I Crown Thee King: A Romance

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BY THE SAME AUTHOR

The Garden of Swords
f Kronstad

I.

Fio

The Footsteps of a Throne

O

I CROWN THEE KING

A ROMANCE

BY

MAX PEMBERTON

WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BT
FRANK DADD AND A. FORBSTIER

METHUEN & CO.

36 ESSEX STREET W.C.

LONDON
1902

BY THE SAME AUTHOR

The Garden of Swords

Kronstad

F6o

The Footsteps of a Throne

I

BOOK I— THE FOREST

CHAPTER I

I READ OF MASTER MILES

" The air is ripe with wings
Rustling through wood or dripping over lake."

George Hill.

THE violets and the grass were springing
to life; the linden bloomed, perchance
the nightingale sang, as Heine willed, to make
a virgin spring, when I carried Master Miles's
narrative to the bower in the forest and there
read at my will of the days of long ago. All
about me was the awakening murmur of nature
new-born; I beheld the stately avenues of
elms ripe and green with the first gifts of
Paschal time; the laburnums were crowned
with gold abundantly ; the lilac blossomed

2 I CROWN THEE KING

everywhere ; soft to the tread was the rich new
grass ; the violets perfumed the air as with an
odorous rain sprinkled generously upon the
willing earth ; I could hear the music of the
brooks as they raced upon the shining stones ;
bells tinkled melodiously; a distant village
church chimed out the hour as with an echo of
earth's welcoming. Spring, indeed, was at the
gate, and who should remember the shadows
of the winter's night ?

I was many a mile from England when I
carried the book (sent to me from an old library
in Stratford) to the little wooden house they
had built at the Gorge aux Loups in the great
forest of Fontainebleau ; yet I must bring my
mind back, as I turned the pages of Master
Miles s record, to the woods and meadows of
my own country ; must see the whitening snow
as it blinds and drifts upon the road to Oiler-
ton ; must forget the sharp shrill note of this
strange tongue I hear, to recall the full deep
voices of the woodlanders who kept the feast
so merrily when Mary was Queen in London
and Roy was King of Calverton. No lamp of
spring, shedding a golden light in the glades
of Fontainebleau might put out the radiance of
that old romance. For to Sherwood must I

I READ OF MASTER MILES 8

go again as the leaves were turned and the
record shaped itself; and with old Master Miles
would I laugh or cry as the mood took me;
and my breath would come the faster when Sir
Roy rode out ; and readily would I forget that
to-morrow I must be in Paris again with a black
coat upon my back and a railway ticket in my
hand. Such forgetfulness Master Miles gave
me. To him be the thanks, if they will serve
him in that place whence he has met again the
merry men of Ollerton.

Mary had been Queen three years when
Master Miles sat down to write his book ; and
soured was his stomach at a task so new to
him. " God wot, my masters," says he, ** but I
am the fuller of good honest ale than of this
matter ye speak of Yet, if it be that ye would
hear aught of Roy the Outlaw, and of my lady
who went with him to the Sanctuary, then
lacking a better man, and in so far as I can sit
me at a table shall Her Majesty's royal will and
pleasure be done. For be it known unto your
worships that I am a man of many words, and
there be those that ride out from Mansfield and
from Nottingham to hear me upon this matter ;
and many a cup have I drunk upon it, and
many a good man hath got his crown broke

4 I CROWN THEE KING

that did deny me — which your worship will
duly make mention of to Her most Excellent
Majesty."

Merry Master Miles, good bailiff of Kirkby-
in-Ashfield — a man of generous words as he
himself has said. To me such licence is for-
bidden, nor may I assume a later-day temper
for such long-winded narratives as these. A
new year would be heralded while we were
still together in Sherwood Forest if but a half of
that which he has written were here recorded.
Rather, let us avoid the ale-house wherein this
loquacious wine-bibber told, ay! a thousand
times, the story by which posterity has known
him ; and, applauding brevity, let us go back as
the crow flies to Merry England when Mary
found her, and to one whose name will live
among us until the grave of romance be
forgotten, and all that was best of chivalry is
no longer a tradition to them that keep the
gate.

CHAPTER II

MASTER PELLET GOES UPON A JOURNEY

''Through the hushed air the whitening shower descends^
At first thin, wavering; 'til at last the flakes
Fall broad, and wide and fast, dimming the day
With a continual flow."— Thomson, The Seasons.

ANIGHT in Sherwood Forest, a bitter
night of winter. The air all quivering
with the feathery flakes falling broad and wide
and fast upon the road to OUerton. A moan
of the north wind for the discord of the storm ;
a shimmer, as of silver, where the forest road
has been. And upon that road goes Master
Pellet, a squire of good renown ; and with him
rides Ren6, the pag^; and the tread of their
horses' hoofs is like a brush of the hand upon a
couch of velvet; and their cloaks are drawn
close about their heads — and the one is of good
courage, going fearlessly as lads will, if only it
be upon an adventure; and the other stops

6

6 I CROWN THEE KING

often to curse the sun and the stars, the moon
and the planets, the father that begot him and
the night that sent him forth. Of such is the
first picture that the merry bailiff paints for us.
A night in Sherwood Forest ; a bitter night
of winter — and Master Pellet, the squire to
the Lord of Stow, and Ren6, who was my
lord's page (for who will hearken to the evil
tongues that would claim a nearer kinship for
him?) dreaming of supper and of bed five
leagues from Nottingham town. Even here,
upon a sunny spring day at Fontainebleau,
I can see the travellers as they ride — the lad
upon a willing pony, the gaunt and sharp-
nosed squire upon his great black horse. An
hour ago the red sun shone through the quiver-
ing haze of snow, but the red sun shines no
more. Blinding are the white flakes which
beat down from that whitening tracery of
branch and bough. Silent is all the mazy
path, as with the ultimate silence of the night
of death. There no bell is heard, no church
clock chimes the hour for them. Glade
succeeds to glade, avenue to avenue; now is
there a great white down rolled out before
their weary eyes; now does the environing
thicket creep close to them and lift up a

PELLET GOES ON A JOURNEY 7

thousand spectres of the shaping snow. Wild
figures with unearthly arms outstretched, great
buildings of the tempest and the storm are
shattered before their eyes, even, as nature
builds them for her sport and jesting. The
travellers go doggedly, swiftly, stubbornly.
The lad could cry for pain of the cold, but
there is no tear upon his cheek. The squire
would sell his soul for a draught of the hot
spiced wine, but there no wine may he drink
until the Abbey door be found and the Abbey
bell be rung — and those that dwell therein (if,
indeed, there be a human thing left in that
once proud fane) shall minister to his dire
necessities.

The darkness deepens, the capricious wind
moans anew, the flakes are tossed hither and
thither as spindrift from an angry sea. To
the squire's curses, the lad's appeals are added.
He speaks for the first time since the red sun
sank and the spirit of the storm was loosed.

"Oh, Master Pellet, Master Pellet, is it far
yet to go ? "

"A murrain on your tongue! Dost think,
then, that I go for my own behoof and pleasure ?
God wot, if mine were the bird that OUerton
had caged these twenty years against the day

8 I CROWN THEE KING

that love would warm me to the venture, then
might she lie caged again a spell ere my amours
took me from my bed this doleful night. How !
' Turn not to the right hand nor the left, Master
Pellet, draw not rein for cup or sup ; snow or
fire, ay ! though twenty devils forbid, you shall
come to OUerton to-morrow and give my lady
word.' You heard him for yourself — you heard
his words and will bear witness that I go right
cheerfully — may the good God send fire to
breathe upon my limbs ! "

Ren6 the page beat his hands woefully.

"You are patience herself, Master Pellet.
There never was so gentle a squire in all the
hundred of Nottingham. Some, perchance,
would say that your words belie you and that
you are afraid."

"Afraid — the Holy Saints keep me, afraid of
what, young sir ? "

"That we shall find no lodging to-night, ay,
none but a lodging in the snow, and a stoup
of the clear white wine that flows in yonder
brook."

He laughed boyishly, and pointed to the
babbling brook, which would not yet admit the
white victory, but tossed spindrift of the frost
like a cascade of the purest gems. A lull of the

PELLET GOES ON A JOURNEY 9

storm permitted them to see the fantastic copse
beyond, and all the mantled forest so still and
white and silent that the spirit of solitude might
have touched it with a magician's wand.
Master Pellet cursed again inaudibly, and
wrapped his black cloak close about his
mouth.

"Talk not to me of fear," said he, "for
surely there is nothing in heaven or earth that
I am afraid of. Nevertheless — ^the Father of
Saints protect me — what cry is that ? "

He drew rein and listened upon the very
brink of the ford. Ren6 the page, laughing
cunningly, rode up to him and had a word upon
it

"They say that strange tongues speak at
Robin's Oak — tongues that no mortal man
does well to hear. The tree lies but a
hundred paces from yonder thicket, Master
Pellet. Ay, surely 'twas no human thing."

"Let it be writ in devil's ink that I went
forth this night," groaned the trembling squire ;
"stand close to my side, young sir. I would
not have harm come to you for all the waiting
dames in Nottingham. You heard the cry ? "

" Ay, as a voice upon the wind ; as the raven
mocking; as the dog that cries the hour of

»- . k

t

10 I CROWN THEE KING ^

death ; as the old owl hooting when the spirit
passes.*'

Master Pellet began to tremble as he sat upon
his great black horse.

"Give me a sword at my hip and a good
staff in my hand, and I fear nobody that draws
breath," said he ; " but the things you make
mention of, I will not deny that I have no
stomach for them, young sir. For, look you,
how shall a man who has a soul to save stretch
out his hand to him whose soul is already lost ?
and what doth a true child of the Holy Church
in the place of devils abiding — ^as most surely
they are, Master Ren4 or wherefore come they
not abroad by day ? God wot, I am no exorcist,
and if, peradventure — nay, a plague upon your
tongue, you laugh at me ! "

He spoke a true word, for the page's
laughter rang out in the wood like a clarion
note, clear and sweet on the still night air.

" A coward — confess, confess. Master Pellet.
'Twas but a horse's neigh that I heard. No
exorcist nor lustral water you shall need for
them that keep the horse. Nay, up in your
saddle, and if there be a monk still in Sherwood,
compel him to lend us an ear. 'Tis the Abbey
gate, man, and yonder lies your bed."

■ •

"PELLET GOES ON A JOURNEY 11

Master Pellet sat up as though one had
(>ricked him in the back. Through the white
vista, splendid now in the truce of storm, he
saw the shadow of the great church.

" To God be the glory," cried he, " for here,
surely, I will lay me to sleep this night, though
all the lords in Christendom lack wenches' lips
to-morrow."

« « « « «

The Abbey stood in a clearing of the forest,
upon a grassy hill, wherefrom you could look
over the vista of brake and thicket, opening
now like a sea of frozen billows where the
snow had stilled the forest life. A squat
and rambling building, which had caught the
fashion of no particular school but the charm
of many, its hospitable g^te once echoed with
the merry voices of those that came and went
to the g^est-house of the willing monks. But
an evil day had befallen the guardians of its
sanctuaries. Heavy was the book in which
their sins were recorded. They went forth at
the Dissolution, no man knew whither. He
who had borne witness against them, Philip of
Hillingdon, was the first to petition for a share
of that which fell into the gaping coffers of the
libertine monarch. Others tilled their lands

.»

12 I CROWN THEE KING

and garnered the grain which they had planted.
Grass grew in the cloister garth ; no longer did
the Angelas bell ring out a welcome message to
the weary husbandman. By the postern gate
the monks went out. The traveller beat hence-
forth in vain at the door of the once hospitable
refectory. None answered him ; no voice was
heard in all that house; no prayer was said
even for the dying or the dead.

Through Edward's reign of blessed memory,
Philip of Hillingdon kept to his possession of
the monks' land, and, as many said, of not a little
of their silver and their gold. But in the first
years of Mary's rule, fearing the new dominion
of those that he had robbed, and having no
stomach for any stool of penitents, he got him
to Flanders speedily, and there waited for the
day when the Pope's pack should be sent to
exile again, and a Protestant queen should
restore to him. Sir Philip, the goods which he
had pilfered so adroitly. But a year and a day
passed, and neither monk nor friar came to
Calverton. The very place where the Abbey
stood had been forgotten, men said. Whatever
Queen Mary might do in London for the Faith
she fostered so zealously, she did nothing in
Sherwood Forest. The grass grew yet in the

•K«tf

PELLET GOES ON A JOURNEY 13

cloister garth. The weed sprouted where the
Abbot's foot had trod. No sweet savour of
baked meats greeted the nostrils of the hungry
traveller. Even the house of God found no
wandering priest to be its servant.

All this, we gather, was a thing of common
talk in Nottingham when Master Pellet set out
upon his journey. He had hoped at the best
for a little shelter from the storm ; a comer in
some forgotten cell when at last he should
knock at the Abbey gate, and forget the
dolour of his travail. And his surprise is to
be judged when, riding swiftly up the hillside,
a blaze of light flashed upon his astounded
eyes, and the very welkin rang with the lusty
song of well - tuned throats. For an instant,
indeed, his old superstitions tightened his hand
upon his bridle-rein, and checked the current
of his hopes. What men, then, kept the
carnival in Calverton that night? Whose
were the voices? Had the monks come to
their own again? He listened with beating
heart.

" A strange song for the Lord's house, and
little godly withal. Dost mark the rhythm of
it, young sir ? A groom at the bedding never
had blither song upon his lips. * Come, merry

14 I CROWN THEE KING

men, merry men, merry men all/ God wot,
'tis neither Matins nor Lauds nor any office to
my ken. I like it not. Master Ren^ I like it
not."

Ren6 the page peeped out slyly through the
folds of his cloak.

" I have heard it said, Master Pellet, that
the fiend loves well to light the candles which
the priest has forgotten. Do not forget that
we are at Robin's Oak! Ay, surely, 'tis no
human hand that shall give us our supper this
night."

*' No human hand verily — nay, a plague
upon you, rogue. Dost think to affright me,
Nicholas Pellet, with your hags' tales and
your clatter of ghoul and carrion like to that ?
Go steadily, young sir, I beseech you. I would
not have a hair of your head come to harm,
though the foul fiend himself set cup before
me. Prudence is a kindly mistress if you bide
her pleasure. Peradventure a little dalliance
upon their threshold shall tell us if these truly
be men of God come to their own again or
others that we wot not of. Permit your cloak
to fall upon your sword, Master Ren6. Let
none say that we come not as men of peace " —

Master Ren6 laughed again; so loudly, so

PELLET GOES ON A JOURNEY 15

wickedly, that the very woodlands rang with
the joy of it. Supper and bed and merry men
for his boon companions — ^these, surely, were
to be found where the painted windows flashed
their glorious light upon the untrodden snow,
and the lusty note of men's good voices waked
the forest from its sleep. Once, twice, thrice,
the lad hailed the wardour of the Abbey
gate.

" Within there, within there — charity in the
name of God ! "

But Master Pellet came up the hill warily,
and as he rode he muttered to himself —

"If this be not worth a bag of gold pieces
when my lord is bedded, then out upon such
scurvy service."

« « « « «

Master Ren6 beat upon the Abbey gate, and
it opened at his knock as the door of a palace
wonderful. So bright was the torch held up
before his eyes that some moments passed and
found him still blinded by the light He could
not see the hand which lifted the torch nor the
cloister which lay behind the gate; but he
heard a shrill voice greeting him with as odd
a word of welcome as ever had fallen upon his
ears.

16 I CROWN THEE KING

" The board is spread, the cup is filled ; why
tarriest thou, O brother ? "

Ren6 laughed at the greeting. His eyes
were accustomed now to the glare of the light,
and they showed him a figure no less odd than
the voice. It was that of a mouthing dwarf,
who had not forty inches of stature, who was
dressed from head to foot in tunic and hose of
a vivid green, and who stood upon the tip of
his toes to inspect the face of the stranger.

** Nay, sir, I tarry not at all," said the page ;
" point to a shed for my horse, and I will even
see that the cup is emptied ere the Lord Abbot
hath greeted me."

The dwarf uttered a shrill sound like a
night-bird crying in the copse. Other figures
appeared in the precincts of the Abbey. They,
too, wore the tunics and the hose of green ; but
they carried swords at their belts and they
swarmed about the travellers as though all
nicety of ceremony were foreign to them.

" Whence come you, sirs ? "

"Even from Nottingham town upon an
errand of peace," hastily interposed Master
Pellet.

** Does Mistress Peace walk abroad then in
storm^and tempest ? "

PELLET GOES ON A JOURNEY 17

'' Nay, she seeks bed and board, and so she
comes to the Abbey gate," said Ren^ leaping
nimbly from his horse.

A very fat man, who waddled as he
went, tapped Master Pellet roughly upon the
shoulder.

" Canst drink a butt of sack, friend ?"

'* I know not, good sir."

"Nay, thou shalt this night, or beware of
the sickness, beware of the sickness, man of
Nottingham."

He laid a heavy hand upon the squire's
shoulder as he spoke, but Master Pellet drew
back apprehensively. The scene, the hour,
the quaint figures moving upon the snow, the
weird pictures which the windows gave
affrighted him as he had never been affrighted
in all his life. No more superstitious than his
neighbours, he yet could ask himself if these
were human things or the machination of the
devil. Why were such men at Calverton at
all ? Who had given them this right of tenancy ?
Was it possible that the hags' tales were true
after all, and that Robin Hood and his merry
men did indeed ride the forest in the witching
hours of night ? Swearing to believe no such
folly, he entered the refectory with his guides.

18 I CROWN THEE KING

The spectacle that he saw was as fire upon
his fears. The door of the enchanter's palace
opened at last, and Master Pellet could look
into the very heart of it.

It was a noble room, this refectory, in the
fashion of the colleges which the seventh Henry
named at Cambridge arid at Westminster.
Vast painted windows gave to it a mellow light
by day and cast by night their saintly pictures
on the grass of the cloister garden. Unknown
artists, girt about, perchance, with rope and
habit, had decorated its groined ceiling with
many a legend and allegory. Images still
filled the niches of its majestic walls. Hang-
ings of fine tapestry gave warmth and colour
to the dais where once the Lord Abbot sat.
Hundreds of tapers of the purest wax shed a
brilliant glow upon the groaning tables and the
cups of gold and silver that bedecked them.
Never in the maddest moments of his dreams
had Nicholas Pellet imagined a spectacle so
brilliant. Men of all ages, men of many
countries were gathered at that merry board.
Cavaliers still wearing their caps and corselets
of steel, bowmen in the famous Lincoln green,
gallants in doublets of satin and mantles of
velvet, mock monks in habits of brown and

PELLET GOES ON A JOURNEY 19

black, pages, squires, serving-men, all helped
the babel of tongues which arose deafeningly
above the clatter of the feast

The dwarf had been the first to break in
upon this scene, and he stood now at the foot
of the dais crying: "Give ear, give ear to
the travellers from Nottingham." For a little
while no one seemed to heed him, but at last a
man of fine presence who sat upon a great
carved chair at the head of the high table, rose
to his feet, and instantly a hush fell upon the
assembly. Master Pellet was conscious of a
hundred searching eyes turned cunningly upon
him, but his fears were vanishing. After all
the smell of the viands was very good. These
men would not be robbers. He had no shadow
of an idea as to their identity, and he half
believed that he was about to sup with the
devil ; nevertheless he reasoned that he had not
come there of his own will and intent, and that
the snowstorm must make good his case with
Providence. So he answered the questions
which the president of the feast put to him,
and began to carry himself with not a little
assurance.

"I am Nicholas Pellet, squire to the Lord
of Stow, and I go to OUerton upon an urgent

20 I CROWN THEE KING

business, your worships. Give me shelter for
this night and I will hold you among my
benefactors."

Ren^ the page, stepping fearlessly to the
dais, hastened to add his own account.

"Your worships," cried he, "reassure
Master Pellet, I do beseech you, for his teeth
have been chattering in his head since sundown.
And he is a man of great courage, sirs, and
there is no human thing which can affright
him, as he himself will tell you. Put but a
sword in his hand " —

Beads of perspiration burst out upon the
squire's forehead.

"The devil burn your tongue!" cried he;
**do not hear him, gentlemen, for surely he
is a great liar. I am a man of peace, and love,
not dispute or quarrelling. As for this sword I
carry, 'tis a good sign against robbery and
all violence, yet I vow, sirs, I would no more
draw it upon a brother man than bleed myself
with a barber's knife."

A smile crossed the president's face. He
was a very fine man, who carried himself with
an amusing gravity, and Master Pellet, when
he observed his doublet of blue velvet and his
vesture emblazoned with rare gems, said.

PELLET GOES ON A JOURNEY 21

surely, that he was of noble birth and some
estate. Moreover, there was a merry humour
in his eye while he listened to the squire's
protestations, and he answered as one who
must be obeyed.

" Nay, sir," said he, ** first satisfy your hunger,
and then, if you will, there be many here ready
to try the temper of your steel."

"The Lord God forbid that I should play
so scurvy a trick upon them that befriend me
this night"

" Oh, you shall not go unsatisfied, Master
Pellet, be sure of it. We have good blades
here and love a merry fellow."

" I am no merry fellow, sir, but a poor squire
who rides to OUerton upon a matter which may
brook no delay."

" Art a priest's man, rogue ? "

" May I drop to the nether hell if ever I sit
at meat with such a fellow as your lordship
speaks of! "

" Insult not a Holy Faith, or I will have you
beaten with cudgels. Come, we must know
of your business. What carries you to
OUerton ? "

Master Pellet began to shake like an aspen
at the tremor of storm.

22 1 CROWN THEE KING

** Be patient with me, sir, I beseech you,**
said he; '*the Catholic Faith lies near to my
heart, as your lordship knows, and God forbid
that I should slander the holy priests. Never-
theless, I go to OUerton upon the business of
my lord who has lately come from the city of
Rome to this, his own country, and is now
lying sick in Nottingham. A sure misfortune,
sir, for his horse has fallen with him, and my
lady must wait yet ere the priest shall bind
them, since he cannot set foot to the ground,
and God knows, he would not come to her upon
a litter.**

A ripple of laughter greeted the squire's
apology. Down at one of the lower tables a
merry youth chimed in with his suggestion.

"An* the lady cannot wait, good sir, here is
one that has a whole foot and will hurry to
her.'*

Other voices took up the cry. " A priest, a
priest, and a good man for my lady. Nay,
Roy of Calverton, why dost thou wait.^ Art
one to leave a woman whimpering ? "

The president, for he was Roy of Calverton,
raised a jewelled cup in his hands.

**A toast, a toast, to my lady of OUerton
and him that rides to her."

PELLET GOES ON A JOURNEY 23

The toast was drunk with acclamation.
Fresh young voices made the rafters ring with
their joy of youth and of the cup. Fired by
the warming red wine and the generous
banquet, the mock gallants leaped upon the
tables and made arches of their swords for
tipsy youths to roll through. A roar as of a
human tempest echoed through cloister and
through cell. But Master Pellet stood quaking
in every limb. Well he knew the name of
Roy the Outlaw. There had been no bolder
knave in all Yorkshire, no name more feared,
no legend more wonderful than that of him who
had appeared so miraculously in these later
days to play the outlaw's part in the great
forests of the North, and to set the hags'
tongues busy with their tales of spirit and of
spectre. And now he was sitting for host in
the Abbey lord's seat. Master Pellet told
himself that if he left the Abbey gate alive
assuredly would he be the most fortunate of
men.

Order succeeded to the incoherency of
carousal ; the masqueraders seated themselves
once more at the table; their leader offered
a cup of the good-spiced wine to the hesitat-
ing squire.

24 I CROWN THEE KING

"Now," said he, "of a surety thou art
welcome, Master Pellet. Though I knew not
that the Baron of Stow yet lived, the name
of the Lady Barbara is not strange to me.
Was she not the daughter of Bernard of
OUerton ? "

Master Pellet, inspired by the wine to a little
courage, answered bravely —

"Her father fell in the great king's time.
She hath been lately under the charge of her
uncle, Philip of Hillingdon ; but he was of
Northumerland's men and is now away to the
Flemish coast. And you must know, sir, that
the Lord of Stow has been twenty years out
of this kingdom of England ; but being betrothed
to her when yet of child's stature, has come
again with the Popish company — begging your
worship's pardon — with these brave men of
the Holy Roman Empire, to do even as his
promise binds him. Yesterday he rode into
Nottingham town, where dire misfortune befell
him ; for marry, sir, what name shall be given
to him who bestrides a clumsy horse when the
priest is waiting at the altar? Nay, my lady
is like to lack a good man these many days
if so be that she will wait my master's
coming to OUerton. To that end I ride forth

PELLET GOES ON A JOURNEY 25

to-morrow, giving thanks likewise to your
most excellent lordship for this bounteous
hospitality."

He spoke boldly, and the outlaw heard him
in patience, but vouchsafed no answer. In
verity, a great idea had come to Roy of
Calverton. He did not heed the jests of his
men or the squire's new -grown loquacity.
Once or twice he raised a bumper to his
lips and drained it at a draught Minute by
minute the humour of his thoughts amused him
the more. How if the good men, for whom
my lady of OUerton waited, should ride up to
her house to-morrow ? how if the priest found
work after all ?

« « « « «

At daybreak next morning Master Pellet
awoke to find himself in a very strange place.
Wan light of a winter's day streamed down
upon his face through narrow windows in a wall
of stone ; there were great bells upon his right
hand and great bells upon his left; his head
ached sorely; he had a sharp pain in all his
limbs ; no voice nor sound in all that dismal
place helped him to memory of the night of
yesterday nor the wonders of the night. Long
he lay, asking himself what miracle had brought

26 I CROWN THEE KING

him to such a place, and why it was that Ren6
the page had left him in such a plight. When
he came to his fuller senses, he discovered that
he was in the belfry of the Abbey church.

"And, Lord God," said he, "they have
taken away the ladder!"

CHAPTER III

MY LADY OF OLLERTON

''Come, bring with a noise,
My merrie, merrie boys,
The Christmas log to the firing.**— Herrick.

FAIR and broad were the lands of OUerton ;
thrusting their pastures into the heart of
the forest ; bordering often upon gentle rivers ;
rich and fertile, and the home of many an
honest husbandman. It was good, men said,
to ride out of the woodlands to the great brick
house that Bernard had built in the days
before the King's mandate came to him, and
he had gone away to London to stand arraigned
with More and Fisher and the greatest of
England; and had left his only child as a
legacy to them that loved him. A proud
house, in truth ; a very palace in a day when
the rich did not disdain hovels of clay, and
many a manor had no bed in all its tenements.

28 I CROWN THEE KING

High it stood upon the hills that beetled the
swift - running river. Green gardens girt it
about in sunimer; the snows of winter lay
white and crisp to make rolling downs before
its gates when the Christmas feast was kept.
But the enduring pride of it, as the saying
goes, was my lady, and men named her first
when their hearts remembered OUerton.

Fair and broad were the lands that Bernard's
daughter came to rule when he was dead, and
her guardian had fled the country because
of Northumberland's deed; yet neither their
extent, nor the snow that lay thick upon them,
could keep the Lady Barbara to the house
when the poor had need of her, and the first
whisper of the season's joy was heard. Very
early upon the eve of Christmas she rode forth
with Master Hawkins, her steward, and Peter,
the bailiff, and grooms a score to lead the
packhorses whereon her gifts were heaped ;
and loud was the voice of Master Eleazar, the
minister, when he protested —

*' You go to beggar yourself, my child. The

day may come, ay, sooner than ye think, when

the need of these things will be a fruit of

sorrow unto us."

^ My lady sprang up upon her horse — a, fair

MY LADY OF OLLERTON 29

figure she was, as all the serving-men bore wit-
ness — ^and answered him with a merry laugh —

** Nay, I go to make the poor glad, Master
Eleazar. To-morrow you may preach to them
of avarice when the feast is done, and the
Yule log has left a good ember upon their
hearths."

She rode away, over the snows and into the
hushed forest, a good figure of charity upon a
pretty white horse, her eyes flashing with the
light of a young girl's health ; her cheeks all
flushed with that radiance of colour which towns
may never give, nor all the ornaments of those
that live in palaces. By cottage and by
hamlet ; by the huts of the woodlanders ;
through ways that were arched with a dazzling
tracery of the new-fallen snow — even to the
homes of the lowliest, she went apace ; and for
each she found a ready word of greeting;
bending often to kiss the child that knelt to
her; most eloquent always when the mother's
heart had voiced the gratitude that everywhere
was spoken. The forest had seen no fairer
apparition ; Christmas had no type more
perfect ; there was no figure of the feast more
welcome in merry England that day.

She hurried through the woods, drawing

30 I CROWN THEE KING

rein often to gaze upon some frosted scene
of surpassing beauty, of nature glorified in
sleep as with a night-gift of fair jewels. There
was no spot in all that forest which was not
dear to hen No woodlander had knowledge
more intimate, or could ride a straighter road,
or come home again with surer instinct
Those who followed her muttered their curses
as they spurred their heated horses; but she
had no fatigue, no thought of the many miles
of pilgrimage. She was going to make the
poor glad. She had ridden out that she might
do as her father did in the days when the forest
sought no other lord.

** Charge her haste to the tidings, and God
forgive me for the words I speak," exclaimed
Peter the bailiff, as he splashed after her
through the rushing water of the ford, and
espied a little hamlet lying snug in the shelter of
a mighty girdle of whited trees ; "if this news
be true, and my Lord of Stow be in England
again, we shall find another master before the
candles are blessed. Master Hawkins. I pray
Heaven she will make love less hastily than
now she rides. 'Tis a bad road for a stumble,
and there be more outs than ins upon it."

Master Hawkins, who was shaking in his

MY LADY OF OLLERTON 81

saddle like a good sack of corn right badly roped,
stammered an answer between his gasps —

"A true word, my friend, a true word — if
my Lord of Stow will ride her pace, he needs
a good horse and a saddle of flock. I am
shook to the very marrow. The Lord be
praised that the hamlet lies yonder!''

Peter the bailiff watched the jolting figure
with some delight.

"God save you, Master Hawkins, but yours
is a merry barrel. Do you ply whip and let
my lady see you. She will rein for very
charity. Nay, would you go ambling while a
mistress waited for you in the guest-hall at
OUerton.^ She rides a maiden's errand, and
if the message be true there will be one at
home against her coming. My lord was at
Nottingham yesterday. He would set out at
daybreak, and the curfew should find him at
our gates."

Master Hawkins reined back his horse, and,
cold as the wind was, he mopped perspiration
from his brow. They were in the village now,
among the rude huts of the swineherds, who
carried the Yule logs to their hearths, and ran
out again from their hovels crying a blessing
upon the mistress of the gifts.

>

32 I CROWN THEE KING

"The night will tell us, good friend," said
the steward when his breath had come back to
him; "if the Baron be, indeed, come to
Nottingham, then have we found a new master,
as you say. For my part, I shall keep my
wind against the day when I must cry the
news. There be many things, good and ill,
that God may send us in these dangerous
times. I would as soon expect a priest as a

I lover for that matter; and while the Queen

forgets who lives at OUerton, 'twould be a
fooFs part to remind her of it, and do my lady
a mischief. She hath need of a wise man's
word ; and the sooner such a one shall come,
the better for those that serve the house."

He spoke with some confidence, as one who
suffered a heavy responsibility and would gladly
shift it to the shoulders of another. But they
had ridden, by that time, to the place where
my lady stood ; and now the steward hastened
to clamber down from his saddle and to hand
such of the gifts as were needed to the women
and children, who stood, in wistful expectation,
before the doors of the little church. An old
priest, bareheaded and ready to exert a kindly

> authority, came out of his house and raised

his hands in blessings. Rough fellows snatched

MY LADY OF OLLERTON 83

off their caps and aped a fine humility. The
little ones alone chattered fearlessly and with
confidence.

''God bless the sun that shines upon you,
my lady. Oh, we knew that you would come.
Since dawn have we waited. Nay, stand
back, 'tis not to thee that my lady would
speak. Oh, lady, I am so small, I cannot
even see you. Gifts, gifts — thou hast gifts
for me."

Such were the cries, these and many like to
them, as the children crowded about the horse,
and the women ran out, and great hulking
fellows, who had not laughed for many a day,
stood humbly at the throng's edge. The lady
Barbara had a word for everyone. Her strong
arms raised the children up that she might kiss
them on the lips. She knew the history of all
in that place — their troubles, their sorrows,
their needs. Good wine, cordials for the sick,
stout stufis for warmth, candles to keep the
feast, even bells for the games — there seemed
no end to the treasure which the packhorse
had carried. And for each there was a message
with the gift.

"You have a young wife — let this be for
memory of your wedding day. Your mother
3

34 I CROWN THEE KING

cannot come to me — ^bear this to her lest she
tire of waiting."

Or again to a swineherd, who stood respect-
fully a little way apart from the throng, she
said —

"Last Christmas your child lay sick unto
death — let your heart be very full when you
hear the Christmas hymn to-morrow."

The man bent his knee to her ; but another,
a sullen rogue who elbowed him, and had
received no gift, muttered a word of scorn, yet
not so low that my lady did not hear him. For
an instant a hush fell upon the little company.
They saw the blood rush to the young girl's
cheeks, the laughter leave her eyes. This
fairy of the woods had a temper, men said.
They thought that she would strike the fellow
where he stood ; they could see her hand
tighten upon her whip.

" Robin of Mansfield, remember my words,"
she cried proudly, "if to-morrow find you at
OUerton, my grooms shall show you where the
whipping-post stands."

She was gone with the words away to the
forest again, and Peter the bailiff, and Master
Hawkins the steward, once more put spurs to
their weary horses. Her impatience was no

MY LADY OF OLLERTON 35

secret to them. The Lord of Stow, who had
not been in his own country of England for
twenty years, was riding even then to her house*
The import of his journey was undisguised.
He had come to redeem the pledge made to
her father in the days of old ; a pledge that the
lands of the one should be linked to the lands
of the other in a union of houses which ever
had stood, beam to beam and gate to gate,
in all that concerned their friendship. An
adventurer who had ridden half Europe in the
pursuit of aught that adventure might give, it
had long been understood that he was to marry
Bernard's child when she entered upon her
twenty-second year. That promise, made to
the house in the days of its prosperity, held
doubly good with such a man in the hour of
its adversity. All that he could seek to profit
of marriage would be his in such a union — the
great estates of OUerton, the lordship of the
forest, the command of many an influence
which even statesmen must heed. For the
rest he cared nothing. They told him that
the girl was fair — he had seen and loved fair
women in many a capital of Europe. They
spoke of her conversion to Edward's faith.
He was a Catholic, and he vowed that he would

36 I CROWN THEE KING

soon compel obedience. Men reminded him
of the father's temper, saying that the child
had inherited a devil's will to do as she pleased
when the whim took her — he laughed at them ;
he knew the weapons with which women are
curbed. He had come back from the wars
not to be her lover but her master. He would
have stood at the altar with her already but
for that mishap which threw him from his
horse at the gate of Nottingham town, and
sent on Master Pellet the squire, and Ren6
the page, to be the ambassadors of his tardi-
ness.

The Lady Barbara understood but a tithe
of these things upon that merry day when
she rode through the forest ministering her
charities. Since her guardian, Philip of
Hillingdon, had fled to France, fearing Mary's
anger, she had been alone in the great house
of OUerton, the mistress of that splendid
domain, accustomed to the obedience of many,
fearing the disloyalty of none. Proud,
generous of heart, firm in her purpose, with a
true sense of the duty to which circumstance
had called her, she was the mistress of the
house in more than name, earning the ready
fealty of those that served her, not caring that

MY LADY OF OLLERTON 87

the day might come when her faith and her
guardian's crime should rob her of the trust
Mindful ever of that which her father had
wished, she did not trouble her head about the
future or its possibilities. If romance dwelt
within her mind, she did not speak of it.
Perchance she wearied sometimes of that
solitude of life, there in the forest's heart She
could picture to herself the glitter of cities and
of palaces, the fine words of gallantry, the
pomp and ceremony of which her father had
spoken when he came back from Henry's
court But she had her work to do, and these
pictures were for hours of idleness when a
young girl's dreams came troubling her. She
would not idle with them ; but followed
resolutely the path where duty beckoned her.

This solitary life had she lived now for
seven years. Her guardian, Philip, a man
with a mind given overmuch to the excitement
of intrigue and the pursuit of nomadic amours,
came rarely to OUerton even before the great
pursuit sent him hurrying to Flanders to save
his cunning old head. Once or twice in the
last seven years — for she was then in her
twenty-second year — she had heard news of
the man to whom her father's will had betrothed

38 I CROWN THEE KING

her. Now it would be a word from Rome and
from the Court of Pope Paul iii. ; now news
from a gossip who had come back from the
palace of the French King; or, again, some
tidings of what the Lord of Stow had done in
the service of Philip of Spain. These things
could interest her for a little while; but the
years passed and the tidings were forgotten,
and the tide of her solitude flowed once more
and threatened never again to ebb. She had
begun to forget that the man thus forechosen
for her was one whose every creed of life was
antagonistic to her own, when the news came
that he had landed in England and was riding
to Nottingham, The word was as new blood
to her veins. A strange excitement possessed
her from the hour of the messenger's arrival.
Her woman's instinct awakened within her,
and began to speak of love and marriage. Her
father's spirit nerved her to the combat of will
which must accompany a meeting so moment-
ous. Her new faith, her dominion of OUerton,
the home she loved, the people who worshipped
her — for these would she do battle strenuously.
The very anticipation of the part she must
play was a joy to her.

