whoso speaketh of this his distemper worketh against the peace and
order of these realms, and shall to the gallows! . . . Give me to
drink–I burn: this sorrow sappeth my strength. . . . There, take
away the cup. . . . Support me. There, that is well. Mad, is he?
Were he a thousand times mad, yet is he Prince of Wales, and I the
King will confirm it. This very morrow shall he be installed in
his princely dignity in due and ancient form. Take instant order
for it, my lord Hertford.”
One of the nobles knelt at the royal couch, and said–
“The King’s majesty knoweth that the Hereditary Great Marshal of
England lieth attainted in the Tower. It were not meet that one
attainted–”
“Peace! Insult not mine ears with his hated name. Is this man to
live for ever? Am I to be baulked of my will? Is the prince to
tarry uninstalled, because, forsooth, the realm lacketh an Earl
Marshal free of treasonable taint to invest him with his honours?
No, by the splendour of God! Warn my Parliament to bring me
Norfolk’s doom before the sun rise again, else shall they answer
for it grievously!” {1}
Lord Hertford said–
“The King’s will is law;” and, rising, returned to his former
place.
Gradually the wrath faded out of the old King’s face, and he said-
–
“Kiss me, my prince. There . . . what fearest thou? Am I not thy
loving father?”
“Thou art good to me that am unworthy, O mighty and gracious lord:
that in truth I know. But–but–it grieveth me to think of him
that is to die, and–”
“Ah, ’tis like thee, ’tis like thee! I know thy heart is still
the same, even though thy mind hath suffered hurt, for thou wert
ever of a gentle spirit. But this duke standeth between thee and
thine honours: I will have another in his stead that shall bring
no taint to his great office. Comfort thee, my prince: trouble
not thy poor head with this matter.”
“But is it not I that speed him hence, my liege? How long might
he not live, but for me?”
“Take no thought of him, my prince: he is not worthy. Kiss me
once again, and go to thy trifles and amusements; for my malady
distresseth me. I am aweary, and would rest. Go with thine uncle
Hertford and thy people, and come again when my body is
refreshed.”
Tom, heavy-hearted, was conducted from the presence, for this last
sentence was a death-blow to the hope he had cherished that now he
would be set free. Once more he heard the buzz of low voices
exclaiming, “The prince, the prince comes!”
His spirits sank lower and lower as he moved between the
glittering files of bowing courtiers; for he recognised that he
was indeed a captive now, and might remain for ever shut up in
this gilded cage, a forlorn and friendless prince, except God in
his mercy take pity on him and set him free.
And, turn where he would, he seemed to see floating in the air the
severed head and the remembered face of the great Duke of Norfolk,
the eyes fixed on him reproachfully.
His old dreams had been so pleasant; but this reality was so
dreary!
Chapter VI. Tom receives instructions.
Tom was conducted to the principal apartment of a noble suite, and
made to sit down–a thing which he was loth to do, since there
were elderly men and men of high degree about him. He begged them
to be seated also, but they only bowed their thanks or murmured
them, and remained standing. He would have insisted, but his
‘uncle’ the Earl of Hertford whispered in his ear–
“Prithee, insist not, my lord; it is not meet that they sit in thy
presence.”
The Lord St. John was announced, and after making obeisance to
Tom, he said–
“I come upon the King’s errand, concerning a matter which
requireth privacy. Will it please your royal highness to dismiss
all that attend you here, save my lord the Earl of Hertford?”
Observing that Tom did not seem to know how to proceed, Hertford