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C«^t

EVERY INCH
A KING

The Romance of Henry of Mon-
mouth, Sometime Prii :c of Wales

Josephine Caroline Sawyer

Sovottto

George N. Morang & Company, Ltd.
1 901

TO MV FATHER AND MOTHER

WITHOUT WHOSK CONSTANT SVMPAxaV. ENCOURAGEMENT

AND KrNDLY CRITICISM. THIS BOOK COULD

NEVER ::aVE been WRITTEN.

NOTE

This book was written with the single purpose of
proving that the character of Henry V., while
Prince of AVales, has been greatly misjudged.

It should, therefore, be clearly understood that
there is most excellent historical authority for every
important event in the Prince's life and for every
trait of his character which is here portrayed The
romance alone is partly imaginary, but even this has
a firm foundation in fact, and if the details of it may
not be found upon the written page of any
chronicler, neither will the most careful student find
evidence that they are untrue.

Watertown, New York,
4 February, 1901.

EVERY INCH A KING

CHAPTER I.

"One thought of thee puts all the pomp to flight;
Pnests. tapers, temples, swim before my sight."

Pope.

in In T 'I** 'P''''«*''"«' »»<! France was arrayed
« all her glory. The buds were swelling upon the

^a s td t : r'j """"^ ^"' -""'"^ ''- «h
»n«tol?H •"""'"•' ''"^'"^ *«r sweetest
songs to a.d their woomg Love was the burden of

n he": ^Z"" *' '""^ "°"=' -"^ <>«' ioyo™4

m the early dawn, a young monk standing in the
window of a sutely castle on the coast of No™andy

the whole world smging the same glad song? And
why must he stifle it upon his lips and crush the ms
sion which turned his blood to fire' ^

He glanced about the great, luxurious chamber _

wasTtri:t°l7"'"',T "°'"""='"' W"" -"^-k
rT^h, . 1 f ""'"""" '■''" '° ^^"'fi« his birth-
ken h^ tfT ^ ^^ ~"' "f' ^hich had once
,K^. ... ^f °' '"' ^™'''"°"; »"<• 'o inform the

Church and would return to the monastery in which
he had been educated, there to end his days in holy

Every Inch a King

peace? Perchance it was weariness of the artificial
life at Paris which impelled him to this step. Pos-
sibly the long years during which the abbot had been
both father and mother to the lonely orphan, had
bred in him a love for the religious life. Most prob-
able of all, his fancied passion for a beautiful lady of
high rank, and his despair upon her marriage to an-
other nobleman, had driven him to seek a refuge
from the world. Perhaps the abbot had doubted the
sincerity of his resolution and had suspected that a
brief delay would cause his unstable mind to change
once more; — certain it is, that he pressed the matter
vigorously, and within a week the deeds, conveying
the rich property to the Church, were signed and
sealed.

The young monk, thinking upon these things, bit
his lips, a curse within his heart. Oh, why had he
given way to a brief impulse? How could he have
forgotten that such a step would seal his fate for
life ? And as the memories of that evening, but one
short month ago, came crowding to his mind, he
paced the chamber restlessly, angry mutterings upon
his lips.

On the very night before he had donned the cowl,
the Queen and her court passed near, and he had
spent the last hours of freedom in entertaining roy-
ally his sovereign lady. Among those attending
upon Queen Isabella, the consort of Charles VI.,
was a maiden, a child in years, but so beautiful, so
bewitching in her sweet innocence, that the young

Every Inch a King

nobleman found surging i„ his lieart a passionate
i«d :J?;f\'^'^"<'^«'' him. With the bng-p^ !
feed stall of a courtier he tried to win a blush and a
smjle from the little maid, but her unconscious^e,!
and .p,orance of coquetry defeated him. Spurred
on to fresh endeavors, he soon found that the Tr^e
was turning from jest to earnest; and when , he
FXr^'T '™" '""^ o"""" 'he next morn, he
as his on?" '"' '' "" ^'""''^'' ''"• ="•« ^^ei^ed
^J:Z:ZZ ' '^o""'^"^' -'O-^'O smile

Baffled, enraged alike at his failure to make her
understand, and at the fate which awaited hta fhe
young nobleman laid aside his rich ga-^n^'and
w. h submissive face, but a heart fillfd wS, bitter
hate, he presented himself before the abbot, and

:ta" rnr "■""^'' *' "^"'' "-««^. he be-

The abbot noticed his restless melancholy, and ad-

v.sed some active labor; so, having already ^d a

T:hX:T 7 1 ^"""^""«' "' ~~d
rhiir^f •^' "' ^'- J°hn;-but a beautiful

ch>ld,sh face swam ever before his eyes; and secret-
ng a p,ece of heavy vellum, he began slowly opaTn,

Drain. With exquisite daintiness, and the tender

ouch of a lover, he worked diligen'tly, and oo„ th

It e miniature, as the work of illumination was

called, lay completed in his bosom, and he returned

to the task which had been set him; but everld

4 Every Inch a King

anon he would lay aside the Holy Gospel and cover
many sheets of vellum with the outlines of that same
fair face, nor could he force his hand to destroy the
sketches.

Thus he nourished and kept alive his passion until
the Queen returned from her journey and tarried for
a day at a neighboring town. Forgotten in a mo-
ment were duty and honor and even safety ; for the
young monk, stealing from the monastery, hurried
to the near-by castle, entered, by a secret passage, his
old chamber, left still untouched, and robed himself
in his most gorgeous doublet and hose, with sword
and spurs of gold, and a rich riding cloak. Then
managing to obtain one of his noblest horses, he rode
away to the town, where the Queen received him
with much graciousness, never dreaming that he had
become a monk. There he saw also the little maiden,
and she had not forgotten him ; but she did not leave
the Queen's side, and he dared not show her the pic-
ture which he had intended to give her, but was
forced to ride away at last, unsatisfied, and still
more discontented.

Slowly, in deep thought, he had sought his cham-
ber and put aside his rich apparel, leaving the gar-
ments in confusion on the floor. Reluctantly he had
folded the rough cloak of his order about his shoul-
ders ; and now he stood by the window, gazing lov-
ingly toward the town which sheltered his beloved,
and, heedless of advancing day and of his own dan-
ger, abandoned himself to a lover's passionate dream.

Every inch a King

Long he stood there, desperately striving to find
•""^ Pf'" '° happiness, and the suns fays had
plded the «.st with fiery radiance, when, on a sud
den, the sound of many feet approaching startled

sharp cry of terror ; for, as his door swunif wide he
beheld the abbot standing upon the threshold, wite
behind h,m clustered a group of monks.

One glance from the culprffs guilty face to the
„ strewn about the apartment an'd the gleam
...g sword near by, convicted him ; and the abtot ad-
vanced w.th a stem countenance. "How didst thou

the s „ 1 "t T ' ™'" °' "'"""'"• "I^o^' ■•'=-"■■«
both rJn . "■"■"'"ed? Thou hast wronged
both God and man! Thou hast broken thy solemn
vows and taken again to thyself the state which thou
hadst sacrificed to the Most High- Shame upon

r fT'to he"r r "^"^ "" ^'"""'' °' *'™ o™

The sinful monk sank upon his knees. "Have

Z'^T".""-" "' P'"""' '" quivering tones
The abbot's hard face set in grim triumph. ^During
the long years m which the haughty young noble
had been under his charge he nad never dfred to
deal with h,m sternly; but now the broad lands we e
the possessmn of the monastery and this proud spirit

IZZ 1 Tf '''°'' "'' ■"""'^^ ""<•" his control

that even the highest among them should not escape

j P^'shment. "Mercy"? he answered fiercely, ••for

ffT

6 Every Inch a King

what mercy canst thou hope, thou sinful man?
Know that thy guilt is plain;— look at these, and
tlien deny if thou darest, that thou hast loved a mor-
tal maiden, hast robbed God even of thy heart and
given it to her ! And thou hast even now been with
her!" he exclaimed, waving before the culprit's face
the tell-tale sketches found in his cell.

With a cry, the young man sprang to his feet and
shrank back against the tapestry. It was discovered
then— his sinful love. He must yield himself, give
up forever all thought of this sweet maiden, sur-
render the picture in his bosom to be destroyed, and
submit to the terrible punishment which awaited
him. His face blanched at the thought. Well he
remembered, in his boyhood, a monk who had dared
to love and the fate that befell him. Must he sub-
mit and humble his proud spirit to such disgrace?
No, by Heaven! Why not lly, escape to England,
seek refuge at the court, and some day return, a
mighty English lord, to win his bride? His vows?
He had already broken them. He had already
sinned most deeply. What matter one more naughty
deed? And even as the abbot stepped toward him.
crying,— "Yield thyself, as thou art a true monk !"
his trembling hand found the secret spring, the panel
opened, and with one bound he had dashed it shut
behind him and rammed home a trusty bolt ; and ere
the astounded abbot could utter a cry, his prisoner
was far down the secret passage, and in another mo-
ment had leapt upon the back of his horse, secreted

Every Inch a King

near the opening, and was riding furiously in tlie
direction of that harbor of refuge— Calais.