To such a meeting she rode on that merry

MY LADY OF OLLERTON 3»

eve of Christmas when Peter the bailiff, and
Master Hawkins the steward, toiled after her
so wearily. Her day of charity was over now.
Bright burned the fires of Yule in many a hut
and many a hamlet. The sun shone red and
full and solitary in the clear grey sky. The
trees were white and still beneath their burden
of snow. The robin gave colour to the be-
witching glades. She heard the Vesper bell
in chimes most musical when she emerged
from the forest at last, and the gates of her
lonely house stood open before her. For a
little while she drew rein to gaze upon that
home of hers and its hundred windows all
flaming in the scarlet light. Welcome was
the loom of smoke above the vast squat
chimneys. Dear to her, beyond all words,
dear were those halls her father had trod ;
those sanctuaries of her innocence ; those walls
which had sheltered the outcast and the exile.
To-morrow another would have the right to
rule that vast domain ; the right to demand her
obedience, to say, " This is my will, be it yours
also." She knew not how she would answer
such a claim ; her heart beat quick when,
there upon the threshold, she heard the fateful
message —

40 I CROWN THEE KING

*' My Lord of Stow has passed the ford, and
will be at our gates within the hour."

He had come then, the man to whom her
father had wished that this sovereignty should
pass. Slowly, and halting often, the laughter
no longer in her eyes, she rode into the great
courtyard, and so passed thence to the lonely
house.

CHAPTER IV

THE ROGUES' MARCH
" Ay, every inch a king." — Kii^ Lear.

RQiS: OF CALVERTON, and with him
the Knight of the Bow, whom some
would call Sir Percival, rode from the Abbey
of the Holy Well at dawn upon that Christmas
Eve. There were others in his train — Meagre
the dwarf, upon a scampering pony, and the
youth who yesternight had first spoken of the
jest ; and even Master Ren6 the page, caring
not whither he went if so be a little colour of
things adventurous should come into his life*
But Pellet, the squire to my Lord of Stow,
lay fast asleep in the belfry tower, and him
they would not have waked though the Voice
of Judgment had echoed in the forest

*'Wilt ride with me to OUerton upon a
merry jest?" said Roy to the page a3 they
hastened contentedly upon that frozen road ;

42 I CROWN THEE KING

**nay, surely I know thee for a lad after my
own heart ? "

" Sir," cried Master Ren^, " I serve my
Lord of Stow, yet often he hath beaten me,
and the food which I eat the dogs would not
share ; nay, nor the bed upon which I lie. I
will go with you to OUerton, and whatsoever is
your will, that shall be a law to me."

'* Right bravely spoken, young sir. Last
night at yonder board they gave me a name
which has been often in your ears. Tell me
truly, dost know that I am Roy of Calver-
ton ? "

**Ay, a hundred times hath Master Pellet
told it me. *We find strange beds,' said he,
'for the forest holds no greater rogue than
this.' "

The outlaw smiled and looked down upon
the lad as one who relished a great jest. In
all the forest, Master Ren^ thought, there was
no finer figure that day, no horse more splendid,
no man that sat upon a horse more surely. In
the first prime of a hardy life, with a girth of
chest so vast that men had named him Roy
the^Terrible ; with muscles of iron ; with long
fair hair that curled as threads of gold upon
his velvet cloak ; with a glitter of spur and

THE ROGUES' MARCH 43

accoutrement that would not have shamed a
gallant of the palace — it was no wonder that
such a man had loosed the hags' tongues again,
and sent forth all the vanished spectres of the
forest to point so great a mystery. Whence
came this new King of Calverton none knew or
cared to ask. "A robber," said some; but
others cried, *'Nay, he is no robber." "A
fellow whose head the Queen would harbour,"
protested many an officer in Nottingham. But
the women answered that so fine a head should
never come to block.

"The forest holds no greater rogue than
this, was that his tale ? Ay, we will remember
it when next we meet your squire."

''Give him but a ladder, sir, that he may
touch good ground again, and you shall
not see his face in Sherwood these forty
months."

The outlaw laughed, but quickened the
pace of his horse.

"I like a coward, blaster Ren4" said he;
"give me but a man that squeals when the
point pricks, and I will a^k no merrier book.
Art not afraid, lad, to ride with one that is
so great a rog^e?"

"Sir, I take no man's word for anything.

44 I CROWN THEE KING

least of all that of Master Pellet Prove to
me that you are a rogue, and I will begin to
show proper fear of you."

The winding mazy path, all aglow with
the crimson radiance as of fire upon a lake of
splintered jewels, now opened out, and brought
them to the banks of a little stream and to a
hamlet beyond the ford. Here Meagre the
dwarf, who was ahead of the company, began
to chant a ballad of the Christmas time in that
old voice which had so affrighted Master Pellet
yesterday; but no sooner was the first stave
heard than the people flocked out from their
houses and pressed about the outlaw clamour-
ously. Some upon their bended knees, some
seeking to kiss his hand, some crying a bless-
ing, they gave him welcome as true children
of the forest that owed allegiance to him.

"God save thee, good master. Thy gifts
came with the snow, and to-day my children
name thee in their prayers."

" Hark ! Roy of Calverton — my son lay
yesterday in Mansfield Jail. To-day he rides
the road to York. The Lord give thee a soft
bed this night."

**A blessing on thee, Roy of Calverton.
The Bailiff of Annesley, that drove my daughter

i

THE ROGUES* MARCH 45

forth, lacks ears to his head, they say. A
merry poll, my masters, that we shall not see
again for many a day."

" The Sheriff of Mansfield, he who threatened
to have thee whipped at the cart's tail, to-day
he lies abed of the cold he got in Winton mere.
Ay, right well thou hast ducked him, Roy of
Calverton."

Roy listened to the clamour, and quieted it
with hand upraised.

''Good fellows all, and pretty wenches
abundantly," said he ; "I give you Christ-
mas greeting this day. Go now to the Abbey
gate, and if ye find not strong wine for your
stomachs and fat meat for your paunches, do
so to me even as I have done to the Sheriff of
Mansfield."

Upon which (as the first reciter of this story
bears witness. Master Miles, to wit) he stooped
and raised a pretty wench that stood by his
stirrup leather, and when he had kissed her,
once, twice, thrice, he rode out of the hamlet
joyously, and called Rend the page to his side
again.

"Dost like thy rogue, lad? Art frightened
as yon good squire that lies even yet in the
belfry tower ? "

46 I CROWN THEE KING

The lad looked up at the frank, smiling face,
and his cheeks flushed with pride.

" Give me leave to follow you, sir, and the
world shall not be large enough for the
venture."

" What ! would you follow the biggest rogue
in Sherwood ? "

** To learn of his roguery, if it please you,
sir."

Roy ceased to laugh. Before his eyes lay
a witching scene of branches interlacing, and
gleaming snow and frozen pool, and thickets
where the tracery gave a thousand arches of
boughs emblazoned by the full red sun. No
breath stirred in all the forest The air was
clear as a draught from the well of life. The
joy of living was beyond all human expression.

**Ay, learn of the rogue," said the outlaw,
when he had gazed entranced a little while;
'^ learn as the forest shall teach you, lad, and the
great red sun, and the glory ©f the day. Learn
of the sky, which gives the pent bird liberty ;
learn of the weak, who shall teach you to be
strong ; learn of the poor, that you may not
wish to be rich. And so will you find a
better creed than the priests recite, and neither
Pope nor King shall come to trouble you."

THE ROGUES' MARCH 47

He set spurs to his horsei and pressed on
in a reckless gallop, over the frozen path,
through the thicket's heart, out again to the
dazzling sheen of white and the realms of snow
untrodden. When his impulse had passed,
and he had forgotten the sermon he preached,
he drew rein and questioned the page concern-
ing the Lord of Stow, and the purport of his
journey to England.

" This lord of yours — ^is he a man of good
courage ? "

"Of right good courage — so that, gainsay
him but a word, and he will cross the seas to
contradict you at the sword's point"

" I like his quality. A man of my years,
perchance, and not so old but that he could
play my r61e and I his, and none be there to
give us the lie ? "

** Of your years and ten beside — yet not of
your voice or temper, sir. Nay, I like not my
lord, nor think that he could play your r61e;
for his is a hand that carries the whip, and
yours is full of gifts."

" A harsh man, you say ? "

" As the winds of March, blowing ice and
the forgotten winter wherever it may strike.
A harsh man, that has killed his best friend in

48 I CROWN THEE KING

a brawl, and has left bleeding hearts wherever
his will has taken him."

** And yet such a one goes to the altar with
my lady of OUerton. Is not that thy tale ? "

** Twice told already — ^he goes to OUerton
so soon as the surgeon will give him leave,
and he may set foot to ground. They tell me
that he shall find spring there, in my lady's
house — yet believe it not; there will be no
spring where the Lord of Stow may come."

** A wise head, lad, set upon good shoulders
too. Here's one that will not weep when my
lady finds another man I "

"If that were possible, good thanks should

she give to her God this night"

'* Even though he be the greatest rogue in
Sherwood."

The page's heart beat quick.

"Sir," said he, "do you go to OUerton in
my lord's name ? "

** In no other, Master Rend Lord of Stow,
or baron of the holy devils, or knight-errant
and most noble esquire that Lucifer himself
hath sent forth, I go to OUerton this night to
give my lady greeting. God forbid that any
woman should wait at the altar when Roy of
Calverton can hear her complaint. As Lord

J

THE ROGUES' MARCH 49

of Stow I go, and as Lord of Stow must you
call me, ere I come to prove how great a rog^e
is this who rides with you. Dost like the jest,
young sir ? "

The lad's eyes shone brightly.

"Sir," said he, "in all my life I have never
heard a jest so good. To OUerton would I go
with you, though it lay a hundred leagues from
my father's house. Yet I will be frank, and
say that the jest must live its life while it may,
and that to-morrow, or the next day, or the
next, my lord will come to OUerton, and will
hang you from the battlement there. You
have thought of that, sir — ^you love your life
so little?"

The outlaw laughed a great ringing laugh
that waked the forest to its heart.

" Bid him hasten, young sir, or he shall find
that one lies where he should lie, and another
who holds the table which my lady's welcome
spread for him. God's truth! it shall need
many a baron of Stow to affright the knave of
Calverton when he hath set his mind upon a
purpose. If ye love him, look well to him, or
I will nail his ears to Robin's Oak, and all the
barons in merry England shall not nail them to
his head again."
4

50 I CROWN THEE KING

Ren6 rode on silently. He could not
believe that the outlaw spoke a true word;
and yet, when he came to reflect upon it, the
madness of the jest seemed linked to a certain
method. None at OUerton would remember
the face of John, Earl of Stow. None would
be able to say, " Here comes an outlaw to the
gate." Roy of Calverton had then been but
a few months in Sherwood ; he had not come
down to the South until the hills of the North
drove him forth, and twenty of the king's
officers were hunting him upon the great road
to Scotland. It were a miracle, indeed, if the
Lady Barbara should know such a man. A
true jest, said Master Ren6 to himself, and
one that fortune — that fickle mistress — per-
chance might befriend even at the steps of
the altar.

Roy of Calverton troubled his head with
no such reckoning; and, riding boldly while
the sun shone, he came, at the full of the
day, to a solitary house which lay a league
from OUerton ; and there calling Ren^ and
the dwarf, and him they named the Knight
of the Bow, to his side, he sent the others
back ; and when he had clothed himself in a
doublet of fine black velvet and hose of the

THE ROGUES' MARCH 51

richest silk, and leathers for his feet that were
all worked with ornament of silver, he drank
a cup of wine, and set out boldly for my lady's
house.

" And God knows," says the old narrator, as
he records it, "such a jest as this was never
played before in merry England."

CHAPTER V

THE JEST IS PLAYED

"All mankind love a lover."— Emerson.

IT was at sundown (as that blithe narrator,
Master Miles of Kirkby-in-Ashfield, bears
witness) that Roy of Calverton made an end of
his journey and stood before the gates of the
house which Bernard had built Thrice did
the dwarf wind his horn as the little company
crossed the snowfields of the park to that open
place where the windows shone like flaming
beacons and all the serving-men were gathered
to give the exile welcome; and at the third
blast my lady rode out to greet the traveller.

"Never," said the old record, "were there
two so fit for priest's work as those that stood
there upon the snow, the man bending even to
his saddle-bow, my lady a little reticent, yet
aglow with her curiosity as woman well might
be. England held no braver sword; there

62

THE JEST IS PLAYED 53

was no fairer thing in all this land than the
mistress of OUerton as she rode to meet her
lord with the red hue of the fuller life upon
her cheeks, and her blue eyes merry with
the doubt of it, and her hair of auburn and of
gold falling as a sheen of silk upon her sober
habit"

My lady rode to give the outlaw welcome,
and, stretching out her little hand to him, he
heard for the first time that voice of hers,
sweeter than the wood-bird's note, as many a
man of OUerton could testify.

" Welcome, my lord, thrice welcome to this
house."

Roy of Calverton sat very still upon his
horse. He had heard many a good word of
the beauty of her whom the forest called
mistress ; but now, when he saw her with his
own eyes, when he heard the low musical voice
and held the hot hand within his, it seemed to
him that all had lied and that the tongue must
yet be found which could give true account of
her.

"Cousin, to thee more than the heart can
speak," he said at length; and those who
stood by declared that the jest already had
robbed him of his wit and put a curb upon his

54 I CROWN THEE KING

courage. They did not know that the beauty
of the woman was as an enchantment to
him.

My lady spoke her word of welcome prettily
and turned that they should ride to the door
of the house together. The action gave rein
to the man's tongue. He began to speak
quickly, with that fine manner he could com-
mand so well.

"Let the frosted road make my excuses,
cousin. To-day we rode from Nottingham,
where a clumsy horse kept me to my bed for
twenty hours. Judge of that mishap to one
hastening upon so rare a journey. Nay, I
come with litde courtesy as a friar to your
gates, leaving my serving-men to crawl as they
may when the snow shall give them path.
Here I swore to be when Epiphany mass was
sung, and here am I, as you, sweet cousin, shall
bear witness. Account me thrice rewarded
already because I find you at the gate."

He leaped down from his horse and thrust
aside those that would have held her stirrup-
iron. The sun shone full upon his handsome
face and found the jewels which clasped his
velvet cloak. She could see his flaxen hair
curled upon his shoulders, and she thought

THE JEST IS PLAYED 55

that a gentler hand never lifted woman from
her saddle.

"You ask a poor recompense, my lord.
Had I known that you rode to-day, I would
have sent men and horses before you to Robin's
Oak. But your messengers named no certain
hour, promising us that another should come.
We did not think that the need of message
would pass so soon. Indeed, we know not
how sufficiently to thank you for the honour
that you do us."

There are some who say that Roy of
Calverton flushed like a girl at the question
when she continued to call him "my lord";
but others avow that he was only thinking of
Master Pellet the squire, who lay even then in
the belfry of the Abbey church, and so, per-
force, had dallied with the message from the
Earl. Be it as it may, we have the word of
Ren6 the page that the outlaw carried himself
as one of noble birth, and that when he passed
into the house with my lady the sun shone
clear and full upon them ; but, immediately
they had entered, sank behind the great girdle
of elms which edged about the park, and so
gave place to the misty twilight of a winter's
night. When next the lad beheld his master

56 I CROWN THEE KING

it was at the head of the great table, in the
hall of OUerton, where he sat as some new lord
enthroned, and ceased not to ply my lady with
his gallantries, so that the whole supper through
she laughed or was rosy red as the occasion
asked. Perchance the season made opportunity
better, for it was the custom at Bernard's house
to keep the feast of Christmas as became the
children of merry England ; and nowhere was
such a feast surpassed nor a more joyous scene
of mirth to be witnessed. Rude and ready as
were the nobles* mansions of that day, at
OUerton the newer fashion prevailed. Chairs
of oak craftily carved, fine tapestries, rich
ornaments of silver, splendid lamps which
Bernard had brought from the East, beds of
flock when beds were almost unknown — ^these
were the things of which the country spoke
wonderingly, and even travellers turned aside
to see. Yet never in its history was the great
hall more gaily decked out than when Roy of
Calverton rode to OUerton from the Abbey,
and lost his tongue a little while because my
lady called him "lord."

Right merrily they kept the feast at OUerton,
and right well Master Roy carried himself
when the first edge of habit was turned and

THE JEST IS PLAYED 57

the new estate he wore began to sit more
lightly upon him. He had numbered many a
joust and masquerade since fortune sent him to
the exile of the moors, and so soon as he had
accustomed himself to this rare homage there
was none more truly to deserve it At times,
perchance, as he sat upon the right hand of her
who ruled so rare a company, he could ask
himself if the jest had not gone far enough, if
he did not, in honour, owe it to her to declare
himself before the feast were done; but a
memory of the Baron of Stow and of his evil
reputation kept that secret unspoken.

Enough that he took a strong man's oath to
befriend my lady, and while he listened to
her pretty confidences, and began to win upon
her affections (as he rarely failed to win upon
the affections of women) he swore that her own
heart should be the mistress of her destiny,
and that he would work her will even though
it carried him to the jail of Mansfield on the
morrow. In which determination he drained a
bumper to her, and she in turn raised a silver
cup and sent her henchmen leaping to their
feet for a shout of welcome to one who should
be henceforth both Lord of OUerton and Lord
of Stow.

58 I CROWN THEE KING

"It is your welcome thrice renewed to
England, my lord," she said; " though you come
from the Holy City itself, you will find no truer
hearts than those that serve me in this house."

" I doubt it not, cousin, or how should you
have ruled so long alone ? — with what success
there have been twenty tongues to tell me as I
passed through your kingdom this day."

She flushed a little at the compliment.

"I do as my father taught me to do. With
God's help, I will never do less."

" Needing an agent of your bounty, here is
one that will help you — if that may be — to do
more."

She looked up to his face and tried to read
the secret of it

**My lord," she said frankly, "they did not
speak of such a wish as this when they made
mention of you. You are a man of courts and
cities. You will weary of Sherwood before the
leaves are on the trees."

" I will weary of it when the gates of OUerton
are shut and there is no light in all the house.
Cousin, believe not that account of me — but
my own story of one who has shame that a
woman has done so much while his own score
is but a crumpled leaf."

x^

THE JEST IS PLAYED 59

She sighed and turned away her head as one
who lingered with a doubt

"The hart to the woods, the swan to the
mere," she said. " How shall I blame you if
your road is not my road."

"I will blame myself to my life's end.
Twenty years of exile have taught me many
things, but the best lesson of them all is here
in this house to-night"

*' Then let us read it together, for the harpist
waits to tune it as we will."

They had cleared a space before the great
table by this time, and an old man, with white
hair rippling abundantly upon his stooping
shoulders, carried his harp and stood at the
foot of the dais, and there began to tune a
doleful lay. He sang of knights and tourna-
ments, the ballads made by them who rode the
Borderland three hundred years before his day.
And when he had done with it. Master Eleazar
the parson, rose to put in his serious word ; but
Meagre the dwarf was before him, and leaping
lightly to the table, he began to pipe a merrier
song.

" Sir priest," cried the dwarf, bowing to the
minister, who had begun to protest against the
affront, ** I will even look up to heaven where

60 I CROWN THEE KING

your nose points. Since your message babbles
of love, give me leave to prate of as many
amours as shall make the lamentations anew.
What, sir priest, hast no eye for a wench ? "

A shout of laughter greeted the minister,
who sat down quickly. But Meagre the
dwarf took a lute in his hands, and when he
had tuned the strings, he sang one of the old
ballads which he had learnt in the forests of
the South.

Hither, hither, merry maidens,
Hither unto me.
When the May is young,
ril give thee good song,
Good song and tunefully.
And tunefully.
No fearsome wight,
But a right bold knight.
That so doughtily, so doughtily.
Shall tune thy lips to song, red lips to song,
When May is young.

Hither snow and hither frost,

Hither unto me.

If thou wilt be but kind.

The bitter winter's wind

Shall sing all tunefully.

All tunefully.

No halting knave.

But a right good stave

That shall tune thy heart, thy heart to song.

Ere the May be young.

THE JEST IS PLAYED 61

The dwarf made an end of his ballad, and
bowed drolly until his head almost touched the
oaken board.

"Mistress of OUerton," said he, "seek not a
homily in yonder priest's sour ranting. What
saith the proverb ? 'He that tarrieth shall find
a broken road.' "

Very defdy, says the old narrator, he tweaked
the parson by the nose and jumped down from
the table again. But Roy, turning to my lady,
spake low in her ear, and when she looked at
him again her face was all aflame.

• « • • •

Roy of Calverton had many dreams that
night They had sent hiip to the west wing
of the house, to a fine room wherein once the
great king had slept; and there he lay, per-
plexed beyond knowledge at that which had
befallen him. Sleep would not befriend him,
the stillness of the hour nor the bounteous
moon which gave a sheen of silver to the be-
witching woods. The jest he had played was
ever there for argument or reproach. He had
thought, perchance, when first he mooted it, to
spend a merry hour at OUerton, and then to
ride away, crying a laugh upon those that had
received him for the Lord of Stow. But now

\

62 I CROWN THEE KING

my lady's consent put a chain upon his feet
He said, in the first moments of this self-reckon-
ing, that he would not quit the house, though
he must hang at Nottingham when the sun
shone again. None the less, the lie gave him
shame, and he remembered that the hour of
discovery could not be distant. To-morrow,
or if not to-morrow the day that followed upon
it, would send a messenger from Nottingham
to ask, who is this stranger that you harbour ?
Perchance the Lord of Stow would be well of
his hurt by that time, and out upon his journey
to the house. Roy laughed aloud when he
remembered how he had been beforehand in
that business. " If I spoke but the word, she
would go to the altar with me to-morrow," he
argued. He had the courage but not the heart
to speak it.

There was a great stillness about the house
in the first hour of that Christmas Day, and
when the moon shone at the full a little choir
of singers came to the windows of the west
wing and there sang the Christmas hymn.
The outlaw last had heard it when, as a youth
of twenty, his father had left him to the care
of the monks of Bolton Abbey, and had gone
again across the seas to the dangerous life he

THE JEST IS PLAYED 63

had not wished his son to share. What a
rough road the monks' charge had ridden since
that day. How many of his boon companions
had gone to their account I What freedom and
health of life the forests had given to him!
No dishonourable day had shamed his life, as
the story which those years of wandering could
telL He had played the outlaw's part ; but he
knew that England would be the better for
many a freebooter such as he. Yet it was odd
that this, the most momentous hour he had
lived, should find him for the first time with
the lie upon his lips. He swore, in a mood
repentant, that he would ride away at dawn
and see my lady no more.

It may have been the weird sweet music,
or it may have been the good impulse of a big
heart which brought a resolution so fine ; but
when the strains of the Christmas hymn had
died away, and the stillness of the night fell
again in strange contrast, Roy's argument took
another turn. He recalled the history of the
Lord of Stow; he remembered the gossips
who spoke of that fierce temper, that masterful
habit, that contempt of another's will which had
been the Baron's boast in many a city of
Europe. That such a man should come to

64 I CROWN THEE KING

OUerton upon such an errand fired the outlaw's
blood. He swore a great oath that the thing
should not be, even though he burned down
the house which harboured him. Lying there
in the darkened room with only a ray of the
ebbing fire to shed light upon his bed, Master
Roy could hear again the gentle voice of her
who had welcomed him so graciously, could see
her winsome face and appealing eyes; and
realise, perhaps for the first time in his life,
why men spoke of love as a sacred thing. No
longer was there any thought of gallantry or
jest. He knew that his own hope was beyond
word foolish ; and yet he could tell himself that
if to-morrow found him still at OUerton, it
might find him also at the altar.

In this argument, this self-reproach and self-
excuse, the long night passed. What sleep he
had was fitful and unresting ; giving him ever
the vision of a bewitching face set about with
a colouring of auburn hair ; and of eyes alight
with new affections, but waked to passion when
the need was. Once, in truth, this vision was
shadowed by another, in which he beheld him-
self riding the forest alone in the track of a
horseman who neither spoke nor would declare
himself. Veiled was the face of the man, and

THE JEST IS PLAYED 65

far he went by mere and mead through the
forest's heart to the distant city, and the light
of the winter's morn. When at last he turned,
and the veil fell from his face, the dreamer
awoke with sweat upon his brow and trembling
limbs — ^for the face was the face of death, and
fleshless bones were hidden by that inky cloak.

"An omen, an omen — God's truth, how real
these things are while the night lasts. Yet a
flash of the daylight and they are gone as mists
which the good sun scatters."

He sprang up from the bed and pulled the
curtain back that he might give the morning
greeting. Day was quivering in the heavens
then ; the heralds of the light won lagging
victory ; but Roy regarded neither the beauty
of the morn nor the enchanting scene which
lay before his windows. For a horseman had
ridden into OUerton, and was now in the very
courtyard of the house, crying that he had
tidings of importance for the Lord of Stow,
and could brook no delay. When the servants
answered the messenger, a memory of the
vision came back to Roy, and for an instant
he thought to see the fleshless face and the
figure of his sleep. But, anon, he laughed
aloud at this conceit; for he who came was
5

66 I CROWN THEE KING

one of his own men, and no great head were
needed to guess the business which had brought
him there.

"I have ridden from the Abbey, master.
There is a gossip of danger to be spoken most
fitly where none may hear. They say that the
Lord of Stow quits Nottingham this day and
will be at OUerton before to-morrow noon."

"Who carries the tidings.^"

*' A messenger that came to the Abbey gate
yester-eve at sundown. He lies to-day cheek
by jowl with the squire ye entertain, and God
forgive them the hymn of Christmas they sang
this morning."

** Was he upon the road to OUerton ?"

" Nowhere else. The Earl is better of his
hurt and thinks to be upon a horse to-day. If
you would not bide until the jest be stale, let
some good excuse take you hence ere the
mischief be done. 'Tis fool's work to pipe a
stave when the flagon is empty. They say
that there be long ropes at Nottingham,
master."

Roy heard the man out and began to pace
his chamber musingly. He realised that this
was the moment when he must make the
ultimate choice — either to live the lie out or

THE JEST IS PLAYED 67

to go, as he had come, a jester who asked
nothing but laughter of his jest. And they
say that he had determined already upon his
course, nay, had put bridle to his horse, when
it chanced that my lady came out to the terrace
of the house ; and when he saw her there, so
fresh, so radiant, so gentle to him, he turned
back from his purpose.

"And," said he to himself, "here will I
abide this day though all the men of Nottingham
ride out to gainsay me."

CHAPTER VI

THIS IS THE OUTLAW'S KINGDOM

*'The name, that dwells on every tongue,
No minstrel needs."— Manrique.

MY lady came out to him, and when she
saw that they had brought his horse
to the gate, she was quick to express her
astonishment

" You ride betimes, my lord — is your
business urgent, or shall we blame our hos«
pitality ? "

" Blame neither, cousin. I do but ride if
you will ride; and when you will not ride, I
am as good a footman as the best of them.
Let your word be law to me at Ollerton."

" They spoke of you as one who would not
brook contradiction. I begin to doubt the
report. You are not masterful enough,
Earl, that a woman may lead you where
she will."

THE OUTLAW'S KINGDOM 69

*^ Give a name to my mistress and I will tell
you whether her road be mine or no. 'Tis
better to doubt, cousin, if you would not presently
be undeceived."

Frankly, says the old chronicle, she stretched
out her hand to him, regarding him with a
gracious smile as one who had judged him
already and would not hear aught against her
judgment Those that were about the gate
bore witness that never had a better man stood
in the courtyard nor one they would more
readily have called their lord.

" I will not gainsay you," cried my lady
willingly, as he stooped to kiss her hand, " * let
the sleeping dog lie,' says the proverb, and
since you had the thought of riding out, my
lord, they shall bring me my horse if my
company be not unwelcome to you."

He did not protest how welcome her company
was to him, but gave her a look which could
bring the blood to her cheeks ; and anon they
rode through the park together toward the
hamlets and the villages wherein the great feast
must be kept

" I will show you my dominion," she said as
they went ; " the Queen has many that wait
upon her word, but not so many that give

70 I CROWN THEE KING

service of their hearts. Look, Earl, upon all
this great estate. There is no talk here of
riches or of poverty, but only of content, which
in itself is the surest gate of any kingdom.
Here you may find none who turn to the
city willingly. Our treasure of gold is the
ripening corn ; our faith is the bread which
the children eat If it be my lot to maintain
them in this content, then is my duty to my
father's name well done. But I am a woman,
and I know that the day may come when those
who remember my father's face will bethink
them also of his house. The burden is the
heavier for the thought — and where shall a
young girl find her counsellors?"

"She shall find them in her own wisdom.
No woman is weak, cousin, who remembers
her own womanhood. The counsel which you
seek will be given by one who has your eyes to
see the forest as it is, and to know the children
of it. The stranger will bring the stranger's
law to alienate the people and to cast down
your kingdom. Beware of him if you would
yet rule at OUerton."

He spoke very earnestly, forgetting the r61e
he played ; but she was quick to remind him of
it.

THE OUTLAWS KINGDOM 71

"The stranger brings the stranger's law —
you speak a riddle, surely. Have not twenty
years passed since you were in this kingdom of
England ? "

The outlaw turned away his head.

" Twenty years or forty — the heart does not
grow old in affection for the homes we leave.
My road of exile has crossed many a city and
taken me to many a kingdom, cousin, yet I
would sooner own yon hut in this forest of
Sherwood than a palace in the city of the
Caesars."

''Heroic in the vow yet difficult in the
deed, since yon is the hut of a swineherd,
Earl."

" A swineherd, if you will, nevertheless one
whose coming can bring the sunlight to the
house and whose going thence may make it a
place of darkness."

It was the first word of his love he whispered
to her upon that momentous morning; but
taking courage of her silence he began now to
be more bold with it

" Yesternight," said he, " I rode to OUerton
thinking that dawn would find me again upon
my journey. Shall I tell you, cousin, why I
have rested yet a day ? "

72 I CROWN THEE KING

He looked at her as though he would read
all her heart, and she did not turn from him.

"Of what else shall we speak," she said, "if
it be not of the things that give you pleasure ? "

"They shall give me pleasure or pain
according as you answer me. This day I find
that which twenty years of pilgrimage have
withheld from me. I find one whose kingdom
borders upon my own, whose words are my
words, whose people give to her the dominion
that I have claimed of the forest since destiny
sent me out to make my home in it. Is not
this my good happening, that I should ride
with her, here in Sherwood, to say to her, ' Let
our sovereignty be linked, let our state be one
state, let her womanhood vouchsafe that which
my manhood ever has lacked ' ? Ay, cousin,
what a kingship she would make for me this
day if she did but read love aright. To speak
of that I linger at OUerton even though I
weary her."

My lady heard him out; but she did not
turn her face toward him when Ke made an
end of it. There was a rare humour in her
eyes, the humour of one who would jest in
her consent because of the happiness which
consent brought to her.

THE OUTLAWS KINGDOM 73

"A woman never wearies of the story you
tell, my lord," she began ; but he stopped her
abruptly.

** Call me not Lord of Stow," said he, " for
that is not the name I bear. Yesterday I rode
to your house with a lie upon my lips. To-day
I bear my own name, and am ashamed before
none that I bear it."

** A pretty jest, indeed. Would you have us
play at Phyllis and Corydon now when the
snow lies in the forest?"

** If that same sport may keep you at my
side, I would even play it until the crack of
doom. Acquit me of my shame, cousin, and
you shall find a better man than ever the lands
of Stow sent out of England."

They say that my lady became very grave
when thus he spoke ; for there was no thought
until this moment of aught but a lover's whim
when he confessed the trick that he had played
upon her.

" I do not read your riddle aright, my lord,"
said she ; ''be a little plainer with me, and tell
me what name I shall give you, since you have
shame of your own."

The outlaw pointed to the woods below
them, for they had ridden to a high place of

74 I CROWN THEE KING

the forest, and the silvered landscape lay
spread out before their eyes as a vision of
an enchanted country.

"The name that I bear is the name the
people give to me. I will wear no other.
And since you have shown me your kingdom
this day, cousin, ride on with me a league, and
I will show you mine."

The girls heart beat quick when she heard
him. Vaguely she began to understand that
she stood upon the threshold of a mystery.

'* Your lands lie to the north ; we ride to the
south," she replied. "Has your dominion
shaped itself anew since last you were in
England ? "

** It shapes itself every day, cousin. Each
hour brings me some vassal who would live the
life God called him to, and forget the city and
the city's bonds. Last night I came to you for
the love of the jest. Bear with me a little
while this morning, and I will show you the
kingdom you shall share."

She gave him no answer; for a great
curiosity was waked within her. Half believing
that he was there to plan a trick upon her,
conscious that her weaker mind bent to his,
loving a mystery as women will, she rode into

THE OUTLAWS KINGDOM 75

the forest with him ; and there he showed her
his kingdom. As upon the eve of the Feast,
so upon that Christmas Day, the women and
the little children ran out to cry a blessing
upon him. Men of the forest thronged about
his horse, and did homage on their bended
knee. Poor priests, standing at the doors of
their churches, named his charity, and gave
thanks for it. Wherever he went, they called
him Roy, the King of Calverton ; whatever
houses of the poor he passed by blessed him
for the gifts which had come to their doors
that day.

" Here, my lady, here is my kingdom," he
said, as they pressed on to the forest heart.
" I would barter it for no other. No palaces
you may see but the palace of bower and
brake; no state but God's state, which is
nature ; no court save the court which honest
men, who till the ground, make worthy. You
asked the name I bear. A hundred tongues
have told it you. Call me, therefore. Lord of
Stow no more."

He turned to her, fearing nothing now that
she might do or say. But a great passion of
shame brought the blood to her cheeks, and
she knew that if any other had so con-

76 I CROWN THEE KING

fessed, she would have struck him with her
whip.

"Well I know you, Roy of Calverton," she
cried; "to-morrow you shall lie in Mansfield
Jail."

Roy laughed joyously.

"Not so, my lady," exclaimed he, "say
rather that this night shall give you the half
of my kingdom."

My lady answered him with a word of scorn.

"The kingdom of the outlaw and the felon ;
I have joy of your promise, sir."

" A true word, cousin — for I must still call you
so— since to-morrow the Baron of Stow will be
at your house, to drive out the people you have
loved, and to bring in the priests who ac-
complished your father's death. Did you think
of that when you went out to welcome him?
Oh ! here is a brave heart, which would wage
a war with her company of loutish serving-men.
Shall I tell you that I offer you the half of my
kingdom because I would that your own may
stand ? that I come to save you from the priest's
man, and the shame which he would put upon
you ? above all, cousin, that I do this because
you taught me yester-eve to love you ? Nay,
I care nothing for your displeasure. Though

THE OUTLAWS KINGDOM 77

Queen Mary herself should ride to Sherwood,
I will find harbourage against her. But you —
I cannot leave you, or else what love had I for
you in this moment perilous to those that served
your father, and would die this day for the
honour of his name ? "

She rode a little way, silent with his argu-
ment — ^yet he perceived that she did not turn
her horse's head again toward GUerton ; and
he began to pride himself upon victory, already
half achieved.

" What did they tell you of me," she asked
at length, ''that you should put this shame
upon me.^"

''Ask rather, cousin, what report they gave
of me that I am called by you outlaw and felon."

" Claiming neither name, you seek a defence,
sir.

" I seek nothing, cousin. If men call me
outlaw and felon, it is because they have no
other name to give me. Outlaw, yes, if it be
outlawry to shun the town and flee the city,
and come to this good harbourage of Sherwood.
Felon, ay, truly, if the felon commands the
homage of honest men, and has, to his life's
end, the service of the poor. Such a felon am
I, Roy of Calverton ; and I have singed the

78 1 CROWN THEE KING

sheriffs beard so often, when he went out upon
a work of cruelty, that to-morrow he will hang
me in Mansfield Jail, do you but point out to
him the place of my abiding."

" A kingdom, lacking a king — shall I come
to you to share that ? "

" Not so, for if that day shall ever be, the
king's road and the sheriffs will lie many a
good league apart Nay, cousin, acquit me of
my sin. If I have played a jest upon you, none
the less have I saved you from the shame that
another would have brought upon your father's
house."

She checked her horse, and when she looked
at him, he saw the tear upon her cheek. So
wan and pretty and pitiful she was, that he
swore no other should claim her, though the
oath might cost his life.

