Chapter XXVI: The Judgment of the King

In the Painted Chamber of the Palace of Westminster the Court was gathered. Through the great long room, amid the soft light of scores upon scores of candles, moved the gorgeously attired throng--waiting for the King whose usual hour of entrance was long since past. And curiosity was rife, and uneasiness in the atmosphere.

For the times were sadly unsettled; and among those who had for an instant hesitated between Tudor and Plantagenet--and their number was not small--there was grave anxiety, lest their faint loyalty had come to Richard's ears. And to such it was scarce a comforting reflection that, in Exeter, the headsman had just done his grim work upon St. Leger; albeit he were husband of the King's own sister. If he were condemned for treason, even though it were open and notorious, who that were tainted ever so slightly were likely to be spared?

But all the while, the ladies laughed and chatted gayly, and the knights bowed and smiled and answered back in kind; and the throng as a whole seemed to be without a shred of care.

At one group of young matrons there was much merriment; and as Lord Darby chanced to stroll by, they hailed him banteringly, inviting him to join them. But he declined with sarcastic pleasantry.

"Fie, sir! It was not a gallant speech," cried the Lady Strange, with a toss of her golden locks; "and if your tongue be as acid always, there is small wonder that rumor gave another precedence in the favor of the Countess of Clare."

Darby halted and bowed low and long--very low and very long.

"Your ladyship does me too much honor," he said, with well assumed humility, "in even thinking of the Countess of Clare and my poor self in the same moment."

"Doubtless I do--since your devotion was too feeble even to send you to her rescue."

"And now you do me deep injustice; I sought the Countess from the day following the abduction until all hope was gone. Methinks alas! she has long since been gathered with the Saints."

The Countess of Ware--the Lady Mary Percy that was--laughed with gibing intonation.

"There is one, at least, who has not ceased to hope and to search," she said.

"And has been as successful as myself," he retorted, nor hid the sneer.

"But if he find her?"

Darby shrugged his shoulders. "Think you there is recognition in the spirit world?"

"Then you actually believe the Countess dead?" the Lady Lovel asked.

"Beyond all question, madam. It is near three months since the abduction and a trace of her has yet to be discovered;" and was going on when the Countess of Ware stopped him.

"Can you tell us what detains the King?" she asked.

"I have no notion," he replied. "I saw him an hour or so ago and he was in the best of health and humor."

"Your news is stale," she laughed; "a King's humor an hour old is very ancient."

"True," said Darby, "true indeed, yet here comes one who can doubtless answer fittingly. . . Sir Ralph, what delays His Majesty?"

But De Wilton looked him straight in the face, and with never a word in reply, passed on.

And at that moment the Black Rod entered, and behind him came the King.

Save for the crimson lining of his short gown, he was clad in white from head to foot, an ivory boar with eyes of rubies and tusks of sapphires, pinned the feather in his bonnet, about his neck hung the George, and his only weapon was the diamond hilted dagger at his girdle. With it he toyed, looking neither to the right nor to the left, nor yet to the front; but rather at the mental picture of one engrossed in thought.

Slowly and with the impressive dignity that was the natural heritage of the Plantagenets, he mounted the steps to the Throne and turning faced his Court; and all bowed low, and then in silence waited, while his dark eyes searched them through.

"You may take your places, my Lord Cardinal and Lord Chancellor," he said. "Her Majesty will not join us until later."

Bowing in response, the Archbishop of Canterbury and the Bishop of Lincoln assumed their stools on the third step of the dais; and the crowd, released from the ceremonial calm, began to buzz softly with conversation, though without taking eye from the King. And they turned quickly dumb again as Richard raised his hand.

"We will have to beg your kind indulgences if, for a while, we delay the games and the dance," he said. "It is a most unhappy chance upon this evening of all others, when we are about to celebrate our safe return from rebellious war, that there has come to us evidences of foulest crime and darkest treason by one high in rank and station, and who is, even now, within sound of my voice."

Over the Court ran a shiver of apprehension; and men eyed one another with misgiving and drew within themselves; while the women, with faces suddenly gone white and lips a tremble, clutched the hands of those most dear, as though to shield them from the doom about to fall. For green in the memory was Hastings, and Rivers, and Buckingham, and St. Leger, and the stern suddenness of their taking off.