For many hours he rode, exhausted and fasting
not daring to stop for food or rest ; and as he neared
his destination his tired horse took fright at some
vague shape, and dashing forward, shook off the
weary man's control. In a moment they reached the
open drawbridge to the citadel, but the cry of
"Halt!" sounded faintly in the young monk's ears
and he could only tighten his hold upon the saddle.'
Then a swift arrow smote him in the breast, and he
was whirled along through space to fall senseless
when the hoof-beats ceased.

When at last he became conscious, and opened his
eyes, it was the twilight hour, and he found himself
lying upon a couch covered with furs in a large
chamber apparently belonging to a man of rank It
was rudely furnished, yet rushes were upon the floor
rich tapestries covered the cold stone walls and
upon a chest near by lay several articles of clothing
of the finest texture, and above them hung sus-
pended a handsome sword. As the young monk
slowly became conscious of these details, a low
sweet voice fell upon his ears, asking in the English
language, which he understood. "Art thvself again
g-ood brother? Tis many hours since' thou didst
close thine eyes."

He turned upon his pillow, and saw a figure bend-
ing over him-tall, slender and perfectly developed
clad in rich though sombre garments, with grace in

Every Inch a King

every line of the supple body, and the pride of birth
in the carriage of the head ; but what chiefly fasci-
nated the impressionable young monk and caused
him to gaze as if entranced, was the delicate face,
every line cut with exquisite clearness, having a
broad forehead and a slender though by no means a
weak chin and jaw, a nose a trifle too long for per-
fect symmetry, but straight and evenly shaped, a
firm, sweet mouth, and glorious, deep brown eyes
filled with tender pity. But its greatest beauty
lay in the smile upon those lips — a smile so brilliant
yet so gentle, that the suffering monk smiled faintly
in reply, and feebly stretched out his hand as if
seeking help and comfort from this stranger.

The Englishman knelt before him and took the
trembling hand in his strong, gentle grasp. "Art
suffering, brother?" he asked. The monk nodded
feebly, and then asked in broken English where he
was. "This is Calais," answered the other quickly.
"Et tu ?" "An English officer in charge of the gar-
rison."

The Frenchman's eyes were still fixed upon the
face beside him. He lay silent for a moment gazing
upon it ; then a sudden memory of why he was here
made him start violently and cry out with mingled
pain and dread. The Englishman sprang up and
crossed the room, returning with some wine.
"Drink," he commanded, raising the monk by plac-
ing an arm beneath his shoulders, while he held the
goblet to his lips : then, in answer to the mute appeal

Every Inch a King

in the terror-stricken eyes, he added gently, "Thou
art safe with me. good brother " The monk sighed
and turned his head away; then suddenly began to
fumble beneath his gown, an alarmed expression
crossing his face. The Englishman, watching him
closely, went to the chest and took from it a piece
of heavy vellum. "When thy wound was dressed,"
he explained, "I found this in thy breast. No eyes
but mine have seen it, brother." The other seized
it feverishly and pressed it to his lips, moaning in
French, "Oh, my love, my love, am I never to see
thy dear face again?" Then with a sudden remem-
brance of his sin, he shrank back among his cushions
and threw his arms across his eyes as if to conceal
his face.

The Englishman knelt once more beside him and
said gently, "Brother, if thou hast sinned, confess,
and ask forgiveness ere it is too late. Shall I send
thee a priest ?"

"Non, non !" cried the monk in fierce terror, then
humbly pleaded to be allowed to confess to him.

"I am not a priest," answered the officer, drawing
back, but the monk answered brokenly that he had
sinned past earthly forgiveness; that God alone
might grant him pardon, and that his benefactor's
prayers would greatly comfort him.

So, through the long watches of the night, the
Englishman sat beside the repentant monk, listening
to the story of his life, told feebly, with long pauses
between the sentences, and in a mi?:ture of broken

■•^-

I \

lo Every Inch a King

English and much French. Tenderly the young
officer bathed his wounds, gave him wine and food,
often held him in his arms that the poor, wearied
body might be relieved, and, greatest comfort of
all, soothed his mental anguish with tender words
and earnest prayers to the Great Pardoner.

When morning dawned the monk knew that his
hour of life was short. Drawing from beneath his
pillow the fatal picture, he placed it in the English-
man's hand, and with a last effort gathered strength
to ut 'vT brokenly the gratitude which filled his heart.
Looking into those clear eyes filled with pitying
tears, he begged him to keep the miniature in re-
membrance of his wretched story and as a warning
against unholy love. Then, a blessing upon his lips,
his voice grew faint, he gasped with pain, and his
head fell back against the officer's breast.

With a quiet reverence the young Englishman
laid the form among the cushions and stood for a
moment gazing upon the monk's face, troubled no
longer, but very calm in death. Then thruF ' j the
picture into his bosom he softly passed from the
chamber and gently closed the door.

CHAPTER II.

., "I do love

My country . good with a respect more tender.

More holy and profound than mine own life."

G)RIOLAIfU«.

The rich verdure of the English country, the de-
hghtful coolness of the air after a long period of
heat and ths monarch's consequent increase of
health— these, were the chief causes which brought
Henry Bolingbroke to the forest of Windsor in
order that on this glorious summer day he mi^ht
enjoy the pleasures of the chase.

Only twelve years had passed since Henry, then
the handsome, gallant Duke of Hereford, had landed
'n England to demand his estates of Lancaster
wrongfully kept from him since his father's Heath by
h.s cousin. Richard the Second. The people had risen
suddenly m their might, and, led by the greatest
nobles of the land, forced Richard to resign, and
placed the crown upon Henry's head. Then Parlia-
ment, boldly exercising its growing power, hcd
passed by the line of Mortimer, descended from the
Uuke of Clarence's daughter, whose representative
iidmund, Earl of March, was at that time only eight
years of age, and had declared Bolingbroke and his
heirs to be the rightful rulers over England. Rich-
ard, the former king, soon died mysteriously; the

12 Every Inch a King

Earl of March was a prisoner in Windsor Castle;
and after crushing numberless rebellions, Henry the
Fourth at last could rule in peace.

But those twelve years of almost constant war-
fare had left their fatal mark upon the King. He
had been a strong — a powerful ruler, the conqueror
of his enemies, the leader of his people; and with
Thomas Arundel, Archbishop of Canterbury, as his
chancellor, he had reigned like a king indeed. But
now, broken in health, old, while yet young in years,
and feeling the love and support of his faithful
people slipping from him day by day, Bolingbroke
had been compelled to surrender the actual govern-
ment into the hands of his eldest son.

In the fall of 1410, Thomas of Clarence, the
King's second son, had married Margaret Holland,
widow of the Earl of Somerset, over whose will he
had quarrelled with the deceased nobleman's broth-
ers, Thomas Beaufort, known to history as the Duke
of Exeter, and Henry Beaufort, Bishop of Win-
chester. These two powerful men, half-brothers of
the King, were the leaders of a strong party in oppo-
sition to Archbishop Arundel; and among their
iiumbers were the Earl of Suffolk, the Baron Scrope.
and the Earl of Arundel, nephew of the archbishop.
To this party the Prince of Wales had allied himself :
and upon the rapid increase of the King's illness.
Parliament, to Vvhose will Henry had ever bowed,
nnd upon whose pleasure depended his retention of
the throne, had shown such marked displeasure at

Every Inch a King 13

Arundel's policy that the haughty churchman had
been compelled to resign the chancellorship. The
government was thereupon vested in a strong coun-
cil with Thomas Beaufort as chancellor, the Bishop
of Winchester as the leading spirit, and the Prince
of Wales as actual ruler of the realm.

Such a situation filled the King's heart with great
bitterness, and as he observed the increasing popu-
larity of the Prince, an intense, unreasoning jealousy
of his son laid hold upon him, and he did not fail,
upon the slightest return of health, to make every
effort to regain his power.

Thus it happened that upon this glorious July day,
when the chief members of the council who had ac-
companied Henry upon his morning hunt, were pre-
paring to start for London, there to confer with the
Prince upon important matters, the King prevented
their departure.

"Our council will meet to-day at Windsor," he
informed them, adding, with the utmost careless-
ness, "I will send a messenger to notify the Prince."
They gazed at him in amazement and consterna-
tion. Weeks had passed since the King had last
joined them in the council. Their meeting to-day
was a most momentous one, and Prince Henry could
not reach them for many hours, if, indeed, he came
at all. What was to be done? Nothing, it seemed.
They had too well learned the peevish temper of the
sick King to think of opposing his will, and reluc-
tantly they resigned themselves to fate, while

14 Every Inch a King

Bolingbroke rode home, an expression of vindictive
triumph upon his pale, thin face.