** God help me ! " she said, "for I have help
of no man in my father's house."

"Say it not, cousin, for here at least one
friend stands near. Before God , I swear to be
your friend for the faith's sake, and against
them that would harm you. Give me but a
word of forgiveness, and I will light such a fire
in this forest of Sherwood as shall be seen, ay,
in London city and the lands across the sea.

J

THE OUTLAW'S KINGDOM 79

To-day, perchance, the Baron's men are on my
heels. To-morrow, I will send them packing
across the border, and not so much as one herd
found to bid them God-speed. Wilt trust me,
cousin ? "

She was a woman, and she was alone, and
never in her life had a man so compelled her as
this one, whose jest already she had the mind
to play a part in.

" Give me good cause to win your trust, and
it shall not be withheld. The tale they tell of
you I will not believe. You are called Roy of
Calverton, but you bear a name more honour-
able. Let your confidence wait upon my
curiosity, that I may learn to call you friend."

" That will I do right readily, when the place
be found and the opportunity. For this day,
at least, I will be Roy of Calverton [still, since
others share your curiosity, and are even coming
now to satisfy it at the sword's point."

He reined back his horse at the words, and
listened with the trained ear of a woodlander.
The still air carried an omen which was to her
no more than a distant murmur of the forest
life ; but he read it aright, and knew its purport.

"The dogs cry upon our path," he said,
girding up the belt which bound his short

80 I CROWN THEE KING

riding-coat; "if they be from Oiler ton, their
bark should speak of the Lord of Stow."

She regarded him curiously.

" I named no place where a message might
find me. You must seek some other account,
if, indeed, you hear aright."

The outlaw touched his ready horse lightly
with his spurs.

"My lady," said he, "what a name mine is
that it can bring the Sheriff of Nottingham to
my kingdom even upon this day of Christmas."

" You believe that these are sheriffs men ? "

"Assuredly they are. And since it would
become you ill to be found in the outlaw s
company, turn, I beg of you, and leave me to
show them the road they seek."

This he said to put her to the proof, for he
was sure of her now, and he knew that sunset
would find her still at his side. When she
hesitated upon it, and the ring of the hoofs
upon the road was more distinctly to be heard,
a merry laugh betrayed his confidence.

"There are three that ride after, and we are
but two, my lady. Stand at my side when the
need is, and you shall be worth ten good blades
to me."

She answered him by encouraging her horse.

THE OUTLAWS KINGDOM 81

so that they began to go at a canter westwards
through the forest.

" God knows I would not have harm come to
you this day," said she, ** for you have spoken
words of friendship to me. Nor will I turn to
Ollerton until you bid me."

'*When a rose blossoms on Robin's Oak,
then will I bid you, cousin. Three or thirty,
it shall not matter presently. See how this
king fleeth from his kingdom."

He checked his horse again, for flight was
not to be contemplated. Well he knew that
this was the hour when his courage must win
upon her hesitation. He would teach her the
meaning of his kingship.

'* Weary not your good horse for varlets such
as yon," he exclaimed presently ; " nay, cousin,
do you but give me leave, I will even parley
with them in this place."

They had struck upon a narrow track, leading
upward to a mound of grass, upon which the
sun now shone to make it as a great down-
turned cup of silver. No more than one horse-
man could pass at the time upon so treacherous
a path, and when Roy had come to the height
of it, he wheeled his horse of a sudden and

drew his sword. My lady said that the moment
6

82 I CROWN THEE KING

showed him to her as one transfigured. No
book of knight or tournament had depicted a
figure to win so quickly upon her imagination.
She had called him outlaw and felon ; neverthe-
less she could utter there a silent prayer that
no ill might come to him.

''Sir," she said, "if harm befall you, there is
no friend left to me in all the forest."

He raised her hand to his lips and covered
it with kisses.

" There is no ill that can befall me if it be
not your displeasure, cousin. This would be a
poor day for me if I must bow my head before
any sheriffs lout that comes galloping out of
Nottingham. Draw back a little, I pray you,
and you shall hear a merry answer. Nay, you
do not fear for Roy of Calverton ? "

She looked him full in the face, and told him
that she did not fear for him. A strange excite-
ment possessed her; but it was the pride,
anticipated, of his victory. In the thicket
through which they had just passed they could
hear the breaking of the boughs and the low
voices of men. A little spell of waiting yet,
and the first of the horsemen rode up to the
mound's edge and called upon the outlaw to
surrender.

THE OUTLAWS KINGDOM 88

" In the name of Her excellent Majesty and
of the Sheriff of Nottingham — to Roy the Out-
law. See that ye do no shame, rogue, on this
day of Christ's birth, for it shall avail you
litde. I have good men at my back, and I
carry the Queen s warranty."

He was a slim man who spoke, one Master
Fisher by name, chief officer to the Sheriff of
Nottingham ; and two others, sturdy townsmen
both, were at his heels. He had ridden to the
mound's edge with great ardour ; but when he
saw the glittering blade, poised there as a
wand of silver, he reined speedily, and drew
his ill-shaped mare back upon her haunches.

But Roy laughed until the woods rang
again.

"Ye have good men at your back. Master
Fisher, ay truly, and by the looks of them,
there they will stop until this day's work be
done. Go tell the sheriff that my answer is
upon Robin's Oak, where hangs the fellow he
sent me at Candlemas."

** I will not parley with you, knave. Put up
your sword, or surely you shall perish by it.
We are three blades, with many another in the
woods behind us. I exhort you, commit no
folly, for this is a great matter."

J

84 I CROWN THEE KING

" If I put up my sword, there will be three
on this mound to bear witness to its quality.
Say rather that you ride back to Nottingham
to thank your master that he sends one with a
thin neck, which will come handy at the hang-
ing. Dost hear me, Master Fisher? Then
hasten, lest I quicken you at the sword's
point."

The sheriffs man glanced round in some
alarm. He began to repent of the zeal which
had carried him so far ahead of his company.
The two that were with him quaked in their
saddles. ''Let it be a stratagem, master, or
assuredly we are dead men," one whispered.
The other dropped his reins that the outlaw
might see he held no sword.

** Come, Roy of Calverton, we would not do
you any hurt."

" A truth as plain as your somewhat ill-fitting
nose. Master Fisher. Let me see your back,
that my eyes may be no longer offended."

"The devil burn your tongue! To-morrow
you shall see a gibbet in Nottingham Jail."

** To-morrow — to-morrow — to-morrow a
sherifTs man shall lack his ears. Art going
on. Master Fisher, or must I turn your
horse ? "

THE OUTLAW S KINGDOM 85

" Turn or stand as it please you, knave, for
surely I will teach you a lesson this day."

He called to the two that were with him and
rode a little way up the path, until, indeed, he
saw my lady ; who, fearing no longer for him
she had called her friend, was aglow with
laughter at the sorry spectacle.

"God wot," said he, "there be two of you,
then, and my Lady of OUerton ! "

'*As you say. Master Fisher, the Lady of
Ollerton, who would as lief see your back as
your face if you, of your gallantry, will but ask
her to name it"

"The greater cause that I remember my
office. Come, have done with this braggart's
talk, or it will go ill with you."

They say that the humour of it had kept
Roy merry until this moment; but now he
seemed to remember himself, and setting spurs
to his horse, he leaped down toward the
sheriffs man ; and so adroitly did he drag him
from his saddle that the fellow hung suspended
by the back of his cloak as a sack from a branch.
And thus holdiag him by the middle and
swinging him to and fro, Roy, with all his great
strength, threw him presently over the bushes
upon his left hand, and so deep down into a

86 I CROWN THEE KING

bed of the snow that had been a week driving
there.

*'A bed, a bed for the sheriffs warranty.
Dost like the rushes, Master Fisher? Your
music tells me that you like them not. An' you
bawl like that, you will fetch the Lord Bishop
from York. A little patience, man. They will
find you ere vespers be done to-morrow."

He had drawn his sword now, and, wheeling
his horse deftly in the open, he rode at the
second of the men, and with such ferocity of
attack that horse and rider went down head*
long, and lay still when he had passed by. But
the third man waited for no parley, and,
galloping through the forest, he cried to all
in his fright, " The outlaw is here, the outlaw
is here ! "

" My lady," said Roy, when he returned to the
thicket and put up his sword, "yon fellow is
but winded, and if there be any bones broken,
his own men will ride up to bind them presently.
As for Master Fisher's music, I have no ears
for it. Ride on a little way with me, and I will
show you Sanctuary. You do not fear now,
dear cousin."

He bent to kiss her hand again ; but there
was that in her eyes which gave him courage,

THE OUTLAW'S KINGDOM 87

and suddenly he took her in his arms and held
her in a strong embrace.

" The half of my kingdom, cousin/' said he ;
" nay, here is all my heritage, as God may will,
to my life's end."

My lady did not answer him, but the secret
was still to be read in her eyes and upon her
pretty cheeks ; and so she rode, very content
and silent, away from the home of her childhood
to the sanctuary of love new found and of her
friendship.

CHAPTER VII

THE COUNT OF BRIVES

" What thou bidd'st
Unargued I obey."— MiLTON.

TH E Sanctuary stood upon a hilltop, a little
church built of grey stone with a spire
rising up above the girdle of silver birches and
the low house which served the solitary priest.
So high was it placed that you could see even
distant Trent from its windows ; and many
were the pilgrims who came to its doors to
make a vow to St. Wilfred, who was named
for its patron. Here, as tradition held, was
there a refuge for the lawless even from the
justice of King and Parliament ; and while
those that made the laws would have put the
claim to ridicule, it was good in all Sherwood
Forest ; and no man so bold as to break that
Sanctuary had yet been found in the Queen's
service.

THE COUNT OF BRIVES 89

"There has been a refuge in yon church
since the first Henry's day," said Roy, as he
rode at length to the door of the secluded
presbytery. " God knows, it is not for sanctuary
that I come here, cousin. Nevertheless, the
tradition may serve us well, as you shall
learn presently. Before to-morrow dawns a
hundred will seek me in Sherwood. I care
not if there be a hundred more added to
them when you have heard my story and I
have heard your answer. You are fatigued,
cousin ? "

She was weary of her ride; and mighty
troubled now, both with her venture and with
the thought of the leagues which lay between
her and her home at OUerton ; but she answered
him with a brave word.

**We forget fatigue in the houses of our
friends. Show me the Sanctuary that I may
remember the precept."

He touched her hand with his lips, and then,
spurring up the hillside, he called loudly, ** A
Roy ! a Roy ! " and instantly the door of the
presbytery was opened, and a young priest
came out into the sunlight. For a moment he
stood shading his eyes and regarding the
travellers curiously. But when he recognised

90 I CROWN THEE KING

the outlaw, he uttered a loud word of welcome
and hastened down toward them.

** The Count of Brives — I^had looked for any
other but you, my lord."

Roy sprang from his horse to hold my lady's
stirrup.

"Then you will give us a better welcome
for that. We come to keep the feast with
you, father, and God wot, our sack is empty
enough. Hast meat and drink in the house ?
I hunger like a wolf of Saxony. Set but a
pasty before me, and I will account it a dish
for a king."

The young priest laughed.

** A pasty I have not, my lord, but such as
I have, ay, and such as those hereby can oflfer,
shall be yours to-day. I am too much your
debtor already to be backward in aught of
service or of duty. And to you, my lady, the
daughter of one whose name ever is held in
honour here, I give a humble welcome."

He had a pretty manner, says the record,
for he was one of the lads driven out, by
Harry's edict, from the monasteries. The
forest life had opened his eyes to see the fields
of liberty and to read the books of truth. A
Catholic, he cared as little for the Pope's

THE COUNT OP BRIVES 91

dominion as for those who sang the new
Queen's praises. But Roy of Calverton was
ever a king to him, and long he remembered
the day when the outlaw thus honoured his
house.

" If I had but known, my lord — yet the day
is far spent, and there be few to hear the horn's
blast now when it is winded upon a feast day.
Nevertheless, enter in, I beg of you, for the
wind blows sharp, and at least we may burn a
merry log."

This to Roy, but to the Lady Barbara he
said : " The lad shall take your horses, lady ;
fear not for them, for there is a gentle hand."

With this word they passed into the hall of
the little house, a low panelled room, black
with age and the smoke of the vast fire which,
summer or winter, gave its ruddy glow to the
deep recesses of the ingle. A young lad had
taken their horses to a shed at the rear of the
presbytery ; and presently they heard him
winding a horn cheerily upon the hillside.
The priest himself girded up his cassock and
began to work with the skill and the quickness
of a serving-maid.

" He called you Count of Brives," said my
lady to Roy, as they bent over the warming

92 I CROWN THEE KING

logs together ; " was it another jest, or must I
learn your name anew ? "

"You shall learn my name anew, cousin,
when you would wish me to forget the land
which gave you birth. I am the son of the
Count of B rives, indeed, and there is a heritage
for me in my father's country. But to you I
would still be Roy of Calverton."

She sat upon the bench, where the firelight
could play upon her pretty face and show the
doubt which troubled it.

"Surely," she said, "I have come up on a
strange errand this day. Yesterday I was the
mistress of my father's house; and now,
whither am I going, what am I seeking .'^
What folly keeps me from my people and my
home ? "

Roy took her hand in his, and sat himself
beside her on the bench.

" The folly which wages a good war with
the enemies who seek you vainly. Did you
return to-night, cousin, it would be to recognise
the mastery of one who has sworn to drive
your people out, to crush the faith your father
died for, to trample on all that is holy to you
because your father gave it sanctity. Yester-
day when I rode into Ollerton there was a vow

THE COUNT OF BRIVES 93

upon my lips that, in so far as I could serve the
mistress of the house, I could serve her as God
has endowed me* To-day, here and now, I
renew that vow. Go back to your home, and
it will be your lasting regret and self-reproach ;
it will be to forget the life you have lived, to
depart from your own people, that you may
become the slave of one who never yet knew
the true kingdom of womanhood, nor has any
mercy for those who make that kingdom's
laws. God knows, I would not press this
argument upon you unduly. If I love you,
let my own love be silent in the hour of your
adversity. Claim the friendship none the less
because I am silent. Say to me that I shall
be your ally, and I will give my life to the
service. Bid me show you the path to Ollerton
again, and I will bring you to your gates ere
the sun has set behind yon hills. Yours shall
be the choice — no word of mine shall put the
argument if your own heart be silent and your
own will be troubled."

There was a great tenderness of his words
toward her ; and when he had made an end of
it she did not withdraw her hand from his, nor
answer him ; but for a spell she sat gazing into
the ruddy fire ; and he knew that the clever

94 I CROWN THEE KING

little head was battling in perplexity with the
greatest trouble of that troubled life.

**You are Roy, the Count of Brives," she
said at last, *' my father has said that there is
no braver name in France. Why, then, are
you here in Sherwood Forest to let men call
you outlaw and felon ? "

He answered readily.

"Cousin, if it be outlawry to love the
bounteous gifts of God we find in nature; if
it be outlawry to feel the sap of the forest life
in your blood ; if it be outlawry to shun the
cities and to breathe where the air is sweet
and the groves are silent, and the music is the
music of the birds, then am I outlaw truly,
and merit the Queen's judgment. As for the
matter which keeps me from the French King's
court, I have been so long in this your England
that the land of my birth is already a stranger's
country to me. Twenty years ago my father
came to Henry's palace to find an English
wife there — the Lady Damara, my mother of
beloved memory, who would have me in
England always, and sent me to the monks
of Newstead Abbey that my learning should
be English, and English the tongue I spoke.
Her death in Paris, my father's death in the

THE COUNT OF BRIVES 95

Battle of Pavia, when I was but six years old,
left me to the monks until the edict sent them
out and compelled me to seek a new home and
a new task. To France I would not go, and
so to this forest of Sherwood I came to play
the outlaw's part for jest of it Such inherit-
ance as was bequeathed to me from my
mother's house, that I claimed and enjoy to
this time. But I will not be Count of Brives
while the forest is open to me, and I have
kingdom in it, and the poor bless the hour of
my coming. Nay, indeed, it is a man's ambi-
tion to stand foremost in that which is nearest
to his own heart. Yesterday I had no thought
but to maintain my kingdom against all that
should endanger it. To-day there is another
desire, and it must prevail above aught else.
Shall I whisper of that, cousin — would you
hear the story anew?"

"If the story lies near to your heart, I will
hear it, sir."

"Ay, near my own heart it is — yet it is
but a story. Would to God that she of whom
it speaks would let me so hold her until my
life's end ! "

He spoke a lover's word now, for she had
made a slave of him; and when he saw her

96 I CROWN THEE KING

thus surrender to his desire, he protested
anew as lovers wilL She, in turn, was recall-
ing her own sagacity, how that she had said
he wore a nobler name — ^yet still she wished
to speak of him as Roy of Calverton. The
romance, the mystery of his story, appealed
to her girlish imagination. The dangers
crowding upon her own home, the knowledge
that the Lord of Stow was then at her
gates, — above all, this first understanding
of a woman's love, compelled her to seek
of him that great, that final friendship she
had sought all her life but never yet had
found

"What shall I do — what counsel do you
give me ? " she cried in her perplexity ; *' am I
not an exile from my home already? shall I
turn my back upon it for ever ? — shall I see no
more the people that I love ? Oh, I know not
what to answer — I know not why this day has
come to me."

Roy answered her very gently.

"Dear cousin," said he, **if I did not read
your heart aright, my lips should be for ever
silent on that which I now would have you
know. Here in this house, if yours be the
will, you shall give me the greater right to say,

THE COUNT OF BRIVES 97

'OUerton is mine, mine are the enemies that
seek to encompass it about.' Speak but the
word, and I will tell you that the man who
rides there to do you ill, shall meet me face
to face and answer for that ill ere the month
be out. In winter or summer, in sickness or
in health, king or serving -man, you shall be
the mistress of my heart and will to my life's
end. Ah, cousin, if you but speak the
word ! "

She thought upon it a little while, and
then, they being alone in the room, she
turned to him and kissed him on the fore-
head.

** Until my life's end," she said, " I will seek
no other friend. Dear heart, take up my

burden, for I have no courage left."

« « « » «

The priest returned to his house when the
half of an hour was passed, and brought a little
company of woodlanders with him. He found
my lady radiant and aglow with her blyshes —
but Roy of Calverton, again, was as one trans-
figured. He stood there as some king of men,
the lord of the forest he governed so well ;
knight, courtier, a very noble of his deed and
his inheritance. And when the priest carried
7

98 I CROWN THEE KING

in his gifts, when the table was spread, and
the tapers were lighted, and the sun had set
behind the hills, Roy said to him —

"A merry feast let it be, father, for this
night you shall give me my heart's desire."

^

CHAPTER VIll

THE ARREST

'^ In worst extremes and on the perilous edge
Of battle."— Milton.

AT midnight, in the house of sanctuary, the
young priest married them. My lady
said in after years that the whole burden of
her life was lifted from her shoulders in that
hour. As the years of her childhood were
closed for ever, so in good measure, beyond
her childish hopes, she found the friend she
had sought. No longer did any doubt or
scruple trouble her content. The name of
Roy, Count of Brives, was worthy of her
homage. She would have sought no nobler
master of OUerton; and she beheld the hand
of Providence which thus had sent the chosen
to her in the hour of peril and of her great
distress.

They were married at midnight before the

100 I CROWN THEE KING

simple altar upon which many tapers burned
brightly, and where the garlands of holly and
the great boughs of mistletoe made good the
winter's deficiency. Though the hours had
been few since they rode up to the priest's
house, news of an event so momentous spread
quickly through the forest ; and many hurried
from their homes to kneel in the little church
and to wish the master " God speed" Wood-
landers were there and shepherds from the
hills, and many a young girl who remembered
an oudaw's caress, and many a child whose
hands the greatest of the outlaws had filled
with gifts. Lanterns shone in the purlieus of
the forest ; many a merry word, and music of
young voices, went up to scare the birds from
the trees and the hare from her sleeping-place.
The Sanctuary itself was a blaze of light, a
beacon, bright and clear, in the darkness of
the night. Even to the distant towns the
message went, that Roy of Calverton had
found a bride that day.

The people cheered the master; hot wine
and the hissing wassail-bowl went round in the
presbytery when the service had been read,
and the priest had raised his voice to bear
witness that those who knelt before him were

THE ARREST 101

man and wife to be put asunder by God alone.
Distant travellers, hastening through the forest
toward OUerton, heard the music of young
voices, the clash of bells, the sturdy cries of
the woodlanders; they knew not what the
omens meant Many a village waked from
its sleep to send the messengers out with
tidings so joyful. It was a night to make
history for these men of Sherwood ; yet scarce
had the new day dawned when Roy came out
of the priest's house and began to busy himself
with the good horse which had been his friend
through so many fateful years. Well he knew
that the gentler pleasures of sanctuary must
not keep him from the peril of that road which
henceforth was open to him. He had a work
to do ; his very joy of love drove him to its
speedy accomplishment.

" There will be a hundred seeking for me in
Sherwood Forest this day," he said to the priest
as they stood at the church door together, and
all the beauty of the forest life, all the glory of
frost and the jewels of frost were quickened to
splendour by the mellow sun, "you know well
what shrift I shall find at the hands of the
Baron of Stow when his dogs scent the trail.
Nevertheless, I would not have my lady hear

102 I CROWN THEE KING

of the peril, and she shall lie in your house until
the way be clear and the news of them at hand.
As you would stand in my affections, so let
your care of her be."

''My own sister shall not claim a surer
watchfulness, or be in my mind so often,
Count Do we look for you again to-day?"

** If it may be, I ride to OUerton now to
learn how it has fared with them that hold the
house. But if opportunity wait upon inclina-
tion, I will return here before the Angelus is
rung."

The priest remembered afterwards that
there was a shadow upon the Cpunt's face
very foreign to it; but Roy was ever one to
lock up the secret places of his heart, and now,
when he knew the danger that lurked about
his path, he had this only in his mind, that my
lady should not share his knowledge. Very
tender, as the priest could witness, was his
farewell to her. That night of his life, that
night when he had held her in his arms, and
she had willed that he should take up her
burden, remained ever afterwards as some
hour outstanding in all the years, to be un-
forgotten through the ages. She was his wife
— the forest had given him to her. She was

THE ARREST 103

the mistress of his kingdom — the kingdom of
one whom men had called outlaw and felon.
For her sake, he was content to be outlaw still,
to ask of England naught but this, that the
forest might harbour her even as it had
harboured him.

** Good-bye, thou dearest of my heart," he
whispered as they stood together, there at the
gate of the church wherein she had given
herself to him, " I leave you but an hour — ^yet
it shall be to me the longest hour that I have
known."

" I will not gainsay you — dear husband," she
answered, "let your desire be my desire.
Gladly would I ride to OUerton with you this
day — yet if you will not " —

" I will only to hear the whisper of your
voice, to touch your lips with mine. Nay,
sweetheart, a man may canter where a woman's
horse shall stumble at the walk. Fear nothing
for me, for there is none that may harm me in
this forest of Sherwood. You will see me ere
sunset, and, perchance, with better tidings than
you think."

Thus saying, he put his arm about her, and
spoke again of farewell and again of his love
for her; and so, at last, fearing to linger, he

104 I CROWN THEE KING

turned swiftly and sprang upon his willing
horse and rode down towards the wood
through which they had passed together
yesterday. For a spell she saw him, the
sunlight glowing upon his cap of steel and the
bright points of that caparison; and though
she feared not for him, she went again to the
church, when the thicket hid him from her
sight; and her morning thanksgiving was
wedded to a prayer that she might ride with
him to her home before another day had
dawned.

Now, Roy pressed on through the by-paths
of the forest and was already a good league
upon his way to OUerton, when, as he crossed
a little down of untrodden snow, he espied a
steel cap shining through the interstices of the
trees, and drawing rein roughly, his good horse
lost footing upon the treacherous ground, and
together they rolled in the snow. Nor could
he extricate himself from the plight before
twenty armed men were upon his back; and
he was held to the earth as by hands of steel.

tU were* .we„.y ^pon hi«:and „»„'v,ed
with man in a good grip upon so redoubtable
an enemy. What with some who knelt upon

J

THE ARBEST 105

his chest, and some who called for rope to bind
his hands, and a great clamour of voices which
deafened him, and strong hands upon his
throat, Roy thought that they would make an
end- of it there and then ; but in this he was
mistaken, for they had other design — and
chiefly the wish to boast of so great a day
before their master, the Lord of Stow. As
for their captain, a squat man upon a big
grey horse, he had not lungs enough for
his delight; and he rode round and round
the troop, bawling incessantly that they
should by no means loose a hand upon their
captive.

" Ye have the outlaw himself — God's faith I
name it a lueky day! Hand and foot, hand
and foot. Master Relton, let him be bound
hand and foot. I tell ye that the old wolf is
caged. Would ye see us all dead men ? "

He urged them on with antics ridiculous to
behold, and bawling incoherent, and good care
that he himself should not ride within a bow-
shot of the danger. When, at last, Roy was
so bound that he could not raise one finger
above another, the captain waxed more bold
and bade them set him on his horse again.

'* We have thee, Roy of Calverton," cried he ;

106 I CROWN THEE KING

*' to-morrow a new rope shall be added to these.
'Twill be about thy neck, fellow. Dost like
the thought ? Nay, glory to God this day for
the road that I have followed. Canst dance on
nothing, boaster ? "

Roy did not hear him. He had no breath
for wit, or even to implore a little mercy of
them that held him upon the horse. The fall
had dazed him ; and when his senses were
returned, his first thought was of her he had
left but the half of an hour ago at the door of
the Sanctuary.

It was an admission, bitter beyond words,
that his girl-wife might wait for him when the
sun had set, and wait in vain. He knew that
yesterday he would have laughed right well at
such a predicament as this ; but to-day, to-day
when her hope was his hope, when the memory
of her caress could quicken his heart and send
hot blood coursing through his veins ; to-day
when he rode out with all his brave promises
upon his lips! Shame of his defeat moved
him to a frenzy of despair all impotent. He
wrestled with his bonds until his hands were
cut by the cords, and those that held him cried
to their fellows, for God's sake, to help them.
Even the discreet captain, holding himself

THE ARREST 107

aloof from the danger, could implore him to
remember how he stood.

" Art mad, Roy of Calverton ? Dost think
to better twenty good men with halberds in
their hands ? Nay, show that trick again, and
I will hang ye from yon oak. Tis our day,
man, and that you shall learn quickly.^'

Roy laughed.

" I did but breathe upon these women that
wear a doublet," said he, "and they go to
ground like the leaves in winter. Ride on,
my masters, and you shall find me merry
company."

"Merry company you shall be — and the
merrier when the cord is about your neck*
What, you ride to OUerton in my lord's name,
and keep the feast with my lady, and carry her
from her house — ^you that are outlaw and felon,
and then can talk of merry company! A
murrain on such impudence ! If my lord do
not hang you as high as Haman, then I, that
serve him twenty years, am a stranger in his
house."

He swore a great oath upon it, but would
not draw near; and when the twenty had
closed about the captive and driven their
horses close to his, one of them winded a

108 I CROWN THEE KING

horn, and was answered by a horn's blast
heard in the heart of the thicket

" An' you be wise, Master Bates," said the
fellow, "you will wait until the devil's imp,
that brought us to this place, is taken by the
ears again. Since twenty years not one of us
hath set foot in Sherwood, and 'tis no country
for an honest man to find himself astray in."

"Well spoken, Master Relton, well spoken.
As for me, I stir not a foot until the guide be
found. To Mary be the thanks when I am
out of this forest of Sherwood, for, surely, it is
an abode of devils abundant and of all kinds
of wickedness. Heard you the stories the hag
told^us yester-eve ? Lies they be, yet such lies
as make the flesh creep and the tongue to
refuse its office. I will have none of them —
yet, God wot, I would hasten to the Baron's
house lest night shall find us still abroad."

His desire was the desire of every man in
that company ; for the forest and the solitude,
and above all the hag's tales, had warred upon
nerves which cared naught for the living, but
had a very ready terror of the unseen. Roy,
on his part, heard the muttered complainings
and the impatient requests that some should
ride out to find the guide; but he could not

THE ARREST 109

hope in them. Quick-witted as he was, ready
of decision, the bravest man that ever claimed
dominion of the forest, this seemed an hour of
his life fateful beyond all telling. What mercy,
he asked himself, might he look for at the
hands of the Lord of Stow.^ What expecta-
tion was there that news of his calamity might
come to the ears of his comrades before his own
life were ended ? And my lady, she who to-
day was the mistress of his kingdom, what of
her ? To-morrow she would be a prisoner in
her own house at OUerton. Well he knew the
argument that such a man as the Lord of Stow
would urge upon a helpless woman. Well he
knew that his girl-wife would hardly find one
friend in all that kingdom of England. And
he himself, he whom men had called the King
of Calverton, what a figure he must cut I To
be carried as any rogue of the forest, and
hanged from the battlements of the great lord's
house ! His blood burned at the shame of it.
He went near to losing for the second time
that self-mastery which alone could help him
in the direst hour of his eventful life.

There is no cloud so black, they say, that it
has not the silver lining if you do but wait a
better wind. And it was odd that in this

110 1 CROWN THEE KING

moment of his despair, when his quick brain
could not help him, nor any help of man might
be foreseen, a trifling circumstance should,
upon the instant, have scattered his fears like
chaff before the wind, and brought back that
mocking smile and gentle voice of his. Yet
so it was : and so it befell, even while he still
debated his plight, that the guide's voice
echoed in the thicket — ^and no sooner had he
heard it, than Roy took heart and all his
courage came back to him as a freshet to the
pool which a dam has blocked. For the voice
was the voice of Meagre the dwarf; and at
the second word spoken, Roy beheld the lad,
mounted upon a gallant pony and carrying
himself as bravely before that company as any
captain of halberdiers.

The dwarf rode out of the thicket, we say,
and capering up to the captain of the twenty,
he greeted him with a bow so comical that
every man in the company, save the captain
alone, must make the woods rii^ with an
honest laugh.

" Sir Captain," said he, "when the quarry is
taken, what more need have ye of the hound ? "

" The need that I must carry the quarry to
my master's house, young sir. What! you

THE ARREST 111

would hold argument with me as some grown
man that has a beard upon his chest and a
staff in his hand! Out upon you for an
impudent fellow whom I will teach a good
lesson presently."

The dwarf sat up in his saddle and put on
the air of a man that has received a great
hurt.

" Sir," said he with a doleful air, ** though I
have no beard to hide my stomach, as your
worship has (for which you must bless God
daily), yet if you and your twenty fear this
rogue ye have taken, then will I seek to be of
service to you. Of a truth I observe that your
worship is in great peril. They that rule in
Sherwood like not the evil eye ; and if your
worship is not the devil's good cousin, then
never saw I one that might put the claim more
honestly. Saint John, I doubt not that you
can see Nottingham with one eye and Trent
with the other. Shall I make bold to show
the road to such a man ? "

The captain breathed heavily ; but, being
impotent, gave no tongue to his wrath.

" I have not been in this England for twenty
years, nor any man of my company," said he
slowly; "show me the nearest road, and one

112 I CROWN THEE KING

whereby a man may pass safely to the house of
the Lord of Stow, and I will give you twenty
crowns/'

"Here and now, upon the spot, let the
money be paid, and I am your worship's most
faithful servant For look you, if I come to
Stow and have not the money in my pouch,
than shall your worship's right eye see it in
your hand while your left shall declare it in
my wallet. A bargain, a bargain — by your
worship's red hairs I swear it is a bargain ! "

The company shouted with laughter again ;
but the captain's hand tightened upon his
sword.

" I am of the mind to slit your ears," cried
he.

"Nay, sir, but let a little blood from that neck
of yours and you shall go free of an apoplexy."

The dwarf had a great zest of the encounter,
and would have continued it, but as he spoke
he chanced to catch his master's eye, and a
mute message passed between them. Upon
this, without further parley, the lad clapped
spurs to his pony and began to ride northward
at a brisk pace.

"The shortest road, knave, and twenty
crowns when you be come to Stow."

THE ARREST 113

"As the crow flies — ^were it not for your
worship's colour, which, on my life, is as red
as a priest's coat at Whitsun."

He waited for no sally from the captain, but
led them gaily into the thicket and so toward
the forest's heart. Those that guarded the
outlaw began to breathe more freely. They
had done a right good work, and their lord
would know how to thank them. To-morrow
the forest king would swing from the battle-
ments, and his people might gather in the
woods below to see the spectacle. They had
but to go a matter of a few leagues and all
would be ended. Roy, in his turn, recognised
the path which Meagre followed. It was the
road to the capital of his kingdom — ^to that
place where a hundred would lay down their
lives for him and account it a blessed thing so
to do. The certainty was like wine to him.
He began to exchange a merry word with
his keepers.

" Ye be right lusty men, sirs, and over-bold

to seek me in my own place. Had my horse

found his feet, I promise you 'twould have been

a better day's work. Account me innocent

that ye had such poor sport."

" Ride on in this content, Roy of Calverton,
8

114 I CROWN THEE KING

and I will even make mention of it to my lord
himself, and find a full cup of sack at the first
inn we pass."

*'A safe promise, friend, for the man that
finds an inn upon the road to Stow is a
magician truly. Say rather that you go where
tradition has set strange fellows — ^the dead
quickened again ; the rider that bestrides no
horse ; the bells that ring when no hand is on
the rope ; the churches where we shall see the
tapers burning, yet never a living man to
kindle a taper on those altars. A strange
world, my masters, that ye are wise to quit as
speedily as may be."

The trooper shrugged his shoulders as
though to say ** a ^woman's superstition"; but
he scanned the dark places of the wood
narrowly; and others, who had heard Roy's
talk, crowded close upon him and were quick
with new questions.

"We go by Robin's Oak," exclaimed one
of them, **no honest man's road they tell me,
sir ? "

*'They tell you truly," Roy answered,
** there have been ten in gibbets by that very
tree since Whitsun. I doubt if such will find a
gate of Paradise open to them, and lacking the

THE ARREST 115

way, 'tis not odd that they should turn to
Sherwood again."

" Witches' talk, witches' talk — ^a tale for the
ingle and not for them that be grown to man's
estate. I'll wager, now, that thou hast never
seen aught in all thy life which is against the
Holy Book and the Church's law."

Roy answered with a great show of in-
difference.

"The forest has born and bred me," said
he ; ** it is not for such as I to be afraid of the
forest Nevertheless, sirs, I hide it not that I
would give a hundred pieces of gold this day
sooner than take the road to Robin's Oak.
Perchance 'tis but witches' talk, as ye say, yet I
have known men who so accounted it, and
they have ridden by that road, and God knows
where their bodies lie, to say nothing of their
souls' resting. Do not think that I seek to
turn you from the path. Ye are brave men
and accustomed to sights and sounds which
may well affright the vulgar. Ride on, sirs,
and God guard you."

"'Tis well enough to cry 'ride on,'"
exclaimed he whom they called Master Relton ;
" but, for my part, I would as lief ride another
way than on."

116 I CROWN THEE KING

*' Well spoken, well spoken, Master Relton;
another road, and not by Robin's Oak. We
shall come there at sunset, and God save us
all."

*' Belike we shall be as those whose bodies
lacked the burial ? "

'' I am an honest man and have a soul to
save. God keep me from this evil forest,
say I."

Others chimed in with a new complaint
The captain himself, hearing the clamour,
drew rein to wait for his men, and three
voices together besought him to take a wider
road.

''Pass not the oak. Master Bates, and my
lord shall say you have done well. There may
be many rough fellows in these parts, and their
den is no inn for my stomach. Pass another
way and you shall earn good thanks."

*' We lose but the half of a day, master, and
my lord will have no tongue for questions when
he sees whom we bring in. A wide road, sir,
and a cup of wine for them that have earned
it well."

Master Bates listened eagerly, and his red
face lost its colour.

'' I have heard the tales ye tell of that same

THE ARREST 117

road, and beshrew me if I ride on. Hark!
sirrah; carry us to Stow, as I bade you, but
pass by Robin's Oak and I will even slit your
ears."

The dwarf — for the latter part of the address
was to him — laughed shrilly.

" Where you will — where you will," cried
he gaily ; '* there must be many a brother of
yours at Robin's Oak, Sir Captain. I see that
you have no great affection for them, and I will
even turn aside as these bold fellows crave."

Again he waited for no argument, but
quitted the path they had been following, and
pushed into a little wood upon their right hand,
and so led them nearer yet to the heart of the
outlaw's kingdom. Great groves were here ;
dark places of the brake; ravines and glades,
all frosted in exquisite tracery; trees so high
that the sun no longer gilded the habiliments
of the troop, nor gave a sheen to the bright
points of its caparison. And in among these
trees, flitting as shadows from bush to bush,
Roy's quick eye perceived some of those that
had loved him and stood with him in many a
stout emprise. Bold hearts they were, honest
woodlanders with cudgels in their hands, by here
and there a swordsman riding stealthily; but

118 I CROWN THEE KING

soon a very army, so that its presence was not
to be hid, and even Master Bates took alarm
at it

"What do these rogues in such a place?"
cried he. "God's faith, I like not their
company."