"Perchance, it were more suitable," the King went on, "that matters of such import be deferred to the quiet of the council chamber and the Court of the Lord High Steward; and in particular, that there should be none of the gentler sex in presence. Yet for reasons which to me seem adequate and proper, I have determined otherwise. He who is charged with these crimes is now among you; and by you, my lords and my ladies, shall he be adjudged. Stand forth, Henry, Lord Darby of Roxford."

The gasp that soughed through the room as Richard spoke the name was far more of relief than of wonder, and instantly all eyes sought the accused.

And he met them with a shrug of indifference and a smiling face. And down the aisle that opened to him he went--debonair and easy--until he stood before the Throne. There he bent knee for an instant; then, erect and unruffled, he looked the King defiantly in the eye.

"Here stand I to answer," he said. "Let the charges be preferred."

Richard turned to the Black Rod.

"Summon the accusers," he ordered.

As the Usher backed from the room, there arose a hissing of whispers that changed sharply to exclamations of surprise as in formal tones he heralded:

"Sir John de Bury! Sir Aymer de Lacy!"

The elder Knight leaned on the other's arm as they advanced; but dropped it at the Throne and both made deep obeisance. An impatient glance from the King brought instant quiet.

"Sir John de Bury and Sir Aymer de Lacy," he, said, "you have made certain grave accusations touching Henry, Lord Darby of Roxford. He stands here now to answer. Speak, therefore, in turn."

De Bury stepped forward and faced Darby, who met him with folded arms and scornful front.

"I charge Henry, Lord Darby," he said, "with having abducted and held prisoner, in his castle of Roxford and elsewhere, my niece, the Lady Beatrix de Beaumont, Countess of Clare."

A cry of amazement burst from the Court, but Richard silenced it with a gesture.

"You have heard, my lord," he said. "What is your plea?"

"Not guilty, Sire."

At a nod from the King, De Lacy took place beside Sir John.

"I charge Henry, Lord Darby of Roxford," he cried, "with high treason, in that he aided and a betted the Duke of Buckingham in his late rebellion, and stood prepared to betray his Sovereign on the field of battle."

"You hear, my lord," said the King. "What is your plea?"

But Darby did not answer; and for a while Richard watched him curiously, as with half-bared dagger and lips drawn back in rage, he glowered upon De Lacy, forgetful of all things save his hate. And so imminent seemed the danger, that Aymer put hand to his own poniard and fell into the posture to receive attack. And doubtless there, before the Throne itself, would these two men have fought to the death for very lust of the other's blood, had not the clear, stern voice of the King aroused them, like cold water in a sleeping face.

"Do you not hear, Lord Darby? We await your plea!"

"Not guilty," Darby answered in tones husky with rage. "And I demand wager of battle, as against the foul charge of this foreign slanderer and liar."

"I pray you, my Liege, to grant it to the traitor," said De Lacy eagerly.

But Richard waved him back. "The wager is refused. By the evidence shall the judgment be. Proceed, Sir Aymer de Lacy, we will hear you first."

The Knight drew a packet from his doublet.

"I offer herewith," he said, "the dying statement of Henry Stafford, late Duke of Buckingham, touching the part taken in his rebellion by the accused."

"I object to it!" Darby cried.

"For what reason?"

"Because its execution has not been proven; and because, even if genuine, it is incompetent as being by a condemned traitor."

"Let me see the paper," said the King. . . "It is regular, on its face--signed by Stafford under his own seal and attested by Sir Richard Ratcliffe and Sir John Kendale. Do you wish their testimony?"

Lord Darby bowed.

"Sir Richard Ratcliffe and Sir John Kendale," the King said, as they stood forth, "do you each testify on honor that these are your respective signatures, and that you saw Henry Stafford sign and affix his seal hereto?"

"We do, upon our knightly honor," they replied.

"It would appear, Sir John, that the body of this document is in your handwriting."

"It is, Your Majesty. I wrote it at request of Stafford and at his dictation."