The same instinctive desire to postpone the final
victory, which makes a cat delight in its cruel play
with a captured mouse, caused the King to delay,
upon o pretext or another, the assembling of the
council. They were fatigued by their hunt and
must first dine at leisure ; then the gracious Queen
and her noble ladies were in the garden, and it would
seem ungallant not to give them greeting. So the
time passed, and Henry, feeling confident that his
son would prefer the pleasures of London to the
labors of Windsor, at length summoned the lords to
join him within the castle.

A gloomy and embarrassed circle gathered there,
restless, uncertain what to say or do. The King
had been absent for so long that his council had
almost forgotten his existence. He was still in-
clined to follow Arundel's advice, and when he
appeared at all, he never failed to oppose Bishop
Winchester's policy. And to-day the consum-
mation of a year's labor was at last to be reached, a
most important decision made, and the final diplo-
matic triumph achieved — and behold! the King had
grasped the reins of power once more, the Prince
was absent, and the hour for action speeding past!
How much did Henry know of their plans? Would
he oppose them, and would they dare to act against
his will? Should they risk a fatal opposition by
betraying their project, or should they take the no

Every Inch a King 15

less dangerous course of delaying their decision, and
perhaps losing forever the chance for a brilliant
stroke of policy ?

The King gazed upon them with a bitter smile.
"We understand, my lords," he said, "that ye have
matters of grave importance to discuss with us. We
are prepared to listen to them now."

Bishop Winchester glanced doubtfully at his
royal brother. He was a strong man and a fearless,
confident in his own powers and ready in argument,
yet the task of persuading the King to consent to
their desires seemed too difficult for him. Hesi-
tatingly he answered that the defences of the Cinque
Ports must be « trengthened — could his Majesty sug-
gest some means?

The King suggested coldly that this was - ot the
matter to which he had referred.

Winchester flushed, and Thomas Beaufort, com-
prehending that the bishop desired to conceal their
true purpose, hurriedly brought up the old subject
of ransoming the captive Prince James of Scotland.

"Hath our brother of Scotland sent ye fresh pro-
posals ?" inquired the King sharply. The chancellor,
in confusion, answered "no," upon which Henry
said, — "Brother Thomas, search thy mind and may-
hap thou shalt discover other and more important
matters which require discussion." He looked from
one Beaufort to the other, but neither of them cared
to meet his eyes. The Earl of Suffolk suggested
despairingly that "Twas rumored that Owen Glen-

.... * '

1' t^

1 6 Every Inch a King

dower was dead, and peace with Wales might be
made at last." The King gave a short, scornful
laugh. "That rumor reached our ears two years
ago, but the magician doth still live to thwart our
purposes." Then rising to his feet, Henry gazed
sternly upon the dismayed council. "My lords," he
said, with haughty dignity, "ye do forget of late
who is your king. Ye seek to keep from me the
knowledge of weighty matters affecting the welfare
of my realm. This must not be, my lords — this must
not he," and he rapped sharply upon the table with
his fist while his cheeks flushed with anger. "Do
ye think I will permit such disrespect?" he thun-
dered. "It is my mad-brained son doth plan such
insults. I' faith, methinks that he givetli ye magic
potions, else ye would never have such love for him.
He rules ye by a glance, and ye obey his slightest
word and sign. What! will ye make him king in
very fact? In mine illness will ye rob me of the
crown? Oh, shame upon you, ye ungrateful men,
and double shame on him who seeks my place, — who
snatches from me the favor of my people and seizes
upon every royal honor!"

The nobles had sprung to their feet, and more
thnn one brow grew dark with rage. Winchester
cried hoarsely, "Sire, thou wrongest the Prince in
word and thought,— he is thy loyal son and we thy
faithful subjects."

"Loyal ! Faithful !" cried the King bitterly, "av, ye
are as faithful as was Northumberland, and he—"

Every Inch a King 1 7

The words died on his Hps and an expression of
dismay and chagrin came to his face. The nobles
turned as one man and a cry of relief and joy
escaped from the bishop.

Standing in the doorway, booted and spurred
with whip in hand, his handsome head thrown back*
his brown eyes alight with pleasure and excitement'
was the Prince of Wales-a goodly picture of young
manhood, even in his travel-stained and dusty gar-
ments. As he came forward and bowed low before
his royal father, the King's eyes softened a moment.

Tis long since I have seen thee, Harry," he said.
^^ "It is, my liege," answered the Prince quickly,
"and 'tis still longer since thou wert in council. I
thank God that thou art in better health."

Bolingbroke smiled a little grimly, then took his
seat and motioned to the others to do likewise
When all were in their places, he turned to the
Prince, who sat at his right hand, and watching him
closely, said, with apparent carelessness,— "We have
awaited thy arrival, Harry, before discussing our
most important measures, and we are now prepared
to listen to thee."

A slight expression of surprise came to the
Prince's face, and he glanced inquiringly at Win-
chester. The bishop shook his head warninglv, and
placed his finger upon his lips. Harry understood,
but the flush which came to his cheeks, and the
angry light which shone in his eyes, drove the color
from the churchman's face. "By Heaven," he mut-

1 8 Every Inch a King

tered underneath his breath, "he is determined that
the King shall know !"

"My gracious lord and father," spoke the Prince,
"hast thou been r.dvised concerning the proposed
alliance with Duke John?"

The King started slightly, — this, then, was the
secret they had guarded with such care. He
answered coldly, — "An alliance with Burgundy?
Why, this is news indeed. No man hath told me of
it."

The Prince's flush deepened as if he felt rebuked,
but he responded simply, —

"I thought thou knewest it, although thou wert
too ill to receive the ambassadors. Wilt please thee
to listen to our purposes?"

"Say on, Prince Harry."

Bishop Beaufort and the treasurer. Lord Scrope,
leaned forward eagerly as if to hear each word,
while the Earl of Arundel, veiling his vital interest
under an assumed calm, yet watched the King with
quick, expectant eyes.

The Prince hesitated as if to frame his words,
then, facing his father, calmly spoke :

'"My liege, thou knowest well the grave, uncertain
sta^ which, day by day, further envelops France.
To our mind, this once noble kingdom is, even now,
so torn with civil strife, that it can ne'er again be-
come united and in peace. It seemeth probable that
the great power of Burgundy will, ere many moons,
conquer this warring land and hold her subject.

Every Inch a King 19

Therefore, it is fit, both that our noble country, loving
peace, shall help the inevitable end to quick con-
clusion ; and furthermore, that we retain our friend-
ship with the conqueror. Burgundy hath sent to us
for aid, and it appeareth the part of wisdom to re-
spond swiftly and favorably,— while he needeth us.
What dost thou say to it, my noble lord?"

"Thou wert ever a most excellent reasoner.
Prince," was the King's reply.

The chancellor rose: "Nay, but, my lord, at least
thou wilt give us thy advice. We place before thee
such a policy as will make us the greatest nation
upon earth. Why, think, my lord, consider the
great power of England's arm, and yet, 'tis still no
secret that we've long ere this had cause to fear the
boldness of that kingdom which, even now, threat-
ens the state of France. The duke hath sent ambas-
sadors to plead with us, and if we scorn them, it may
be our ruin; yet, go we two together, hand in hand,
England and Burgundy against the world, allies,
and equal sharers of the lands which for so many
years false France has holden against us to our
shame, — what future would be too great or difficult
for us?"

"A brilliant dream, Thomas, by my faith,"
answered the King coldly. "Yet why wouldst have
us give up half our rights, when we should rain
them all?"

"How wouldst thou have us win them, good mv
lord?" ^

20 Every Inch a King

The King laughed in scorn. "Methinks thou art
half-witted, chancellor. Give France our aid against
bold Burgundy, and ask the same fair lands as our

reward."

"To which of the several parties that divide the
wretched country shall we offer aid, most royal

father?"

The King was silenced for a space, and Winches-
ter exchanged a triumphant smile with the Earl of
Suflfolk. But, presently, the sovereign asked : "Why
should we interfere at all, my lords? Methinks we
shall gain most by looking on in silence."

"And let the Duke John conquer France in peace?
Where, then, are our fair lands, my gracious liege?"

The King frowned at his son and tapped the table
impatiently. "I would my lord archbishop were in
presence here," he muttered, but low as were his
words they escaped not the quick ear of Henry
Beaufort, the doughty bishop of Winchester.

"Thou forgettest, sire," he cried hotly, "that
Arundel is no longer a member of this council, nor
do I comprehend why he should give advice upon
such weighty matters of policy."

"We know full well, lord bishop," replied the
King, "how deeply thou and our brother chancellor
do hate this same archbishop Arundel. 'Tis not
needful that ye show your hatred here."

"Nor is it needful," came the chancellor's sullen
voice, "that since we rule in name, still he should
verily rule in fact."

Every Inch a King 2 1

"Nay, my lord, my lord," cried the Prince hastily,
half rising from his seat, "I prithee, peace. My
liege," he continued, turning to the King, "we were
discussing our French matters. Duke John, w«
learn, being about to advance, even to Paris itself,
with a large force, it seemeth the part of wisdom'
to conclude whatever treaty is proposed, with haste,
that at this critical time our friendship may be so
much more welcome to proud Burgundy. There-
fore, I do beseech thee, let us make decision with all
speed. Will it please your Highness to give this
matter your approval ?"