Meagre the dwarf reassured him.

" The hamlet of Calverton lies near by,
Master Bates. These be good fellows that hear
of your coming, and are mindful to do you a ser-
vice. Push on a spell, and you shall find good
meat and a cup of sack to warm your heart"

"Ay, marry! let that be soon, for I am
perished of the cold, and this good beast of
mine is in a sorry plight"

He urged his wearied horse onward ; nor did
he see the mocking laugh about the lips of the
man he guarded. At every step now the
breaking branch, the muffled steps, the low
sounds of voices told of a great following, a
spectre army hidden away in wood and
glade, yet ever pursuing those twenty as the
hunter may stalk the deer that shall die
presently. Roy's ear, trained to every note of
the forest life, told him truly what those sounds
meant " I have thee, Master Bates," he said
to himself exultantly ; "I have thee, and

THE ARREST 119

to-morrow one shall wait for me and shall not
wait in vain."

The twenty pushed on, and with them went
the hidden enemy, silently, relentlessly. At
midday, the dwarf protested that they must
have passed Calverton, and that the company
would do well to halt the half of an hour at
the hut of a woodlander he named to them.
There they rested their weary horses ; nor saw
anything whatever of those who peopled the
forest about them and watched their every
movement. It was late in the afternoon when
they were on the road again ; and now they
began to follow a path exceeding dark, a narrow
dangerous way, by swamps and morasses, and
evil depths, where the sunlight came not, and the
day had close kinship with the night. Minute by
minute the difficulty of the track waxed greater.
Horses stumbled, and men came to earth in
boggy places. Towering oaks with bare
branches, in shape like that of spectres up-
standing, stood sentinels of the path. Deer
fled before the advancing horsemen. Birds
rose up with a great noise and twittering of
fear. Master Bates himself swore many a
good oath, yet knew not whither to turn.

" As I live, I will have thee whipped at a

120 I CROWN THEE KING

cart's tail. Is this the road, this the path to
Stow ? Must I sleep in a morass, Beelzebub's
son ? As God is my witness, if thou dost not
bring us to the broad way upon the instant,
I will nail thy ears to Robin's Oak, though a
fiend of hell forbid me."

Meagre the dwarf raised himself in his
saddle and uttered a shrill cry, almost in-
human in its weirdness.

" Bear witness, bear witness — I have kept
faith with you, son of the evil eye. Yonder
stands Robin's Oak. I would not pass it for a
thousand crowns. The road to Stow is before
you, my masters. Follow it if you can, and the
devil bear you company."

He turned his pony adroitly, and leaped into
the thicket — ^and so was gone from their sight
and ken. Master Bates, reining in his horse,
saw a little glade before him, and in the centre
of the glade a vast oak, with gnarled trunk and
mighty boughs bearing now a heavy burden of
the snow. Other trees fenced in that bower ;
the setting sun shone in fires of crimson, and
illumined the glade with a radiance of unearthly
lights. It was a place to impress the imagina-
tion, even of one who loved the forest, with
awe and wonder; but to the twenty, who

THE ARREST 121

remembered the hag's tales they had heard,
it was as some abode of evil spirits.

" God save us, Master Bates ! See you yon
gibbet with a body still upon it ? "

" I see it, Master Relton ; yet what is that to
twenty men that have halberds in their hands?"

'* If the soul be dead with the body — yet I
mind the fable. The Virgin befriend us ! what
was that ? "

As the man spoke, a wild cry, as of a soul
in agony, rose up from the distant brake.
Other cries, no less fearful, succeeded to it, so
that the whole forest rang with those dread
sounds. From copse to copse, and hill to hill,
the moaning voices echoed. There was not
a man of the troop whose knees did not quake
and whose heart did not fail him when he heard
such sounds, and remembered the tradition of
Robin's Oak.

'• The Lord forgive me my sins this night,
for never yet have ears heard such music.
Push on, Master Bates, I beseech you."

"An' I push on, I must pass the gibbet,
Master Relton. See ye not that the corpse
hath life still in it ? I am no braggart. Master
Relton. God forbid that I should claim
precedence above my fellows."

122 I CROWN THEE KING

He pointed to the gibbet by the wayside ;
and as the men turned to look at it, they saw
a strange thing. The body that was hanging
there began to swing in its chains. From that
which was but the perceptible tremor, it took,
in slow measure, a great movement — was
bent double, thrown from side to side, twisted
horribly. Those that witnessed the horrid
sight sat very still in their saddles, nor would
their tongues utter a single word. And as
they continued to gaze, fascinated, upon such
a marvel, a hundred of Sherwood's men leaped
out of the thickets about them — woodlanders,
outlaws, sons of the hamlets and the fields — and
falling upon Master Bates' riders with a frenzy
indescribable, they dragged them from their
saddles, and would have made an end of them
in that very place, but for Roy's loud word and
the love they bare him.

"Forbear, forbear, ye sons of mine!" he
cried. ** These be but the servants. Let
justice fall on him that sent them."

They obeyed him reluctantly, and came
crowding about him, some to cut his bonds,
some to chafe his hands, some to cry
incessantly —

" A due ! a due to Roy of Calverton ! "

THE ARREST 123

The twenty were twenty no more. Those
that found a path were riding for their lives
through the forest's heart; those that were
unhorsed craved mercy on their knees. But
Master Bates cast himself at Roy's feet, and
his complaint was the merriest music in all
that merry day's work.

*'Ye will not take my life. I cannot die,
sir; I am a sinful man. Oh, pity, pity! I
would have done well to you when we were
come to Stow. God witness I was your
friend "—

" Who would have witnessed that friendship
even from the battlements of my lord's house.
Nay, for you, Master Bates, I shall find no
mercy at all. To a gibbet did you think to
carry me — to a gibbet you shall go this very
instant."

He whispered to one of those about him ;
and from ear to ear the word went that Master
Bates was to be hanged in chains upon the
gibbet — but only by his body, so that no harm
should come to him ; and that, when he had
hanged thus for twenty hours, he was to be
sent to Stow again, tied upon an ass, and with
thistles for a crown. But the man himself —
thinking surely that they meant to hang him

CHAPTER IX

LANTERNS IN THE THICKET

''Dead sounds at night come from the inmost hills,
Like footsteps upon wool.**— Tennyson.

MY Lady Barbara watched at the window
of the Long Gallery in her home at
OUerton, and turned often to Master Eleazar
the minister to hear his dolorous argument,
but not to profit by it. Nigh forty hours had
passed since she stood before the altar in the
chapel of sanctuary, and had found the sweetest
consummation of her love ; but to her they
had been relentless hours of doubt and of
calamity. Hardly could she bring herself to
believe that she, who yesterday had taken a
great courage of her affection and friendship,
was to-day a prisoner in her own house, the
scorn of those who guarded her gates, the
victim of insult unendurable. Yet so it had
befallen, and such was the truth with which the
old man at her side wrestled impotently.

1S6

LANTERNS IN THE THICKET 127

" Bear with it yet a little while, my lady, and
God will point the road. If the Lord of Stow
has, indeed, come to possession of your father's
estate, then shall there be other homes open
to us. Some such thing as this I looked for
in Sir Philip's absence — but not for the unkind-
ness they have shown us nor for this outrage
upon our house."

She turned from the window wearily.

** Is there no man in all OUerton to draw a
sword for a woman's sake ? " she asked. ** You
heard the words that were spoken — you were
witness of the shame he put upon me. Must
I be dumb before him, I who am Bernard's
daughter ? God, if I might pray to be unsexed
this hour."

** Say rather that in prayer shall your
comfort lie. We cannot combat destiny, my
daughter. To our fathers' faith we pay this
debt Let it be paid humbly and with
reverence until the light shine again in this
our England and justice be done upon them
that have hidden it."

She turned from him impatiently and went
to stand at the window again. ^ It was a dark
day, with heavy clouds gathering above the
woods of OUerton ; but not so dark that she

128 I CROWN THEE KING

could not see the steel caps of the soldiers who
had carried her yester-night from the sanctuary,
and had brought her to her home — there to
hear the anger of my Lord of Stow and to
suffer worse things at his hands. The agony
of that shame was not to be told in any words.
She was Bernard's daughter — in her own house
she had been named with the unnameable and
the outcast. He, who had become her jailor,
showed the Queen's writ for his authority.
The lands of Bernard of OUerton, held to
forfeit by her guardian's treachery, passed now
to this man, who sought them only because
Bernard's daughter was the mistress of that
house. Her name had been often in his ears
since he had left his own country for the
nomad's life in distant France and the Holy
City. Since her childhood, he had remembered
the promise, that one day his own estate should
be linked to hers and that she should be his
wife according to her father's will. And now
he found her — in an outlaw's house ; driven, as
he said, by her desire to share this outlawry
and the last shame a woman may know. No
longer was there any thought of honour in his
dealing toward her. He would make her his
jest, as many another woman had been in the

LANTERNS IN THE THICKET 129

western cities of Europe, Armed with good
authority, the master of her house, with a
hundred men-at-arms in his service, he cared
nothing for this tradition of her sovereignty
and of the loyalty she might command in
Sherwood Forest. He had her in the trap —
and ere she went again, she must pay the
price he named.

She had been carried to her home yester-
night at the very hour when she looked for
her lover's return, and had waited to see him
riding up the hill again, as he had promised.
To-day she knew not whether he were alive or
dead. Watching at her window through that
long day, she beheld the deserted park and the
silent woods and the snow falling again upon
the whitened forest. Yet of message from the
world without there was none. Her own
servants had fled the house. Those that
moved within it were roving troopers, who
often spake strange tongues. The food that
was put before her was carried from the
soldiers' tables. She heard from time to time
the clatter of arms and the ribald laughter.
There was a sentry even at the door of
that Long Gallery — and she could mark the
glitter of the halberd he carried, and reflect
9

130 I CROWN THEE KING

how vain all thought of help from those that
loved her must be. Yet Roy had left her with
a word of promise, and to that word she clung
bravely. If he lived, he would save her. In
his affection she had found the one great friend-
ship of her life. All had she given — for
nothing was to be withheld when his voice
besought her and his strong arms were about
her heart. He would save her if he lived — ^her
lover, her husband.

Such a slender chance alone ministered to
her courage that day. She did not see the
Lord of Stow nor have any word from him.
Last night the loud debauch had kept sleep
from her eyes and affrighted her through the
long hours of the darkness. To-day the man
left her to herself, thinking perchance the
sooner to win his victory.

" If they would but speak their will. Master
Eleazar ; if we might crave of them the right
to go our way ! God knows what is in store
for us here."

** Say not so, my child — else is all justice
fled this country. Ye have many friends in
Sherwood — ^ye will find other friends as power-
ful, it may be, as the Lord of Stow."

" There is no friend but one. Master Eleazar.

LANTERNS IN THE THICKET 131

How shall I hope that he yet lives since I am
left a prisoner in my own house ? Nay, look
at all the forest. No desolate land is more
lonely this hour. The very birds have ceased
to sing. The sky is dark as my own heart."

" Dark it may be — nevertheless ye see but
the gates of Sherwood, my child. Who shall
tell what fires burn behind them, who watches
there, the words that are said ? Nay, as I live,
there be some abroad or else are these old eyes
grown weary as the heart that asks a question
of them."

He pointed to a wild thicket lying at the
gates of the park ; and while she, at the first,
did not read his word aright, when she had
looked a little while, she beheld a lantern
swinging there between the trees ; and anon,
other sparks of fire, as glow-worms in the
twilight, began to pass from place to place,
and spoke all truly of the watch he named.

** There are some abroad in the forest as you
say. Master Eleazar — they carry lanterns in
their hands and pass from place to place. Oh,
believe it not, believe it not. Our hope has
set a vision there ; we are children to think of
it."

She turned from the window impatiently ;

132 1 CROWN THEE KING

but, when a minute had passed, was standing
there again with flushed face and a hand that
trembled when it drew the curtain back. So
great was her hope that the old man dare not
utter a word lest disappointment should wait
upon it; but, none the less, he told himself
that there were men about her home, and he
knew that they were her friends.

" My lady," he said, *'perad venture they will
let an old man come and go as he please.
Or, if they will not, there is a way out of
Ollerton by which I have passed many a
day, for love of the venture in my youth. I
purpose now to learn the names of those who
fear to show their faces, yet do not fear to
swing their lanterns where we may see them.
God have you in His keeping if any ill befall
me.

She did not thank him, but continued to
stand there, by the window, a wan white figure

in the gathering darkness.

« « « ♦ «

At the same hour that Master Eleazar
quitted Ollerton by a wicket -gate of which
none other had the secret, Roy of Calverton
sat in the hut of Martin the woodlander, which
lay almost within bowshot of the mansion,

LANTERNS IN THE THICKET 133

yet was so hidden by the thicket that few
who passed by could find the crazy door.
It was a wretched abode, built of mud and
stones ; but a cheerful fire burned upon its
hearth, and a rushlight, flickering in an iron
holder, cast a mellow light upon the faces
of the silent company gathered there. Never
in his history had old Martin seen so many
brought together in that mean abode. For
Roy was there ; and there was he whom they
called the Knight of the Bow, and with them
the young priest from the sanctuary ; and many
a good fellow that had heard the tale and had
answered the outlaw's cry, and many a stripling
who swore to serve my lady. No room, indeed,
in that poor place for a tithe of those whom
Sherwood had sent to OUerton. Caring
nought for wind or storm ; bearing bows and
cudgels in their hands, the strong sons of the
forest kept vigil in the woods, and awaited the
master's word. "We serve the daughter of
Bernard of OUerton," they said, "let no man
fear this night."

It was a bold resolution ; but Roy knew
well how little resolution would help him
at such a time. Every hour brought fresh
tidings which warred upon his hope. Every

134 I CROWN THEE KING

messenger who beat upon the door of Martin's
hut had a gloomier tale still to tell.

" They hold the gates, master — there be ten
about the stable doors. I went unseen to the
Italian garden and beheld them in Bernard's
hall. They swarm about like dogs upon a
carcase. And they say that the Lord of Stow
himself is in the house. He met my lady
when she came in yester-night, and there be
strange tales told."

Roy, who until this time had been brooding
over the fire, now lent a good ear.

"What mean ye by strange tales? Am I
a woman that you fear to loose your tongue ? "

The man, an honest shepherd long in
Bernard's service, cast down his eyes and
began to fumble with the cap he held.

"They said that a blow was struck, master.
He had many a hard word for her, and when
she would not answer him " —

Roy leaped to his feet, and by the impulse
of his anger half unsheathed his sword.

"God," he said, "would you have it that he
struck her ? "

"The tale is told, master. I do repeat
what I have heard."

For a little while Roy stood mute and

LANTERNS IN THE THICKET 135

pensive. Then he turned to the company
about him and spake the oath.

" My friends," he said, " ye can bear witness
that I am not a man of many words — yet here
and now I swear to you by the Holy Cross of
Christ that if the Lord of Stow be not requited
at this hour to-morrow night, you shall carry
me dead from the house,"

A low murmur of assent burst from the
company. Well they knew the meaning of
that oath. But Roy continued with his
questions.

*' Has there been no word from Ollerton
to-day ? " he asked ; ** has none passed out ? "

They answered him that none had quitted
since the servants fled, y ester-eve, before the
soldiers.

''The lanterns stand in the thicket as I
commanded you ? "

"They so stand, master."

*' And ye have seen no light at any window ? "

"A lamp burns in the Long Gallery. I
thought to see my lady there and one who
stood with her — but now the light is gone and
returns not."

Roy bit his lip.

" The postern gate over by the stable court,

136 I CROWN THEE KING

do you find halberds there, or is that way still
open ? "

" There were five there at sunset. There are
fifty horses tethered in the stalls this night
Ye will find no way by that gate, master."

A burly fellow kneeling by the fire put in his
word.

"God send them so to sleep that, when we
go in, they will forget to wake again."

* * Peace, thou crack-pot, " cried his comrade,
"if thou hast no better tale than that."

The fellow shrugged his shoulders.

" For my part a stratagem," said he. " God
wot, there is naught better than a stratagem
when you be pressed."

He subsided and continued to gaze into the
fire. None other had the courage to speak,
seeing that the master could find nothing to say
to them. And if he were silent, they knew
well how sorely the night's work troubled him.
For the first time in his life Roy of Calverton
had no plan.

" I see no way," h^ said at last, as one driven
to the admission ; " there is naught to do but to
lay down our lives upon it and meet them face
to face."

They were about to answer him with some

LANTERNS IN THE THICKET 137

reassurance and protestation anew of their
fidelity, when a loud murmur of voices arose
without; and the door being opened at
once, and a lantern held up, an uncouth figure
appeared there and wrestled with the sentry who
had uttered the challenge. It was the figure
of Master Eleazar the minister — and never
had he come to such strong speech.

"In God's name," cried he, "am I quarry
that ye fall upon me so? Where is Roy of
Calverton who cometh with such devouring
wolves ? "

He stood, dazed by the light, in the door-
way of the hut. Water of the snow still ran
down from his hair and beard ; there was
half-melted ice upon his gown, and his hands
were palsied by the cold. But never had he
carried himself so boldly or spoken a braver
word.

" My children," said he, "I have come to
show a road to OUerton which yet lies open to
them that will follow it. And if any be afraid,
I, old man that I be, will go first where the
danger is."

CHAPTER X

THE CHOSEN SIX
'^Come like shadows, so depart" — Madfeik.

TWO hours had elapsed from the moment
of Master Eleazar^s promise until Roy
set out with the six he had chosen to find that
gate of OUerton which no soldier guarded.

"If your road be secret, Master Eleazar,"
said he, **then the fewer that follow it, the less
need of a gentle foot. One thing yet there is
to be named — I speak of the chamber wherein
the Lord of Stow lies this night"

The minister drew back and seemed to
hesitate.

*' An eye for an eye — so preached the Pagans,"
exclaimed he.

" Ay, surely, and this man would have made
Pagans of us all."

**A true word, sir, that I will not argue
upon. My lord lies in King Harry's room.

THE CHOSEN SIX 139

which is upon the right hand as you mount the
great stairs. To-morrow I will seek to satisfy
my conscience — yet to-night I could pray God
that I wore another cloak than this."

They laughed at him, for all were keen
strung now, ready and primed for the venture
as men who follow the road of their choice.
They were about to strike a good blow for
Bernard's daughter and another for the men of
Sherwood Forest. If the dawn found their
bodies stark and stiff, they cared not.

" Let those who wish us well keep watch at
the western wing. A lantern at the window
shall tell of our need. Fear not to show
yourselves when that is swung, and let your
voices make what music they may. I go to
answer the Lord of Stow as one who alone has
right in this matter. When that answer is
spoken, I will remember again that I have a
soul to save."

It was Roy's word of farewell to them, and
when he had uttered it, and the six he had
chosen had drunk a cup of ale together, they
quitted the hut and began to walk swiftly
toward the west wing of the house. The dark-
ness of the night befriended them beyond their
hope. No moon shone, nor was there any

140 I CROWN THEE KING

light of the stars upon the driving snow. Those
that had kept the gates of the park during the
day kept them no longer, but were asleep in
byre and stable. "What had the Lord of
Stow to fear from a rabble with staves in their
hands ? " they argued. The boast sent them to
their beds disdainful of any peril that was not
peril of their own debauch. Others, within the
house, were gathered about the great fires in
hall and kitchen ; and my lord being still
abed of his bout of yester-night, they winked
at their posts ; and many a one dreamed
already of France and of a dark-eyed wench
he had left behind him there.

Dark, indeed, it was in the purlieus of the
forest ; yet neither storm nor darkness kept
Master Eleazar from the path he knew so well.
Now skirting the great Italian garden which
had been Bernard's pride, now passing in the
gloom of the chapel walls, now crossing
stealthily the grass-plot by the stables, he led
the silent company up to the very wall of the
west wing ; and so, halted at last before a great
buttress which mounted to the roof of the Long
Gallery, he told them that the door was there.

" As your lives are in my keeping, sirs, not
a word again until I give you leave. There

THE CHOSEN SIX 141

is a secret of the house here known to Bernard
and to me. When I press my hand upon this
stone, it will turn as a wheel upon its iron.
Your own counsels shall be the best thereafter.
May God be with you for my lady's sake ! "

He dallied no longer with their impatience,
but putting a hand upon the stone of the
buttress, he turned it very easily and showed
them a great aperture through which a mail
might climb without distress.

'' Pass in there and let each man stand until
I follow. Go as those that have shoes in their
hands ; and remember how ye go lest ye hap
upon a halberd when least ye look for it."

He pointed to the aperture, and Roy, girding
his cloak close about him, bent himself and
went under. He appeared to pass through a
low arch of stone, but stood presently in a great
bare room through which a ray of light came
from some window in its roof. So dark was
it, nevertheless, that he could find no door to
the room; and he halted there until the six
were through, and with them Master Eleazar.

"Join hand to hand and follow me," said the
minister in a low voice, **the danger grows
with every step ye take. Do not despise it
if you wish my lady well."

142 I CROWN THEE KING

He gave his hand to Roy, and Roy in turn
held the hand of the next to him. As a human
chain of eight good links, the men passed from
the bare room to a narrow passage where there
was no light, not so much that one might see
a hand before his face. In this dark place they
moved for twenty paces ; until, indeed. Master
Eleazar stooped to lift a panel — and so suddenly
gave them sight of each other again and of
their environment. With hand upraised to
warn them anew of their hazard, the old man
showed them a great curtain which hung before
him ; and when . Roy had pulled aside the
curtain — yet no more than a hand's-breadth —
he knew why the minister was silent

He stood above the great hall of the house,
in a niche upon the first broad landing. The
curtain that he had pulled was arras, hung as
arras then was, some feet from the panelled
wall behind it. Below him, around the ebbing
fire upon that mighty hearth, were a dozen
men-at-arms, some still wearing their corselets
of steel, some clothed in jerkins and breeches
of French cloth ; but all stretched out before
the blaze as dogs upon a day of hunting. What
light there was in the hall came from a smoking
lamp at the hearth's side and two tapers

THE CHOSEN SIX 143

burning in the niche of the entresol. There
was not, upon the instant, any sign of waking
men there nor of sentries at their posts ; but
when those behind the arras had listened in-
tently for a spell, they heard a step on the
landing above them and perceived a man who
loitered at the door of the Long Gallery and
forbade access to it.

"He is at my lady's door," whispered the
minister, who could no longer hold his tongue
for excitement of it, "she has suffered much at
his hands. If you must deal roughly with any
man, I beseech you deal first with him."

Roy shrugged his shoulders. The danger
of the place was not to be disdained even by
him. He knew that a board's creak would
bring that sleeping company to its feet ; a full
breath might wake the house and set a hundred
upon seven. Never had he needed his courage
so much.

" Hark ye," he whispered, ** when that fellow
shows his back to us, I go to change a word
with my lord. Wait until ye see me enter his
room ; then, an' ye love me, forbid that any
pass the stairs' head. I count upon your love ;
for never stood we in such an extremity as
this."

144 I CROWN THEE KING

He drew his sword, and seven blades were
unsheathed behind him. The man at the
stairs' head yawned and turned to pace the
gallery again. Roy waited a little while until
he heard his muffled step, and then boldly drew
the arras back and began to mount the stairs.

It was a moment perilous, the hour of his
life, as he has said. Would those that slept
by the hearth below see that figure mounting,
mounting step by step to the vengeance it
desired so ardently. Were they, in truth,
asleep, or did they but nod ? Roy could not
answer that question. Foot by foot he made
his way. Sometimes he would move in the
shadows; once he lay stiff upon the stairs
while the sentry halted an instant upon the
landing above. But ever he gained upward
until at last his breathless comrades beheld him
at my lord's door and saw it yield at his
advance.

"And," said they, "God keep the fellow
now, for surely he will not see the day."
« « « « «

Roy pushed the door open, and when he had
passed through, he closed it instantly behind
him and set his back against it. The room in
which he found himself was the largest that

I

THE CHOSEN SIX 145

Ollerton could offer to its guests — an apartment
in which kings had slept, and to which Bernard
had carried the richest of his treasures. For
here stood a great carved bed from Italy, and
here a chest which had come from the French
King's court ; and mirrors from Venice, and
candelabra moulded in Rome, and even a
carpet from the East. But the greatest boast
of that apartment was its carved chimney,
carried upward until it touched the frieze of the
ceiling, and bedecked with a wondrous tracery
of figure and foliage which was the marvel of
the country.

A king's room, in truth, yet Roy passed its
splendours by when he shut the door and
sought the man who had brought him to
Ollerton that night. He had looked to find
my lord asleep upon the bed, and heavy still,
perchance, with his debauch of yester-night ;
but the bed was empty, and my lord himself,
seated in a great oak chair before the fire, as
wide awake as ever he had been in his life.
Nay, he saw who entered there — and this was
odd, that he continued still to sit crouching
above the blaze — nor made any movement as
of one who would defend himself or seek help
of his servants.

lO

146 I CROWN THEE KING

Roy shut the door, and keeping a good hold
upon his sword, he crossed the room and stood
at my lord's side. The light of many tapers
shone out to serve him ; noble and outlaw, the
men could search each other's faces and read
the message of their purpose. And the face
of one told of anger and of the will to give
anger her due ; the other was a heavy face,
puffed up and swollen, and offering a riddle to
him that scanned it.

" My Lord of Stow," said Roy frankly, " I
have come here this night to see which is the
better man — ^he who rules at OUerton, or one
that OUerton has named outlaw and felon. I
beg you help me to answer that question."

The Lord of Stow turned in his chair and
raised bloodshot eyes which had no confession
of fear in them.

" Ha ! " he said, " I have answered that
question many a time, but never across the bed
I slept in."

Roy lowered his sword.

**I like your quality," was his reply; "if it
were any other in England, I would name to-
morrow for your courtesy. But since it is you,
my lord, and for the due you have earned in
this house, it shall even be to-night. Nay, to

•t'

THE CHOSEN SIX 147

fight across a bed should be after your own

heart. There is many a worse ground."
The Lord of Stow continued to ape the

manner of one heavy with sleep and brood-
ing.

** How came you here ? "

" By the door I will go hence."

** And if I summon my servants."

** I will kill you before the summons reaches

them."

" It reaches them now. Someone knocks."
Roy raised his sword as in a flash, and held

it at my lord*s throat.

** Bid him enter — he will find your body."
The man did not move. He who knocked

upon the door now asked a question.
** Did my lord summon me ? "
** I did not summon you. Get you gone."
They could hear his steps growing fainter in

the corridor. When all sound of them had

died away, Roy spoke again.

" You try my patience, John of Stow," he

said ; '' must I kill you as a butcher kills a

sheep ? "

"Unless you put a sword into my hands ."^

Would you have me fight you with a staff .'^ "
" I see your sword by the great chest

148 1 CROWN THEE KING

there ; take it up, for there have been words
enough."

For a spell my lord did not move, the record
says. But driven to it at last, and very reluct-
antly, he raised himself from the chair and
stretched his limbs.

" Twill be an odd affair," said he.

** To sharpen the relish of it."

" My sword lies there by the great chest as
you say."

" Take it up, my lord — take it up ere I lose
patience."

** You have a nice wit — 'twere a pity to cut
at it."

"It shall be sharpened upon your villainies.
Come, my glass is nigh run out."

He lowered his blade again, and watched the
burly ill-shaped man who crossed the room
slowly and made pretence to find his sword and
to try the edge of it. But my Lord of Stow
played a knave's part from the first — and now,
when he was a little way from his adversary,
he took an impulse, and leaped with a young
man's agility across the bed to the door, and
began to clamour for help. So quick he was
that Roy stood taken all aback ; nevertheless,
coming to his wits before the surprise was

^••v

THE CHOSEN SIX 149

wholly executed, he had my lord at the sword's
point in the very door of the room — and they
two stood to that affair.

All the house was awake now. Men-at-arms
leaped to their feet and came shouting up the
stairs. The six that Roy had chosen burst
from their hiding-place behind the arras to hold
the landing at peril of their lives. The Lord of
Stow himself, with sweat upon his forehead,
bawled incessantly for aid. But Roy had
pinned him to the wall. The swords rang out
with a merry music. ** I have thee, valiant
against women — to-night thy book is written."
It was the outlaw's boast.

The clash of steel, the loud oath, turmoil
within, turmoil without ; the cries of men who
had steel at their hearts ; at the stairs' head, six
that no twenty there might pass ; in distant
halls and kitchens, panic of the night and of
the surprise ; in the woods without, horsemen
riding wildly south for Nottingham, to tell a
doleful tale. But to Roy an instant of quicken-
ing delight. The man whose bloodshot eyes
looked into his own, the man whose savage
mouth was now puckered up in timorous resolu-
tion, the man who had struck Barbara of
OUerton — the heart of that man his good blade

150 I CROWN THEE KING

sought, and he knew that it would not seek in
vain.

" Foe to women, be a foe to men this night
Must I kill thee like a sheep? Engage, thou
braggart, thou young wife's whip, engage,
engage."

The taunt was a spur upon the coward's
hesitation. He raised his sword, and the blades
met with a shower of sparks as from a smith's
anvil. The outlaw had but one object, to kill
the man who stood before him. The Lord of
Stow sought only to pass the stairs to his
servants below. No mean swordsman, a
boaster who had won the right to boast in many
a tavern brawl, he would have played a good
part had it been any other but Roy of Calverton
— at whose name his company had refused to
march, whose history and whose achievement
all the forest told him. But now the tavern
bravo was half-drunk with wine ; he heard the
clamour as a brawl of hell ; the lights danced
before his eyes ; instinct alone kept the point
from his heart. He must die, there at the
stairs' head, that Sherwood might mock his
name.

"Hither, hither! — do you not hear me, ye
milk-livered cravens ? Is there none to stand

THE CHOSEN SIX 151

with me? Oh, have at them, have at them!
It is I, your lord, who calls — God's faith, must
I die before your eyes ? "

Roy's touch waxed more sure upon his sword
as he heard the pitiful appeal.

"Ha!" he cried triumphantly, "we need
no audience, my Lord of Stow, where death
is the player. What, dost fear to die?
A craven in a cloak of brass! Play on,
thou braggart, play on, for I will surely kill
thee."

He had courage of the truth, and driving the
man before him toward the place where his
comrades held the stairs' head, he lunged at
him cleverly upon the very brink of the topmost
step. It was a brave stroke ; but as he played
it there happened that which was stranger than
any event of a night eventful. For my lord,
springing backward to parry the thrust, missed
his footing and fell headlong down the stairs ;
and his servants pressing upward in the dim
light, and unable to see who it was that fell
upon them, one of them drove a sword through
his body, and, before the steel was withdrawn
again, my Lord of Stow was dead.

But Roy, seeing what had befallen, ran
swiftly to the Long Gallery, and finding my

152 I CROWN THEE KING

lady, standing patiently at the door of her
chamber, he put his arms about her neck, and
holding her close to him, he told her that he
had kept the oath even as he had sworn it at
the chapel of the Sanctuary.

CHAPTER XI

THE HUSH

"Under which king?" — Shakespeare.

** T T E is dead," he said, as he held her close

A A to him, and raised her trembling lips
to his, " the debt of yesterday is paid, dear wife.
His own have struck the blow — ay, thou art
glad ? "

She whispered that she was glad ; but re-
collection of the hour and place compelling her,
she drew back from his embrace presently, and
spoke of his own condition.

"And you, dear husband, you come to me
unharmed ? "

"Ay, unharmed as them that follow and
befriend me. Think not of that, sweetheart —
for there is a work to do."

She clung to him anew, fearing that he
would return to the stairs' head whereat his
fellows stood; but he pressed his questions

168

154 I CROWN THEE KING

upon her, lor he knew that the moment was
perilous.

** Is there no way, no staircase here, by which
you may pass to the forest? I go to argue
with my lord's men, but if the argument
prevail not, 'tis well you should not hear it.
Hast no way of passage, dear wife ? "

She raised her pretty face to his, and
answered with the courage of her race —

"Though there were a hundred ways, I
would not leave your side. If my lord's men
lack a master, shall not they find one in you ?
Let your argument be that, dear husband, and
they will hear it readily."

For an instant he thought upon it. The
course to which she prompted him was worthy
of Bernard s daughter.

** I come to a good counsellor," said he, " that
notion passed me by. We may find our safety
in it. Stand here yet a moment, sweetheart,
and when I raise my voice, show a flambeau at
your lattice. There are friends of ours in the
thickets yonder, and their argument may even
prevail above my own."

He stooped to kiss her again, and so returned
to those that waited him. A hush had fallen
upon the house now. In the dim light of the

THE HUSH 155

great hall men carried tapers to peer into the
dead EarFs face, and to tell each, in low voices,
that my lord was gone, and that his own had
killed him. Elsewhere troopers loitered in
awestruck groups; but some pointed to the
six upon the landing above — and none had yet
sheathed his sword.

"They hesitate upon it," said Roy, "and
one is lacking to us. Who, then, has fallen ? "

They indicated a body sprawling upon the
stairs — the body of Renfrew of Calverton, who
had been Roy*s best friend.

"He fell at the first attack — God rest his
soul. There is no other hurt, if it be not for
Sir Percival that nurses a scratch. Think you
they will engage again ? "

Roy walked out into the light, and stood
where those below could see him. He knew
that there were fifty armed men in the house,
and that, but for the terror of his name, he and
his would now be lying as Renfrew of Calverton,
stiff and stark for the new day to find.

"Men of Stow," he cried suddenly, "your
lord is dead. Will ye go forth now, lacking
a master, or will ye serve one who is ready to
give your lives this night ? "

His clarion voice was like a note of music

156 I CROWN THEE KING

ringing through that hall and the corridors that
gave upon it. The troopers about my lord's
body raised themselves from their knees and
looked at the speaker. Other groups, that
discussed the new attack, ceased to whisper,
and came to the foot of the staircase. But no
man answered Roy, and so he spoke to them
again.

** You that have followed the hard road, you
that have served the servant of hell, will ye
seek a new way and a new service this night,
or shall I bid my own come in to repay?
Think well upon it, men, for that which ye say
now, to-morrow ye shall not recall. 'Tis Roy
of Calverton who puts the question, and never
asked he fidelity of any man twice."

Again that hush prevailed in the great hall.
Men looked at each other as those questioning ;
but none so bold as to answer the argument.
When a little spell of silence had passed, a
voice was raised, and it was that of my lord's
page Ren6, who had ridden with the outlaw
from the Abbey of the Holy Well.

" You are but six, Roy of Calverton," cried
he, ** show us your fellows and we will believe."

The lad's temerity loosed other tongues.

" Ay, what fellows hath he ? 'Tis a

THE HUSH 157

woman's tale, friends. See how he will tell
it, when we hang him from the battlements
presently."

But Ren6 the page, anxious to do Roy a
service, would not be silenced.

" Let nothing be done in haste, lest we
repent," cried he. ** There was never a boast
yet that Roy of Calverton has not made good.
Bid him show us why we should serve him,
and then shall he have our answer."

"Nay, are we to take children for our
counsellors? Let the man first be cut down
and then we will hold argument with him ! "

Roy, standing as a figure of stone above
them, heard their dispute, and realised that
one ill-spoken word would bring that company
upon him. There, below, was a great crowd
of armed men, men of many countries, lusting
for his blood and for a last debauch in that
house of death. A taunt, a movement, would
send them as hounds to his throat. He stood
smiling like one who feared nothing, either
from his own temper or from their enmity.

"The lad is right," said he, "if ye would
serve a new master, ye must know what kind
of a man he is. Let those who follow my
service bear witness to it. They stand in

158 I CROWN THEE KING

the woods at your door. Even as I send a
messenger to them of my will this moment,
they will answer me. I bid you hearken to
their voices ! "

He lifted his hand for silence in the place ;
and all listened because of their curiosity. For
there was no man there who knew that my lady
stood at her lattice with a flambeau in her
hand ; and anon, when all had given an
attentive ear for a moment, and could swear
that Roy had not moved from the stairs, they
heard a low murmur of voices — at first faint
and wavering like the murmur of waters, but
anon thunderous and distinct, a mighty
clamour as of an army advancing— a human
avalanche upon that house. And at the sound,
knowing not what miracle had raised it, there
were some who fell upon their knees craving
mercy of Roy ; and some who rushed wildly to
and fro seeking escape ; and others who cried
with all their voices — ** We serve, we serve!"
A very pandemonium it was of men shouting
that the outlaws were in the house ; of others
striving upward to Roy's feet ; of those who did
but wave their swords and protest again — " We
serve, we serve!" And to this wild scene
there came, when a few minutes had passed.

