“But to become monarch of England,” said his Ahithophel,2 coolly, “it is necessary not only that your Grace should endure the transgressions of these unprincipled marauders, but that you should afford them your protection, notwithstanding your laudable zeal for the laws they are in the habit of infringing. We shall be finely helped, if the churl Saxons should have realised your Grace’s vision of converting feudal drawbridges into gibbets; and yonder bold-spirited Cedric seemeth one to whom such an imagination might occur. Your Grace is well aware, it will be dangerous to stir without Front-de-B?uf, De Bracy, and the Templar; and yet we have gone too far to recede with safety.”
Prince John struck his forehead with impatience, and then began to stride up and down the apartment.
“The villains,” he said—“the base, treacherous villains, to desert me at this pinch!”
“Nay, say rather the feather-pated, giddy madmen,” sid Waldemar, “who must be toying with follies when such business was in hand.”
“What is to be done?” said the Prince, stopping short before Waldemar.
“I know nothing which can be done,” answered his counsellor, “save that which I have already taken order for. I came not to bewail this evil chance with your Grace until I had done my best to remedy it.”
“Thou art ever my better angel, Waldemar,” said the Prince; “and when I have such a chancellor to advise withal, the reign of John will be renowned in our annals. What hast thou commanded?”
“I have ordered Louis Winkelbrand, De Bracy’s lieutenant, to cause his trumpet sound to horse, and to display his banner, and to set presently forth towards the castle of Front-de-B?uf, to do what yet may be done for the succour of our friends.”
Prince John’s face flushed with the pride of a spoilt child, who has undergone what it conceives to be an insult.
“By the face of God!” he said, “Waldemar Fitzurse, much hast thou taken upon thee! and over malapert thou wert to cause trumpet to blow, or banner to be raised, in a town where ourselves were in presence, without our express command.”
“I crave your Grace’s pardon,” said Fitzurse, internally cursing the idle vanity of his patron; “but when time pressed, and even the loss of minutes might be fatal, I judged it best to take this much burden upon me, in a matter of such importance to your Grace’s interest.”
“Thou art pardoned, Fitzurse,” said the Prince, gravely; “thy purpose hath atoned for thy hasty rashness. But whom have we here? De Bracy himself, by the rood! and in strange guise doth he come before us.”
It was indeed De Bracy, “bloody with spurring, fiery red with speed.”3 His armour bore all the marks of the late obstinate fray, being broken, defaced, and stained with blood in many places, and covered with clay and dust from the crest to the spur. Undoing his helmet, he placed it on the table, and stood a moment as if to collect himself before he told his news.
“De Bracy,” said Prince John, “what means this? Speak, I charge thee! Are the Saxons in rebellion?”
“Speak, De Bracy,” said Fitzurse, almost in the same moment with his master, “thou wert wont to be a man. Where is the Templar? where Front-de-B?uf?”
“The Templar is fled,” said De Bracy; “Front-de-B?uf you will never see more. He has found a red grave among the blazing rafters of his own castle, and I alone am escaped to tell you.”
“Cold news,” said Waldemar, “to us, though you speak of fire and conflagration.”
“The worst news is not yet said,” answered De Bracy; and, coming up to Prince John, he uttered in a low and emphatic tone—“Richard is in England; I have seen and spoken with him.”
Prince John turned pale, tottered, and caught at the back of an oaken bench to support himself, much like to a man who receives an arrow in his bosom.
“Thou ravest, De Bracy,” said Fitzurse, “it cannot be.”
“It is as true as truth itself,” said De Bracy; “I was his prisoner, and spoke with him.”
“With Richard Plantagenet, sayest thou?” continued Fitzurse.
“With Richard Plantagenet,” replied De Bracy—“with Richard C?ur-de-Lion—with Richard of England.”
“And thou wert his prisoner?” said Waldemar; “he is then at the head of a power?”
“No; only a few outlawed yeomen were around him, and to these his person is unknown. I heard him say he was about to depart from them. He joined them only to assist at the storming of Torquilstone.”