"Where?"

"In his room in the Blue Boar Inn in the town of Salisbury."

"When?"

"On the afternoon of the second day of November last. When the Duke had signed it he went direct to execution."

"And this document?" the King questioned.

"Was kept by me until presented to Your Majesty that same evening; and by your direction deposited among your private papers, whence I took it a few minutes since to give to Sir Aymer de Lacy."

Another murmur of astonishment went up from the Court, but died quickly under Richard's glance.

"Methinks, my lord," he said addressing Darby, "the paper has been sufficiently proven and is competent as a dying declaration of a co-conspirator. Therefore, we admit it. . . Read it, my Lord Chancellor."

The Bishop arose and spreading out the parchment began:

"I, Henry Stafford, Duke of Buckingham, being about to suffer on the block (which even now stands ready before my window) do hereby make, publish and declare this as and for my dying declaration; trusting that thereby I may be of service to one who, though my foe in war, has been my friend in peaceful days, and now, as well, when all others have forsaken and betrayed me--and may, at the same time, bring to justice a pair of caitiffs. By these presents, do I denounce and proclaim Henry, Lord Darby, and John Morton, ycleped Bishop of Ely, as perjured and forsworn traitors to Richard, King of England, as well as betrayers of their plighted faith to me. Further, do I hereby admonish Richard Plantagenet that this Darby (whom I have but this hour observed among his forces in this town) and the aforesaid priest, Morton, are the instigators of my rebellion; that these two aided me in all the scheming of the plot; that to Darby was assigned the proclaiming of Henry Tudor in Yorkshire and the North; and that, within one week of the day set for the rising, he was at Brecknock and completed the final details. That he was a double traitor I knew not until I saw him here in the courtyard this day. Also, I denounce----"

"Stay, my Lord Bishop!" the King interjected. "Read no further for the present."

"Since when, I pray, Sire, has it become the law of England to admit only such part of a paper as may suit the prosecution's plan?" Darby cried.

"You wish it read entire?" Richard asked.

"Marry, that I do. Since I am already judged, it can work me no hurt."

Richard looked at him fixedly. "You are overbold, sirrah!"

"Those who speak truth to a King must needs be so," was the curt rejoinder.

"Steady your tongue, Lord Darby," said Richard sternly, "else may the Tower teach you respect for England's King."

"Think you, then, I should find the young Fifth Edward there------alive?" sneered Darby.

For a moment, Richard's eyes flashed like sparks springing from the clashing of two angry swords. Then he smiled; and the smile was more ominous than the sparks.

"Be easy, sir; the remainder of the declaration shall be read in season," he said very quietly. "But first, will you reply now to Stafford's allegation, or shall we proceed with Sir John de Bury's charge?"

If this were all the evidence of treason Darby was in small danger and it behooved him to change his bearing.

"I did Your Majesty grave wrong in presuming you had prejudged me," he said with a frank smile, "for well I know that on such shallow falsehoods no man could ever be condemned. And here do I place my own knightly word against the traitor Buckingham's; and do specifically deny all that has been read by the Lord Chancellor. And further, do I solemnly affirm that neither by voice nor deed have I been recreant to my oath of allegiance, nor false to you. Moreover, Sire, my very action in the rebellion attests my truth: Did I not hasten to join your army with all the force at my disposal? Have I not been ever honest and faithful?"

And with arms folded proudly on his breast, he waited for the acquittance that seemed to be his due.

"As the case stands now, it would be our duty and our pleasure to pronounce you guiltless," Richard replied. "But it so chances that there is still another witness on the charge of treason, whose testimony deals also with the abduction. Wherefore, we shall be obliged to mingle somewhat the two matters and so to withhold our judgment until the trial is ended and all the evidence is in. . . My Lord Chancellor, proceed with the reading."