"Not yet, Prince Harry," and the King smiled in
spite of his annoyance, at his son's persistence.
"Even without the counsel of Arundel, we will yet
presume to question somewhat farther ere we do
give consent." Then, addressing the noblemen, he
said impressively: "The arguments ye use are
strong, yet ye have not remedied a chief great weak-
ness. Ye know full well how ofttimes treacherous
are the rulers of great countries. Ye would offer
help to Burgundy. He'll sure accept it. He pledges
himself to you to share his conquests. Now, after
that we've helped him with our arms, how, save by
cruel war, shall we compel the fulfilment of his
pledge? Ha! What say ye, lords? Can ye answer
this?"

The nobles hesitated, and each in turn, as the King
sought their eyes, looked to Beaufort for answer.
But the bishop, in some confusion, could only

2 2 Every Inch a King

enlarge upon England's mighty strength and Bur-
gundy's sure, honorable gratitude.

It was a moment of triumph for the King, and his
delight showed plainly in his voice as he said to his
son: "What, Harry, art thou still silent? Hast no
more arguments that will convince us of the deep
wisdom of thy purposes? Poor boy, thou art still
young, and must not yet hope to lead nations by thy
rash desires for foreign conquest and bold alliances,"

The Prince flushed, but answered very calmly, "I
am not silenced yet, my gracious lord, but would
propose one other measure ere we decide this matter.
Will 't please thee hear me?"

"Speak," muttered the King, dismayed by the cer-
tainty in his son's tone.

Prince Harry gazed into the circle of eager faces
filled with anxiety, and, by his quiet smile, restored
entire confidence to them all. Then, deliberately.
yet with the reverence he always showed his father,
he answered :

"Y-^ur Highness asketh what manner of control
we shall have over Burgundy when the fighting
ends. Thou art right, my liege, this is a vital point ;
and without some more certain hold than the duke's
pledge, we're like to have no honors but the war.
Therefore, my lord, let Burgundy, with speed, send
us, as he has proposed, his daughter ; and when she
is wed unto the Prince of Wales — the future King —
methinks her father will not then decline to give to
England all that she may ask."

Every Inch a King 23

An instant's silence followed Harry's words, and
then the nobles found relief from their doubts and
expression of their satisfaction in a low cheer.

The Prince's constant opposition to the different
marriages proposed for him had caused the council
to disregard and even to forget this suggestion of
the duke's ambassadors. They were, therefore, all
the more delighted when Harry, of his own volition,
declared his willingness to accede to it. The King,
whose constant opposition to the Prince's policy was
caused not by conviction, but by an unreasonable
jealousy of his gallant son. knew himself defeated,
yet he wouH not yield.

"So, Prince," he said, ''it was for this that thou
hast persistently refused the marriages that were
our wish. How often have we sought alliances,
honorable and full of possibilities, and thou hast
coolly answered.— 'I will not wed till I can choose
my bride to please myself.' This is thy choice— this
the resultof all our labor. Thou wouldst place a prin-
cess of the House of Burgundy upon our throne.
Ay, I know the reason for it,— thou hast heard that
she hath beauty, grace, perchance, and smiles for all
young gallants who will woo her rightly, and for
her smile thou wouldst sacrifice thy countrymen in
war! Well, have it as thou wilt. I'll not contend
against such folly longer. Only, sir, remember,
when thou hast won this woman, and lost all else,
that hadst thou married Denmark's daughter, as we
wished, or even her of France, the issue of the right-

«K

:!t.l

24 Every Inch a King

ful king, poor Charles, the power of this, our coun-
try, might have been tenfold the greater."

"Nay, my lord," humbly replied the Prince, "it
then appeared but little part of wisdom to become
allied with either of these houses; and this present
union is not my desire; yet I sacrifice myself most
gladly for my country's 'vantage."

"Thou sacrificest thyself gladly? Dost thou in-
deed ! Then prove thy willingness to serve our Eng-
land, Harry, by thrusting off thy vile companions,
curbing thy loose life, and living as the Prince of
Wales should live. What sayest thou to this, ha 1"

So cruel a thrust brought the vivid color to the
Prince's cheeks, yet with an upraised hand and a
quick glance he stayed the indignant mutterings
among the nobles, and answered gently, — "At a
more convenient time, I shall endeavor to win better
opinions of jour Highness than thou now boldest of
me. Yet let me plead for haste in public matters,
for the hour grows late. Have we convinced your
Grace that it is wisdom to seek for an alliance with
Duke John?"

Infuriated by the Prince's persistence, and his ill-
ness suddenly attacking him, the King lost his won-
derful self-control and leapt to his feet, crying hotly :
"Thou perverse, rebellious, unnatural son, head-
strong and proud, ever seeking thine own advantage,
wouldst even force me to give my consent to such a
measure? Thou takest my honors from me and
dost rule as if thou verily wert the king, not I. By

Ill;

Every Inch a King 25

Heaven, can I but regain my strength, and rid me
of this grievous wasting sickness, I'll strip thee of
thy undeserved powers and show thee that the day
of reckoning comes to such a one ns thou when he
least looks for 't. And then, thou traitor—"

Even as the nobles sprang to their feet in angry
protest, and the Prince sought desperately to prevent
an outbreak, the words died on the King's lips, his
face grew very white, his hands beat the air wildly
and he staggered back and fell heavily into the out-
stretched arms of his son.

Harry's voice broke the sudden silence: "Will no
one aid me, lords ? Bethink ye this is a heavy weight
to bear alone." Then as each one moved quickly
forward, he added swiftly, "Lord Scrope, thou
mayst help me. We'll bear him to his chamber and
will straight return. Await us here, my lords."

Freed from the restraint of the Prince's presence,
the nobles gave way to their indignation, and de-
nounced the King's conduct in no uncertain manner.
"'Tis an outrage upon us all," cried the hot-
headed Earl of Arundel. "Never was there a more
noble son than this same prince. Look how he has
quieted our every protest ; borne the King's calumny
with meek humility, and never once has failed to
show him all obedience and respect. And this is his
reward! Zounds! Would the Prince but let me
speak my mind upon this matter, I'd throw defiance
in King Henry's teeth."

"That he'll not," said Henry Beaufort, smiling.

26 Every Inch a King

"but yestere'en I, even I, his uncle, ventured some
slight remonstrance with my royal brother, and
when the Prince heard I had taken his part, he
sought me out and sternly told me he'd have none of
it. I would all sons showed like obedience."

"But," spoke the Earl of Suffolk, "I vow I'm
wearied of this same humility. Must we forever
bow our necks before this king who is too ill even to
know his mind ? The Prince has ruled, in fact, these
many months, and never has our England had a
head more upright and more just. I' faith, my
lords, 'tis time the Prince received the honors and
the power, besides the labor."

"Lord Suffolk, this were treason," cried a voice;
and Gascoigne, the lord chief justice, laid his hand
upon the earl's arm. "Surely, my lord, thou
wouldst not go so far ? We all do love our gallant,
wayward Prince — ^but to dethrone the King — "

"Saidst thou 'wayward'?" cried Arundel, hotly,
and his hand went instantly to his sword-hilt, "my
lord, thou must retract that word of thine."

The lord chief justice raised his hand in protest.
"Nay, bu ly lord, thou wilt be reasonable. Canst
thou deny that the young Prince's friends are
strangely ch jsen, for one of his condition ?"

"What friends, my lord? Dost thou mean Lord
Scrope, or is it to me that thou dost object?"

Sir William smiled a little. "Nay, Lord Thomas,
thou knowest well whom I do mean. My lords," and
the judge looked questioningly upon the others pres-

Every Inch a King 27

ent, "will ye not bear me out? Dost not the King
say well when he reproves the Prince for these same
loose companions, who are his intimates? Surely
they are not fit associates for the throne's heir."

"Mayhap not," answered the chancellor, "yet hast
thou ever known their cour.el to inake the Prince
do wrong? Is he less eari .^st o'er affars of state>
Does he neglect his duties it Calais ? Or is he now
less wise than was his worn in 5iiapi';g policies of
government?"

"None of these things can I here charge him
with," answered the chief justice, "yet I would will-
ingly see him end all danger of such wrong."

"I cannot chide him for this slight fault," spoke
up the bishop, "but methinks the King is much to
blame for even this."

"Ay, he is," Arundel interrupted; "if Prince
Harry did have the favor of the court, as he de-
serves, we'd sure hear less about these same com-
panions and their influence. I do know the Prince
is wronged, and could I prove his nobleness upon
my sword — "

"Peace, here he comes."

And at that moment Harry entered hurriedly, a
look of deep anxiety upon his face. "My lords," he
cried, "I know not what to do. My liege is' not
recovered, and it may be long ere he can give me
counsel. This question of alliance cannot wait, for
time will make it valueless and vain. Lord Scrope
would have us begin negotiations without the King's

^%f

■ f

28 Every Inch a King

consent, yet I do hesitate. My lord chief justice,
we know thy wisdom well ; prithee advise us how we
shall proceed."