THE HUSH 159

that honest band which long had waited in
the woods, but now ran out to its master's
help, and swarmed through the doors and the
windows of the house, and filled the hall and
all the rooms about, and raised anew with lusty
voices the cry that so often had led them on
— " A Roy, a Roy of Calverton ! "

Higher surged that human tide, higher yet,
and higher ; a serried press of faces upturned,
of arms outstretched, of swords shining in the
dim light, of staves wavering. So loud was the
clamour that^ many heard it in the forest's
heart ; so fierce were the cries of triumph that
all the house echoed as with the turbulence of
an army come sacking to a fallen city. But
Roy stood, like some prince of men, a noble
figure above the figures of those who loved
him ; and the music of the night was this cry
of theirs, ** We serve, we serve ! "

» « « « «

No man thought of sleep in OUerton that
night, and when the stress of victory had passed,
and those who had been the servants of the Lord
of Stow had fled the place, or were sworn to
a new service in that house, the Lady Barbara
came out among her new guests to receive
their homage and to requite them. Never had

160 I CROWN THEE KING

Bernard's home opened its doors to a gather-
ing so strange. Woodlanders were there, and
honest fellows from the hills, and shepherds
from their huts, and many a one who had been
called outlaw, and many a trooper who had
tales of other lands; and, gathering in the
splendid hall of banquets, they keep the feast
again, and drank of wines that never yet had
been lifted to their lips. Dawn found them still
within the house. The tale of this night, they
knew, was being told in many a town about
Sherwood Forest — ^the story of it repeated to
many a troubled sheriff; but for the morrow
they cared not a straw. Roy of Calverton
would lead them to victory as ever he had
led.

Tapers burning brightly below, winecups
passing, the merry ballad, the clamour of
tongues, the cry of triumph, the temper of
plenty ; but in my lady's chamber the word of
love, the protestation anew, the sweeter joy of
possession and of promise. Roy was there
alone with her ; and standing together at her
lattice, they looked out upon the broad domain
of OUerton, and watched the dawn-light as it
waked the sleeping forest and showed to them
the glories of the frosted fields and all that

THE HUSH 161

witching world of whitened bough and jewelled
tracery.

"How shall I repay — what gift anew can
tell of my love ? " she asked, as his arm closed
about her and he lifted her face to his.

"You have given me yourself. What else
should I seek ? "

She was silent a little while ; and when she
spoke, she betrayed her fear for him.

"They will send from Nottingham. They
will tell of this wherever my lord's friendis
gather. Ye have won safety for the night,
dear heart, but what of to-morrow ? — ^ah, God I
what of to-morrow ? "

He knew not what to answer her, for the
morrow, indeed, must be the day of reckoning.
From Nottingham, as she had promised him,
the challenge must come ; the call of that justice
which the forest alone might enable him to defy.

" We have always the refuge of stout hearts,
the haven of our love," said he, " and in that
is our true security. Nay, who shall harm me
while Sherwood's gate is open and your road
is my road ? The morrow to the morrow. It
will need more than a sheriffs oath to drive
out Roy of Calverton when he hath the mind
to stay I "

162 I CROWN THEE KING

He sought to cheer her with a man's good
confidence, but her woman's wit read him more
truly, and there were tears in her eyes when
she answered him again —

"Stout hearts ye have, dear Roy, and the
haven of your love ; but how of those who will
come in the Queen's name because of yester-
day? Think not that this shall be hid by
Sherwood as any woodman's brawl or passing
of sheriffs men. You know that it cannot be.
Had not the Lord of Stow friends enough that
some must cry it in the palace where the Queen
may hear. Nay, think me not cruel — thou art
all to me now, and the day is dark as mine
own heart ! "

He had no answer for her, but fell to
pacing the room like one whom thought had
mastered. This little wise head, so dear to
him, so hardly won — ^he knew full well that it
spake as he must speak anon. Through all
that good country the hue and cry would go
presently. Even the forest might not shelter
him from Mary's justice and the judge's officer.
And what of Ollerton then.^ What of my
lady's house, which he had sworn to hold for
her?

"They shall not drive thee out," he said,

THE HUSH 163

but with the voice of one who first must
convince himself; "they shall not drive thee
out while there is a bow to bend in Sherwood
or a smith to forge a blade. Let that be thy
consolation, dearest wife. Nay, the omen
went with me and it shall serve to the end.
The shield of Roy of Calverton bears hope for
its blazon, and is lifted still by Sherwood's grace.
Was not yesterday so dark that no night of
love's winter may ever surpass it ? Oh, believe
me, sweet wife, this OUerton shall be thine
while brave men serve me and owe thee
gentle allegiance. Have I failed thee yet from
the beginning that you should charge me
now ? "

She put him to shame with her loving rebuke,
and, resting in his embrace, a ray of the sun-
light fell upon them, and found them heart to
heart in that hour of their resolution.

« « « « «

The day broke with a winter glory of the
tempered sun. In OUerton men moved
restlessly, some looking from the windows for
news of the pursuit ; others saying that the
sheriff would ride in ere nightfall and tfiat the
end would be then.

"The Lord of Stow had many friends.

164 I CROWN THEE KING

What will keep them from this house, masters ?
Is Roy of Calverton a new prophet that he
may work a miracle ? They will bum it, byre
and barn, and ye who owe allegiance, how will
ye dance when the feet swing high ? A fool's
truce, I say. Let us hasten hence lest worse
befall."

So croaked a craven trooper of my lord's
remnant, and anon with his fellows fled the
house and the woods. One by one the
laggards dropped away, until at midday the
archers alone were left to Roy of Calverton.
And even these must turn their eyes oft to the
forest, asking each other, "How many hours
ere the news be known ? " Their master, they
told you, was without plot or plan, as he had
never been before. Never had they seen him
surrender to circumstance as he seemed to
surrender that day. Yet no man begrudged
the faith he always had given. The master
would find a road though a thousand barred
it.

Now, the outlaw spent the early hours of
the morning in the room where the body of
the dead man lay, and thereafter he called to
him one of my lord's troopers and began to
question him very closely.

I

THE HUSH 165

"This man ye served, why lingered he at
Nottingham ? "

The fellow was taken aback at the charge,
and began to mouth an excuse very clumsily.

"They say that he fell from his horse ; yet,
sir, I was not so well advanced in his company
that I know whether it be true or false. If
your worship so desires it, inquiry shall be
made " —

"At Leicester, where my lord lingered.
Was it not so. Master Tonguestruck ? "

" Indeed, your worship, my lord did bide
at Leicester no longer than a man might crack
a flask and kiss a maid."

" Ha, and my Lord of Suffolk, what of him ?
Was there maid also for his humour and flask
to crack ? Ye have a poor memory, my man.
Yet I have known more sullen speak when
Roy of Calverton had a mind to make them."

The trooper shifted uneasily at the charge,
and observing that Roy held the dead Earl's
papers in his hand, and that nothing further was
to be got by lies, he began to tell a plainer
story.

"There be some," said he, "who wish no
good thing to Queen Mary or her house. God
forbid that I should number myself with such

166 I CROWN THEE KING

rogues, unless it be that your worship is of
their way of thinking so that a man may speak
honestly before you. My Lord of Stow called
all men brothers, like many a fine gentleman,
yet not so loud, your honour, that it should be
heard at every inn-door ; and, God wot, 'twas
little he got of Mary when his letters to
Northumberland came into Her Majesty's
hands. So off goes he to the Midlands, where
men do say that if the new Queen hold her
head so high, she be like to buss humility,
which is no thing for the priests, as your
honour bears witness. Nay, sir, I was with
my lord for five years in the wars, and never
cared he a crack for argent or sable be the
crowns put down and the words fair. So what
should befall at Leicester but that the Duke
has speech with him, and the red wine is drawn,
and * God save you all, my brave fellows,' says
he, *for ye will surely hang ere the Easter
Mass ; ' and that, by the Holy Word, I believe
we shall, and your worship no higher than the
rest."

He stood for very want of breath ; and Roy,
merry at his tale, which was also a message of
his own safety, pushed his quest still further,
as a judge with a prisoner.

THE HUSH 167

"Ay," said he, *'an' I hang, man, ye shall
have pride of place beside me, I do assure you.
Disturb not yourself with any pride which
would swing from a lower peg. Indeed, ye
deserve a considerable honour in that ye make
the Duke known to me and his good intention.
He hath his camp at Leicester, you say — then
the standard is lifted and the troop rides in
already. Nay, tell me truly, for this is a great
matter."

"A great matter, your honour, and so
assuredly it is that it shall be a matter of life
or death to some in London town before many
weeks be passed. I am no mouthing clerk
in gown and stole to chide a flock or set myself
before my betters — yet if a Spaniard be indeed
coming for the Queen's bed, and the irons grow
hot for them that lag at the Massing, then will
I saddle up for London town, and none more
willing. Let your worship remember what an
honourable employment might be found in my
Lord Duke's camp, where a sheriffs ears shall
be set for blazon, and they that cry * Justice ! '
shall have it of the pikemen. God wot, sir,
were I in your honour's shoes this day I would
draw no rein until Leicester's gate were passed
and the Duke's cause mine own ! "

168 I CROWN THEE KING

Roy put him to silence with a sudden word,
very quick and unlooked for.

" Nay," said he, " if I draw rein, it shall be
at London's palace. Wilt go there, rogue, to
find a noble rope? I promise thee a place
before the Duke."

He had turned upon the trooper so swiftly,
that for a little while the man was deaf to his
meaning ; but, discerning the way of it at last,
he fell to cursing and swearing, and with a
great oath would have it that Queen Mary
knew no trustier servant But Roy drove him
from the house, and hastening to my lady's
side, he gave her the glad news.

"Sweet wife," said he, "thou hast bidden
me choose according to my discretion ; and I
have found a road for thee, and it lies even to
the Queen's house and those who will seek me
therein."

She turned to him with a cry of fear and
dread.

" London I London ! what meaning hath
this ? "

" The meaning of thy safety, which I would
find."

" Ye speak a jest, dearest Roy ! "

" No jest, dear wife, but of my love I speak,

L

THE HUSH 169

saying, 'Ride with me to London and I will
make thy estate secure, and win thy pardon I ' "

My lady knew not how to answer him. In
the halls below men spoke of the hours passing,
and said, " This night Roy of Calverton must
answer to the sheriff."

But one of them, wiser than his fellows,
spoke of my Lord of Suffolk then in camp at
Leicester, and to his friends he said —

** Let him look to his steps. It may even be
that he shall find no Queen in London when
he rides in."

END OF BOOK I

BOOK n— THE CITY

CHAPTER XII

THE ADVENTURERS

''There is nothing so quick to raise the hopes and fears of
men — ay, and of women too — ^as a city's lights seen a little
while after the hour of sunset upon a winter's day, when
the traveller bethinketh him of meat and lodging, and
the perils of the way no more disturb his serenity."
— Old Chronicle,

IN the beginning of the year 1554, towards
the close of a sunny day, a little company
of travellers rode into London by the great
highway from York; and being come to the
common at Finchley, such of the wayfarers as
knew the place looked joyously for the city's
lights, and for that warm welcome which the
inns at Charing should vouchsafe them. There
were forty of the adventurers, says the record,
both men and women of the poorer sort and of

quality ; and while you might have seen archers

170

THE ADVENTURERS 171

from the forest by Sherwood, priests from the
abbeys which the great Henrys reign had
closed, and even merchants from the northern
towns, joined for security to the bowmen's
troop, nevertheless, the gossips by the wayside
pointed first to the figure of the Lady Barbara
of OUerton, and of Roy, her husband, arid
asked by what means such folk had happened
upon such a venture. Which curiosity had
reason, both in the appearance of the travellers
and in the friendships which the road had found
for them. As for the man, he was dressed
beyond the ordinary in a tunic of Lincoln
green, with fine boots of leather, and an ample
cape embroidered with fur, and fine spurs of
the purest gold ; and he rode with that good
assurance which spoke of mastership and of
authority. All obeyed him readily, and even
the priests did not dispute his ruling ; a word,
it may be, of his story having been dropped
here and there at an inn-door, to win some
sympathy for his enterprise, and not a little
doubt of its accomplishment. Long a fugitive,
this man who rode so bravely had won the
allegiance ol Sherwood Forest as none since
Robin and his fellows. His marriage, men
said, was a story from the fables. " He goes

172 I CROWN THEE KING

to London to crave pardon of the Queen/' the
gossips added; to whom the knowing ones
made answer : ** Let him keep a good horse to
bring him out again, for assuredly he shall have
need of him, and of one for my lady, who is
not of the faith."

This was their word as the cavalcade passed
on in the twilight, and one by one the strange
figures disappeared from their view : a word of
praise for the woman's face, and of pity for the
man who would befriend her. In London,
they foretold, there would be many to question
Barbara of Ollerton ; many to ask the strange
history of him who now rode so gallantly beside
her. For those were the beginnings of the
gloomy days when the shadow of the Spaniard
loomed already above the city; and men re-
membered in whispers that the foreigner was
in and the devil was out, and that it would be
a sorry hour for England when Philip came
from Spain and won the kingdom for his
dowry. In all of which they but echoed the
gossip of London city — as good neighbours
oftentimes regaled by a passing traveller who
drew rein to feed their wonder.

Now, Roy of Calverton had been for many
a year in Sherwood Forest, and knew little of

THE ADVENTURERS 173

the Queen's will, nor of those swift events
which befell upon her accession. Set upon a
purpose, and confident of some achievement,
he carried a great hope to the city ; and spoke
of it often to my lady at his side as one who
would ask of her good courage, and that abiding
faith which first had won her love. Many
times as they approached the outskirts he
would bid her be of good cheer ; nor would he
hear of an evil outcome, or consent at any time
to abate that expectancy which had led him
from his stronghold in the North.

•*We shall lie the night at Charing, but
to-morrow to the house of my Lord of
Taunton," he said, when Finchley was passed,
and the silent countryside encouraged them to
confidence. '* I would not go in to-night, dear
heart, for that would be to knock thrice upon
their gate ; and he who knocks thrice may lack
the welcome he looks for. Nevertheless, my
lord has promised us shelter, and I see that
it will be no little security to enjoy the protec-
tion of such a house. Let us not forget that
we are as those who go to cast all upon a
single throw, and if it befall that God is not
with us in the venture, then have we naught
but our own courage and great love for our

174 I CROWN THEE KING

consolation. Yet of that I will not think, for
my hand is set to the plough, and, God willing,
I will never look back. Nay, let us carry a
brave resolution, for that alone will befriend us
in London city."

She answered him as he would have wished,
for the record goes that there was no braver
heart in England that night than Barbara of
OUerton, the outlaw's wife.

"Your road is my road, dear husband — ^to
the darkness or the sunshine ; I care not if you
be with me. Yet I would not hide it that we
have need of our courage and of any friendship
we can find in London city. If I think kindly
of my home, it is because I go to a house of
strangers who knew not my father's name, and
who may hear mine with no pleasure of the
history. Do not count me less worthy of your
praise if I must hold OUerton always in my
affections. Nay, I go to London as one who
says, * To-morrow it will be homeward again.'"

She spoke a little wistfully, like one weary
of the fatigue of that long and perilous
journey, and lacking something of the hope
of it, now that it drew near to accomplishment
But a month ago she had been the mistress of
a fair estate, winning gladly the obedience of

THE ADVENTURERS 175

a loving people, ruling with a gentle hand that
fair domain which Bernard, her father, had left
to her. And now she was a wife, and had laid
her allegiance at the feet of this man whom the
world called *' outlaw" and ** exile;" the very
dominion she had claimed threatened to pass
from her sway ; even the life of him to whom
she had given her affections was in peril, men
said. In London alone was pardon to be won,
the kingdom to be found again. None knew
better than Roy of Calverton the hazard of
that for which they wrought This London city
which gave so much should give them all or
give them nothing. That had been his
determination from the outset

" Homeward again, God grant it ! " he
retorted, as he pressed his horse close to hers,
and covered her outstretched hand with his
leather gauntlet ** Homeward again when
the work is done and the clouds are lifted. I
speak with no confidence to which the day
doth not entitle me. Yet, dear wife, were the
price we asked a thousand times that which I
shall demand of them, nevertheless they will
pay it when my story is told. Ay, fear
nothing. A house for a house, and for a
dynasty, dominion. Many a year in Sherwood

176 I CROWN THEE KING

Forest have those about us owned no king but
Roy of Calverton, nor asked any right but the
good service they yield to him. In London
city it shall not be different The friendship
of the forest goes with us, dear wife. Account
it no little thing, since it has given me my right
to live."

Seeking to encourage her yet more, the
story says, he began to renew the jest of it,
winning laughter from the group and a new
promise of their fidelity. And, therefrom, he
passed to a new avowal of his intention. To-
morrow, very early in the morning, they would
ride to the house of my Lord of Taunton, and
there claim of the janitor that hospitality which
had been offered to them. And, being estab-
lished in the house, it would remain to seek
audience of the Queen and to plead their cause
before her.

''They say that she hath a right sense of
justice and will lend a ready ear to those that
come obediently. The jails are already open
to such as treason did not charge, and if there
be a pardon, as I am told, my name may well
be written there. But I go to her with other
claims, dear wife, and they shall make good
what is lacking in the law. She hath need

THE ADVENTURERS 177

of such service as I and mine can give this day.
Nay, if the truth of it be as I think, her own
case is no less perilous than ours. Let us press
on, then, with good hearts. Yonder are the
lights, and beyond them lies London town."

They had passed the hills about Finchley by
this time, and traversing the dangerous common
in all security (they being forty in company,
and armed, moreover, as few that rode abroad
in those days), they came now to that stretch
of heathland which borders upon the northward
heights of the city ; and thence, looking down
through a break in the woods, they beheld
many lanterns clustered together, like constella-
tions of stars, and above them a loom of crimson
in the sky, like a beacon shining above the city
of their desire. And it was here, while still
speaking of their intention, that they overtook
others upon the road, and so encountered as
sorrowful a spectacle as any which the journey
had given them. For hereby an old man,
seated upon a grey horse, was being carried by
the sheriffs men to judgment ; and asking of
what circumstance he was, the men answered
that it was Master Latimer, the Bishop of
Worcester, being taken to his trial upon a
charge of heresy.

12

178 I CROWN THEE KING

Now, those in the North had heard but
little at that time of any being accused for the
faith's sake, nor was it known to them that
Parliament had made new the forgotten Statutes
against Heresy which were of Henry's reign.
The new Queen, men said, would practise her
own faith, and leave all men to theirs ; in which
belief Roy of Calverton, caring as little for
Pope as for devil, set out with confidence to
deride the fears of those who warned him. But
now, while he rode at the good Bishop's side,
he remembered the friendly words, and began
to ask the old man, very curiously, as to that
which was charged against him. Upon which
Master Latimer, professing that he knew not,
if so be that the faith of Christ were not a
felony, went on to wonder that a man should
ride into London when he might another way.

"We go to a place of dangers, sirs, and
God knows what of His justice shall be our
portion hereafter. It may be that this England
of ours will sorely need those who know best
how to befriend her. I speak as it is given to
me. The time is past when any servant of
our Lord and Master may hold his peace."

He went on to tell them how that Parliament
had renewed the Statutes, and how a prying

THE ADVENTURERS 179

spirit was abroad, each man asking his
neighbour, not of his love or charity, but of
his Massing, and of what he said and did in the
company of the priests. Yet so gentle was his
word, and so readily they found a fathership
of his counsels, that even his guards gave a
willing ear and bade him not to be silent.

''Be of good faith, for in that shall your
justification be, masters. Let no man compel
your 'ay' when the Book has written 'nay.'
And for me grieve not at all, for I have my
Master 8 voice, and how shall I turn back when
He is calling me ? "

They answered him : "God guard thee. Master
Latimer, and bring thee to thy home again ; "
and he, in turn, gave them blessing ; while for
Roy of Calverton and the Lady Barbara, his
wife, he added a word of warning, saying that
he would sooner hear of their taking any other
road than the one which carried them to
London city.

"A place of peril, sir. I would even one
should say to you, ' Turn back ; seek your
home again,' even as the Wise Men were
warned in the visions. Nevertheless, I speak
in ignorance, which ye may not account good
friendship."

180 I CROWN THEE KING

He looked at my lady, the record says, and
observing her youth and prettiness, and the
fear which possessed her, he bade her be of
good cheer. And the city's lights now shining
very clearly in the vale below them, all cried,
" London ! London ! " and even the horses
pressed on with lighter step as though yonder
were the goal of their desire.

CHAPTER XIII

THE WOLF TO THE CLOISTER

''These can lie,
Flatter and swear, deprave, inform,
Smile and betray.**— Ben Jonson.

AT nine o'clock on the following morning,
Roy of Calverton, bearing a letter from
my Lord of Taunton, came to the palace at
St James's, where the court was then held ;
and, disdaining any parley with the ushers, he
demanded audience of Her Majesty. To such
as challenged him at the gate, and afterwards
in the ante-rooms, he let it be known that the
matter was of grave urgency ; and his manner
being not a little authoritative, and his dress
such as rarely had been seen at Queen Mary's
court, the news of it was carried quickly to my
Lord of Norfolk, and afterwards to Gardiner,
the Chancellor.

" A messenger from the North upon an affair

of urgency ; one who has been thirty hours in

in

182 I CROWN THEE KING

the saddle that Her Majesty may have his
tidings."

Now, many messengers had ridden in from
the northern counties during the first year of
Mary's reign ; and rare was the day when some
news of the doubtful country did not come to
the Chancellor's ears to play upon his apprehen-
sions or to awake his fears ; but of late, report
had lulled him to some security, and he had
begun to think of an affair more pressing than
that of the shiremen and their complaints.
For which reason, one messenger the more
gave him but little concern, and being unaware
of any business which righdy might be named
"urgent," he sent a page to the door to bid
the Northman wait until such time as his lord-
ship's curiosity might conveniently be gratified.

So behold Roy of Calverton in an ante-room
of the palace, looking patiently for that good
hour when he must seek his pardon and declare
the price of it. Many years had passed since
last he set foot in London city. The glamour
of pageantry and all the splendour of dress
about him seemed as a picture of a past which
he thought to have forgotten. In the old days,
when, as Count of Drives, his father had
presented him at the French King's court, he

WOLF TO THE CLOISTER 188

had known, perchance, a scene more splendid,
a life as full of joyaunce and display as any
which London could show him ; but long years
in Sherwood Forest, the dominion of wood and
thicket, the silence of the groves, had blotted
the picture out; so that now, when it came
again, it was as a thing unreal, a puppet show
into the spirit of which he could not enter. A
sturdy Northman, the friend of liberty, blunt
of speech, self-appointed'guardian of the forest's
justice, he beheld this group of priests and
esquires, of jesting women and self-seeking
men, with that contempt of estate and authority
which the forest fastness had so truly taught
him. And he, in turn, was observed by them
as closely; pointed out as a rare figure for
their gossip ; remembered as Roy the Outlaw ;
esteemed not a little for the courage which
carried him to that place. A king of men in
stature, his long hair falling upon a cloak of
Lincoln green, his velvet cap tossed negligently
to the seat behind him, his high boots of leather
— a jest upon fashion — ^his spurs of gold (for
these were my lady's gifts to him) — assuredly
such a man had not escaped remark wherever
circumstance had placed him. And of his
story, not a little was known even at the

184 I CROWN THEE KING

palace of St. James's. He had ruled Sher-
wood as an outlaw, yet had ruled it with 4
royal justice, men said. Never had the poor
and needy sought him in vain ; no abbey gate,
they knew, which did not open at his knock.
And now he had come to London to crave
pardon in those days of a doubtful amnesty.
Men wondered at such temerity, and feared it ;
the women in their hearts wished him **God
speed."

A full hour passed in this remembrance
of the old time and doubt of the new before
any word was sent to him, or the Chancellor
so much as remembered his request Once,
indeed, he heard a great stir in the courtyard
of the palace, and, looking from the window,
he perceived a company of gentlemen upon
horseback, and in the midst of them the Queen
herself, dressed very sombrely in black, and
wearing that grave countenance of which report
had spoken with no kindness. But the caval-
cade passed out with little observation and no
welcome of the people at the gate ; and there-
after another hour went by before Roy was
summoned. When at last a groom called him,
he answered with a word of raillery more
prudent than his impatience —

WOLF TO THE CLOISTER 185

'' Let not my lord so much as miss a
Paternoster when the safety of this kingdom
hangs upon that which I shall say to him.
Nay, sirs, I had rather wait some days yet
if my lord's devotions be hindered by my
coming ! "

They heard with astonishment, for few were
bold enough to defy the Chancellor publicly;
but Roy of Calverton was ever bold in jest ;
and knowing not what to say to him, they led
him to the audience, and promised him a gibbet
for his recompense.

« « « « « '

My Lord of Winchester, but recently made
Lord High Chancellor of England, has been
shrewdly judged by many that came after him ;
but in his own time the city had yet to hear
his name with feelings other than those of
admiration for a zealous servant of the faith,
and for one who had paid for his fidelity by
long years of dour imprisonment during
Edward's reign. As Roy of Calverton found
him upon that morning of January, in a little
library adjoining the Queen's apartment, he
was a man of thoughtful mien, well filling
the capacious chair in which he sat; one,
moreover, who had no little subtlety of grace

186 I CROWN THEE KING

and conversation for those he favoured.
Schooled since his youth to be a judge of
men, he sat for some while casting a close
glance at the suppliant who now claimed right
of audience ; and when he had satisfied himself
that it was an honest face, he put down the
pen with which he had been toying, and
leaned back in his chair that he might listen
patiently.

" You come upon a matter of urgency," he
said slowly, "and you are Roy, the outlaw
of Calverton. A strange purpose, sir, that
brings the wolf to the cloister-gate."

Roy seated himself at the table, so close to
the Chancellor that he could have put a hand
upon him, and answered with much readiness —

" Roy of Calverton, as your lordship says.
I account it an honour that my name is known
to you. Yet, my lord, it is of others and not
of myself that I come here to speak."

The Bishop, still leaning back in his chair,
and pressing his finger-tips together, took up
the point adroitly —

"Wisdom, Master Roy; indeed, I perceive
you to be wise, for, let a little of your story be
known, and Her Majesty's Judges may wish to
hear both preface and conclusion."

■■

WOLF TO THE CLOISTER 187

He observed the outlaw closely, meaning to
bint at a threat, yet not to press it unless the
need arose. But Roy took up the words, and
bluntly, as his fashion was, he grappled with
the challenge.

"Let them hear it when and where they
please, my lord. Am I not come to London
for that? Let them say that I am Roy of
Calverton, outlaw since Henry's reign, the
servant of the forest, the master of the archers ;
ten years called ' King of Calverton ' by them
that love me. Let them say that I am he who
played the jest, riding to save Barbara of
OUerton from my Lord of Stow, who would
have compelled her to the altar. Let them
say that I killed my lord in fair fight, and am
ready to answer to those who have his honour
in their keeping. Let them say that I have
ridden now to London to serve my Queen, in
a matter where no other may help her. Ha !
my lord, will your Judges listen to that? The
wolf is at the cloister - gate, as you say ; but
those within would be wise to open. I speak
an enigma : be it yours to read the riddle
aright"

Now, Gardiner, the Chancellor, was accus-
tomed to deal with divers orders of mea — ^with

188 I CROWN THEE KING

sycophants and dissemblers, and those that
spoke the honeyed word, or sought, in the
garb of candour, to cloak their disloyalties.
But such a man as Roy of Calverton he had
never met before.

" Hath the wolf, then, lost his teeth, that
the brethren shall fondle him ? " he asked,
a smile upon his puckered face. "Nay, if
I am to read the riddle aright, be it yours
to help me. Master Roy. And first, of the
Queen's business. I were no true servant
of Her Majesty to be deaf to that. Speak,
and you will find a ready listener, I promise
you.'^

Roy drew his chair closer to my lord's table,
and taking in his hand a sheet of paper that lay
thereon, he, to the Chancellor's great surprise,
set it down as though waiting for the other to
write.

"My lord," he said, "you bid me to be
frank with you, and I make haste to comply.
Pledge me there security for my wife's estate,
and for myself a pardon, and I will speak with
all my heart."

It was a bold offer of a compact, and in
that sense my lord was quick to be suspicious
of it.

WOLF TO THE CLOISTER 189

" Ha ! " he exclaimed. ** This King of
Calverton dictates, then, to his unwilling
subjects ! "

'* Not so, my lord. But, as a faithful sub-
ject, he oflFers them yeoman service."

** Upon a matter wherein they are ignorant " —

" But wherein they may be enlightened
before the hour has passed."

" Having security of an outlaw's word ? "

** Of the word of a man who never yet lied,
my lord."

"Yet who is afraid to speak the truth.
Come, what security have I ? "

" The honour of a man who will answer for
that honour to any in England. Write me the
pardon, and I will save Queen Mary's throne
this day. Write it not, my lord, and the
month shall find you old in regret I speak an
enigma : God grant that others may not answer
the riddle for me ! "

He spoke with an unwonted earnestness,
putting off for the nonce that air of security
and command so habitual to him.

And my lord, who was quick to judge men,
said in his heart: "This fellow comes with
great tidings." Nevertheless, the manner of
it was so strange, the threads were so many,

190 I CROWN THEE KING

that he must cloak his impatience. And so he
fell to the subtler mood again.

** They say that Barbara of Ollerton is not
of the faith," he hazarded, looking the other
full in the face. ** Does she ride into London,
then, at such a time ? "

"My lord, a woman is of her husband's
faith ; if not, then hath she no faith at all ! "

The Chancellor sighed.

"And being of her husband's faith is not
afraid to share her husband's peril?"

" There is no woman in the kingdom to-day
less afraid — be it of Queen or Chancellor —
than Barbara of Ollerton ! "

The Chancellor laughed at the taunt The
oddness of it pleased him, they say.

" By the word of Christ," he exclaimed, ** I
do believe you, truly ! "

"And believing, will write as I wish ?"

He asked it very earnestly; but my lord,
fencing with him still, took up his pen, and
very deliberately he began to make a new point
upon it.

"Master Roy," said he at last, "I will
be very plain with you. The death of the
Lord of Stow, and that which you did ki
Bernard's house, was made known to us>Jb^

*

WOLF TO THE CLOISTER 191

messenger but yesterday. Imagine, then,
what little hope I had of seeing in London
this day the man against whom such things
are charged. Still less was it in my thoughts
that he might come with promises and threats,
as one who is the master of the Judges. I
should be no true friend of yours did I hide
it from you that you are in some danger here,
or if I forbear to say that the mistress of
OUerton had been wiser to avoid the city.
But you are here, and you seek a compact,
and I must answer for Her Majesty. Let me
hear of your tidings, and I will answer you
upon the instant at what price they are to be
valued. Are we not as two that barter, while
one has not seen the merchandise which the
other would sell?"

Now Roy perceived the intent of it, and
nimbly turning the words, he yet replied in all
honesty —

'* Ye have not seen the merchandise, truly —
nor I the money. As you are plain, so will I
be plain, my lord. Set your name to the bond
I seek, and I will change with you the promise
of Roy of Calverton, that never yet was broken.
Nay, more ; I will tell you of men in arms
acxxiss the Border, of a company of brawlers

192 I CROWN THEE KING

that shall ride up from the South presently to
cry a name which is not of the Queen we
serve ; ay, and of a standard lifted in the Mid-
lands against this Spanish marriage you wot
of. I will speak, my lord, of men and tidings
which, an' you hearken not, may bring another
Chancellor within the month, who will not ask
the faith of Barbara of OUerton, nor say that
she is wise to quit the city. Is it a bond, my
lord? Doth this matter concern you? Ay,
surely, the merchandise is well if, for lack of
it, you find yourself a beggar ! "

He spoke with much exultation, says the
record, wearing that air of authority he had
won of the forest No judge or prison in all
the kingdom had affrighted Roy of Calverton
that day. Even the Chancellor began to see
with how strange a suppliant he must deal.
Nevertheless, he remained the master of soft
speech, the pleasant, smiling ecclesiastic.

*' God's word, an odd story ! " he exclaimed.
" Ay, so odd that the Queen must hear it this
very morning. Surely you will speak of this
matter to the Queen, friend ? "

Roy touched the paper with his hand.

** The pledge, my lord — when the pledge be
written " —

WOLF TO THE CLOISTER 193

But the Chancellor thrust the paper from
him.

" Not so," he cried ; " bond or no bond, this
story shall be told!"

And then, leaning across the table, and
speaking with finger outstretched, he said —

" Hath the Queen, then, no way of making
the unwilling speak ? "

He had meant to say "The torture shall
compel " ; but the outlaw's merry humour was
a blow upon his conceit.

'*The very words, my lord, once spoken by
the Sheriff of Nottingham ! ' By my beard ! '
was his oath, 'this King of Calverton shall
hang at Robin's Oak ! ' The sun had not set
ere he lacked a beard to swear by ! "

He laughed at the remembrance, and my
lord, being won by the jest, must laugh too,
despite his dignity.

" Nay, God be thanked, my own is in
better security. These, Master Roy, be tidings
which must come to Her Majesty's ear without
delay. I go to her upon the instant. Per-
chance I may find her willing to write the
pardon of him who was to hang at Robin's
Oak ! "

He called to one of his pages, and thus
13

194 I CROWN THEE KING

■

would intimate that their talk was done. But
Roy had yet a word to add.

**The pardon of Roy of Calverton, and for
Barbara of OUerton, security in her estate."

" She being of her husband's faith ? "

"Ay, of the faith which teaches her to
believe in the Queen's justice, my lord."

The Chancellor shook his head, and when
Roy was gone, and others came in to tell him
that the Queen had then returned from riding,
he said to them —

" Assuredly, I have seen a man this day ! "

CHAPTER XIV

THE ABBOT PARKENHAM

"There's no want of meat, sir."— Massinger.

BARBARA of OUerton awaited her husband
with all a woman's expectancy on that
morning when he set out to win his pardon of
the Chancellor and to seek, if it might be, the
security of her estate. From her window in
my Lord of Taunton's house, which lieth but
a stone's-throw from the village of Charing,
she watched the busy people passing: the
gallants upon horseback, the bawling ap-
prentices, the sober merchants, the multitude
of priests, the women upon their pillions — all
that merry scene which spoke of London's
wealth and London's gaieties. A winning
figure in her gown of violet, with sable furs
about her pretty neck, and a jewel which found
a coronal of gold in her abundant hair, none
the less her prettiness could not cloak anxiety

196 I CROWN THEE KING

or banish from her wistful eyes the story of
that hour. As the day waxed older, and Roy
did not come to her, and still she found new
excuses for him, the shadow which had loomed
upon her since she quitted OUerton became a
cloud of deep foreboding, an omen which no
courage might turn.

Now there was none in my lord's household
save the servants and a sleek steward they
called the Abbot Parkenham; and he was a
man who had been turned from the monasteries
in Henry's day, and now had become philo-
sopher, suffering himself to eat and drink right
well at his master's expense, "because," he
said, "the Lord so willed it." A cumbrous
man, who shuffled in his step, and had eyes
deep set in his head, and went star-gazing often
— ^he was a doleful pessimist indeed, and no
word of comfort could he speak for my lady's
consolation.

" The house is open to you, mistress, as my
lord commands. Here you shall do well in
the flesh, if that be of any moment to you.
Were I of the world, I would say that the
wines are of France and the table well kept
But I care for none of these things, nor would
I concern myself with earthly subtleties. As-

THE ABBOT PARKENHAM 197

suredly, my child, we are as the sparks which
fly upward — a little while in brightness, and
then but ashes!"

Now, my Lady Barbara's laughter answered
this doleful fellow with a philosophy very
strange to him.

"These things may be nothing to you.
Abbot," she said, "but I am no spark which
flieth upward, nor will I seek the heavens when
those dear to me are still the children of the
earth. Is it aught to me that the wines are
of France and the table well kept when he
whom I love will imperil his life for the sake
of that affection he bears me? Nay, all my
heaven is at the palace this hour. What
philosophy can speak for a young wife's
anxiety.^ Indeed, you show me a withered
parchment, while I would cry for roses, to
wear them on my heart until love shall pluck
them thence again!"

She spoke with a courage which surprised
him, for he, dolorous always, could but shake
his head upon this madness of her love.

"Nay," he said, "where shall one pluck
roses in the winter of the year ! You speak of
things but little known to me, daughter. If
your husband, indeed, be gone to the palace

198 I CROWN THEE KING

to seek a favour, I wonder not at your im-
patience. I will not counsel hope, for what
right have I ? So the gods jest with us. We
live in dangerous times, when he who prayed
yesterday shall himself be prayed for to-
morrow."

He went on, in ghostly words, to tell her of
the times : how that a spirit of unrest was
abroad in the city, men beginning to question
each other for the faith's sake, and no man
speaking freely of that which was in his heart.