The Bishop resumed:

"Also, I denounce the said Henry, Lord Darby, as the abductor of the Countess of Clare whom, he told me, he by pre-arrangement with her had seized one night in September and had carried to his castle--she loving him, but being coerced by the King into marrying another. And I, believing him, promised that he should wed her and receive her lands and title when Henry Tudor became King. Only to-day did I learn that he had taken the maid by force, and that his story of her love for him was pure falsehood. And it gratifies me much that, perchance, these words may aid in the lady's rescue and her dastardly abductor's punishment. In testimony to the truth whereof, and in full appreciation of impending death, I hereunto set my hand and affix my seal of the Swan. Given at the Inn of the Blue Boar, in the town of Salisbury, this second day of November, in the year of Grace 1483."

The Chancellor folded the parchment. "I have finished, Sire," he said.

"Now, Lord Darby, you have had your wish and heard the statement full and entire," the King admonished. "If it has not improved your case, the next witness, methinks, is scarce likely to better it."

At a sign, the Black Rod again withdrew, and once more there was profoundest silence; and upon the doorway in the corner all eyes were turned, save those of the accused. He stood stolid and defiant glaring at De Lacy. Then a cry went up, and after it came cheers and loud applause. Nor did Richard offer to rebuke it, but himself leaned forward smiling.

Aroused at this, Lord Darby glanced around--and suddenly his face went pale, and red, and pale again; and he staggered slightly, passing his hand across his forehead in a dazed-like way. For there, advancing toward the Throne, hand in hand with the Queen, was the woman he thought securely hid in far distant Roxford Castle.

Then sharp panic seized him and he turned to flee.

But close behind him was the wall of courtiers, and beyond flashed the halberds of the guard. Straightway, the terror passed, and he was again the cool soldier, contemptuous and indifferent--though he saw full well the case would go against him and that death was drawing near. And so he waited, utterly forgotten for the moment, amid the gladsome welcome for the Countess of Clare, whom all long since had given up for dead.

At the foot of the dais Beatrix stopped, but the Queen would not have it so, and with gentle insistence she drew her up the steps. And Richard met them half way, and with him on one side and the Queen on the other, she stood before the Court.

Then the King raised his hand for silence.

"Behold!" he said, "the lost Lady of Clare!" and kissed her finger tips, while the cheers swelled forth afresh.

She curtsied low in response, and sought to descend to her place. But Richard detained her.

"Fair Countess," he said, "the Lord Darby stands here accused of your abduction, and of complicity in the late rebellion; we have sent for you to testify your knowledge in these matters."

Beatrix's face grew grave, and for a little while she made no answer.

"I implore you, Sire, relieve me from the duty," she said. "Safe now and freed from my captor's power, I want never to look upon him nor to speak his name, being well content to let God in His Providence punish the crime against me."

"Your words are earnest of your gracious heart," said the King. "But for the honor and name of fair England, it may not be settled so. If Lord Darby be guilty, then must he suffer punishment, were it for no other reason than that our laws demand it. If he be innocent, it is his bounden right to receive full acquittance here in the presence of those before whom he has been arraigned. Speak! as your Sovereign I command. Who was your abductor?"

The Countess clasped her hands before her and hesitated. Then for the first time, she let her eyes rest upon Darby; and the sight of him seemed to nerve her; and she raised her arm and pointed at him with accusing finger, while her voice rang out full and strong:

"There he stands--Lord Darby of Roxford! By his orders I was seized and carried to his castle, where he came and sought first to persuade, and then to force me into marriage with him. And when I scorned him, he swore with words insulting he would hold me prisoner until he and Buckingham had made a King of Henry Tudor, when he would wed me whether I wished or no. Later it seems he somewhat changed his plans, and instead of joining openly with Henry he remained with you, Sire; yet with full intention, as he, himself, assured me, to cleave to whatever side was winning in the battle. So was he sure, he said, to be in favor with whomever wore the crown. Of all these crimes and treasons is yonder false lord guilty. And had not Sir John De Bury and Sir Aymer de Lacy carried by storm his Castle of Roxford, I would yet be a prisoner to him."

And the very thought brought quick reaction and her courage ebbed, and turning her back upon the Court, she covered her face with her hands.

