Chapter XXVI: The May-Day Sports

SIR MILES spent several days in London and Westminster. There were purchases to be made for his wife and household, for the cloth and linen made at home was neither so fine or so perfect, as yet, that it was suitable for all their requirements. Then there were old friends to look up; and although many of these had left the neighbourhood of London when the Cardinal fell from power, still a few remained, and he was glad to renew his acquaintance with some of them to hear their opinions as to the changes now in progress.

Of course these could scarcely be expected to hold the same view as citizens, like Master Monmouth; but they agreed in one point, and that was that the King and Cromwell had shown themselves so masterful in defying the Pope, and claiming the supremacy of the Church as the right of the Crown, that they feared it would never again revert to Rome; that for good or evil the Church of England would remain independent of Papal control, except in so far as the people chose to hold themselves bound to obey as a matter of conscience.

It was evidently a matter of sorrow to some of these friends that the Pope had driven the King to take this step; but then, as one of them argued, what could the Pope himself do between the King of England and the Emperor of Germany? He was the nephew of Queen Catherine, and had been known to threaten the Pope with all sorts of punishments if he dared to pronounce the divorce of his aunt; and so the supreme Pontiff must have felt himself like a shuttlecock between these two masterful monarchs, until Henry cut the Gordian knot, by declaring himself head of the Church, and he and his kingdom free of Papal control.

"It would have been better if our Master Wolsey had succeeded in his aims, and been made Pope. He would have found some way out of the difficulty without this severance," said one friend, who was ready to follow Sir Thomas More to the block rather than acknowledge the right of the King to be head of the Church.

Sir Miles shook his head. "Whatever the outcome of this struggle may be in the present," he said, "it must in the end enlarge the liberties of England. Her people are waking here in the towns, as we in Oxford some years ago, and among her citizens—"

"What!" interrupted his friend. "You know little of what is going on to suppose that we have more liberty now than we had under the Cardinal. He hated Parliaments, I know; but this upstart, Cromwell, has learned how to make them do his bidding, and it is through the Parliament that an Englishman scarce dare breathe what he thinks, even in his own home. Why, I may be taking myself to the block for talking to you as I have done; and you say the King and Cromwell will enlarge our liberty."

"They have granted the people the right to read the New Testament," retorted Sir Miles; "and I tell you that, in doing this, they are putting a weapon into the people's hands they will not fail to grasp, and to use with all the tenacity and power that make an Englishman what he is. This is the seed that shall presently grow into such a tree as neither King nor priest shall be able to uproot; and I hear that, to make its truths more widely known, a copy of this book is to be set up on a desk in every church, that those who cannot read for themselves may repair thither and listen to some who can read it to them."

"Well, Sir Miles, if you are like to prove a true prophet in this matter, the Church has been wise to forbid any but the clergy reading this pestilent book. For my part, I shall forbid it in mine own household, and any knave or wench bringing a Testament under my roof shall be cast out instantly."

"Nay, be not so hard on the poor knaves," said Sir Miles, for he knew it would be a hard matter for the serving men and maids to get other work in these days, when employment was so scarce.

It was men like this friend who would make the coming struggle so hard and bitter. And yet the man would do it, believing he was doing his duty to God and man by this means.

Sir Miles went back to Greenwich at last, feeling that he had learned a good deal during his absence. And yet affairs in general were in such a tangle, and so many cross interests were involved, that it was impossible to get a clear view, and the most that any man could hope for was to know what his individual duty was, and to do it regardless of consequences.

It may seem that it was an easy matter for Sir Miles to come to this conclusion, but in reality he had had a hard struggle with himself before he could resolve to keep on with the prosy, monotonous every-day work of his farm and tenantry, instead of throwing in his lot with those who would share actively in the struggle that was going on in the outer world. The lad who joined so eagerly in the fight at Oxford Fair was a fighter still, and it was not easy for him to think complacently of going back to his little domain near Woodstock, and only the thought of wife and children, and what he owed to them, reconciled him to the prospect of being shut away from all share in the great world-strife that was going on here.