"You, that are of the heretics — what seek
you in London, my child ? For myself, I care
for none of these things — I am not of the world.
If the heavens give me many gods, what are
those of the priests to me! But you are
young, your story is known ; you will not pass
without the question. For that, perchance,
your husband lingers still at the palace. I
speak of what may befall. You were wiser to
leave the city, my lady, now, when the gate
is open ! "

My lady, who stood at the window while
he spoke, clapped her hands joyfully for answer,
and ran swiftly from the room.

"The gate indeed is open," she cried, "but
it is my dear husband who rides in ! "

THE ABBOT PARKENHAM 199

It was a true word, for Roy of Calverton, as
she said, had then returned from the palace.
Accompanied by many of those who had
followed him from Sherwood Forest — Meagre
the dwarf, and Ren6 the page, John the hermit,
and one they called the Knight of the Silver
Bow, monks become archers, and archers who
never would be monks — ^with these about him
and their warm words of welcome in his ear,
the outlaw crossed the threshold, and there
heard the better greeting.

"Roy, dearest, is it thou! Nay, hadst
thou delayed, I had died for very cruelty of
waiting! Tell me 'tis well with thee, dear
husband ! "

She lifted a child's face to his, and, while he
took her in his arms, he made haste to satisfy
her curiosity.

" Thrice well. My tidings are of the best !
Here is a Chancellor so curious that he must
run to the Queen like a chicken to a hen I
Could aught befall with better promise?
Queen Mary honoured the father's name : she
may yet receive the son. Let the next hour
bring the summons : it shall not surprise me,
dear wife. I tell them plainly that I have
wares to sell, and no woman will long delay to

200 I CROWN THEE KING

my basket This very night they shall
write my freedom."

**Then it is not written now, dear Roy?"

He turned the question with a light word
and a ready humour.

''A shrewd man, my Lord Gardiner, yet
little acquainted with honesty. Plain speech
affrights him. He is ever at war with the
word, asking, ' How far does this man lie : with
what deceit shall I answer him ? ' I played a
merry staff, and down he went as any bumpkin !
'Twas all a fence of speech, dear heart, so
that when I engaged he covered more closely.
But I won him in the end, for I have left him
curious; and when he hath the better of his
I surprise to find one that speaks the truth, he

will come to us ! "

" God grant it ! " she said earnestly ; " I can-
not hide it from myself that this day must
decide all things. Should my lord fail you,
what is OUerton to us then? Ye know that
I am not a child of the cities; nor would
I be. Your Chancellor will find me no ingrate
if he says, 'Get hence from London, now,
without delay.' Could ye have seen the Queen,
dear Roy, I had heard your news more gladly.
A woman will act if a man be the suppliant.

THE ABBOT PARKENHAM 201

She would have written pardon — she has no
* nay ' for such as you."

"Then I will so command her ere the
morrow be done ! " he answered, hiding from
her that abiding doubt which he must feel.
"Ye must look for 'perchance' and 'likely' in
such a place, dear wife, for a court loves the
words, ril warrant you that my Lord Gardiner
is at this very moment crying Heaven to witness
what a fool he hath been. So shrewd a man
will not sup ere he hath made good his over-
sight. 'Tis a little matter to them that I should
be free or OUerton be thine ; but their very
security may lie in the news I bring them.
How then shall they be held back ? This very
night they will send for me."

He saw that she was but half convinced, and
would go on to tell her of the court and those
he had seen there.

"A sorry moping troop, in doleful velvets
and ruffs like to a bullock's yoke. They sit
in dim windows, strangers to the sun. If any
man laugh, it is like the drip of water in a
cavern. These make the State and are the
envy of the lesser folk. Silver and gojd is
upon their tables, yet each one goes heavily
to meat, asking himself whether it will not be

\

202 I CROWN THEE KING

but bread to-morrow. No monk at his theology
could have worn so gloomy a face. I wonder
not, little wife, that the Spaniard is brought
here in a rope of doublons. But it shall need
a cleverer man than my Lord Gardiner to
make that bear dance in such a ring! For
myself I have spoken a loud word, and all the
palace hears it. Let them mock it, and they
must pay the price ; nor will the Chancellor's
threat affright me. Nay, what says our good
friend, the Abbot ? Wert thou in my case, most
reverend sir, would ye ride from town without
a wench's fardel in your wallet ? God's truth !
thy sack would burst with trinkets for every
pretty maid that danced in Sherwood Forest ! "

He turned to the priest, that my lady
should not question him more closely ; but the
Abbot Parkenham, who cared for none of these
things, preferred to speak of the Chancellor.

" I count it no good omen," he said, " that
you had not an answer from the Bishop. It
may even befall that such tidings as you would
bring to him were made known by others ; in
which case I would not hold it from you that
you may find a changing welcome when next
you go to St. James's. There is a tide of
circumstance which we do well to take ship

THE ABBOT PARKENHAM 203

upon. The gratitude of statesmen is but a
poor staff, my friend! Trust not to it when
next you seek the Chancellor's ear."

He was glad to provoke a doubt and
reservation ; but Roy, who had no kinship
with prudence, turned a deaf ear to all that
endeavour.

*' Nay, I will bear a stouter staff, my father,
and it shall crack many a good poll if the need
arise ! Speak, rather, of dinner ; for your Chan-
cellor hath given me a doughty appetite ! "

Right readily, says the record, did the worthy
Abbot bestir the servants upon such a pleasant
errand. He, who cared for none of these
things, sat, when the half of an hour had
passed, cup in hand, above a board so
generous that even his heaven of stars had
twinkled merrily beholding it. For there
were rounds of beef and carcases of mutton,
salt fishes and sturgeon, swans and capons,
peacocks and mallards, widgeons and teal.
And there were great flagons of wine and vast
loaves and cups of frothing ale, and dishes of
silver and chalices of gold, and such a splendour
of serving-men and pages that the Queen's
palace itself had not been disgraced by that
display. For the first time now, perchance.

\

202 I CROWN THEE KING

but bread to-morrow. No monk at his theology
could have worn so gloomy a face. I wonder
not, little wife, that the Spaniard is brought
here in a rope of doublons. But it shall need
a cleverer man than my Lord Gardiner to
make that bear dance in such a ring! For
myself I have spoken a loud word, and all the
palace hears it. Let them mock it, and they
must pay the price ; nor will the Chancellor's
threat affright me. Nay, what says our good
friend, the Abbot ? Wert thou in my case, most
reverend sir, would ye ride from town without
a wench's fardel in your wallet ? God's truth !
thy sack would burst with trinkets for every
pretty maid that danced in Sherwood Forest ! "

He turned to the priest, that my lady
should not question him more closely ; but the
Abbot Parkenham, who cared for none of these
things, preferred to speak of the Chancellor.

" I count it no good omen," he said, " that
you had not an answer from the Bishop. It
may even befall that such tidings as you would
bring to him were made known by others ; in
which case I would not hold it from you that
you may find a changing welcome when next
you go to St. James's. There is a tide of
circumstance which we do well to take ship

200 I CROWN THEE KING

see my basket This very night they shall
write my freedom."

"Then it is not written now, dear Roy?"

He turned the question with a light word
and a ready humour.

''A shrewd man, my Liord Gardiner, yet
little acquainted with honesty. Plain speech
affrights him. He is ever at war with the
word, asking, ' How far does this man lie : with
what deceit shall I answer him ? ' I played a
merry staff, and down he went as any bumpkin !
'Twas all a fence of speech, dear heart, so
that when I engaged he covered more closely.
But I won him in the end, for I have left him
curious; and when he hath the better of his
surprise to find one that speaks the truth, he
will come to us ! "

" God grant it ! " she said earnestly ; " I can-
not hide it from myself that this day must
decide all things. Should my lord fail you,
what is Ollerton to us then? Ye know that
I am not a child of the cities; nor would
I be. Your Chancellor will find me no ingrate
if he says, 'Get hence from London, now,
without delay.' Could ye have seen the Queen,
dear Roy, I had heard your news more gladly.
A woman will act if a man be the suppliant

THE ABBOT PARKENHAM 201

She would have written pardon — she has no
* nay ' for such as you."

"Then I will so command her ere the
morrow be done!" he answered, hiding from
her that abiding doubt which he must feel.
** Ye must look for * perchance ' and ' likely ' in
such a place, dear wife, for a court loves the
words, ril warrant you that my Lord Gardiner
is at this very moment crying Heaven to witness
what a fool he hath been. So shrewd a man
will not sup ere he hath made good his over-
sight. 'Tis a little matter to them that I should
be free or OUerton be thine ; but their very
security may lie in the news I bring them.
How then shall they be held back ? This very
night they will send for me."

He saw that she was but half convinced, and
would go on to tell her of the court and those
he had seen there.

"A sorry moping troop, in doleful velvets
and ruffs like to a bullock's yoke. They sit
in dim windows, strangers to the sun. If any
man laugh, it is like the drip of water in a
cavern. These make the State and are the
envy of the lesser folk. Silver and gold is
upon their tables, yet each one goes heavily
to meaty asking himself whether it will not be

s

202 I CROWN THEE KING

but bread to-morrow. No monk at his theology
could have worn so gloomy a face. I wonder
not, little wife, that the Spaniard is brought
here in a rope of doublons. But it shall need
a cleverer man than my Lord Gardiner to
make that bear dance in such a ring! For
myself I have spoken a loud word, and all the
palace hears it. Let them mock it, and they
must pay the price ; nor will the Chancellor's
threat affright me. Nay, what says our good
friend, the Abbot ? Wert thou in my case, most
reverend sir, would ye ride from town without
a wench's fardel in your wallet ? God's truth !
thy sack would burst with trinkets for every
pretty maid that danced in Sherwood Forest ! "

He turned to the priest, that my lady
should not question him more closely ; but the
Abbot Parkenham, who cared for none of these
things, preferred to speak of the Chancellor.

" I count it no good omen," he said, " that
you had not an answer from the Bishop. It
may even befall that such tidings as you would
bring to him were made known by others ; in
which case I would not hold it from you that
you may find a changing welcome when next
you go to St. James's. There is a tide of
circumstance which we do well to take ship

THE ABBOT PARKENHAM 203

upon. The gratitude of statesmen is but a
poor staff, my friend! Trust not to it when
next you seek the Chancellor's ear."

He was glad to provoke a doubt and
reservation ; but Roy, who had no kinship
with prudence, turned a deaf ear to all that
endeavour.

*' Nay, I will bear a stouter staff, my father,
and it shall crack many a good poll if the need
arise ! Speak, rather, of dinner ; for your Chan-
cellor hath given me a doughty appetite ! "

Right readily, says the record, did the worthy
Abbot bestir the servants upon such a pleasant
errand. He, who cared for none of these
things, sat, when the half of an hour had
passed, cup in hand, above a board so
generous that even his heaven of stars, had
twinkled merrily beholding it. For there
were rounds of beef and carcases of mutton,
salt fishes and sturgeon, swans and capons,
peacocks and mallards, widgeons and teal.
And there were great flagons of wine and vast
loaves and cups of frothing ale, and dishes of
silver and chalices of gold, and such a splendour
of serving-men and pages that the Queen's
palace itself had not been disgraced by that
display. For the first time now, perchance.

204 I CROWN THEE KING

the Lady Barbara began to temper her dread
of this great city, and of all the murmur of life
which came up to her from its streets. Great
friends she had: so much was not to be dis-
puted. In the friendship of great names, in
the kinship of the nobles of the North, but
chief above these in the love and fidelity of
the courageous heart so near to her own, in
the love of a man whose laughter wrestled
with every peril, whose jest capped every
threat — in these a new truth of confidence
was born. Feasted there, in that great hall,
with Roy of Calverton to anticipate every
unspoken wish, with a glitter of riches about
her, the pomp and circumstance of a noble's
house at her command, she might well have
believed herself beyond the reach even of
those enemies who had driven her from her
home and followed her to this city. In the
old time at OUerton, Master Eleazar the
minister had preached a goodly discourse
upon the text, "Who is he that will harm
you, if ye be followers of that which is good ? "
My lady, nestling close to Roy of Calverton,
asked who should harm that stout heart, or war
upon the freedom of the forest's king !

THE ABBOT PARKENHAM 205

There were many strangers in London in
the first year of Mary's reign ; for such of the
old nobles as Cranmer had driven out flocked
in again upon her accession, and opening their
houses, they sought in rare display to make
good the darker years of banishment. Priests,
too, had come from Rome, and there were
many religious from the Spanish court. The
prisons being opened, and the old ecclesiastics
set free, the city wore the air almost of a
foreign capital. " You pass," says the chronicle,
"as many Spaniards as Englishmen, when you
walk from Temple Bar to Paul's ; while west-
ward at St. James's, and in the Minster pre-
cincts, you may well think yourself a subject
of the Emperor Charles." Thus it befell that
the city wore an air of gaiety sometime foreign
to her, and never was the feast more splendid
nor the display of wealth more ostentatious.
Imitating the fashions of France, newly built
coaches began to roll and flounder in the
muddy streets by Westminster. There were
soldiers not a few, both of that army which
had been raised against Northumberland's
rebellion, and of others necessary to be
employed against the new conspiracies and
the unabated mood of treason. Bishops, too.

206 I CROWN THEE KING

desired to renew a style strange to them since
Henry's reign ; and much pomp and ceremony
atoned for Lutheran neglect. In the places
of public disputation, on 'Change, by the Cross
at Paul's, about the city's gates, fanatics spoke
in unmeasured words of the changes which
must come and of the new edicts against the
heretics. Dangerous days, which no lover of
the older order might escape. Demagogues
denounced the Queen as no true daughter
of Henry, and sought a ferment of that
brooding unrest. None knew from day to
day what to-morrow might call upon him to
answer.

Now, Roy of Calverton had little understand-
ing of the people's spirit, nor of those subtler
influences then working in the city. Blunt in
his northern honesty, he cared as little for the
fine arguments of the theologians as for the
disputations of the demagogues. Mary was
his lawful Queen : he would hear of no other.
If a more selfish impulse had sent him to
London, to win his own security, none the less
the desire to serve the throne was strong
within him, and not the least welcome of his
ambitions. Let him but gain Mary's ear, he
said, and all the rest were sure. For the

THE ABBOT PARKENHAM 207

others, the sycophants, the mercenaries, the
faint-hearts, who were the sentinels of her
palace, he had a freeman's good contempt
" Let her but hearken to me," he declared to
the Abbot Parkenham, ''and I will raise so
good a troop that, be it duke or devil, no harm
shall come to her ! " To such a man, the paths
of statesmanship were so many dark alleys
leading from the high-road of honesty and
right judgment to the slough of subtlety and
deceit. " I come to serve as it is given to
me. To your Chancellors in petticoats, carry
broidery and pillion. Is this London ruled by
women? Let the Queen seek men, and all
shall be well with her!"

The Abbot Parkenham liked the argument,
but had little faith in it

"You will be a clever man," he said, "if
you gain the Queen's ear. Believe me, sir,
candour is an ill-prized gift when you lay it at
the foot of a throne. Let the need exist, and
the Church will begin to think of the men you
name. She has much to do at present, and
will guard her royal mistress surely, while she
makes her coffers ready for the restitution she
looks for. If these things were aught to me, I
would say that Mary is a woman of good habit

200 I CROWN THEE KING

see my basket This very night they shall
write my freedom."

"Then it is not written now, dear Roy?"

He turned the question with a light word
and a ready humour.

"A shrewd man, my Lord Gardiner, yet
little acquainted with honesty. Plain speech
affrights him. He is ever at war with the
word, asking, ' How far does this man lie ; with
what deceit shall I answer him ? ' I played a
merry staff, and down he went as any bumpkin !
'Twas all a fence of speech, dear heart, so
that when I engaged he covered more closely.
But I won him in the end, for I have left him
curious; and when he hath the better of his
surprise to find one that speaks the truth, he
will come to us ! "

" God grant it ! " she said earnestly ; ** I can-
not hide it from myself that this day must
decide all things. Should my lord fail you,
what is Ollerton to us then? Ye know that
I am not a child of the cities; nor would
I be. Your Chancellor will find me no ingrate
if he says, 'Get hence from London, now,
without delay.' Could ye have seen the Queen,
dear Roy, I had heard your news more gladly.
A woman will act if a man be the suppliant.

THE ABBOT PAKKENHAM 201

She would have written pardon — she has no
* nay ' for such as you."

"Then I will so command her ere the
morrow be done ! " he answered, hiding from
her that abiding doubt which he must feel.
'* Ye must look for * perchance ' and ' likely ' in
such a place, dear wife, for a court loves the
words, ril warrant you that my Lord Gardiner
is at this very moment crying Heaven to witness
what a fool he hath been. So shrewd a man
will not sup ere he hath made good his over-
sight. Tis a little matter to them that I should
be free or OUerton be thine ; but their very
security may lie in the news I bring them.
How then shall they be held back ? This very
night they will send for me."

He saw that she was but half convinced, and
would go on to tell her of the court and those
he had seen there.

"A sorry moping troop, in doleful velvets
and ruffs like to a bullock's yoke. They sit
in dim windows, strangers to the sun. If any
man laugh, it is like the drip of water in a
cavern. These make the State and are the
envy of the lesser folk. Silver and gold is
upon their tables, yet each one goes heavily
to meat, asking himself whether it will not be

202 I CROWN THEE KING

but bread to-morrow. No monk at his theology
could have worn so gloomy a face. I wonder
not, little wife, that the Spaniard is brought
here in a rope of doublons. But it shall need
a cleverer man than my Lord Gardiner to
make that bear dance in such a ring! For
myself I have spoken a loud word, and all the
palace hears it. Let them mock it, and they
must pay the price ; nor will the Chancellor's
threat affright me. Nay, what says our good
friend, the Abbot ? Wert thou in my case, most
reverend sir, would ye ride from town without
a wench's fardel in your wallet ? God's truth !
thy sack would burst with trinkets for every
pretty maid that danced in Sherwood Forest ! "

He turned to the priest, that my lady
should not question him more closely ; but the
Abbot Parkenham, who cared for none of these
things, preferred to speak of the Chancellor.

"I count it no good omen," he said, "that
you had not an answer from the Bishop. It
may even befall that such tidings as you would
bring to him were made known by others ; in
which case I would not hold it from you that
you may find a changing welcome when next
you go to St. James's. There is a tide of
circumstance which we do well to take ship

212 I CROWN THEE KING

or forest, or the palaces of kings. And thou
shalt come to London, sweet wife, I promise
thee ; and many shall say * She is the queen of
OUerton,* and many shall know that thy love is
precious to me, and that I will close my heart
about it until my life's end. Wiliest thou that,
sweet ? — nay, I know that thou wiliest it, for art
thou not life itself to me ! "

He spoke the promise, and impatient,
perchance, to learn if there were any tidings
at the big house for him, he pressed on
swiftly to my Lord of Taunton's gate ; but
being come there, he found a great company
of men in the courtyard, and the Abbot
Parkenham, very pale and distressed, answer-
ing the men and denying their acquaintance.
But Roy, thrusting in his horse among the
pikemen, asked them boldly if he were the man
they sought Whereupon one of them, stepping
forward, said —

"Master, if you be he they name Roy of
Calverton, we are come from the sheriff to
carry you to the Tower Gate, as my lord the
Chancellor hath commanded."

•

THE ABBOT PARKENHAM 203

upon. The gratitude of statesmen is but a
poor staff, my friend! Trust not to it when
next you seek the Chancellor's ear."

He was glad to provoke a doubt and
reservation ; but Roy, who had no kinship
with prudence, turned a deaf ear to all that
endeavour.

" Nay, I will bear a stouter staff, my father,
and it shall crack many a good poll if the need
arise ! Speak, rather, of dinner ; for your Chan-
cellor hath given me a doughty appetite ! "

Right readily, says the record, did the worthy
Abbot bestir the servants upon such a pleasant
errand. He, who cared for none of these
things, sat, when the half of an hour had
passed, cup in hand, above a board so
generous that even his heaven of stars, had
twinkled merrily beholding it. For there
were rounds of beef and carcases of mutton,
salt fishes and sturgeon, swans and capons,
peacocks and mallards, widgeons and teal.
And there were great flagons of wine and vast
loaves and cups of frothing ale, and dishes of
silver and chalices of gold, and such a splendour
of serving-men and pages that the Queen's
palace itself had not been disgraced by that
display. For the first time now, perchance,

214 I CROWN THEE KING

priests of the neighbouring churches, brawlers
from the taverns, came crowding about my lord's
gate to tell each other that the Northman was
taken, and would be crowned to-morrow in the
dungeons of the Tower. Not yet were they so
schooled in the spectacles of captivity that they
might pass by the sherifTs burden as though it
were a common sight. The outlaw's story had
gone abroad through the city as some pretty
tale of romance and chivalry which children
might dwell upon and women applaud ; but the
Chancellor had capped it with a heavy hand.
" Let the King of Calverton free himself, and
we will believe," men said.

Now the Chancellor's men pressed close
about Roy, fearing that he would yet strike a
good blow for liberty; but in this they were
over-ready with the alarms, and, as soon as he
knew their purpose, he changed a merry word
with them, and declared that, for any " nay "
of his, they might carry him wheresoever they
willed.

** Palace or prison, wear no long faces for
me, sirs," was his exhortation ; " whichever it
be, you will carry me thence gladly ere the
month be run. In the Queen's name you come
— ^ay, that is a name I know right well 1 Lead

PALACE OR PRISON? 215

on, friends, that I may learn what kindness
Her Majesty would put upon me ! "

He turned his horse to ride out with them
as he had entered, and, bending in his saddle to
my Lady Barbara, who sat very white and
fearful in the torchlight, he bade her farewell
like one who feared not to go because he knew
in how short a time he would return.

" Fear nothing, sweet wife," he said in that
moment of her grief; "there is no prison in
England that shall cage Roy of Calverton
when he hath the mind to go forth again. Yet
if this matter should come to the Queen's ears,
I doubt not that it might serve me. Act as
your love of me shall dictate. There will be
strange tidings in London ere many days have
passed : but the strangest, surely, shall be those
which make mention of this night. God g^ard
thee, dear heart, and give thee courage ! "

He doffed his cap and kissed her upon both
cheeks ; and she, clinging to him a little while
with great tenderness, promised that she would
see the Queen that very night.

" Or if I fail," she said, " then will I come
to thee, dear Roy. Oh, God be my witness, I
will come to thee ! "

He did not answer her, fearing to provoke

216 I CROWN THEE KING

her tears ; and going out with the men, he rode
contented in their midst toward the river and
the barge which there awaited him. And, as
he went, my lady watched him from the gate,
and neither the Abbot's craven consolation nor
any hope which he had spoken could lift that
heavy weight of sadness; for it was in her
mind that this was the eternal farewell, and
that never again would Roy of Calverton claim
love of her or service.

Now, the Abbot Parkenham had taken leave
of his guest with unseemly pleasure ; nor would
he endeavour, when Roy was gone, to hide his
satisfaction. Eloquent from the first in weary
protestation of faith and loyalty, he went on to
declare himself a true son of Holy Church, for
he feared the Chancellor greatly ; and when his
word was mocked by the troopers, he ran from
room to room distractedly, here cloaking the
witness to his magic, there cursing those very
stars whose signs and wonders might yet hang
him at the city's gates. No sooner were the
Queen's men out of hearing than he closed the
gates and barred the doors, and entreated my
Lady Barbara in fervent supplication that she
would quit London that very night

" They will charge this against thy husband,

PALACE OR PRISON? 217

and he will surely die. Shall it profit that two
perish where one will suffice? I speak as a
son of God's Church who cannot wish well to
heretics! Would ye have me burn at the
stake ? Nay, woman, go forth while ye may.
I will not have it said that treason was
preached in my benefactor's house ! This very
night I will justify myself to the Chancellor ! "

His words fell on deaf ears, for my lady did
not so much as listen to him. Brought to
silence in this peril which had been so swift to
come, and fearing greatly for her husband's
safety, the daughter of Bernard of GUerton
began to put on that courage which was her
birthright. She would save Roy of Calverton
— she, whom Roy of Calverton had saved in
the hour of her distress. This very night she
would see the Queen.

"The woman, truly, goes forth," she said to
the Abbot, ** but not from London city. Nay,
my father, how if she ride to St. James's to
tell them of your magic — ^how if she speak of
signs and wonders in the heavens, of a worthy
priest who cares for none of these things!
Indeed, you shall not twice affront me ! Let
your gate be opened, that I may do your
bidding ! "

218 I CROV\rN THEE KING

He answered her with threats and curses,
calling upon some of the serving-men to
prevent her, and demanding of them witness
that he was a true son of Holy Church. But
these, who cared little for the Abbot, and less
for Holy Church, and had been already won
by my lady's grace and courtesy, cried
together —

" Magician, work a wonder ! "

And opening the gate, they let Barbara of
OUerton go forth.

The night had fallen dark and starless.
There were few in the Strand, and these were,
for the most part, idle apprentices out for
merry brawls, or belated horsemen, or priests
upon a mission of charity, or footpads lurking
in the alleys. Barbara knew little of London,
nor was she sure in which direction the palace
of St. James's lay. Fear of her loneliness, her
solitary condition weighing heavily upon a
mind over -burdened, nevertheless a brave
resolution sent her out as an ambassador of
despair. She would see the Queen. A
woman's heart should answer a woman's
supplication.

She was alone, she said ; and yet a voice
of the night could tell her that she was not

PALACE OR PRISON? 219

alone. How it was she knew not ; yet scarce
was my Lord of Taunton's house lost to her
view than the mystery began to plague her, the
doubt to be made good surety. In the shadows
by which she passed, the shadow of pillar and
gable, and wall and archway, she thought to
see men riding wistfully. Saying that foolish
eyes deceived her, denying her senses, com-
forting herself with brave words, she sought
to put the apparition away or to mock it in her
courage. But every step now made it more
sure; the number of the figures multiplied.
She knew that she was watched : knew it
as ghostly shapes, cloaked riders, voiceless
cavaliers, came out of the darkness to ride
with her; yet not so closely that she might
see their faces or change a word with them.
They were my Lord of Taunton's men, she
made believe first ; but anon she came to say
that they were some of those who had carried
Roy to his imprisonment. With a woman's
hope, she uttered a silent prayer for help, and
pressed on into the night. It was a horrid fear
of things unreal, of dreaded apparitions, which
all her self-will could not master. If they
would but speak, would but declare them-
selves! The very mystery provoked her

220 I CROWN THEE KING

dread to the ultimate point. What business
had any man so to follow or to plague her?
She thought at one time that she would have
sunk to the very ground for fear ; nor could
she utter any cry for help, or speak a word of
her apprehension.

She said that it was an apparition; but,
anon, denied herself. A harder road gave
music of hoofs ; her own horse cantering set
others to the gallop. She heard men breathing,
the clank of arms, a whisper of voices. Nay
more, she heard her own name spoken, and so
gently that all her fear was vanquished in a
moment ; and, drawing rein, she confronted her
pursuers and challenged them.

" Who are ye ? What do ye seek of me ? "

A little man upon an ambling horse doffed
his cap, and bowing to the saddle-bow, he
cried —

"To serve you, lady, as ever we have
served ! "

And from others came that good appeal —

" Ay, to serve — to serve I Ye will not forbid
us, lady ? "

My lady sat a little while in wonder and
astonishment These were no enemies, no
strangers of the night assuredly. Well she

PALACE OR PRISON? 221

knew that greeting and its meaning, and gladly
— oh, so gladly! — ^she recognised the voices;
and naming the archers who had followed Roy
from Ollerton, and with them Ren6 the page
and Meagre the dwarf, she cried in her
pleasure —

" Oh, God be thanked that He has sent my
friends to me this night ! *'

And so, with this good company of stout
hearts about her, she rode on to the Queen.

« « « « «

There was bustle that night in the palace
of St. James's, a going to and fro of mounted
men, with messengers from remote places, who
whispered tidings of events momentous and
unlooked for. So unwonted were the stir and
curiosity that my lady and her archers rode in
unmolested ; and finding a page who listened
readily to so pretty an intruder, word was
carried swiftly to the Chancellor, who was then
with the Queen, and so to Her Majesty.

" The wife of Roy the Outlaw seeks audience
of Her Majesty upon a matter of urgency."

Now, this was the second time in a few
hours that the Chancellor had heard the word
'• urgency," and the omen plagued his curiosity.

"Comes she to threaten us too?"heask«i

222 I CROWN THEE KING

jestingly of the page who carried the tidings,
*'Nay, we must wear a coat of mail presently
lest urgency go faster than your Majesty's
justice ! "

But the Queen said in her wisdom —

'* Let us hear her, my lord ; for, truly, if the
man hath a secret, the woman shall tell it"

She gave the command, and the Lady
Barbara, passing through the ante - rooms,
where wits exclaimed upon her, and the women
stared, and gallants recounted her history, she
came at length to Mary's presence, and kneel-
ing there, a vision beautiful of the palace, she
pleaded for her husband —

" I am the wife of Roy of Calverton, who
was arrested in your Majesty's name this night.
For thirty hours we have ridden without draw-
ing rein to do your Majesty a service, and thus
it is requited. How shall we speak, then, of
your peril and of that which is contrived against
you ? Let the Queen ask if it be a good counsel
which turns a deaf ear to those who would
befriend her. Nay, your Majesty, all England
hath not a more faithful heart nor one more
ready than he your Ministers have silenced.
Will you not hear me for the love he bears
you?"

PALACE OR PRISON? 223

There were tears in her eyes when she uttered
the name of Roy of Calverton ; but Queen
Mary, who remembered little but that she was
of the new faith, answered her coldly —

"You are Barbara of OUerton, who teach
sedition to my people in the North. Hath
sedition, then, turned upon its masters that you
confess these things?"

"Nay, your Majesty, sedition and my
husband's name were ever strangers. I be-
seech you prove him that the truth may be
known ere it is too late!"

It was a plea of her love and confidence,
uttered so winningly that even the Queen was
half won by it

"Your * urgency' speaks an enigma, my
lord," she said to Gardiner ; " has it come to
this, then, that we must grant friendship to
every outlaw who claims it of us ? "

She turned to him as one upon whom despair
sat heavily ; nor had he any good answer for
her.

" I know not whose friendship your Majesty
may refuse," he said, "if these tidings from
Rochester be true."

For a little while the Queen mused upon it,
and then^ turning to my lady, she asked —

224 I CROWN THEE KING

" What do you seek of me, child — ^what boon
do you crave ? "

" That those who carried my dear husband
from me to-night may carry me to his side
again."

" For love of him you barter freedom " —

" Having nothing but my hope of love."

'* Knowing that he must answer that which
justice would charge against him ? "

"Ay, your Majesty, knowing that he can
answer all the world ! "

Now, the matter troubled the Queen not a
little, and she would have gone on to question
my lady more closely ; but, while she was yet
seeking pretext, a messenger, all splashed with
mud and disordered by his haste, burst in upon
them unceremoniously, to cry that the bridge
at Rochester had been thrown down by Wyat
and his fellows, and that the ships then lying
in the river were already burned.

"And, my lord," said he, "an' you do not
act expeditiously they will even ride into
London with to-morrow's sun!"

He spoke a surprising word, which, uttered
already in the ante-rooms of the palace, had
been as a tocsin sounded there to send horsemen
at the gallop from the gates and to call the

PALACE OR PRISON? 225

sleeping guard from its bed. The same alarm
would wake a sleeping city presently. To the
Queen and the man who stood with her it came
as the dread summons to an encounter which
should win all or lose all in that great cause
they served. Mary knew the moment of it,
indeed, yet she was ever the mistress of a
ready courage ; and now, that my lord might
witness her example, she chose to speak first
to my lady before she bade the messenger
repeat his tidings —

" Let it be as you will, child," she said. " Go
to this faithful heart who claims friendship of
us. We may even need the help of such as he
to-night."

She never spake a greater truth, says the
record. Had she but known what must
befall, she would have sent my lady out upon
a pillion of gold. For Roy of Calverton must
save her throne ere many hours had passed.

15

CHAPTER XVI

MASTER BARE

"Condition, circumstance is not the thing." — Pope.

THE news which the messenger had carried
to the palace of St James's was quickly
spread abroad through the city, many riding
out to warn their friends, others making haste
to inform the Constable and those who kept
the Tower. Momentous as the tidings were,
they were heard with less surprise than authority
might have desired. The Spanish marriage,
the gathering plots against the Protestants,
and the spirit of discontent which new laws
fermented, had taught men to await some
counter-stroke that would answer for their
liberties. And now, when the day had come,
when the storm burst, and it behoved each
man to think of his own security, few were
brave enough to declare themselves, or to avow
a loyalty which none might question. These

MASTER BARE 227

men of Kent, who marched on Southwark in
their thousands, might they not be the masters
of the city ere many days had passed? The
will that brought them from village and hamlet
to denounce the Spaniard and his Ambassador,
might it not be the cause of all the kingdom,
should victory attend the rebel arms ? England
had no braver man than Thomas Wyat, the
poet's son ; no stouter heart ; no scholar more
winning nor wit so well-beloved. And to these
natural gifts he added victory. The tidings
said that every gate was open to him, that
every town welcomed him, that even the
cripples came out to cry him "God-speed!"
The peril in the North, and the trouble which
Northumberland had sown, weakened the city
both in the number of her troops and in
their disposition. Let Wyat pass London
Bridge, said every gossip, and all were lost
indeed !

Such fears, expressed in sleepy oaths and
fragments of excited talk, followed upon the
horsemen as they rode swiftly to the Tower.
Inns, barred for the night, opened the doors
again to half-dressed troopers ; there were lights
in every window ; galleys danced at the river
steps ; lattices swung as the mounted men rpde

228 I CROWN THEE KING

by; my Lord Mayor's house opened wide
doors, the trained bands were summoned, the
bells were rung. In the Tower itself, Sir
John Brydges, the Deputy- Lieutenant, already
mustered the guard and prepared the cannon
on the ramparts. Lanterns flashing in the
wards, the cry of man to man, the whinnying
of horses, the tolling bells, gave tongue to
that alarm and stirred the pulses even of the
cowards. But one in that place, they said,
listened to the uproar without concern. For
Roy of Calverton the bells had no message.

They had delivered him at the Tower Gate
about an hour after sunset ; and having, in the
words of the old chronicle, ''gotten a receipt
for him " from the Constable, it had been full
another hour before he was lodged upon the
second storey of the White Tower, and there
made known to Matthew Bare, the Keeper of
the Dungeons. An ill-visaged fellow enough,
sparing of words and a stranger to any kindly
humour, the Keeper spread a bed of rushes for
his prisoner, and told him sourly that he would
do well to use it while he could.

" For," said he, "they will set your head on
the gate ere the week be run ; and that shall
sharpen your dreams, my friend ! "

MASTER BARE 229

To whom Roy answered —

"Not so, for I will dream of you, friend,
that, knowing I must come to liberty soon, you
found me a dish of meat and a stoup of wine !
What ! shall it be said that Roy of Calverton
mistook your gentle face for that of a scurvy
fellow, and a knave ? Bring in the wine, and
I will make such a report of you that the
Queen herself shall pin a jewel on your
breast ! "

Master Bare, the Keeper, was very " mindful
of his circumstance," as he was wont to tell
everyone, going with great pomp and dignity,
a stranger to laughter and the humours of men.
But Roy of Calverton had such a merry
manner, and was so quick to win the favour
even of the sullen and the unwilling, that he
had not been in the cell but the half of an hour
ere Master Bare was pledging him in a cup,
and Master Gyll, the Keeper of the Beasts,
was open - mouthed at all the wonders of
Sherwood and its hunting, which the outlaw
remembered for his wondering ears. Anon
came Bartholomew Fail, the Chief Warder,
and clerks from the chapel, and cooks from the
kitchens, and women from the palace ward ;
and more wine being brought, and lanterns

230 I CROWN THEE KING

hung up, and the outlaw set in a great oak
chair, such a joyous hour was passed as had
not been known in that place since Henry's
day. For who could withstand that droll
humour or long resist that habit of command
which were the outlaw's birthright? Even
Master Bare had a wench upon his knee ere
the clock struck again.

"The Lord be good to me, and hush the
story of this night's work ! " said he.

**The very thing," was Roy's retort, "that
the Prior of Bel ton said when he bussed Jack
AiHson, the archer, and believed him to be a
maid ! A holy man was he, sirs ; yet not
always mindful of his circumstance. He had
sworn to hang every freebooter for ten miles
round, and that very night comes Jack in a
maid's farthingale to play the Mistress Merry
while we are in the cellar and the vent-pegs
flying. Not a monk was sober next morning
nor a holy priest to be found. We laid them
in the marsh dike and sent the Prior to Belton
on an ass's tail ; whereby we were not hanged,
but lived to tell the story. Ay, and what of
the Abbot of Staveley, that took Dene Bollard
red-handed from the flayed deer and would
have swung him as high as Haman. Did the

MASTER BARE 231

lad need requiem? Not so, I warrant you!
'Twas a fine story, as I live ! For what should
befall but that ten of mine, breaking the Abbot's
cell that very night, bade him prepare for
death. They made believe to mistake him for
Dene Bollard who had killed the Abbot's stags.
* Sirs,' said he, ' I do perceive that ye be drunk
with wine ; for I am the Abbot Richard, and
the man ye seek lies in the dungeon-towen'
*Wouldst thou tell us a child's tale!' cried
they. ' Assuredly thou art Dene Bollard, and
this night thou must die!' There were forty
monks, dressed as archers at dawn, and forty
archers capering as monks; but the Lord
Abbot they roped to a tree ; and never were
the blessed Psalms so misused. Ay, sirs, of
these men I speak, and ye shall know more of
them when ye set foot in Nottingham. Does
a sheriff's man prove short of ears, you shall
find him a pair at Rawmarsh Pump. Nay,
cover your own discreetly, I beseech you. We
deal in such commodities, and the law goes
bare and the maid goes free when Lincoln's
bells are heard."