Through the swift denunciation Lord Darby had stood with impassive face and eyes that never flinched, looking straight at the Countess; then he shifted his glance to the King. He knew that the words just uttered had confirmed his doom--that in all that throng there was no friend for him, nor even one to do him favor. A score of lies or a flood of denials would be unavailing to win so much as a glance of sympathy. He had essayed a game with Destiny; he had lost and must pay penalty--and he never doubted what that penalty would be with Richard Plantagenet his judge. But at least, he would wring a cry of pain from the heart of his enemy--and he smiled and waited.

Then the King spoke: "We will hear you now, Lord Darby."

"I thank Your Gracious Majesty for the stern impartialness of this trial," he said with biting sarcasm. "It was planned as skillfully as was a certain other in the White Tower, adown the Thames, when Hastings was the victim"--and he gave his sneering laugh; and then repeated it, as he remarked the shudder it brought to the Countess. "Nathless I am not whimpering. I have been rash; and rashness is justified only by success. For I did abduct the Countess of Clare, and have her carried to my Castle of Roxford. So much is truth." Then he faced Sir Aymer de Lacy and went on with a malevolent smile. "But she was not a prisoner there, nor did I take her against her wish. She went by prearrangement, and remained with me of her own free will. I thought she loved me, and believed her protestations of loathing for the upstart De Lacy who, she said, was pursuing her with his suit, And when she begged me to take her with me and risk your Majesty's anger, I yielded; and to the end that we might wed, I did embark, in the plottings of the Duke of Buckingham, upon his engagement, for the Tudor Henry, that our union would be sanctioned. Later, when the lady seemed so happy with me at Roxford, methought the marriage could bide a bit, and so resolved to wait until the battle to choose between Plantagenet and Tudor. Having the girl, I could then get the estates as payment of my service to the victor. But it would seem I risked too much upon the lady's love. For while I was at the wars, either she tired of me and so deserted Roxford, or having been found there by De Bury and the Frenchman, as she says, she deemed it wise to play the innocent and wronged maiden held in durance by her foul abductor. Leastwise, whoso desires her now is welcome to her," and he laughed again.

Then could De Lacy endure it no longer; and casting off De Bury's restraining arm, he flashed forth his dagger and sprang toward Darby. But as he leaped Sir Richard Ratcliffe caught him round the neck and held him for the space that was needful for him to gather back his wits.

"For God's sake, man, be calm!" he said, as he loosed him. "Let Richard deal with him."

And the Countess, as Darby's vile insinuations reached her ears, drew herself up and gently putting aside the Queen, turned and faced him. And her mouth set hard, and her fingers clenched her palms convulsively. So, she heard him to the end, proudly and defiantly; and when he had done, she raised her hand and pointed at him once again.

"Though I am a woman," she exclaimed, "here do I tell you, Lord Darby, you lie in your throat!"

"Aye, my lady! that he does," a strange voice called; and from the doorway strode Simon Gorges, the anger on his ugly face flaming red as the hair above it.

"May I speak, Sire?" he demanded, halting before the Throne and saluting the King in brusque, soldier fashion.

"Say on, my man," said Richard.

"Then hear you all the truth, touching this dirty business," he cried loudly. "I am Flat-Nose. At Lord Darby's order, I waylaid and seized by force the Countess of Clare, and carried her to Roxford Castle. Never for one moment went she of her own accord, and never for one moment stayed she willingly. She was prisoner there; ever watched and guarded, and not allowed outside the walls. In all the weeks she was there Lord Darby saw her only once. And when he spoke to her of love, she scorned and lashed him so with words methought he sure would kill her, for I was just outside the door and heard it all."

"Truly, Sire, you have arranged an entertainment more effective than I had thought even your deep brain could scheme," Darby sneered, as Gorges paused for breath. . . "What was your price, Simon? It should have been a goodly one."

"Measure him not by your standard, my fair lord," said the King. "He held your castle until none but him was left; and even then yielded not to his assailants, but only to the Countess."

"And upon the strict engagement that I should not be made to bear evidence against you," Flat-Nose added. "But even a rough man-at-arms would be thrice shamed to hear a woman so traduced and not speak in her favor. Therefore, my lord, I, too, say you lie."

But Darby only shrugged his shoulders and bowed to the Countess.

"Your ladyship is irresistible," he said, "since you have wiles for both the master and the man."