The bishop wondered to hear the Pi Ince turn to that
counsellor most likely to oppose him, but Harry knew
full well that all the others, either out of personal
love for him or hate of the archbishop, the King's
friend, could not advise him fairly ; while Gascoigne,
noble, upright and dispassionate, swayed by no per-
sonal feelings in the matter, belonging to neither of
the rival parties, would reason w^isely and give his
counsel freely and boldly without fear or favor.

So, when Sir William, after some moments'
thought, answered : "It seemeth best to me that we
should, without delay, form this alliance with the
power of Burgundy," Harry was content; and ere
an hour had passed all plans had been completed,
and the Earl of Arundel, chosen by the Prince as his
chief ambassador, had received full instructions for
his duties, and had departed to prepare for the long
journey.

The council ended quietly, but when the Prince
bade them, at last, good-night, and left the cham-
ber. Bishop Beaufort laid a hand upon Lord Suf-
folk's arm, and whispered softly, — "I have that to
propose to thee, my lord, which will meet thy ac-
ceptance. Assemble the chiefs of our party at my
London palace on Thursday week. Thou dost guess
my purpose, but breathe no word of it, for walls
and trees are well supplied with ears !"

CHAPTER III.

"Andronicus, would thou wert shipp'd to hell,
Rather than rob me of the people's hearts."

Titus Andronicus.

Upon leaving the lords, the Prince at once sought
his father's apartment, and there found the King al-
ready dressed in night apparel, and lying upon his
couch, while Richard de Beauchamp, Earl of War-
wick, attended him.

The sick man turned restlessly, and frowned as
his son came forward and made a deep obeisance.'

"What, hast thou left the Council Chamber,
Harry? And why dost thou come here? Wouldst
thou have me troubled by thy plans and hopes?"

"Methought your Highness would desire a brief
account of all that hath 1 ,;en accomplished."

"And wherefore should I wish to hear of it ? My
Lord of Warwick, w ^ you leave, but go not

farther than the outer .

The Earl withdrew and the Prince took his vacant
seat. The King continued coldly : "I oft do won-
der, Harry, at the consideration thou dost show-
where there is no need of it. Have they not all de-
cided as ye wished ? Will not ye form alliance with
the duke?"

"We so decided, sire, .jegan the Prince; but the
King interrupted :

1,1

hi"

30 Every Inch a King

"Why, thus it is — said I not thou wouldst have
thy way ? Then, wherefore hast thou come to tell
me of it?"

"My liege, we are thy council, and are bound in
honor to perform that policy which seemeth best
to us. If thou considerest that we do our country
wrong, thou shouldst dismiss us from the govern-
ment. But, if not, then I do beseech thee, give us
thy support."

"Nay," said the King hastily, "I know not that
what ye propose is wrong; what likes me not is that
'tis not their judgment, but their affection for thy
person, Harry, which wins these nobles ever to thy
wishes. 'Tis not the part of wisdom, when a coun-
try makes war because its prince is fair of feature."

The young man bit his lip, thinking of how he
had asked Gascoigne's counsel, while knowing that
the judge regarded him with little favor. But al-
though quick to justify his friends, he ever hesitated
to defend himself before his father, so only
answered humbly: "I do assure thee, sire, that thou
dost mistake. They, every one, consider this alli-
ance to be the fountain of the greatest good unto
our England. Therefore, prithee, grant us thy ap-
proval ; for, if thou dost deny it, I must yield unto
my sovereign's wishes in this matter. And, believe
me, sire, 'tis a policy that cannot be lightly tossed
unto one side without much loss. Wilt thou not
consent?"

The King made an impatient motion with his

Every Inch a King 31

hand. "Why dost thou trouble me? The thine is
done." ^

"Not so, my liege ; the council are a^ sed, and our
arrangements, for the nonce, complete; yet, if thou
bidst me, we will stay our hand. What wouldst thou
have us do, my gracious liege?"

With the responsibility thus thrown upon him, the
King turned irritably upon his pillow, and answered
with annoyance : *1 am too ill to trouble with the
matter. Make what treaty ye desire. 'Twill be thy
deed, not mine; and if results are evil, thou mayst
bear the blame. And now, that thou hast wrung
consent from me, prithee depart the chamber and be
gone."

^^ Sadly the Prince arose and came near the couch.
"Sire, what have men told thee, that hath caused
thee to judge me so unworthy of thy love ? I am
thy son, and when thou liest ill, my place is here be-
side thee. Why is it that thou wilt not ever let me
stay?"

A heavy frown gathered upon the Kind's brow, as
he answered : "Thou wilt provoke me presently to
wrath. Have done with pretence, Harry; thou
knowest well what an unnatural son thou art to me.
Nor shouldst thou wonder at my present coldness
when thou dost never give me a kind word save
when thou desirest some favor in return. What
wouldst thou to-day, that thou remainest? Speak,
and be gone. My patience is fast oozing from my
finger-tips."

32 Every Inch a King

The Prince sank on one knee beside the bed.
"Sire, I do beseech thee, hearken to me. Thou dost
misjudge me cruelly. I vow I wish for nothing save
to be near thee in thy present illness. Your High-
ness knows — "

"I know that thou art false," cried the King hotly,
raising on one elbow,— -"hence from my side, and get
thee gone to London. There shalt thou find com-
panions nobly fit for that base living which sullies
thy bright name. Dost think I can believe thee
when thou sayest thy heart's desire is to linger here,
instead of carrying on thy drunken revels with Fal-
staff, Poins, and other of thy fellows? Nay, I be-
lieve thee not; nor will I listen longer to thy pro-
tests. Call me my Lord of Warwick, and depart."

With a deep sigh, the Prince rose to his feet,
kissed the reluctant hand held out to him, and left
the chamber.

•1

I I* I

I i

~ ii

I 3

CHAPTER IV.

"Before God, I am exceeding weary."

Shakespeare — Henry IV.

Having summoned the earl. Prince Harry took
a torch from an attendant's hand, and, although the
hour was late, did not seek his couch, but hastily
traversed numerous dark passages until he reached
another and distant part of the castle. Pausing just
long enough to give the countersign to an armed
guard, the Prince entered a narrow doorway, passed
down a long antechamber and rapped sharply with
his sword-hilt against a heavy oaken door thickly
studded with iron nails.

At first, there was no response; but finally, after
repeated knockings, a voice answered; footsteps
were heard upon the crackling rushes of the floor
the bolts shot back and the ponderous door swung
wide, revealing a large chamber, almost bare of fur-
niture save for a couch covered with silken robes and
cushions, an oaken table, and some heavy chests,
richly carved, which served alike for seats and for
repositories. The walls were hung with tapestries,
and high vaulted windows admitted a faint gleam of
moonlight. The dying embers of a fire cast a weird
light upon the black woodwork, seeming only to in-
crease the gloom.

Standing in the doorway was a man of scarce

iL- i

34 Every Inch a King

twenty years, tall of person and with a certain proud
nobility in his bearing which betokened his high
rank. He was dressed in a loose nightrobe of fine
silk, and in the flickering, uncertain light cast by the
torch, his face was seen to be one of surpassing
sweetness, showing a nature more lovable than pow-
erful. Every feature was clear-cut and delicate in
outline, and no jeard marred his beauty. His lux-
urious brown hair fell about his shoulders, and his
brown eyes, although heavy with sleep, betrayed the
depth and earnestness of his nature. With a slight
trace of indignation in his gentle voice, he asked :
"Who is it that disturbs my slumber at this unseemly
hour, and what's your will that you must arouse me
thus?"

"A friend, who seeks the shelter of thy hearth."

"My lord, the Prince," cried the young man joy-
fully, and would have knelt, but Harry raised him
up and embraced him like a brother.

"Nay, let us in, and bolt the door behind us I
will not keep thee long." And the Prince lighted
several candles with his torch, and then turned
toward his host. "Edmund, 'tis cruel thus to break
mto thy rest, but I must away at sunrise, anH longed
to see thee ere I left this place. Hast any food?
Tis many hours since I did break my fast."

Silently, Lord Mortimer, the fifth of his line to
tx'ar the title of the Earl of March, placed wine and
meat before his royal guest. ' -o years before, the
young prisoner had been placed under the personal

I ^

Every Inch a King 35

antTf tl"' ''"""•/"''• ""''"°«" '° •■•« King or
any of the court, a friendship had sprung up be-
tween them, founded on mutual svmj^thy a^d t
spect, the depth of which neither if tl.em realized
Wl«n the Prince had hurriedly refresh^ him«,f'
he bade the earl sit beside him on the couch T^'
^reemoj^hs since I did see thee last. Hast tho'J

didltfCcre'tXtl^f"-"''"""^ ^-
"Some four hours since. And may I never oass

four other hours as miserable as these Lve b^^

Edmund, I could wish to die to-night "
The earl started. Well as he knew the Prince-

LtM""" """ "^ '" "'^-y "oodslh™,::;^

More had heard him speak one word that came lo

tZ ;? r*:'"^ ^"""'^ of cheerfulnesTa" d
wa™ affecon. By the dim light he saw that the
Prmce was pale, and every line showed an extreme
fatigue of mind and body. ewreme

"What is it they have done to thee " he cri-rf
^that hath driven the color from thy gemie h S
By Heaven my lord, but thou art greatly changed."
but I'll nntK."'^' '° "''' "' '"«"■ Edmund,

heve that I would sm against him. My everv
smallest action is examined and a base mot ve

L"r„ rrt^if ■_ 3 !f "i -Id but pTt r

to the proof! Enough of this ! Pray tell

put
me of thy-

36 Every Inch a King

self, and drive these gloomy thoughts away from
me."