Thus were the forest legends told, for
Roy counted that odd audience as the merriest
jest that London yet had given him. He was

232 I CROWN THEE KING

still the master of the wonder-struck when the
first of the horsemen rode to the Bulwark Gate
and brought the news which awakened the
city and sent the riders out As in a flash, the
gay masquerade was ended, and those who had
just capped the jest, now, in all seriousness,
went hurrying to their houses ; the women, in
affright, to the palace ward ; the Keeper of the
Cages to his beasts ; the Master of the Jewels
to the bauble - house ; and Master Bare —
mindful of his circumstance — to the Lieu-
tenant's lodging, that he might learn if there
was need of him. But, ere he went, he had
changed a word with Roy, lest his forbearance
were charged against him.

"For the kindness that I show thee, thou
wilt be mindful of my circumstance. They are
like to deal harshly with thee since this has
befallen. Give no word of friendship for me,
or this night's work may cost us dear!"

And then he added, as though sententiously —

" As I live, thou wouldst laugh an acorn off
an oak 1 "

To whom Roy answered with a patron's
wisdom —

'* Fear nothing. Master Bare. The men of
Kent are up, but assuredly they shall be down

MASTER BARE 233

again when I go forth. I speak with some
confidence, but the night will justify me. If a
prophecy shall help thee, go to the Constable
and say that my Lord Gardiner sups with
Roy of Calverton ere midnight come. For his
sake, since he seemeth a pleasant man and
fairly spoken, I will even sup a second time
and drink another pot of thy sack ! Nay, bid
the Lieutenant wait upon me, for I would not
name him a scurvy fellow. Wilt say that.
Master Bare — that I command him to come
hither ? "

But Master Bare shook his head.

"Thou wonder!" he cried, "this very day
thou hast made me forget my circumstance ! "

CHAPTER XVII

IN THE QUEEN'S NAME
"And now I will unclasp a secret book." — Henry IV,

NOW, Master Bare quitted the White
Tower, and Bartholomew Fail was
mustering his warders, and Master Gyll, the
Keeper of the Beasts, went hurrying out upon
his business; but all quickly forgot Roy of
Calverton and the merry hour they had passed
with him. Even the Constable had returned
to the Tower by this time, and, what with the
going and coming of horsemen, the mounting
of cannon, and all the hasty counter-plot, none
had leisure to think of aught but his own
safety and the means whereby he might secure
it. From his chamber, now dimly lighted by
a single lantern, Roy listened to the loud cries
of command, the jangling tocsins, the thunder
of hoofs, the babbling tongues, content to
know that the crisis of his day had come.

234

IN THE QUEEN'S NAME 235

None the less a pregnant anxiety of it
remained, and would not be quieted. Shrewd
as he was, he would. not hide from himself
that he had staked all upon a single throw.
The hazard of the night might yet betray him,
he said. Every hour which passed and found
him without compact quickened the peril and
warred upon his secret. That which he had
ridden to London to tell might already have
been told by others. He had come to say, " I
carry a secret to this city, and will barter it for
the freedom ye can give me." But if his
secret were first told by another's lips, what
right of ransom remained to him? An un-
bridled horde marched upon the city and
might yet march upon the palace. Wit and
courage, readiness and resource, were needed
to save Mary's throne that night. He re-
membered those he had seen at the palace,
and asked himself where such wit might be
looked for, such resource discovered. From
Gardiner — that woman in petticoats who
paled at a loud word and dawdled to discuss a
woman's faith when the honour of a kingdom
was in peril? From Bonner, the gloomy
fanatic, who dreamed already of fire and
burning? From my Lord Howard, who

236 I CROWN THEE KING

whimpered for lack of the troop he could not
raise? From all the sycophants and faint-
hearts who clamoured for a legate and would
kneel to their own shadows if place were to be
got thereby ? A sorry crew indeed ! And yet
not sorrier than the men who followed them
— the unwilling mercenaries, the new-gotten
bands which served Mary for her army !
" Set me in Sherwood with a hundred of mine,
and I would scatter them as chaff!" the outlaw
said. The clamour from without answered the
taunt. He remembered how far he stood from
Sherwood and his home.

An hour passed, and upon that an hour, and
still none came to him ; and still he heard the
tolling bells, the murmur of the voices. None
might charge him with foreboding if, at such
a time, he said that the night was lost, the
hazard misthrown. All had been ventured,
all staked vainly. Wyat would enter London
at dawn, and that would be the end of it. You
shall judge his mood when, in such circumstance
and impatience, his brooding thought was turned
as at an unspoken summons, and, the door of
his chamber being thrown wide open, he be-
held, not Master Bare, whom he had looked
for, nor the Lieutenant he had commanded to

IN THE QUEEN'S NAME 237

come to him, nor any of those who recently
had kept the masquerade, but my Lady
Barbara herself, heralded by two who carried
torches, and followed by others who swung
lanterns in the gloom. So flushed she was, so
quick to run to him, so full of joy, that in his
perplexity he could but cry, "Thou!" and,
pressing her close to him, believe indeed that
the new day had dawned.

" Thou — thou, in this place ! Nay, dear
heart, it is not thou, for assuredly I dream" —

He put the question all wonderingly; but
she, though she had a thousand words of love
to utter, spake none of them, and drawing back
from his embrace, she said —

** I come, dear Roy, but not alone. Dost
thou not see whom I bring with me?"

It was a confession of her great content that
she should thus reward him with that surprise ;
but so bright was the light of torches in the
chamber, the flame of them so dazzling to the
eyes, that he must look twice before he discerned
the cloaked figure of a woman treading close
upon my lady's steps. Nor until a little
while had passed, and he had peered again into
the gloom, was he able to say that the Queen
stood there and waited for her servant's

238 I CROWN THEE KING

recognition. Then was my lady justified,
in truth, when she heard his joyful confes-
sion —

** Your Majesty — if I forget all else, let this
night remain unforgotten ! "

He knelt at Mary's feet, it is written ; and
she, in turn, dismissing her attendants, was not
unwilling to grant him confidence.

**You are he they call Roy, the outlaw of
Calverton ? "

"A truth, your Majesty; but at Sherwood
they name me King."

"Being lord of the forest by right of
felony " —

** Nay, your Majesty, by right of the love
the people bear me."

" Setting up a dominion which knows neither
law nor authority."

**The forest law, your Majesty, the authority
of nature's justice."

He did not cringe before her, nor defend
himself as one who would seek grace ; and his
mood pleasing her, she went on to remember
why she had come to him.

** You spake an enigma to my Lord Gardiner
this morning, and asked a promise."

" I asked that I might see my Queen,"

IN THE QUEEN'S NAME 239

*' Who comes to hear you, and, if the
occasion arise, to prove her gratitude."

She drew a stool to the bare wooden table,
and, throwing back the cloak about her head,
she showed him the stern face of a woman
harassed by perplexities, and seeking counsel
of wisdom which heretofore she had not found.
The outlaw himself paced the room slowly
as though to control the freshet of his thoughts
which streamed so abundantly. My lady
herself stood in the shadows ; every word that
her husband spoke was as a jewel of her
content. He would save the Queen that night ;
she who loved him was all confident.

** Madam/' he said, "the woman shall give
me gratitude ; the Queen justice. To you I
speak freely without any bond or deed of my
security. Here, in my wallet, are the papers I
took from the dead body of my Lord of Stow.
He claimed the inheritance of a woman's
heart, which no law can give. Him I killed
in fair encounter. That he deserved to die,
this paper shall tell you truly. It is an account,
with every circumstance, of those in the
forest countries who, an' you do not act
expeditiously, will join these malcontents that
knock at your gates. Madam, here is all their

240 I CROWN THEE KING

story : the names of those that plan conspiracy,
the places of their meeting, their harbourage
in wood and town, the full proposal of that
which they would do. Here and now I say
that, if this kingdom is to be saved, you shall
act without any delay. Command me, and I
will send messengers to Sherwood Forest who
will nip this treason in the bud as any flower
the frost has bitten. If I am King of Calverton
in truth, let my kingship find stout hearts to
serve the throne whence my dominion comes.
Give me the right to send my messengers forth
upon the instant, and that which the Duke of
Suffolk does at Leicester shall be blotted from
your thoughts. Nay, madam, I conjure you
, to speak. This is no season when an *ay'

is gotten of a Chancellor s labour. Command

me, and I obey. It shall be yours to reap the

fruit of that obedience."

J He was warmed to great eloquence of plead-

I ing ; his ringing voice awakened new courage

in the Queen's heart. The craven counsel
she had carried from the palace, the procras-
tination, the doubt of the faint-hearts, the
whimperings of courtiers, were driven from her
mind while she listened to this goodly promise.
Nevertheless, the habit of her state remained ;

IN THE QUEEN'S NAME 241

she must dally with it even at the eleventh
hour.

"Your messengers shall go to Nottingham
willingly ; yet who will shut the gate of this
city to those who burn the ships and drive the
people out ? Is it aught to me that Leicester
be kept and London lost ? God knows I suffer
greatly to see how ill these tidings are received
by those who should befriend me! Let your
counsel speak of London, and I will lend a
ready ear.''

She looked at him as one who would say :
" I seek to trust : help the endeavour ! " and
he, understanding this desire, was quick to
meet it.

** Madam, let the shame be to those who
delay in this defence. Is London, then, so
bare a town that it hath no gates, no cannon,
no horsemen for your service ? Four thousand
ride to Southwark, they say. If the bridge be
drawn up and the culverins planted, how shall
even four pass over ? I speak a thing which
any child might hear impatiently. This Wyat
has sworn to touch the City gate. If he pass
not in by London Bridge, then will he seek
another way, which you shall make for him —
an open way upon which he may stumble

i6

242 I CROWN THEE KING

blindly. Draw him to your gate as to a net,
which shall close about him presently. If I
have any wisdom in this affair, I say to you,
give me leave to form a troop that shall ride
out at my discretion, and when next you hear
of me it will be of one who says — ' The net is
drawn : the bird is caged ! ' But I am a
prisoner for the news that I bear to you.
'Twere odd if distress must call upon your
jails for freedom!"

A discord of his irony was manifest in that
complaint, and he, who had spoken with such
fervour of her safety, now stood reluctant, as
though the work were for others, and not for
him. But the Queen, for whom the word was
as a message of her salvation, rose at the appeal,
and, taking both his hands, she said —

" You whom they call the King of Calverton,
save my city to-night ! "

He bent and kissed her hands. My lady,
in the shadows, hid the tears upon her cheek.
« ♦ ♦ « «

Now, although the Queen bore herself bravely
upon that evil night, fortune seemed already
to have declared for Wyat and his fellows.
Successful beyond their desires in the Kentish
country (but chiefly at Rochester, where they

IN THE QUEEN'S NAME 243

had thrown down the bridge and possessed
themselves of the castle), the rebels marched
upon London with a newer courage. Every
house was open to them now ; and their cause
proclaimed in every township. They thought
surely that the end was won, and all their
hardihood thus early rewarded, when my Lord
of Norfolk, with five hundred of the train-bands,
met them at Dartford, and Wyat, their leader,
made bold to speak for them. Such a good
wit he had, says the story, and so ready was
he in the argument, that the very arquebusiers,
come out to destroy them, must throw up
their caps and cry " A Wyat ! a Wyat ! '*

It has been written that they were an army
of draggle-tails, already weary of their journey.
Nevertheless, they burned with zeal, believing
that the Spanish husband, whom the Queen
had chosen, intended the undoing of the realm
and a great hurt to the Protestant faith. What
profit of success came to them they judged to
be the gift of God and a sign of Divine
countenance. In this spirit they prevailed
with the sailors upon Her Majesty's ships then
lying in the river; and when they had burned
seven of the greatest vessels and manned others
with right good seamen, none might gainsay

244 I CROWN THEE KING

their exultation nor exclaim upon it. A day's
march now would carry them to the goal of
their desires. In London they might look for
the support of great names and great houses.
Thomas Grey, my Lord of Devon, my Lord
of Suffolk — all these had abetted that conspir-
acy, and would presently acknowledge it The
very banners bore a noble escutcheon : the
rebels had the joy of victory already in their
hearts.

Now, all this had befallen upon the day
which brought news of my Lord of Norfolk's
dilemma to those who waited in St. James's ;
and thereafter the panic which fell upon
London did not a little to justify the rebel
boast So near was the peril, in truth, that
every house was barred and shuttered, while
the river herself could show a thousand willing
hands to throw down the bridge by which
Wyat must enter in. Lacking a leader where
many led, believing that the rebel hosts were
messengers of God, the timorous citizens asked
vainly for that wisdom of defence of which fear
had robbed her counsellors. "What wit was
that," men asked, ** which left London Bridge
for a rebel highway when every other gate was
closed } Had Sir Henry Bedingfield and those

IN THE QUEEN'S NAME 245

with him no culverins, then, that Wyat should
mock him so? Who was this outlaw, this
prisoner of the White Tower, set free to
trounce his betters and do that which the
Queen's captains had not done ? " " He was
Roy, the King of Calverton," the knowing ones
answered. Like men clutching at a straw, the
timorous prayed God that he might yet save
the city.

They said that the outlaw was free, and this
was a true saying. The Queen had spoken a
promise, and neither complaint nor argument
would turn her from it. She, too, had found
a man that day : she, too, would stake all upon
a woman's judgment. " I deliver one to whom
you shall hearken," she had cried, when many
protested that safety lay by here or there, and
others cried, *'Nay, your wits are lost, for
there is the road." And now Roy of Calverton,
who but an hour ago had been the servant of
the jailors, went boldly before them all to
mock their doleful hesitation, and to awake
them from their lethargy.

" My lords," he cried, and few relished his
irony, '* my lords, it is plain that ye strike a
good blow for your Queen this night. Do ye
stand here long enough, I myself will crave

246 I CROWN THEE KING

mercy of this rebel for you. Nay, sirs, seeing
that he must come in, ye show right good
wisdom to let down the bridge for him. Put
away your culverins, I beseech you, lest they
be an offence in his eyes! Ye have good
pikemen here, and archers I see ; let them cast
their pikes into the river and break their
calivers. Would ye have this Wyat find ye
with arms in your hands? God forbid, if ye
would keep heads on your shoulders ! Let the
bridge be lowered and the sackbuts made
ready ; ye will need a merry fanfare when Sir
Thomas rides in ! "

His scorn, says the old chronicle, was a just
rebuke upon their lethargy. Those who
erstwhile had dawdled with their "ifs" and
"an's" now protested that they would obey
him willingly if he would but show them the
way. Sir Henry Bedingfield himself, exclaim-
ing upon his folly, called halberdiers to him
and commanded them to the work. Where
there had been but muttered complaint and
womanish foreboding, brave words were heard
and bold resolution. Faithful servants of the
Queen were there, but they had lacked a
leader ; and now one came to them out of the
night A noble figure in the torches' light.

IN THE QUEENS NAME 247

this sturdy Northman, with his curly flaxen
hair tumbling upon his splendid shoulders,
with his doublet of Lincoln green and his high
boots of leather, and the good sword they had
returned to him — this man came out to them
as he whom they sought : the master of their
salvation. Timidly at first, in twos and threes,
anon in larger groups, and ultimately as an
army acclaiming a chief, they pressed about
him in the inner room. Halberdiers, pikemen,
sergeants of the guard, sturdy troopers in caps
and corselets of steel, heralds with blazoned
tabards, gallants whose velvets were glittering
with gems, serving-men from the kitchens,
even priests from the chapels, acclaimed his
right, while pikes were uplifted and pennons
fluttered in the wind, and the flambeaux cast
their glamour on the scene. No voice dis-
sented when the cry was raised : " Lead, and
we follow ! "

Now, it was nothing to Roy of Calverton
that men should thus acclaim him, for he had
ever won the obedience of his fellows when the.
need arose, and this sovereignty was no new
thing to him. Perchance he could not wholly
put off some gratification that my Lord
Gardiner, who would have bartered with him

248 I CROWN THEE KING

that day, must be the witness of his victory ;
and there was a man's pride in his remembrance
that my lady watched him from her window
— perchance, that the Queen stood with her.
These things, nevertheless, he made haste to
forget, while he answered the troopers as they
wished.

"Men of London," he said, "be it not for
me to tell ye how this Wyat is at your gates,
and knocks that he may enter. Ye have heard
the tidings of yester-eve and of this night ; but
never would I have ye forget that he who rides
a rebel into London city shall lack a head when
he would ride out again. Is there any among
you so ignorant that he hath not heard the
story of Jack Straw, and of how Wat Tyler,
with one hundred thousand, came in to take
the King at Smithfield ? Went he home again,
I ask you? Ay, with Walworth's dagger in
his heart ! Fared Jack Cade any better, whom
I den killed that his head might grin on yon
bridge for your fathers' security ? Was it well
with my Lord Audley, who rode to Blackheath
for Warbeck's sake ? Ye know the legend :
let it be for our example and content! Ye
have cast down the bridges by which this man
would pass. Name me fifty who will hold the

IN THE QUEEN'S NAME 249

gate at Southwark, and your task shall be well
begun. Thereafter I will pick my own for the
work allotted to me. But if ye do not hold
the bridge, sirs, then is this Wyat no vain
boaster! Nay, press not on me so; I know
how willingly ye serve."

He had asked for fifty, but five hundred
would seek his " ay ** ; and being held back
by his own archers who passed into the Tower
with my lady, he cast a judge's eye upon
them; and picking here and there a lusty
fellow of rare promise, he numbered his fifty
and sent them out with Bedingfield.

" Get you gone, sirs, to the gate ; let none
return to say * The bridge is down ! ' In the
Queen's name I bid you God-speed!"

They answered him, "God keep you,
master ; " and, passing out with the Lieutenant,
they hurried to the bridge. Those that were
not chosen, complaining of the choice, pressed
closer still about the archers, and began to
clamour for employment.

. " Shall we, too, strike no blow in Mary's
name ? — would ye name us craven ? Lead, and
we follow : thou hast work for us ! "

He answered them that he had the work,
and never heard a man of willingness more

250 I CROWN THEE KING

gladly. Set upon his horse, with those who
had followed him from Sherwood about him
like a bodyguard, he turned to my Lord of
Pembroke and claimed a service.

"My lord," he said, "I go to the fields of
St. James's with these ready fellows. If you
would play a master-stroke this night, take
such a troop as I shall leave to you and watch
at Charing lest Wyat come in by any other
road. Between you and me the anvil shall
lie, and those my iron does not strike shall be
driven to yours. You are willing, my lord ? "

Now, my Lord of Pembroke had done little
that night but protest that all was lost; but
when he found a man whose wit gave him sure
right of command, he found his own courage
again, and answered very civilly that he was
willing.

" Whence you come and by what right you
speak I know not," he said ; '' but this is the
first wise word I have heard since yester-eve.
Let it be as you wish, and God save the right.
I will go to Charing, sir, and there do your
pleasure."

And so it befell that five hundred horsemen
rode anon with my Lord of Pembroke for
Charing village ; but the outlaw himself, with

IN THE QUEENS NAME 251

no more than two-score at his back, set out
presently from the Bulwark Gate, and crying
* God save Queen Mary ! " he pressed on at a
gallop for St. James's Fields and the road by
which the rebels must pass.

« « ♦ ♦ «

In St. John's Chapel, before an altar upon
which many tapers were burning, my lady
knelt at the Queen's side to pray for Roy of
Calverton, **and these two," says the chronicle,
*' were one in faith, because of the peril which
environed them."

CHAPTER XVIII

TO THE GIBBET AND THE AXE

"One flaunts in rags, one flutters in brocade." — Pope.

TH E day dawned with a drizzling rain and
a sky so overcast that men pointed to
it as an omen. London had kept a weary
vigil, but with the light she began to look for
tidings of the crisis. Her citizens, the women
at the windows, the men in cowering groups,
thought of anything but sleep or the labour of
their calling. There was no gate which armed
men did not hold; no rampart of the walls
undefended. The city watched and waited
for the last great scene which should cast the
usurper out or reward him with a kingdom.
And, to her at last the message came from
Southwark, and men knew that the rebels
were at the gate, and said that the hour was
at hand.

** There be ten thousand, and Wyat rides

262

TO THE GIBBET AND AXE 253

at their head upon a great white horse. They
have burned the ships, and the sailors ride in
with them. Go a little way toward the bridge
and you shall hear the culverins and the
cannon's bark. The Queen is fled, they say,
and my Lord of Pembroke killed. Those that
hold the Tower open the gates and make
ready the treasure. We shall have a new
Queen this night, and God save the old."

Thus from some of the gossips ; but others
said —

** Ye speak with a craven's tongue. The
Queen is not fled nor is the gate open. If
there be ten thousand, they are but ploughmen,
with flails for lack of sword. What shall these
do against the Queen's men? My Lord of
Pembroke is there, and my Lord Howard
goes out. They say that this man of Notting-
ham, that was taken yesterday, is ready with
counsel and help. The Queen will do well to
bring in such as he. Let the women get to
the cellars, and the houses be barred. It is
an evil day when John Ploughman rules in
London city ! "

The people heard agape, and those who
were boldest among them began to flock
toward London Bridge like men going timidly

254 I CROWN THEE KING

upon a strange adventure. Such of the
women as were at the lattices looked down
into those crooked streets upon a play the like
to which they would never see again while
Mary reigned. No merchant thought of his
wares to-day, no apprentice cried a bargain.
In the dim light as of a morning of tragedies,
armed men moved like spectres from the
shadows ; faces uplifted told the human story
of fear and hope. The shuttered windows,
the barred doors, the play of light upon cap
and corselet, the whispered menaces, the
rolling thunder beyond the river, contributed,
each in its measure, to the awe and wonder.
What thing, then, was befalling in that sleepy
hamlet of Southwark ? Who were these who
had come to dethrone the Spaniard.^ Would
they enter in as marauders for pillage and
rapine; would they come as disciples of the
old faith which lived unspoken in the people's
hearts.^ Must blood be shed to-day where
yesterday men jested for very joy of life?
None could answer such a question. From
time to time, a passing horseman would draw
rein to cry, '* The bridge is down : Wyat is
in ! " but, ere his words were twice repeated,
another would follow him with reassurance —

TO THE GIBBET AND AXE 255

" The day is ours : the bridge is held ! God
save Queen Mary!" And in the gloom the
pair would be engulfed, both he that told of
defeat and he that spoke of victory.

London, then, knew little of that which befell ;
nor was the pleasant hamlet of South wark
much wiser. Out of the night, with scarce
a cry of warning, this ragged army had ridden.
By many lanes and alleys, from the open fields,
without order or discipline, a motley company,
whose corselets were of mud, whose arms were
yesterday in byre and stable, it pressed on at
dawn in all the savage delight of that bloody
pilgrimage. Dumb serfs who were but a week
ago prisoners of the fallow, the peasants
marched to-day as very valiants of war.
Never in all their lives, perhaps, had the most
part of them set eyes on any city or known
other hamlet but that in which their poor
fortunes lay. And now at some call beyond
their reason, but appealing to a human necessity
of which they were unconscious, they had cast
the old habit of life behind them, and taken up
this parrot-cry, '* A Wyat ! a Wyat ! " " What
food for philosophy!" the scholars said: **What
a dirge of death!" the prophets cried. Yet
each could welcome the dreary cavalcade with

256 I CROWN THEE KING

smiling face and ready tribute. It were
dangerous for a man to declare himself upon
such a day.

Regard the tattered ranks more closely, and
you shall see many types there. Yon fellow,
who lifts a scythe so bravely, has he not since
childhood husbanded a desire of the cities, a
dream of war and pillage ? Or this dwarfish
minister of the sonorous voice and the nose-
chaunt, eloquent in psalms, was it not Mary's
Bishop who turned him to the fields, lacking
altar and pulpit? Or look over the rabble
again, and pick out yon giant of the forge,
whose brawny arm and lusty step proclaim his
honest calling, and ask of him what his daughter
has suffered at my Lord of Eastwell's hands,
and then say why he marches to London town.
You shall hear a hundred stories, do you but
listen to their eloquence. Now it will be of
one that has tasted no bread since Michaelmas ;
again of a crazy fellow who has it in his head
that the Spaniard will take his farm and give
it to a stranger; by here you shall meet the
true fanatic exclaiming upon the blasphemies
of mass and sacrament ; by there you shall find
another who thinks a staff* uplifted will save
the Queen from a Spanish bed. For every

TO THE GIBBET AND AXE 257

one that can give you a good account of it,
there shall be five hundred who march because
another marches ; who go to the new way
because the old was worn and familiar ; who
lift a scythe because a fork had wearied. A
gabbling horde that has no desire to slay, and
yet will slay if any bid it. Such were Wyat's
men, such the army vain - glorious which
marched through Southwark fields that it
might knock at London's gate.

It had been a halting journey, but now the
goal was in sight and the city of the rebels'
dreams rose up like a phantom of the mists
before them. Much they had suffered, much
they must suffer yet ; but no doubt of the issue,
weighty as it might be, came yet to trouble
them. For how should that cause be lost for
which men were content to sleep as the beasts
of the field, and to go unashamed in rags and
nakedness.^ Had not Wyat promised them
victory when London came to their view?
Was their faith grown cold because the end
appeared to be at hand.^ Ay, there was
London, fair and goodly to see as it shaped for
them in the morning lights. What a vision for
the swineherd whose palace, ere that day, had
been a priest's house, whose cathedral was a
17

258 I CROWN THEE KING

village church! There, upon the river-bank,
he gazed upon the noble fabric of Paul's, the
goodly spires of the city's churches, the frown-
ing ramparts of Baynard s Castle, the distant
towers of Westminster, the white walls of the
palaces, the forbidding bulwarks of the Tower ;
ay, upon these and upon the river herself,
the gilded barges, the fluttering pennons, the
dancing wherries, all appearing, at the touch
of day's magic wand, to delight the eyes and
captivate the senses. For this he has lived
and suffered ; for this he will yet lay down his
life. Little wonder if he stand enthralled and
voiceless, forgetting his watchword, worshipping
at this altar of white walls. Little wonder if
the cannon's voice call him as quickly to
remembrance.

They had brought the news to Wyat while
yet he rode some little way from the bridge ;
and he received it with that good countenance
he bravely showed in all adversity. Endowed
with the faculty of winning men's allegiance,
the poet's son had that rare resource and ready
wit which never failed to delight the multitude.
For the jester a jest ; for the curate a text ; for
the malcontent a promise of his vengeance ; for
the women a poet's grace of flattery — he played

TO THE GIBBET AND AXE 259

upon the minds of his fellows as others upon an
instrument Let them despair, his merry
laughter turned their fears to scorn ; let any
complain, he heard him patiently ; let any
charge him that he was a traitor, he answered,
** I serve the Queen as no other in this realm."
And he had, says the chronicle, all that brave
appearance which men ask from him that leads
them. Wearing still the mantle of youth, with
fair curly hair and Saxon blue eyes, and a voice
in which a note of music lingered, he was such
a one as men loved for himself rather than for
his teaching. Nor would he enjoy that which
revolt denied to those who followed him.

**They close the bridge, you say.**" he
answered them who brought the news.
"Then surely, my masters, we shall be quick
to open it. What ! has the night, then,
brought a miracle, that a man must pass in
South wafk's gate or lie for ever at the walls ?
Ye tell me a child's tale ! Ride on but a league
yet, and I will show you what a stratagem is
this. In very truth ye shall sup at Mary's
palace this night ! "

They cried to him " A Wyat ! a Wyat ! "
And, warmed now with wine, and fed by the
bounty of the hamlet, many of them pressed

260 I CROWN THEE KING

even to the river's bank, and boldly clamoured
that Sir Thomas Brydges should open to
them. The answering cry of " Traitors, get
you gone!" provoked their merry laughter.

" We are no traitors," their tongues protested,
" but honest men that come to save our Queen !
Let her hearken, and all will be well."

The culverins replied to them, balls from
the arquebuses, and the singing arrows of the
archers. This message of death, swift and
sudden, was the first reality of that week of
wonders. Yonder on the muddy banks men
lay groaning or crying to their God; there
were crimson stains upon the dewy grass ;
pitiful cries were heard — the moans of those
who were sinking down to darkness. Not for
such an end as this had the shepherd left his
flock, the swineherd his stable. In their agony
and fright men fell from sheer imaginings.

*' Lord God ! " they cried, ** must Thy people
perish ! "

Be it no surprise that the river-bank seemed
to Wyat's fellows as the very mouth of hell
itself. Let none marvel that they reeled back
like men drunken with wine. Must victory be
won at such a cost ? All had been lost indeed,
all undone, in that fierce assault, but for the

TO THE GIBBET AND AXE 261

courage of him who led them, and the zeal of
the few who, for zeal's sake, had played this
master-stroke. Plain to be seen in the throng,
upon a white horse, well caparisoned, Wyat,
and by him Brett, that was the famous captain,
rode to and fro among that affrighted company,
and drove them from the peril.

"Go ye thus — like sheep to the butcher?
Nay, would ye breach a river with your voices ?
Back, sirs, back! Let the houses give you
shelter until a way be found ! Would ye lose
all at a cannon's bark ? This night ye shall sup
at Mary's palace — upon Christ's cross I swear
it!"

To him they hearkened, the record says, and
being drawn back from the peril, they pressed
on in tumultuous disorder to villages remote
and Kingston's bridge. The city itself was
now but a forest of spires upon their horizon ;
the gates by which they would have passed in
were closed and guarded. They were sore
weary, laggards in hope, but still they cried
"A Wyat! a Wyat!" and still there were
those who believed that the night would make
them masters of London and its citadel
« « « « «

Now, Roy of Calverton had ridden out of

262 I CROWN THEE KING

the Tower on the dawn of the day to find
Wyat's men repulsed ' at London Bridge ;
whence they were driven westward to the
villages. Being assured that many hours yet
must elapse before the rebels spanned the
river, he lay the next night in the fields of St.
James's ; but upon the second morning at
daybreak, a messenger having ridden in from
Kingston to say that a multitude was passing
there, he commanded his men to horse, and
set out quickly by the western road.

There had been fifty with him when he
quitted the Tower Gate, but London added to
his numbers ; and from the shuttered houses of
the ghostly streets he had taken willing troopers
who asked but honest employment, and others
whom panic drove forth from the Tower. A
goodly company, which the fearful citizens had
armed right readily and given of their best in
horse and caparison, Roy would yet count upon
his own rather than these new allies ; and
bidding the men of Sherwood press close about
him, he claimed their ancient service.

" Ye that have been brothers to me in fortune
or adversity, will ye not be my right arm now ? "
he said. " Was it not my gift of the forest
that won your allegiance and the right to serve

TO THE GIBBET AND AXE 263

you ? As ye stood with me before, so shall ye
stand this day. Nay, "ye shall give me the love
you ever gave ! God knows I would accomplish
this thing for the sake of one all dear to me,
and to you a mistress well beloved ! For
Sherwood and our home let the blow be struck !
I count upon ye, comrades ; I count upon the
affection ye bear me ! "

They heard him with acclamation, and such
as had possessed themselves of pikes in the
city waved pennons in the air and cried : ** A
Roy! a Roy of Calverton!" Never, it may
be, did such a motley company ride out to
befriend an English Queen, or to save her from
the people. Look down upon it from the
lattice window as it winds its way through
London's narrow streets, and you shall see a
sight so wonderful that even the sober chronicle
may not pass it idly by ! Stern men are there,
and jesters to mock their sternness ; the bells
and caps of fools, the steel casques and corselets
of the troopers ; flambeaux to light the shrouded
walls ; Meagre the dwarf, upon a great black
horse ; Ren6 the page, to bear his master
service; he they called the Knight of the
Silver Bow, whom some would name Sir
Percival; and, proud among them all, Roy

264 I CROWN THEE KING

himself, who went cheek by jowl with his
anxieties. For who would go all hopeful or
with sure confidence upon that errand which
sent him to the fields to find his quarry there ?
Devise it as he might, what sure thing should
guide him to Wyat's camp, or indicate the
bridge by which the rebels must come in?
Any chance or circumstance, a bolder stroke
than Roy^ had the wit to conceive, might yet
send Wyat to the Tower to be the judge of
those who were his judges now.

It has been written that panic fell early upon
London and her citizens; and when the day
dawned, which found the tidings in every house,
there was no road leading out of the city that
did not bear witness to the people's fears.
Heavy waggons, loaded with such goods as
haste had snatched from the deserted houses,
ploughed their halting way to any place of
harbourage that fortune might vouchsafe to
them. Whole families, huddled together under
the hedgerows or hurrying in their terror west-
ward to distant towns, spake of the rebels*
victory and its menace. By here you would
meet a rider galloping as one possessed from
the place of alarms to the villages of security ;
by there the wailing voice of women cried to

TO THE GIBBET AND AXE 265

you the bitterness of the outcast's lot, the
lament of the driven exile. Or pass on yet a
league, and you shall see shepherds with their
flocks and yeomen with their teams who knew
not any word of Wyat's story, or had so much
as heard his name. For thus oddly were the
tidings carried ; to these as a judgment, to
those not at all ; so that women's tears were
shed before the indifferent, who knew not their
meaning, and flying horsemen cried an alarm
which neither set church bells ringing, nor drew
one idler to the village green.

« « « « «

Roy lay the night in the fields beyond St.
James's, but very early upon the next day, the
morning being sunny and the clouds lifted, he
was waked by a messenger from my Lord of
Pembroke, and made to know that Wyat was
at hand.

"He hath four thousand with him, and the
culverins gotten from the ships. His fellows
burn and pillage wherever they pass. My
lord says that all is lost, and ye will do well
to strike a bargain with this fellow if delay
may thereby be gained. He leaves it to your
prudence to act as you shall think fitting. Ye
would not ride out with such poor array against

266 I CROWN THEE KING

Wyat's host, sir; ye would not do this mad-
ness ? "

Roy sprang upon his horse, and calling to
the fifty, he answered the messenger —

** Return as ye came, and say that all is lost
indeed if so be his lordship's ears are reckoned
in the category. Tell him that if he be not
clever at the barter, this Wyat will nail them to
Charing's pump ere the sun go down ! Nay,
sir, if all be lost shall I not go to look for it ?
Will ye not have me light a candle to search
for the piece I lack ? Go, say to my Lord of
Pembroke that there be cellars at Whitehall
wherein he and his men may find a haven.
Ay, I would crave a petticoat of him, lest this
Wyat mistake me for what I am ! "

And then to his own he said —

** Heard ye that, comrades — will ye to the
cellars with my Lord of Pembroke? This
Wyat comes with four thousand. Like ye
the tidings, or would ye fondle Dame Prudence,
of whom my lord makes mention ? Truly, ye
shake in your shoes already — ye itch to bend
the knee to Captain Maypole ! I read it in
your faces. Ye would not be thought men
this day lest hurt come to ye thereby ! "

They replied to him with oaths and laughter,

^ A

TO THE GIBBET AND AXE 267

which drove the messenger ashamed from the
camp ; and some running for their horses, and
some whetting their arms, and many crying
"A Roy! a Roy!" they came to good order
and set out for Richmond town. No gladder
tidings had been heard that day. The hour
of waiting was gone by. No man rode out
of London in greater content than Roy of
Calverton.

** Let me know that this thing is true, and I
will give thanks to God for it," he said to one
near him. " If Wyat pass by any other bridge,
it shall need a holy angel to save my Lord of
Pembroke's ears! See you not how fortune
goes with us ? Four thousand or forty, I care
not which while I have these with me! Ay,
if the news be true — if it be true ! "

Now, Meagre the dwarf, capering near by on
his great black horse, took up the words and
drew rein to raise the piping cry —

'* Fifty of Sherwood and fifty more upon one
white horse ; do you like the reckoning, master ?
Go fifty well to a bridle-rein ? Ay, hark to
the tale of it! I see fifty, and yet I see but
one^ To the saints be the glory for these eyes
of mine I "

He was a merry fellow, who would have

268 I CROWN THEE KING

said that the outlaw himself added the hearts
of fifty to their company. His master liked
the compliment.