But he went home to Greenwich full of plans for making the May-day sports a real holiday for the poorer folk of the town. The ladies and gentlemen of the Court might be trusted to provide ample amusement for the more fashionable crowd, who would go to see the morris-dancers and mummers, who were to have their fun in a more subdued fashion now than formerly.

This resolve to encourage all sorts of manly sports and exercise, brought him into contact with his brother-in-law, Master Walter Marvin, and he found him much more sociable than he expected; and, except upon the thorny subject of the King's supremacy, they were much alike in their opinions of men and things in general. He even consented to meet Lady Paton, although he could not quite forget that Cicely was a woman who had been unfaithful to her vows and her vocation, as he chose to consider it; still, as Lady Paton was his wife's sister, he could not keep entirely aloof at such a time, especially when her husband was ready to help in all his plans for keeping up the old sports among the men, and lads, and serving maids.

And so the last days of April passed pleasantly enough, except for one or two whispers which Sir Miles and Cicely heard concerning the Queen. She would have brought the King his much desired son shortly, but in the previous February she had been greatly upset by the King himself, which made her very ill; and her boy baby came, but was born dead, which so enraged Henry that it was said he would never forgive the Queen for disappointing him, quite ignoring the fact that he himself had brought about the mishap. The Queen had seemed weak and delicate ever since, but it was also noticed that the King, instead of trying to console her, paid marked attention to one of her ladies—the Lady Jane Seymour—and he was not expected to be present at the Palace of Placentia for the May-day sports. He had gone to Westminster, leaving the Queen to console herself with the little Lady Elizabeth, who was now nearly three years old.

Of course, the members of Sir Harry Guildford's family attended the Court festivities, which were held on one of the lawns facing the river. Here a gigantic Maypole was raised, garlanded with green boughs and wreaths of flowers, and round which various dances took place. The Queen came out for a short time, leading her little daughter, who skipped and jumped, and would have joined in the dances round the gaily decorated Maypole if her mother would have allowed it.

"That little lady is a true daughter of our King," remarked one of the town folk—for the gardens and lawns of Placentia were always thrown open at such festivals as this. "See now, how she pulls at her mother's hand," said the gossip.

Many noticed that day how pensive and sad the Queen was looking, and yet her gaiety would break through her sadness now and again, and she would smile and nod when one of her ladies spoke to her, and for a minute or two appeared to be interested in the games.

The rougher sports for the lads and lasses took place in the Park, and here Sir Miles and his brother-in-law found scope for all their energies, in keeping order among the crowd, and preventing the whole affair from developing into a wild orgie.

When at last the games came to an end, and everybody who had taken part in them had gone home thoroughly tired out, Sir Miles and Master Marvin were at liberty to cast up the cost of the day's frolic, which they found to be rather heavier than they expected. They were bruised, and stiff, and sore from their exertions, and the kicks they had received in their efforts to keep the lads within bounds.

"There is something to be said for your reformers and their dislike of these holiday games," remarked Sir Miles when he had limped home, and given some account of the day's doings. "By my troth, we English people are a masterful race, as my master, the Cardinal, used to remark. At least it, must be so, if the way these lads of Greenwich play their games may be taken as indicating how they will act in graver matters," added the gentleman.

Sir Harry Guildford laughed. "Ah! we need taming," he said.

"Nay, leading," retorted Miles. "But who is to do it, unless we gain the mastery over ourselves, for ourselves, and for love's dear sake? I trove those who essay the mastery of this nation will receive many kicks and cuffs in the doing of it, and then achieve but a poor success."

"Miles, are you hurt," said Lady Paton, in a serious tone; but her husband would not own to it, saying he had spent a most joyous day, and learned more than one useful lesson in the course of it.

Everybody seemed to have enjoyed themselves; and it was hoped that the one shadow that had marred the sports at the Palace would soon pass away, for the King had sent for the Queen to Westminster, and so it was hoped that a reconciliation between the royal pair would now take place.

Sir Harry Guildford brought this little bit of gossip home from the Palace shortly after the Queen had started in the royal barge on her journey to Westminster the next morning. The little lady, Elizabeth, had not accompanied her mother, and one of her ladies had told a friend that the Queen seemed full of sadness when she went away. But no one paid much attention to this, for the Queen had been out of health and out of spirits ever since the disaster of February; but now all would be well, and there would be a renewal of the merry May games when the King and Queen came back together.