The earl was kneeling now beside the couch on
which the Prince had thrown himself, exhausted.
With gentle hands he smoothed back the brown hair,
and smiling into the deeply earnest eyes, said softly,
— "Prithee, sleep, my lord, thou needest rest, and I
will watch here by thee for the night."

"My heart is heavy, and I cannot sleep. Oh, Ed-
mund, didst thou know my weariness! The King,
this morning, chose to hunt at Windsor, and so the
council met here, afterward ; but I was late, having
no word of it till two of the clock, then coming hot
from London. Thou knowest that the King hath
been much ill. The chase had brought his sickness
back again, and he opposed our measures fiercely,
and did denounce me as a traitor to him — "

"A traitor, lord " exclaimed the earl hotly; "what
is this foily that th. u sayest? Even the King would
not call thee a traitor."

"Dost thou not believe it of me?"

"No, on my soul! They lie that call thee that.
And if there came a dozen witnesses to prove it to
me, I still would say they lied between their teeth.
No man who's looked into thine eyes, my Prince,
would dare to call thee by so vile a name! Oh,
would that I might prove it with my sword !"

The Prince laughed softly and took his friend's
hand in his. "Ah, Edmund, I thank thee for those
gracious words ! As for the King, I understand my-

Every Inch a King 37

self hath tried him sorely in his present illness;
though how, i' faith. I wot not; yet when he doth
oppose our policy, and give as his reason, because
my private life pleaseth him not— this is sure not
justice."

"What dost thou mean, my lord, thy private life?
Thou art free from even thought of sin."

The Prince dropped his eyes and a faint flush
mantled his cheeks. "No man is pure and stainless,
Mortimer; my father speaks of those men of Lon-
don whom I do choose to call my intimates. He
likes them not— and I do perceive that thou too wilt
condemn me for their friendship."

"They should not have thy fellowship, my lord;
a man less noble than thyself, brave Prince, might
use them without fault; but as for thee, the highest,
noblest, purest in the land is but scarce worthy to
be called thy friend."

"Nay, but, my Edmund, there thou touchest the
point where my defence doth lie." And the Prince
smiled confidently into Lord Mortimer's grave face.
"I need these comrades, for my affections must find
a ready channel to escape, ere they do smother me.
Thou wouldst that I should have the very noblest?
Why, so would L Buthow, if itcannotbe? Two
friends have I at court— Scrope and Arundel— they
love me well; yet, in good truth, they are as formal
as the court itself; treat me with all the ceremony
that my state demands, and scarce do dare address
me save on the nation's business. My uncle Beau-

38 Every Inch a King

fort, and those who join with him in council, know
me and even love me, — as the Prince, — distrust me,
as a man. Canst thou not see how this cold disap-
proval of myself, these formal greetings, and state
ceremonies, make me to feel that such men are no
friends? Then, when affairs of state do press me
down, these merry London men, so frank, so bold,
so ever ready with a song or jest, even if it some-
times goes too far, yet stir in me the spirit of my
youth ; make me forget my state and live with joy as
simply Harry Monmouth, not the Prince. We're
man and man together, nothing else ; and even now,
I cannot think that there is any wrong in these com-
panions. What dost thou know of a free, merry
life ? Nothing, my Edmund, nor do many men ; but
these same midnight frolics are to me the very sauce
of life, which gives me courage to eat in patience
the good, wholesome food of unpleasant duties and
formalities. When that my sword is constant in my
hand, or every hour filled up with stern necessity for
action, then I am content; but, at other times, I
need the play to help me with the work."

In his earnestness, the Prince had risen and paced
the apartment with restless steps. Now he stopped
before his friend, and looking appealingly into his
face, said gravely : "I have spoke thus far to justify
my actions to thyself ; for thou alone, dear Edmund,
dost know the contents of my heart's most secret
chambers. I would not have thee think me so un-
worthy as men do picture me."

Every Inch a King 39

The earl, with a quiet, trustful smile, raised the
Prince's hand to his lips, as he replied, "Sweet lord.
I do believe thee guiltless of every wrong. But me-
thinks there is some other sorrow in thy breast than
these misjudgments cause. I prithee, tell it me, and
let me give what comfort to thee lies within my
power."

"Thou Shalt know, Edmund," cried the Prince
impulsively. "Thou art a lover and canst under-
stand the anxious feelings of my lover's heart."

The eari started. "What! Art //iom a lover— my
lord, who is the woman that thou lovest? Surely,"
he faltered, "she's not found in London ?"

The Prince flushed deeply. "Is't possible that thou
dost know me well, and yet dost judge me guilty of
so great a wrong as this? I'll love no maid who
cannot be my queen."

"Nay, forgive me, that I even thought to doubt
thee," pleaded Mortimer. "I know thy purity, my
noble Prince. Ah, would to God. that all men were as
pure ! Who is the lady that thou soon shalt wed ?"

A sudden remembrance of his passionate state-
ment, and all it meant, made the Prince tremble, and
for very shame turn his head away from the earl's
gaze. "Edmund, I fear me, that in my great haste I
have made a vow to thee that is already broken. Yet,
when thou hast heard all, thou wilt pardon me. As
thou art a lover, look on this and tell me if she be
not worth a prince's love."

He drew from his bosom a piece of heavy vellum

40 Every Inch a King

and placed it in the earl's hands. Mortimer swiftly
crossed to where the candles burned dimly in their
silver candlesticks, and gazed long and eagerly upon
the painting there.

A young girl's face smiled at him with a smile so
tender, so wistful, so full of love and longing, that
Mortimer's hand trembled with quick emotion. She
was very young, yet gave promise of a radiant
beauty. The delicate outlines of her oval-shaped
face, the high, broad forehead, the waving hair, the
small, exquisitely cut mouth, and the sweet and
gentle expression, all fascinated one with an in-
describable charm; yet her deep, lustrous eyes,
touched with a certain melancholy, showed the pure
and fearless soul beneath the beauty.

Not that Lord Mortimer perceived all of this at
once, nor, indeed, would most men have discovered
it within that by no means perfect picture, ^ut the
Prince, a first love stirring in his heart, seeing all
this, and more, had given the sweet face every at-
tribute of a goddess among women. Nor would he
rest until the earl agreed that a noble character was
painted there.

"Is she not glorious? My blood doth throb with
every heart-beat when I look upon that beauteous
face." So spoke the Prince, and seizing again the
picture from the earl's hand, he pressed it hotly to
his lips, then swiftly placed it again within his
bosom.

Every Inch a King 41

"Who is this lady?" demanded the astonished
nobleman.

"Who is she but a princess ; a queen, indeed ; my
queen, and En,«7land's, ere the year be passed. Oh,
God, would that it could be thus !"

The sudden agony of despair in the clear voice
brought the earl swiftly to the couch upon which
Harry had thrown himself again.

"My lord, open thy heart to me. This lady, — i'
faith, but I could love her too upon one look at yon-
der drawing of her — ^hast thou seen her? Is she
of noble birth? And will she wed the greatest
prince in Christendom ?"

Harry Monmouth sat for a moment with his head
bowed in his hands, despair written upon every
feature. Then with a little start, he raised his head
proudly and looked into the earl's eyes with firm,
determined gaze. "Edmund," he answered, "I did
forget myself, — that face doth make me mad with
unreasonable passion, nor have I yet succeeded in
driving these hurtful feelings from my heart. Thou
askest of the maiden — I have never seen her, nor do
I know aught of her save that she attendeth upon
France's most mighty queen. The painter of my
precious miniature knew her and loved her and —
broke his vows as a monk for her sake. He fled to
Calais, and there died in my arms."

Mortimer, with flushed cheeks and shining eyes,
gazed into the Prince's face. "And thou dost love

42 Every Inch a King

her, never having seen her? And he who was thy
rival is now dead? Ah. my lord, how glad I am
that thou canst be so happy !"

"For God's sake, Edmund, silence!" cried the
Prince, seizing his friend almost roughly by the
shoulder, "/happy? / to wed where my poor heart
desireth? Thou forgettest that I am the Prince of
Wales ! Oh," he cried bitterly, "how can men be so
bhnd as to envy a prince his place? Poor fools!
They little wot the misery that lies behind the
power."