“Ay,” said Fitzurse, “such is indeed the fashion of Richard—a true knight-errant he, and will wander in wild adventure, trusting the prowess of his single arm, like any Sir Guy or Sir Bevis,ez while the weighty affairs of his kingdom slumber, and his own safety is endangered. What dost thou propose to do, De Bracy?”
“I? I offered Richard the service of my Free Lances, and he refused them. I will lead them to Hull, seize on shipping, and embark for Flanders; thanks to the bustling times, a man of action will always find employment. And thou, Waldemar, wilt thou take lance and shield, and lay down thy policies, and wend along with me, and share the fate which God sends us?”
“I am too old, Maurice, and I have a daughter,” answered Waldemar.
“Give her to me, Fitzurse, and I will maintain her as fits her rank, with the help of lance and stirrup,” said De Bracy.
“Not so,” answered Fitzurse; “I will take sanctuary in this church of St. Peter; the Archbishop is my sworn brother.”
During this discourse, Prince John had gradually awakened from the stupor into which he had been thrown by the unexpected intelligence, and had been attentive to the conversation which passed betwixt his followers. “They fall off from me,” he said to himself: “they hold no more by me than a withered leaf by the bough when a breeze blows on it! Hell and fiends! can I shape no means for myself when I am deserted by these cravens?” He paused, and there was an expression of diabolical passion in the constrained laugh with which he at length broke in on their conversation.
“Ha, ha, ha! my good lords, by the light of Our Lady’s brow, I held ye sage men, bold men, ready-witted men, loving things which are costly to come by; yet ye throw down wealth, honour, pleasure, all that our noble game promised you, at the moment it might be won by one bold cast!”
“I understand you not,” said De Bracy. “As soon as Richard’s return is blown abroad, he will be at the head of an army, and all is then over with us. I would counsel you, my lord, either to fly to France or take the protection of the Queen Mother.”
“I seek no safety for myself,” said Prince John, haughtily; “that I could secure by a word spoken to my brother. But although you, De Bracy, and you, Waldemar Fitzurse, are so ready to abandon me, I should not greatly delight to see your heads blackening on Clifford’s gate yonder. Thinkest thou, Waldemar, that the wily Archbishop will not suffer thee to be taken from the very horns of the altar, would it make his peace with King Richard? And forgettest thou, De Bracy, that Robert Estoteville lies betwixt thee and Hull with all his forces, and that the Earl of Essex is gathering his followers? If we had reason to fear these levies even before Richard’s return, trowest thou there is any doubt now which party their leaders will take? Trust me, Estoteville alone has strength enough to drive all thy Free Lances into the Humber.” Waldemar Fitzurse and De Bracy looked in each other’s faces with blank dismay. “There is but one road to safety,” continued the Prince, and his brow grew black as midnight: “this object of our terror journeys alone; he must be met withal.”
“Not by me,” said De Bracy, hastily; “I was his prisoner, and he took me to mercy. I will not harm a feather in his crest.”
“Who spoke of harming him?” said Prince John, with a hardened laugh; “the knave will say next that I meant he should slay him! No—a prison were better; and whether in Britain or Austria, what matters it? Things will be but as they were when we commenced our enterprise. It was founded on the hope that Richard would remain a captive in Germany. Our uncle [relative] Robert lived and died in the castle of Cardiff.”
“Ay, but,” said Waldemar, “your sire [ancestor] Henry sate more firm in his seat than your Grace can. I say the best prison is that which is made by the sexton: no dungeon like a church-vault! I have said my say.”
“Prison or tomb,” said De Bracy, “I wash my hands of the whole matter.”
“Villain!” said Prince John, “thou wouldst not bewray our counsel?”
“Counsel was never bewrayed by me,” said De Bracy, haughtily, “nor must the name of villain be coupled with mine!”
“Peace, Sir Knight!” said Waldemar; “and you, good my lord, forgive the scruples of valiant De Bracy; I trust I shall soon remove them.”
“That passes your eloquence, Fitzurse,” replied the knight.