" Fifty indeed if ye love me, as I think you
do. I shall have need of your love this day ;
nay, comrades, we will not ask of our messenger
again, for yonder is a better one ! "

They had come at this time almost to the
hill by Richmond ; and when he commanded
them to look up they began to perceive, in the
distant fields and upon the high-road before
them, an advancing host which Wyat led to
London and the palace. Faintly, as the
murmur of a city's voices, harsh music was to
be heard, and rolling drums and the winding
of horns, the rebel outcry and the answering
shouts of the rabble multitude. In weary dis-
order, some dancing in the fields, some bearing
odd devices on banners ill - blazoned, some
capering on sorry horses, some crowned with
straw, some wearing garlands of leaves, many
drunken with ale, others blaspheming the
Queen and the priests, the host advanced,
greedy in hope and vainglorious in its victory.
" London, London ! " was ever its watchword.
Little children, drawn from the houses, ran in
wonder at the peasants' sides, to repeat, in

TO THE GIBBET AND AXE ^69

childish exultation, "London, London!" Old
women at the house-doors crossed themselves
and cried, " London, London ! " Innkeepers,
whose ale flowed in the very gutters, cried
*• London, for God's sake!" All the pitiful
story of the days of excitement and fatigue was
written in the staring eyes, the fever-flushed
cheeks, of those who pressed onward to the
city's gate. Through suffering they had come
in, but in joy they would go out.

They cried for London, in truth; but, had
they known it, the way lay to the gibbet and
the axe.

CHAPTER XIX

FOR GOD AND QUEEN MARY

"The scum
That rises upmost when the nation boils." — Dryden.

IN a belt of the trees at the western extremity
of St. James's Fields where they begin
to border upon the manor of Hyde and its
Park, Roy of Calverton waited with a hundred
about him for the passing of the rebels. It
was nine o'clock on a sunny morning ; dulcet
music of the bells called the citizens to the
Abbey mass. All the content, all the sweet-
ness of day seemed breathed in that good hour.
The distant city, clear to be seen upon the
horizon, lifted sunlit spires and flashing windows
to a heaven of blue. By here and there, un-
conscious of that which was passing, travellers
went northward, southward, to the river and
the villages. Peace touched the scene, giving
to the sparkling meadows a freshness of her

270

FOR GOD AND QUEEN MARY 271

dews ; to the trees the promise of the gentle
springtime. Even cattle browsed within a
hundred paces of that ambush.

The hundred lay concealed in the thicket,
and so had their leader placed them that one
passing on the high-road might not so much as
espy a glimmer of the sunshine upon their
helmets, a flash of the Lincoln green amid
their leafy bower. Aware now of the issue,
they spake but in whispers. The hour of truce
wrought upon their nerves as an hour of wait-
ing intolerable. Impatient horses champed
and whinnied ; impatient riders asked when
they might, ** Think ye that they come?"
Roy of Calverton alone asked questions of no
man.

'*Ye will not discover until the word be
spoken," he said, grown sure in that command
which the night had given him. ** I command
your patience, comrades. We are but a
hundred against four thousand, and naught but
stratagem will save us this day. Let it be our
business that Wyat shall pass in to my Lord
of Pembroke with as few at his back as judg-
ment and opportunity may permit. I would
not have ye forget that these be poor people
whom ignorance hath misled ; they think to

272 I CROWN THEE KING

strike a blow for England, but strike only at
that which is our good security. Do so to
them as ye would it were done to you if ye
were in like case. God bear me witness, I
will have no butcher's work this day!"

Many assented with a murmur of their
praise. Had you pressed them for a reason,
perchance they knew not why they were there
at all, if it were not that Roy of Calverton
had bidden them. And the humour of their
employment was not to be forgotten by any
man. Hear Meagre the dwarf, as he bandies
the jest —

" God save law and order, and them that go
to and fro in forests," said he; '*I am all for
the sheriff's men, whose ears your worship
nailed to the pump at Nottingham. Ay,
masters, would ye be as ravening wolves, hieing
you to Sherwood again when the right royal
nobility claps your honours on the back and
says * God-speed ' ? Put me in a page's doublet,
and I will serve Sir Roy of Calverton ! Ho-
ho ! there was one of his name that my Lord
of Stow did call outlaw — ^a sorry word for him
that will caper in a bishop's rochet when the
day come ! "

And then, remembering their need, he cried.

FOR GOD AND QUEEN MARY 273

"Speak, comrades; will ye not hold your
tongues when all the cry is * tip-toes ! ' "

Roy, who loved the dwarf, suffered his
humour patiently, as ever he did in Sherwood's
stronghold.

" An' thou dost not fulfil the behest, law and
order will put thee in yon brook presently ! "

He tweaked the dwarf by the ear, and point-
ing to the tree above him he bade him climb
it.

*'Thou limb of Satan, get ye up upon yon
branch and tell me what thou seest on the
road. Ride any in, or must law and order
tarry yet ? "

Now the dwarf pulled himself up from his
saddle, and, perched among the boughs, he
began to tell them of that which befell.

** There is a road, sirs, and yon is the river.
Blood of Paul! they stand where they stood
an hour ago ! "

"Thou devil's scarecrow, who rides upon
the road ? "

**The wind, your worship. God knows, I
will cast a broomstick if thou hast the mind ! "

A little while they waited, and then he spoke

again —

** There be swine upon four legs and others
i8

274 I CROWN THEE KING

upon two; hide yourselves, my masters, lest
they claim acquaintance ! "

Someone lifted a halberd and made pretence
to prick him as he sat ; but his mock cry was
hushed upon his lips, and he that held the
halberd withdrew it.

" Thou seest something, spawn " —

"The road is there, the meadow is there —
and, God reward ye, I bid you draw, masters !
Ay, hearken — ^hearken! Like ye the music?
Ye shall hear more presently, for yonder be
those who would marry the Queen ! "

It was no frolic or jest Those who erst-
while had dared to laugh now fell to a grim
silence. Swords leaped from their scabbards,
calivers were uplifted, bows were strung, pikes
slung up ; the very horses seemed to stand as
at some call of duty. In the fork of the bough
Meagre the dwarf put on the wisdom of the
sage.

*'l see a man upon a white horse and a
hundred that ride about him. There are
pennons for the breeze, but they be of rags,
masters. Would ye carry a hedge-pole less
bravely for that? Yonder is the waggon in
which Mary shall pass for Wyat's bride : they
have gotten a husband for her, and stuffed his

FOR GOD AND QUEEN MARY 275

belly with shavings! I like the man! Here
comes a Lord Bishop whose paunch you shall
drum upon! There be five hundred dancing
in the fields ; and a sheep makes psalms for
them! Lord have mercy upon us this day!
Saw one ever such muddy hoofs! Go, give
them water for charity's sake ! Now there be
these three — faith, hope " —

They dragged him from the tree to silence

him, and the discordant music coming on the

breeze to tell them of Wyat's near approach, Roy

himself pressed forward to the thicket's edge

and watched that cavalcade go by. Never did

man look upon spectacle so sorry. This horde

which would have pressed on to the very

throne, truly was charity its need. Worn and

weary, armoured in mud, its horses drooping,

its weaklings falling to dewy beds, madness

alone still cried " Onward ! " For let us look'

at the manner of it and the aspect it wears

upon the threshold of London city. Here, you

shall see a bevy of urchins to herald it. They

wave boughs; boughs cover their nakedness.

Or, look again, and number that regiment

whose rags stream as banners, whose very

faces are smeared with dirt! Will such win

London for Wyat ; will such drive the

276 I CROWN THEE KING

Spaniard out? Hearken to the ribald priests
as, masquerading in tattered alb and dirty
maniple, they scoff the mass, deride the offices.
Nor let the brighter trappings of ambition
deceive you. A brave picture makes Wyat
upon his good white horse, brave are his words,
brave his bearing ; but the shadow of the axe
looms upon him and his fellows ; the very
voices are too weak to cry, " London,
London ! " The burden has bent the yeoman's
back downward to the ground he sprang from.
The breeze has torn the ribald banners and
mocked their blazon ; the road the people pass
in by is black with the figures of them that fall.
Ay, London — London is so close to them
now ! Let the eye pass beyond these pleasant
fields, and there stands Paul's and there the
1^ ramparts. They have but to knock and the

gate shall be opened. Vanity is their watch-
word. A fair city they see, the city of desire ;
but the tongue is one they do not know. No
vigil has worn the battle-cry which bursts from
yon thicket as a volley of thunder! No dirt
besmears that Lincoln green, no laggards there
fall impotent. With one great cry, *'A Roy!
a Roy of Calverton!" with swords uplifted
and bows bent, with a roar as of a mighty

FOR GOD AND QUEEN MARY 277

avalanche, the hundred ride out and burst the
serried ranks. Where but a moment agone ye
had seen a thousand limping eastward to the
city's gate, ye shall see a thousand now turn
headlong westward as from a pit of hell !
Ay, what cries for mercy are uttered, what cries
of anger and of pain! As grass before the
scythe these would-be reapers go down to
death. Strong men fall upon their knees and
crave mercy ; women drop for very fear. That
roaring, surging multitude, riven by the
horsemen as a tree by the axe, bends and
breaks, sways and totters. The day is won,
the end has come. Above all the clamour,
you may hear the voice of Roy of Calverton
crying to them to make his victory good —

" Ye have them — ye have them for God and
Queen Mary this day ! "

« « « « «

Five hundred, they say, passed in with
Wyat and went on to Ludgate and the City
when the cavalry in St. James's Fields cut the
multitude asunder. Unaware of that deadly
blow, and intent upon the scene to come,
the rebel leader drew no rein nor waited for
the messengers. The Tower was his journey's
end. He knew not that a thousand had turned

278 I CROWN THEE KING

from him at Hay Hill and the fields. He
knew not that Roy of Calverton pressed close
upon him, and spoke of victory in that pursuit.

** My Lord of Pembroke waits for them at
Charing," the outlaw said, urging onward to
the gate; ''we shall not miss that play,
comrades ! Nay, my heart is heavy for these
poor devils and their sorry masquerade. Such
is the gulf that lies between the end and the
ambition. Many pay when a traitor buys.
God knows, they shall be charged a good
account presently ! "

He had sheathed his sword at this time, and
none that rode with him remembered his arms.
Those poor devils by the roadside, some
trembling with their fears, some fallen for very
weakness, were no quarry for Sherwood's men.
\^ Death would claim them soon enough — the

prison and the gibbet. Let them cherish what
grace the day should give them, Roy said ; at
Charing he should see a finer sight.

" If my Lord of Pembroke be yet out of
petticoats, he hath this Wyat, surely!
Nevertheless, I mistrust him, comrades. There
is a man's work to do in London ; perchance
our hands shall be needed there!"

He pressed on at a canter upon the main

FOR GOD AND QUEEN MARY 279

high-road, as though the echo of the distant
clamour were some signal to him ; and being
come to Charing, he asked vainly for tidings of
my lord's men. The din of riot was not here.
Such rebels as lagged, hugged bloody wounds
or lay moaning at the gates of the nobles' houses.
The village waked itself with gossipers. You
had counted a hundred about the cross who
told in wonder their story of the march.
To these ever and anon a single horseman,
flying as from pursuit, gave assurance of
Wyat's victory, or was named a boaster by one
that followed him. Maids watched from the
windows of the houses, or carried water to the
wretched laggards who craved pity for God's
sake. Bells were still tolling in the Minster
church ; cannon were heard from London Bridge.
But go a hundred paces to the fields and all
is of the common day again. Men work
contentedly in pleasant gardens ; waggons creak
and rumble with their market burden; friend
speaks to friend of sale and barter; the
children run to the schoolhouse unfearingly.

Roy passed through Charing with a firm
hand upon his bridle, and being assured that
the need of him lay eastward, he set his men
for Ludgate and the hill at Paul's.

280 I CROWN THEE KING

" God knows what shall befall if fear of this
Wyat hath opened the gates," he said. " I
,would as lief count upon yon old woman's
prattle as upon my Lord of Pembroke's
wisdom ! Let Wyat pass in, and all may
yet be undone! There is magic of a name
which sheathes the stoutest sword. Press
on, friends, lest the play be done ere we see
the groundlings ! "

He gave a ready example to them, and those
who rode after him drew again and went on
with naked swords in their hands. Every step
now is toward the heart of the riot, to that dis-
cordant music they play by Pauls and the hill.
Grooms and serving-men at the doors of the
great houses in the Strand cry, " Hasten,
hasten, for God s sake ! " Men, showing their
hurts, stumble and fall by wall and archway ;
they leave bloody tracks behind them.
Apprentices who bawl, '* The gate is down ! "
swarm about the horsemen and jeer their
tardiness. As the scene is approached, the
Bar by Temple, and thence to Fleet Street, the
shouts became more discordant, and the riot
is distinctly to be heard. For here is a great
press of people, leaping and contending that
they may not miss the spectacle. Every

FOR GOD AND QUEEN MARY 281

lattice shows its array of anxious faces ; the
very roofs are given over to the doubting
citizens. Above that brawling uproar the
cry is heard—** A Wyat ! a Wyat ! " Battle
rages horribly, the din of conflict, the ulti-
mate encounter. Monstrous bludgeons beat
upon the iron of the gate ; every arquebuse
belches its vomit of lingering smoke. There
are arrows flying in the air, great stones hurled,
scythes waved as banners, pikes shivered
against the unyielding barriers. The chief
rebel himself, beating at the portal, calls
loudly —

" I am Wyat ; the Queen has granted all my
petitions ! "

But none of those who serve the gate lays
down his arms, none cries a welcome.

In a lull of the storm mark the voice of my
Lord Howard, who answers to the rebel —

" Avaunt, traitor ; thou shalt have no
entrance here ! "

Thus the taunt which charges the arquebuses
again, and again drives the archers to the
ramparts. Counting no more than forty of
his company, Wyat knew that the end was
here. For this — the death about him, the iron
barrier, the reproach " Traitor ! " the mocking

282 I CROWN THEE KING

citizens, the shadow of the gibbet — ^he haxl
persuaded these men of Kent, who now cursed
his name and the day his mother bore him.
What availed now that giant courage which
stillj^ could wear a smiling face and throw back
at my lord the answering jest and challenge ?

** Nay, thou shalt open willingly enough ere
the hour be done, my lord — and we will see
who is traitor then ! Back, comrades, to find
those who will compel this boaster ! "

He turned his horse, and, crossing the bridge,
would have beat up Fleet Street once more,
and so returned to that multitude he imagined
to be waiting for him at Charing. Perchance,
even then, could his fellows but have come in
to overawe the gaping citizens the day would
have been his and all retrieved. But it befell
that, as he forced a path westwards towards the
Bar, there appeared in the narrow streets the
men of Sherwood, and spurring, when they
beheld the rebels, as at some joust or tourna-
ment, they came on with a thunderous shout,
and in that fearful embrace the last word was
spoken.

Down now, ay, down as trees the storm up-
roots — so fall the remnant ; so is the flame of
this conspiracy quenched. From the windows

FOR GOD AND QUEEN MARY 283

of any house, you may see rearing horses and
cloven skulls ; bleeding bodies and hearts laid
bare ; a worming, gasping mass. As the thud
of one great sea upon another the forces meet ;
as the wave upon the shingle the foresters
spread over their foes. For God and Queen
Mary this day ! Now at length the prayer is
answered, for yonder is Wyat sinking impotent
before Ludgate, and yonder is Sir Maurice
Berkley, who shall carry him to St. James's
and the scaffold.

" I have kept touch," he says.

Touch hath he kept indeed ; but the hand is
clammy as the fingers of death.

CHAPTER XX

A CHAIN OF GOLD

''The elements be kind to thee, and make
Thy spirits all of comfort."

Antony and Cleopatm*

THEY carried Wyat to St James's, a
thousand running about Sir Maurice
Berkley's house, a thousand more heralding
the affair in the purlieus of the palace. Bound
hand and foot now, mocked by every tongue,
spat upon, buffeted, the poet's son was lifted up
like some mummy for the people's sport. None
pitied him, none cried ** God-speed." They
had no grace for the vanquished. With destiny
this man had wrestled ; to destiny must he pay
the price. Men said that his head would grin
from London Bridge before the week had run.
Those who had feared him greatly an hour
ago would have torn him limb from limb if
the archers had permitted. But the men from
Sherwood closed about that pitiful figure ; they

A CHAIN OF GOLD 285

beat the people back; they befriended one
whom all had deserted.

Now, it befell that the running heralds of
the downfall came to St. James's ahead of the
archers who buffeted the people ; and as each
one entered in, his tale was ever of Roy and
the archers who had followed him to the fields.
Making known to the gossips the deeds of
that day, they spoke chiefly of the outlaw and
the brave part he had played since liberty
was given him. Which fair report, coming to
my Lord Chancellor's ears, was by him very
honestly carried to the Queen, and so received
that he repented anon the generosity which
bade him speak.

" Your Majesty," he said, " God and our
Lady be thanked for this day's work! Your
outlaw has taken Wyat, and rides even to the
palace gate with him."

So greatly had the news wrought upon him,
the record says, that he had but few words ;
and burst in upon Queen Mary like one who
won fortune of an hour ; but the Queen, whose
courage was well remembered by them all,
stood in no way surprised by him.

"You come, my lord, upon a pleasant
errand Is this the voice that counselled me

286 I CROWN THEE KING

this day to ride to my father's palace at
Hampton, and trust myself to God? Ay, ye
wear a stout heart, but ye hide it well. There
were those who would go forth upon the instant.
Let them go now, I beseech you, that they
come to some remembrance of their shame."

It is written that my lord knew not how to
answer her; but, while he would have made
excuse, she bethought herself of a command
which had been in her mind from the first

" For this Roy, the outlaw, whom some have
known as the Count of Brives, I bid you write
our pardon. Let the daughter of Bernard of
OUerton be confirmed in her estate and molested
by none. Ye will bear this to the Count with
your own hand. Ye owe him some honest
apology. Nay, answer nothing, my lord —
were it not for this man, your head, assuredly,
had been the price."

My lord, they say, buttoned his velvet cape
with nervous fingers, and went, unwillingly
enough, to do Her Majesty's bidding. The
palace by this time echoed the busy footsteps
of those who came in and out with their loud-
tongued news of victory. Like a storm-cloud
which burst harmlessly, the tempest of fear
passed from London and the outskirts. For

A CHAIN OF GOLD 287

very joy strangers kissed in the street. The
churches were filled with thankful women ; the
streets awoke to the old habit of sale and
barter and the talk of common affairs. But of
Roy the Outlaw many in the palace spoke ; and
it came anon to my Lord Gardiner that the
Queen had summoned him, and that he had
gone to her.

" She hath hung a chain of gold about his
neck, and kissed him on the cheek. We are
not heard to-day, my lord. Seek favour of
him if ye would do wisely — he may yet crave
one good head upon a charger."

Roy was with the Queen, as they said, in
a little room of the palace that gave upon the
chapel, and boasted the great arras which a
Pope had sent to King Harry. Here, all
dusted, his cloak torn, his boots green with
the grass, his doublet stained by the hard
bed he had slept upon, he found my lady
and the Queen, and gave them his story.
There were tears in Mary's eyes when she
answered him.

*' Roy of Calverton, how shall I say * Leave
me'.^ Need enough have I of brave hearts
that this one should know me no more.
Gratitude speaks ill of all that I would tell

288 I CROWN THEE KING

thee. Thou wilt come again — to London, to
my city ? "

He answered her that, God helping him, he
would come ; and unclasping the gold badge
which held his doublet at the throat, he knelt
and proferred it.

" Send a messenger with this trinket, and
Roy of Calverton will draw no rein until he
be at your side again. Nay, your Majesty,
I go where I shall best serve in all love and
fidelity — to the forest that bred the stout hearts
which this day wrought for your life and king-
dom. Grant me sovereignty of these, that I
may proclaim it in the city and no man gainsay
me. Ye have not friends more sure than Sher-
wood's men, nor these that loved the play of
Robin and his fellows. Let my Queen give me
her God-speed. I ask no other recompense."

He proffered the jewel, and the Queen,
pinning it to her breast, made haste to send
for the Chancellor.

"My lord," she said, *'ye have something
to say to Roy of Calverton. Let it be said
here and now, that your honour may not suffer
by delay."

She waited for the Chancellor ; but he, right
shrewdly, would stumble no more, and all

A CHAIN OF GOLD 289

humbly he put the paper into the outlaw's
hand and craved his forgiveness,

" Three days gone I said that I had found a
man. Ye will bear me no ill-will, sir, if I
spoke a true prophecy."

And then to my lady he said —

**What shall I say of thee if it is not
that thou art a worthy daughter of him who
ruled at OUerton ? God send thee light, my
daughter. Thou wilt yet be of our holy faith."

My lady would not make him any answer ;
but to Queen Mary she said very prettily —

**0f the faith which has served your
Majesty this day."

« « « « «

At sunset the forty rode out of London to
Sherwood and their home. The city lay
behind them aflame in the golden lights. The
shadow of peace was upon the fields ; the
heralds of the night winged in the silent woods.
As some tragedy which twilight veiled, the
story of the peril was blotted out in that glad-
ness of victory, the day forgotten in the
morrow's hope. They rode for Sherwood
and the North — in mutual content, with mutual
consolations. Outlaws no longer, the very law
admitted their sovereignty. Henceforth no
19

J

290 1 CROWN THEE KING

man might question their dominion. They
had staked all, won all in that fearsome throw.
The feast alone remained — the beacons they
would kindle, the cups they would pass, the
bells they would ring in Sherwood's heart

*' The night and the morrow and OUerton's
lights shall give us welcome," said Roy, turning
upon Finchley's Common to bid farewell to
the lingering day and the city shining from the
golden mists behind them ; ''we will ride in at
nightfall, and Master Eleazar will be there.
I see a great company of them that love thee
at the gates, and mine own with them. Nay,
sweet wife, what an hour that shall be ! And
thereafter to the gentle springtime of the
woods, and the glade wherein thy love was
won — wilt not ride there with him who jested,
and say the jest is no more and he is King of
Calverton indeed ? "

He pressed his horse close to hers, and
wondered not that his words should recall a
day momentous to her fortunes.

" Hadst thou drawn rein but twenty hours
in Sherwood, and this night I had been the
wife of the Lord of Stow and Wyat had ruled
in London city," she said half jestingly. '* Nay,
sir, be not so hasty to protest — what you have

A CHAIN OF GOLD 291

never won you cannot lose. When first I be-
held you at OUerton's gate I said, ' Here is one
who can command me.' Had it been my lord,
perchance I had said, 'This man will obey
when the day is come.' We women judge
right shrewdly if judgment be called for. Yet
little thought I that Roy of Calverton rode
with me in the forest, or so soon would do what
he liked with me. 'Twill never be * obey ' that
I shall say to thee, Roy. I am Bernard's
daughter, and now that thou hast me, I will be
Bernard's daughter still — but to thee one that
will say, * Bid me serve.' Ye shall teach me
gentleness. There are some at Ollerton who
charge me that I have need of the lesson."

"Ay, the rogues thy servants' whips have
driven forth — the cut-purses the forest harbours ;
those who begrudge the children bread, and
honour no woman's name. Seek ye better
tribute than their hostility? Nay, little wife,
'tis I should go fearing when I remember the
tale they tell of thy anger against such, and
the judgments thou hast spoken. In Sherwood,
if I be king, let Barbara of Ollerton be queen
indeed. She is all worthy, and the forest shall
acclaim her. Before other deeds, will I ride
out to show them what I have won of London

292 I CROWN THEE KING

city. There shall be bells rung from Nottingham
to Lincoln town when this news be known ;
and not a village which laol^s its beacon or
wine as water for its conduit Wilt ride with
me, sweet wife ; wilt ride to the sheriffs house
to bid him welcome ? "

She must laugh at his humour, but could
still think of serious things. *' My Lord of
Stow would have closed the gate and shut
the forest out," she said, *'it shall be opened
again when the bells are heard. I look to
see Master Eleazar first, and my people with
him. Yet it shall be no disappointment to me
if the tidings be not yet known and the house
abed. Nay, Roy, the better surprise for them
if they be waked to our coming and know not
whether it be for good or ill. Cannot ye hear,
in fancy. Master Eleazar as he cries, * Who
goes there, in God's name ? ' Oh, I have the
picture before me, and it is all of my home and
those I love therein. It shall be night when
we ride in, and shuttered window and silent
tower. Boris, my hound, must bay a greeting,
and the horses whinny when I come. There
are violets already in the woods, and we will
carry the perfume as we ride. And then,
heigho for bolt and bar and the face at the

A CHAIN OF GOLD 293

t

wicket, and those that stand fearfully to cry
* Who goes ? ' Nay, Roy, Roy, I could cry for
very joy of it, dear heart. And thou hast won
it, thou who art all to me to my life's end " —

He bent and kissed her lips. Night began
to engulf the little company, and lights to
shine upon the hill where stood Barnet town.
They would lie there until dawn, he said, and
thereafter ride on with better courage. Now,
for the first time since she had been a wife to
him, could he take my lady in his arms and say,
** She is mine by all right of her love and of
the victory." Before them lay the peaceful
days at Ollerton, Sherwood and her fair
dominion, joust and tournament, the woodland
masquerade. But all these had been naught
to him but for the word my lady spoke, saying,
** I love thee, Roy, I love thee before aught
else in heaven or earth."

Nor would he tell her that horsemen had
ridden before them into the night to wake
Ollerton from its sleep, and that, ere twenty
hours had passed, her people would be ready
and the feast prepared.

Bernard*s daughter, indeed, had come to her
own again. In Sherwood she would crown the
King of Calverton with the jewels of her love.

\

CHAPTER XXI

« REX "

"We figure to ourselves
The thing we like."— HENRY TAYLOR.

FROST and snow, whitened bough and
jewelled leaf fade to my sight ; I see the
great house at OUerton in my fancy, and Roy
and my lady at the lattice there — and so the
vision passes, the book is closed, the record of
merry Master Miles has found its "Finis."
No longer do I ride with Roy in Sherwood
Forest, but awake to reality upon the sward
at Fontainebleau ; there to behold the summer
ripeness and the glory of bud and blossom, and
the sparkling burn which drones at my very
feet. I am in France, and for me Sherwood
is no more. The figures of my book vanish
in the mists of waking. I have read the story
to the last line — the story that Master Miles of
Kirkby-in-Ashfield told so often to them that
sought him out

€C

REX " 295

A" legend some would say, yet history has
told us that it is no legend. Roy, Count of
Brives, sent by his father to Bolton Abbe/,
has left descendants who yet may be found in
the country of his birth. . How that he lived
for thirty years, the master of OUerton, is a
written record in the annals of the house. By
what skill of defence, by what help of the men
of Sherwood, he held OUertoi*, we now know,
truly. To my lady he swore that her home
should be his home — ^and so he made it. The
first four years of Mary's reign find in OUerton
church the witness of his children's birth. He
was at OUerton when Elizabeth was crowned,
and she has named him among the foremost
of the Northmen. And while we know that
some years of his married life were passed at
his father's house in Vincennes, when he took
upon him the duties of his estate, none the
less his heart was ever in England, and thither
he returned when duty permitted him, '^all /

gladly and with sure affection," as his own
word says.

In OUerton House to this day there is a little
picture hanging above a shelf of books in the
library, which shows to us the splendid figure
of this true Northman, with flaxen hair curling

296 I CROWN THEE KING

upon his shoulders, and a doublet of blue
velvet, and a hand upoa his sword, and such a
grace of carriage and beauty of face that we
seem to understand why men have called him
" King of Calverton," and how it came about
that the forest knew no other lord.

And beneath the picture is the one word
**Rex." There is no other tribute to the
master of the house, nor to that brave page in
the history of Sherwood which his eventful
life has written.

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23

Part III. — ^A Selec iton of Works of Fiction

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Spanish Gold. G. A. Birmingham.

Tales of Mean Streets. Arthur Morrison .

Thb Halo. The Baroness von Uutten.

^Tyrant, The. Mrs. Henry de la Pasture.

Under the Red Robb. Stanley J. Weymao.

Virginia Perfect. Peggy Webling.

Woman with tub Fan, Tux. Robert
Hiohens.

The Novels of Alexandre Dumas.

Medium %vo. Price 6J, Double Volunus^ ii.

Act*.

Adventures op Captain Pampuilb, Thb.

Amaury.

Bird of Fate, Thb.

Black Tulip, The.

Black : the Story of a Dog.

Castle of Eppstein, Tut.

Catherine Blum.

CfiClLB.

ChAtblbt, Thb.

Chevalier D'Harmbntal, The. (Double
volume.)

Chicot the Jester.
Chicot RKdivivus.

COMTE DE MoNTGOMMERY, ThB.

Conscience.

Convict's Son, The.

CoRsicAN Brothers, The ; and Otho thb
Archer.

Crop-Eared Jacquot.

Dom Gorbnflot.

Due d'Anjoo, The.

Fatal Combat, Th*

Fencing Master, Thb.

Fernandb.

Gabriel Lambert.

Georges.

Great Massacre, Thb.

Henri dx Navarrx.

HtLftNB DB ChAVBRNT.

Horoscope, Thb.

Leonb-Lbona.

Louise db LA VAixikEB. (Double volume.)

Man in the Iron Mask, Thb. (Doubls
volume.)

MaI TRB Adam.

Mouth of Hell, Thb.

Nanon. (Double volume.)

Olympia.

Pauline ; Pascal Bruno ; and Bontkkob.

PftRE LA RuiNE.

Porte Saint-Antoinr, Thb.
Prince of Thieves, Thb.
Reminiscences op Antony, Tub.

St. QUENTIN.

RoniN Hood.

Samuel Gelb.

Snowball and the Sultanbtta, Thi.

Sylvandire.

Taking of Calais, The.

Tales of the Supernatural.

Tales of Strange Adventurb.

Tales of Terror.

Three Musketbbrs, The. (Double volume.)

Tourney of the Rub St. Antoinb.

Tragsdy of Nantes, The.

Twenty Years After. (Double volume.)

Wild-Duck Shooter, Tub.

Wolp'Lbadbb, Tub.

Fiction

29

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Medium 8fv.

Albanesi (E. Maria). LOVE AND
LOUISA.

I KNOW A MAIDEN.

THE BLUNDER OF AN INNOCENT.

PETER A PARASITE.

•THE INVINCIBLE AMEUA.

Anstey (F.). A bayard OP BENGAL.

Austen (J.). PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.

Baffot (Blehard). A ROMAN MYSTERY.
CASTING OF NETS.
DONNA DLANA.

Balfoup (Andww)'. BY STROKE OF
SWORD.

Baring^Gould (S.). FURZE BLOOM.

CHEAP JACK ZITA.

KITTY ALONE.

URITH.

THE BROOM SQUIRE.

IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA.

NOEMI.

A BOOK OF FAIRY TALES. Illustrated.

LITTLE TXTPENNY.

WINEFRED.

THE FROBISHERS.

THE QUEEN OF LOVE.

ARMINXLL.

KLADYS OF THE STEWPONEY.

CHRIS OF ALL SORTS.

Barr (Robert). JENNIE BAXTER.
IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS.
THE COUNTESS TEKLA.
THE MUTABLE MANY.

Benson (E. F.). DODO.
THE VINTAGE.

Bponte (CharlotUX SHIRLEY.

Bpownell (C. L.).
JAfAN.

THE HEART OF

Burton (J. Bloundelle). ACROSS THE
SALT SEAS.

Caffyn (Mrs.). ANNE MAULEVERER.

Capes (Bernard). THE GREAT SKENE
MYSTERY.

Clifford (Hrs. W. K.). A FLASH OF
SUMMER.

MRS. KEITH'S CRIME.

Corbett (Julian) A BUSINESS IN
GREAT WATERS.

Croker (Mrs. B. M.). ANGEL.

A STATE SECRET.

PEGGY OF THE BARTONS.

JOHANNA.

Dante (Alighierl). THE DIVINE

COMEDYCCary>

Deirle (Sir A. Conan). ROUND THE
RED LAMP.

Duncan (Sara Jeannette). THOSE
DELIGHTFUL AMERICANS.

Eliot (George). THE mill on the

FLOSS.

Findlater (Jane H.). THE GREEN
GRAVES OF BALGOWRIE.

Gallon (Tom). RICKERBY'S FOLLY.

GaskeU (Mrs.). CRANFORD.
MARY BARTON.
NORTH AND SOUTH.

Gerard (Dorothea). HOLY MATRI.
MONY.

THE CONQUEST OF LONDON.

MADE OF MONEY.

Gisslng (G.). THE TOWN TRAVELLER.
THE CROWN OF LIFE.

GlanvUle (Ernest). THE INCA'S

TREASURE.
THE KLOOF BRIDE.

GleifiT (Charles). BUNTER'S CRUISE.

Grimm (The Brothers). GRIMM'S

FAIRY TALES.

Hope (Anthony). A MAN OF MARK.
A CHANGE OF AIR.

THE CHRONICLES OF COUNT
ANTONIO.

PHROSO.

THE DOLLY DIALOGUES.

Homunsr (R. W.)* DEAD MEN TELL
NO TALES.

Hyne (C J. CO- PRINCE RUPERT THE
BUCCANEER.

Inffraham (J. H,}, THE THRONE OF
DAVID.

30

Methuen and Company Limited

Le Queux (W.). THE HUNCHBACK
OK WESTMINSTER.

THE CROOKED WAY.

THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW.

Levett-Yeats (S. R.).

WAY.
ORRAIN.

THE TRAITOR'S

Linton (E. Lvnn). THE TRUE HIS-
TORY OF JOSHUA DAVIDSON.

LyaU (Edna). DERRICK VAUGHAN.

Halet (Lucas). THE CARISSIMA.
A COUNSEL OF PERFECTION.

Ilann (Mrs. M. E.). MRS. PETER
HOWARD.

A LOST ESTATE.

THE CEDAR STAR.

THE PATTEN EXPERIMENT.

A WINTER'S TALE.

Harehmont (A. W.). MISER HOAD-
LEY'S SECRET.

A MOMENT'S ERROR.

Mappyat (Captain). PETER SIMPLE.
JACOB FAITHFUL.

Karch (Richard). A METAMORPHOSIS.
THE TWICKENHAM PEERAGE.
THE GODDESS.
THE JOSS.

Mason (A. E. W.). CLEMENTINA

Mathers (Helen). HONEY.
GRIFF OF GRIFFITHSCOURT.
SAM'S SWEETHEART.
THE FERRYMAN.

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HlUer (Esther). LIVING LIES.

Mitford (Bertram). THE SIGN OF THE

SPIDER.
Montrdsop (F. F.). THE ALIEN.

THE HOLS

Morrison (Arthur).
THE WALL.

IN

NesMt (E.). THE RED HOUSE.

Norrls (W. E.). HIS GRACE.
GILES INGILBY.
THE CREDIT OF THE COUNTY.
LORD LEONARD THE LUCKLESS.
MATTHEW AUSTEN.
CLARISSA FURIOSA.

Oliphant (Mrs.). THE LADY'S WALK.
SIR ROBERT'S FORTUNE.

MASTER OF MEN.
THE POMP OF

THE PRODIGALS.
THE TWO MARYS.

Oppenhelm (E. P.).

Papker (Sir Gilbert).

THE LAVILETTES.
WHEN VALMOND CAME TO PONTIAC.
THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD.

Pemberton (Max). THE FOOTSTEPS
OF A THRONE.

I CROWN THEE KING.

Phlllpotts (Eden). THE HUMAN BOY.
CHILDREN OF THE MIST.
THE POACHER'S WIFE.
THE RIVER.

•Q' (A. T. Qufflor Couch). THE
WHITE WOLF.

Ridge (W. Pett). A SON OF THE STATE.

LOST PROPERTY.

GEORGE and THE GENERAL.

A BREAKER OF LAWS.

ERB.

Russell (W. Clark). ABANDONED.
A MARRIAGE AT SEA.
MY DANISH SWEETHEART.
HIS ISLAND PRINCES&

Sergeant (Adeline).
BEECHWOOD.

THE MASTER OF

BALBARA'S MONEY.
THE YELLOW DIAMOND.
THE LOVE THAT OVERCAME.

SIdgwIek (Mrs. Alfred). THE KINS-
MAN.

SuPtees (R. S.). HANDLEY CROSS.
MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
ASK MAMMA

Walfopd (MPS. L. B.). MR. SMITH.

COUSINS.

THE BABY'S GRANDMOTHER.

TROUBLESOME DAUGHTERS.

Wallace (Genepal Lew). BEN-HUR.

THE FAIR GOD.

Watson (H. B. Marriott}* l^E ADVEN-
TURERS.

CAPTAIN FORTUNE.

Weekes (A. B.). PRISONERS OF WAR.

Wells (H. G.). THE SEA LADY.

Whitby (Beatrice). THE RESULT OF
AN ACClDENr.

White (Pepcy). A PASSIONATE PIL-
WilUam8on(Mi«.aN.). PAPA.

PRINTED BY

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LONDON AND BECCLBS.

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