He clinched his hands and paced the floor in
anguish, while the startled earl sat motionless and
dumb at this sudden outbreak. In a moment, how-
ever, Harry had regained his self-control, and seat-
ing himself by his friend's side, said gravely, "Ed-
mund, forgive me for my harshness— even the
thought of happiness tormented me. Listen. I
have this day despatched the Earl of Arundel to
Burgundy. He is accompanied by certain com-
panies of soldiery and goeth to forn alliance with
Duke John, the Fearless. This noble duke possesses
a noble daughter, and I do seek to win her for mv
bride."

"But she whom thou dost love?" cried the amazed
earl.

"Ah, Edmund, what have I to do with love>"
asked the Prince sadly. "I can wed none but she
who IS my equal in high rank, and who can bring
our nation a proper dower. This marriage must be

Every Inch a King 43

made for England's good, and I must burn this
picture and root out that longing which hath entered

h"i;prntr""- ^'"'""^' "^^^^ '^' *<' - of
The earl, deeply troubled by the suffering in the

oiZ ^ ''■"' '"^'""«^ ^"'^"^'^^^ ^y 'h« "memory
of the Kings taunts about his motives for desiring

the present union-used his utmost endeavors to
w^ariL K ''r^^'^ ^'''' ""^ "* '^"^h the Prince,
lighter smce he had told his troubles to his ever-
ready confidant and friend, begged the earl to share
the narrow couch, and in a moment the two young
men had gone together to the land of dreams

CHAPTER V.

"Best friend, my well-spring in the wilderness."

George Eliot.

When the first rays of light entered the high, un-
shaded windows, the Prince sprang up, and would
have softly left the earl's room, but Mortimer awoke
and begged him eagerly to stay.

"Thou sure wilt break thy fast with me, my lord ;
we have not been together for so long, and there lie
upon my tongue a thousand questions, which, for
thy weariness, I dared not ask when thou didst come
to me so late last night."

The Prince hesitated, desire battling against duty
in his heart, then yielded with a smile. "I must be
gone Ci) London in an hour, but there is much that I
may know of thee before the glass runs out. Tell
me, first, hast seen the Lady Anne again, my lord ?"

The bright color flashed into the eari's cheeks,
and, pushing aside a piece of tapestry, he opened a
small door, showing a garden charming in the early
morning light.

"Seest thou these roses, good my lord? But one
week since she hunted with the court in Windsor
Forest, and ere it was dusk stole from her cham-
ber to wander here alone. I had op'ed my door
to feel the cool night breezes from the south, and,
behold, there w.is a vision all of white and gold.

Every Inch a King 45

iier robe as pure as lilies of the field, the last red
sunbeams falling on her hair and clothing her with
such a radiance that mine eyes were dazzled by the
beauty of it. A moment did she stand, then plucked
a rose; and, all unconscious of my presence near, she
sang an evening hymn, in such a voice, so soft, so
gentle, and so sweetly pure, as sent my very heart
into my mouth and made me long to seize her in my
arms. She did nA turn, but slowly passed away.
And I, a captive fool, could only stand and watch,
longing to woo her ere I had scarce seen her; yet, in
all honor bound to silent love. Oh, my good lord,
dost thou then love a woman and still wouldst keep
me in confinement here ?"

Then as a look of sorrow and reproach came into
the Prince's face, Mortimer sprang forward and
humbly knelt before him.

"Sweet lord, forgive me, for I meant not to re-
proach thee. I know that thou dost show me every
kindness. This chamber here has grown to be a
home ; and for my raiment, 'tis worthy of a prince.
Servants attend me when I desire service, and even
tliou lettest me freely breathe the air and wander at
my will in yonder garden, on my plain word that I
will hold no speech with any whom by chance I may
there meet. Mine is not a prisoner's life, my lord,
and yet I've dared to blame thee for thy kindness.
Canst thou forgive me such ingratitude?"

"Nay, Edmund, I blame thee not," answered the
Prince sadly. "Thou art my friend, and more than

-fT-

46 Every Inch a King

any man hast thou received my love. Gladly would
I give thee freedom, an* I could do so with any
thought of honor. But when my father gave thee
unto me to guard as a close prisoner of state, I
pledged my word and life to keep thee safe. Thou
hast not forgotten how the Duke of York, and his
unnatural sister, Lady Spencer, so artfully stole thee
away from Windsor, seeking to use thee as a
weapon 'gainst my father. The King is my liege
lord, and if need come, I would give my life to guard
for him the throne. Therefore, since thou wert put
within my personal charge, my honor is concerned
to keep thee fast. And if thou heldest free inter-
cturse with others, how could I guard thee then?"

"Nay, Edmund," Harry added gently, looking
into his friend's eyes, "'tis hard for both of us. Be-
lieve me, my heart sorrows as thine own ; but, until
my lord and father freely grants thee freedom, we
must rest content."

"Would not he grant it, if thou didst ask it, lord ?"
The Prince threw back his head impatiently.
"Thinkest that I would not long since have asked it.
did I not know the answer? Nay, he hates thee.
Mortimer, nor would he be well pleased did he but
know how truly I do love thee — thou who art my
rival for the throne of England."

"Now, by Heaven, my lord, you do me wrong,"
cried Mortimer hotly. "If certain foolish men pro-
claimed my rights in opposition to thy father's rule,
it seemed but justice then ; but thou. Prince Henry,

Every Inch a King 47

art my sovereign lord, and when thy father's dead,
this knee, which often bends to thee as prince, shall
bow to thee as king. Now, as I am a Mortimer, I
swear — "

^ "Hold, Earl of March," sternly replied the Prince.
"I will not let you swear an oath to me. If, when
my liege is dead, the Parliament which placed the
crown upon his royal head shall make thee king, in-
stead of Harry Monmouth, dost think I will not bow
me to its will and greet thee as my lord? And if
it makes me king, because of that, and not because
of any love for me, I shall expect a like obedience
upon thy part. But this is not the time or place to
swear allegiance to me. Edmund, the day is come.
I must to horse."

"Dear my lord, in truth 'tis early yet. Thou wilt
not go? Thou art still fasting."

"r faith, I had forgot to eat. Pour me a glass of
wine. Here's to thy h-ilth, my lord, and mayst
thou win Anne Stafford for thy bride."

The earl sprang forward with a joyful cry.
"My lord, wilt help me? Else what chance have I,
a prisoner within these four gray walls ?"

"Hark thee, Edmund, if the lady again enters
yonder garden, thou mayst woo her with all thine
eloquence. Thou seest how I trust thee, but we'll
not wait on chance. Tell me, first, dost really wish
this maiden for thy wife?"

The earl's blazing eyes looked full into the ques-
tioning ones before him. "As I live, my lord, I

: »

48 Every Inch a King

will wed no maiden, if it be not she. And if I'm
ever a free man again, 'twill be my dearest task to
seek to win her."

"Now, on mine honor as the Prince of Wales I
swear that thou shalt have her!" And Harry Mon-
mouth seized his friend's hands in both of his, while
his sweet, winning smile broke forth. "I must, my-
self, woo this lady for thee, since thou canst not.
Remember, I'm a lover, as thou art, and knowest all
the jealousies within thy breast. Trust me, Ed-
mund, and 'twill go hard if thou hast not a briHe."

And with these amazing words ringing in his
ears, and his heart surging with passion, hope and
fear, the earl found himself alone with his own
thoughts.

CHAPTER VI.

"He did pluck allegiance from men's hearts.
Loud sliouts and saluutions from their mouths.
Even in the presence of the crowned king."

Henry IV.

In the year 141 1, King Henry's court appeared,
to foreign nations, united in giving full support and
allegiance to the monarch. The successive rebel-
I'ons against his authority had each in turn ended
disastrously for the rebels. The great family of the
Percys was almost destroyed, the youthful heir,
Henry, Second Earl of Northumberland, being at
this time an attainted and penniless exile in Scotland,
while Archbishop Scrope, Mowbray and Hastings
had suffered traitors' deaths with such promptness
as to make men exceedingly careful in betraying
their disaflfections. There remained, however, a
strong party in decided opposition to the King,
noblemen who were governed by conscientious
scruples concerning the monarch's right to rule ; and
those whose love of justice had rebelled against
Henry's misgovernment. To these had now been
added a third and more numerous class, chiefly
members of the Beaufort party, whose motive lay in
their love and admiration for the Prince.

Harry Monmouth, as the common people de-

5© Every Inch a King

lighted to call the hero whom they almost wor-
shipped, had spent his youth at war in Wales under
conditions which might well have made a man of
strength despair. Although but a boy, he was per-
sonally at the head of his troops, directing the cam-
paigns, leading in t <e battles, and during the cruelly
hard intervals of preparation, sharing the keen suf-
ferings of his men, bearing all the blame when the
court refused the sorely needed money and supplies,
even selling his few jewels to buy food ; and for re-
ward, receiving only the bitter complaints of the
neglectful court at the lack of victories over an
enemy that would not fight. Bravely and steadily
had he remained year after year at his post, strug-
gling against the ignorant superstitions of his men.
the inhuman methods of warfare used by his
enemies, the constant discouragements and unex-
pected obstacles that he encountered, and the ever-
increasing privations which he was powerless to re-
lieve.

