 'tis for your good advancement. But turn we down this other
path; in that I see some strangers. Quick! Mary Mother! I would not be
discovered for another kingdom!"</p>
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