Alas! before sunset, the news came that the Queen had been arrested. "Arrested!" repeated one and another in blank astonishment, for the news fell like a thunder-clap upon the town. The people only knew their King as a pleasure-loving, merry-hearted monarch, and he liked them to think of him thus; and the other side of his character that was now coming into action was only known to a few of his council, or to those who had dared to cross him in any of his projects and pleasures. To the townsfolk, therefore, it was almost unbelievable that their light-hearted monarch could have ordered the Queen's arrest. "What has the poor lady done but mope a little since her illness," they asked one of the other; while some were disposed to think it was simply an idle tale of the servants who had attended her and brought back the news.

But it soon came to be known that it was too true, and that the Queen was a prisoner in the Tower on the charge of being unfaithful to the King. "They will say you have been unfaithful to me, good dame," said Sir Harry to his wife, when he brought home this news from the palace.

"Then you do not believe the charge?" said Sir Miles, after a lengthened pause.

Sir Harry Guildford shook his head. "I should know, if anybody did," he said, sadly.

"Oh, father I hope you will not be drawn into this coil," said Lady Paton, with sudden apprehension, lest her father should be called upon to give evidence in the trial that was sure to follow.

"If I am called upon to speak, I can only say what I know,—that the Queen hath ever been discreet in word and deed, neither light in her behaviour to the gentlemen of the Court, or unduly sour, but treating all as a Queen should, with dignity and courtesy to all."

"And even this may bring ruin upon us, if the King would fain have her found guilty," said Lady Guildford, wringing her hands.

"I cannot help what may follow. I shall let it be known that I am ready to bear witness that I have never seen aught amiss in her behaviour with man or maid, and for the rest we must trust in God, though I doubt not that, if the Queen is found guilty, it will be a sore blow to the Reformation."

"Oh! how can it be? Why does not God prevent such things happening!" exclaimed one of the younger girls; and though no one spoke, she did but express what was in the mind of several besides herself. Perhaps, too, there was the thought, that as the Lady Jane Seymour was now supplanting her royal mistress in the favour of the King, so Queen Anne had not come to the throne with wholly clean hands.

But no one spoke of this just now, and there was silence for some minutes, until Lady Guildford said, "The Archbishop will be sorely grieved over this day's doings."

"Aye, that will he; for Master Cranmer was the first to advise the King that his marriage with his brother's widow was unlawful, according to the Bible, and that this should rule the king's life and faith."

"He hath always had a favourable opinion of the Queen, too," added Sir Miles.

"Could not he intercede for her with the King?" asked Cicely.

"We are judging hastily, my children," said Sir Harry, cautiously. "Who can tell that there will be need of intercession. It may be that some idle gossip hath reached the King, and he will but clear the Queen's fame in the sight of all men. We talk as though the Queen was sure to be condemned. I would fain hope that things have not gone so far as that."

But as the days went on, and reports of the trial that was being held at the Tower came to be known, it grew plain that it was the ruin of the Queen that was intended, and not the clearing of her fair fame from idle gossip; and men began to understand better what their beloved monarch was becoming, now that he held irresponsible power over the lives and consciences of his subjects.

Sir Harry Guildford was not called upon to take any part in the infamous trial of Queen Anne, but other witnesses had been obtained, who were willing to swear away the life of this innocent woman.

Perhaps her sentence was just, in the face of what had taken place in the matter of Catherine, but of the charge made against her now she was wholly innocent, and none knew this better than Henry himself.

It struck the nation dumb when they came to understand this, for Henry himself made it clear why the unfortunate Queen was found guilty of the charges brought against her. Before the month of May came to an end, Queen Anne had been condemned and beheaded. She never left the Tower again in life; and when the firing of a gun gave notice that the Queen was dead, Henry at once had the ceremony of marriage performed between himself and the Lady Jane Seymour.

But Greenwich folk declined to have anything to do with merry-making over this marriage, and the nation was struck with affright, that their King, who held such power as no other monarch had ever possessed in England before, could thus trample under foot the laws of God and man alike. From that day Henry was dethroned from the hearts of his people, where he had reigned without question until now.