little while his majesty said, with a deep sadness in his tone–
“Trouble him no more, poor child. The hand of God lieth heavy
upon him, and my heart goeth out in loving compassion for him, and
sorrow that I may not bear his burden on mine old trouble-weighted
shoulders, and so bring him peace.”
He closed his eyes, fell to mumbling, and presently was silent.
After a time he opened his eyes again, and gazed vacantly around
until his glance rested upon the kneeling Lord Chancellor.
Instantly his face flushed with wrath–
“What, thou here yet! By the glory of God, an’ thou gettest not
about that traitor’s business, thy mitre shall have holiday the
morrow for lack of a head to grace withal!”
The trembling Chancellor answered–
“Good your Majesty, I cry you mercy! I but waited for the Seal.”
“Man, hast lost thy wits? The small Seal which aforetime I was
wont to take with me abroad lieth in my treasury. And, since the
Great Seal hath flown away, shall not it suffice? Hast lost thy
wits? Begone! And hark ye–come no more till thou do bring his
head.”
The poor Chancellor was not long in removing himself from this
dangerous vicinity; nor did the commission waste time in giving
the royal assent to the work of the slavish Parliament, and
appointing the morrow for the beheading of the premier peer of
England, the luckless Duke of Norfolk. {1}
Chapter IX. The river pageant.
At nine in the evening the whole vast river-front of the palace
was blazing with light. The river itself, as far as the eye could
reach citywards, was so thickly covered with watermen’s boats and
with pleasure-barges, all fringed with coloured lanterns, and
gently agitated by the waves, that it resembled a glowing and
limitless garden of flowers stirred to soft motion by summer
winds. The grand terrace of stone steps leading down to the
water, spacious enough to mass the army of a German principality
upon, was a picture to see, with its ranks of royal halberdiers in
polished armour, and its troops of brilliantly costumed servitors
flitting up and down, and to and fro, in the hurry of preparation.
Presently a command was given, and immediately all living
creatures vanished from the steps. Now the air was heavy with the
hush of suspense and expectancy. As far as one’s vision could
carry, he might see the myriads of people in the boats rise up,
and shade their eyes from the glare of lanterns and torches, and
gaze toward the palace.
A file of forty or fifty state barges drew up to the steps. They
were richly gilt, and their lofty prows and sterns were
elaborately carved. Some of them were decorated with banners and
streamers; some with cloth-of-gold and arras embroidered with
coats-of-arms; others with silken flags that had numberless little
silver bells fastened to them, which shook out tiny showers of
joyous music whenever the breezes fluttered them; others of yet
higher pretensions, since they belonged to nobles in the prince’s
immediate service, had their sides picturesquely fenced with
shields gorgeously emblazoned with armorial bearings. Each state
barge was towed by a tender. Besides the rowers, these tenders
carried each a number of men-at-arms in glossy helmet and
breastplate, and a company of musicians.
The advance-guard of the expected procession now appeared in the
great gateway, a troop of halberdiers. ‘They were dressed in
striped hose of black and tawny, velvet caps graced at the sides
with silver roses, and doublets of murrey and blue cloth,
embroidered on the front and back with the three feathers, the
prince’s blazon, woven in gold. Their halberd staves were covered
with crimson velvet, fastened with gilt nails, and ornamented with
gold tassels. Filing off on the right and left, they formed two
long lines, extending from the gateway of the palace to the
water’s edge. A thick rayed cloth or carpet was then unfolded,
and laid down between them by attendants in the gold-and-crimson
liveries of the prince. This done, a flourish of trumpets
resounded from within. A lively prelude arose from the musicians
on the water; and two ushers with white wands marched with a slow