"Shame! Shame!" exclaimed the grey-haired Norfolk, and the whole throng joined in the cry.

Then forth stepped Sir Aymer de Lacy.

"I pray you, my liege," said he, "grant me leave to avenge upon the body of yonder lord the wrongs the Countess of Clare has suffered."

Beatrix made a sharp gesture of dissent and turned to the King appealingly.

With a smile he reassured her.

"Not so, De Lacy," he said kindly. "We do not risk our faithful subjects in combat with a confessed traitor. There are those appointed who care for such as he. . . Nay, sir, urge me not--it is altogether useless." And he motioned Aymer back to his place.

Then he faced Lord Darby, who met him with a careless smile.

"Out of your own mouth have you condemned yourself," he said. "And there is now no need for verdict by your Peers. It remains but to pass upon you the judgment due your crimes. And first: for your foul wrong to the Countess of Clare and through her, to all womankind, here, in her presence and before all the Court, you shall be degraded."

Darby's face flushed and he took a quick step backward, like one stricken by a sudden blow. But he made no reply, save from his angry eyes.

"What say you, Flat-Nose; will you execute the office?" the King asked.

"And it please you, Sire, I cannot do such shame upon my former master," Gorges answered bluntly.

"It does please me well, sirrah; though truly your face belies your heart. . . What, ho! the guard! . . . Let the under-officer come forward."

In a moment the tall form of Raynor Royk stalked out from the throng, and halting in the open he raised his halberd in salute.

"Hew me off the spurs from yonder fellow," the King ordered, with a move of his hand toward the condemned.

Saluting again, the old soldier strode over and with two sharp blows of his weapon struck the golden insignia of Knighthood from Lord Darby's heels.

Nor did Darby make resistance; but with arms folded on his breast he suffered it to be done, though his bosom heaved in the fierce struggle to be calm, and the flush left his face and it grew gray and drawn, and bitter agony looked out from his eyes. And many turned away their heads. And on the dais the Countess had faced about, and the Queen and she were softly weeping.

Lifting the spurs from the pavement Raynor Royk held them up.

"The order is executed, Sire," he said.

"Fling them into the ditch," the King commanded. "They, too, are stained with dishonor."

Then in tones cold and passionless, and wherein there was no shade of mercy, he went on: "And now, Henry Darby--for Lord and Knight you are no longer--you have suffered penalty for one crime, hear the judgment for the other: As false to your oath of fealty and traitor to your King, the sentence is that you be taken hence to Tyburn and there hanged by the neck until dead--and may the Lord Omnipotent have pity on your soul. Remove him."

"Come," said Raynor Royk, and led him through the crowd, which drew shudderingly aside to give him passage.

And Darby--stunned by the stern justice that had sent him to die a common felon on Tyburn Tree, instead of as a Lord and Peer of England, on the block on Tower Hill--went with dazed brain and silently; and ere his faculties returned, he was among the guards in the rear. Then with a sudden twist he turned about and shouted with all his voice:

"Long live Henry Tudor!"

It was his last defiance. The next instant he was dragged outside and the doors swung shut behind him; while from all the Court went up the answering cry:

"Long live Plantagenet! God save the King!"

And when silence came the Countess and De Lacy were gone.

"So," said Sir Aymer, as Beatrix and he reached the quiet of the Queen's apartments, "your troubles end--the sun shines bright again."

The Countess sank into a chair and drew him on the arm beside her.

"My troubles ended when you crossed the courtyard of Roxford," she replied, taking his hand in both her own, "but yours have not begun."

"Wherefore, sweetheart?" he asked. "I thought mine, too, had ended there."

"No," with a shake of the ruddy head . . . "no. . . Your heaviest troubles are yet to come."

He looked at her doubtfully. . . "And when do they begin?"

She fell to toying with her rings and drawing figures on her gown.

"That is for you to choose," she said, with a side-long glance. . . "Next year, may be, . . . to-morrow, if you wish."

"You mean------?" he cried.

She sprang away with a merry laugh--then came slowly back to him.

"I mean, my lord, they will begin . . . when you are Earl of Clare."

THE END