When he at last came to London, leaving Glen-
dower temporarily exhausted, he was already a
general of strength and power, although the cour'
believed him but an ignorant boy. In the year 14c
he conducted several successful campaigns in Wale;.,
but London was henceforth to be his home. In the
autumn came his triumphal expedition to Scotland,
where his memory must often have recalled the far-
away days when he accompanied King Richard to
that land and was there knighted by him— days so

Every Inch a King

5»

quickly fonow«l by his father', usurpation of the
throne. And perhaps .he thoughts of the Prin«

very kind to the young boy, and although but a
chtld, Harry had felt a deep affection for hi a„d
h s sorrow at the unfortunate monarch's dea* was
accompanied by a feeling of resentment again I Z-
mglToke for what, to his mind, seemef in Isfee

"«n7«h'' ""'. '"" '"""^' ""«P^-«d. came ^
tween father and son and kept them apart.

H,Jr" J' T""" '""" "'" campaign, young
Henor made the capital his residence " and wfth^^
active love for government, which amazed the

accepting the various positions of Warden of the

Calais, offered him chiefly for the purpose of replen-
ishing h,s exchequer, he proved hiClf not only
thZTn !:' ""'""r-™- °f 'hese places, visiting

sary duties with a consistency and thoroughness
which was worthy of the highest praise

Shortly after tiiis he had become President of the
Royal Council of State, and, owing to the ill-heahh
o his father, actual King of England. A warrior
of great personal bravery, wise in command, 'enlr

broad"aTd7 ='"?"<'^'""«' "^ ^f".; a statesman
broad and deep of thought, prompt and decisive of
action, seeing with a wisdom far beyond his years
the course to be pursued, yet ever ready to iLen

52 Every Inch a King

with a charming dct>r«nce to the opinions of others ;
a man of ready sympathy, perfect trust of all men,
and a charming cot rtr^^y of manner which could not
but win all who conversed with him — such, at the
age of twenty-three, was Henry of Monmouth,
Prince of Wales.

Little wonder. 'Ken. '.■ the English nobles, dis-
gusted with theii Ku^'., misrule, wearied by his ill-
ness, and angry a !u pe-^vish temper he displayed,
determined that tl • y i ' 'ome i.. long enough, and
that the ending s' ': •■ -r^f ',- [ostponed. The
Prince, the actua* ^in f, \h i who labored morn-

ing and night for 1 is cr ■' i s good, — why should
he not receive the ^onor ( ' its place, and be free
from the King's unreasoning lialf-control and the
opposition so ready to break forth at any moment ?

Why not, indeed? What step could be more
natural or wise ?

"The King that is shall be left unharmed. There
is no need of bloodshed in the matter."

Thus spoke the chancellor, and gazed around the
little circle with placid contentment in his quiet face.
There had gathered in the pplace of the Bishop of
Winchester the chiefs of his powerful party. A
week had passed since that momentous meeting of
the council at Windsor and the bishop had spent
every minute to the best advantage in his endeavor
to win other noblemen to active support o.* the
Prince, yet there was no stranger present to-day.

"I dared not trust a single man among them," the

Every Inch a King 53

churchman told his brother sadly. And now, clad
m his rich, scarlet robes, a gold chain about his neck
and gems sparkling upon his hands, Winchester
leaned back in his great oaken chair, which formed a
fit background for his powerful figure, and his pierc-
Jng eyes kept watch of each movement of his fellows
—was every one here present loyal and true? There
was his brother, the chancellor— no need to fear that
he would prove a traifor to their cause! Had he
stood alone. Thomas Beaufort might have become
a leader among men, for he possessed strength and
courage and tenacity, but by the side of his more
powerful brother, whom he worshipped, his own
qualities were overshadowed, and he would follow
the bishop's lead unfalteringly t ven if it led him
unto death !

Then there was the Earl of Suffolk. The bishop
slightly turned his head and gazed thoughtfully at
the handsome figure, well displayed in the brown
velvet costume trimmed with fur. and at the noble
face, serene and earnest. A sincere man. that-
swayed by no light emotions, but ever steadfast and
true. And as the bishop thought of all the years they
two had worked together for their country, he
nodded his head slightly and a satisfied smile played
about his lips. Never yet had the earl failed him in
tune of need— he would not fail him now.

There fell upon his ears a clear young voice, cry-
ing in answer to Beaufort's peaceful wor is,- "Ay,
if there be no bloodshed, it were well ; yet i . for one,'

■4
If.

54 Every Inch a King

would gladly strike a blow and give my life, if need
be, for our Prince."

The bishop glanced quickly at the speaker, who
had paused in his restless pacing to and fro and
stood opposite to the churchman. A gallant figure,
dressed gaily in crimson and fine linen, his sparkling
eyes fixed on the chancellor, his gleaming teeth
showing in his smile, — was he to be trusted ? Had
it been unwise to admit him here among them?
Surely not; — impulsive, brave and loyal, he was a
true son of Earl Suffolk, inheriting his father's
noblest qualities, to which he added the vigor and
enthusiasm of youth. Bishop Winchester felt his
heart go out toward the handsome knight. "Sir
Michael," he said, "thou and Earl Arundel— i' faith,
but I do wish that he were here — would sooner fight
than eat, I dare be sworn. Wilt thou not be content
if we do win in peace ?"

The gallant De la Pole flushed in some embarrass-
ment. "I meant not that I did desire war," he
answered quickly, "but 'tis my wish to prove my
loyalty to Harry Monmouth by greater sacrifice
than peaceful words."

"As yet, methinks I do ..ot understand thy pur-
pose, gallant Beaufort," came a low voice from a
far corner of the apartment. "How is it that thou
wilt dethrone the King in peace?"

The bishop started a little, and leaned forward.
Here was a man he had not fully considered. Baron
Scrope of Masham, Knight of the Garter, the royal

Every Inch a King 55

treasurer I A noble who was called the Prince's dear
friend; who had been honored and raised to mighty
places; who, by every tie of gratitude, was beholden
to Harry Monmouth. His first wife had been of
royal blood, and now it was the gossip of the court
that he would wed the Lady Joan Holland, whose
father, the second Earl of Kent, had been a half-
brother of King Richard, and whose sister Margaret
had so recently become the bride of Thomas of
Clarence. If Prince Harry became king, what fu-
ture would be too great for Baron Scrope? There
could be no question but that he would be loyal and
true.

The chancellor's voice broke in upon the bishop's
thoughts. "My lord baron, our purpose is, briefly,
this: That we shall all appear before the King say
to him plainly that he is too ill to be upon the throne
and with gentle but persistent argument convince
him that 'tis best he should resign."

"And dost thou think we can accomplish this?"
inquired Scrope earnestly.

"Ay, and wherefore not?" asked Winchester
"My royal brother is very weak and ill. Thou know-
est Prince Harry gained his consent to the Burgun-
dian alliance,— why can we not obtain it for our
cause? He will be entirely unprepared for our pro-
posal, and we will not permit him to regain his self-
control. Before he doth entirely understand our
purpose, we shall have secured his signature to the
form of resignation."

I
It

56 Every Inch a King

The baron raised his hand to his face, seeking to
hide the half scornful smile upon his lips, but his
voice was very deferential as he said, — "Ah, my lord
bishop, thou hast planned it well. It appears that
failure be impossible, — ^unless the King is warned."

"And that is a danger which we need not fear,"
answered Winchester sharply, "no man shall know
what we do meditate except we five alone, and
wouldst thou dare to doubt one of us, baron?"

"Upon mine honor, no!" cried Scrope hastily.
"Were I so evil minded I should deserve to die upon
thy sword. And yet, lord bishop, this plan doth
please me not."

"And wherein doth it fail to please thy mighti-
ness?" cried De la Pole, in sudden anger. He did
not like the baron, chiefly, perhaps, because he
dearly loved the Prince, and was jealous of Scrope's
place in his affections. "Ts not the wisdom of my
Lord of Winchester beyond dispute ? And wilt thou
presume — "

"Michael, hold thy peace," cried Suffolk sternly,
then turning to the baron, — "My Lord of Masham,
I pray thee pardon him. He is ever ready to say
that which he doth not mean."

The young knight stood silent in obedience to his
father's command, but his eyes spoke for him elo-
quently.

Scrope glanced at him and smiled tolerantly.
"Every man is entitled to his own opinion," he re-
plied. "Thy son, Lord Suffolk, did but express his

Every Inch a King 57

preference for that advanced by my lord bishop; and
yet, Sir Michael," he continued, addressing the
young man with a certain frankness which became
him well, "I intended only to echo thine own desire
—that we might strike a blow for. Harry Mon-
mouth." ^

If De la Pole was hot-tempered, he was also quick
to acknowledge himself in the wrong; and, ashamed
of his outbreak, he crossed to the baron's side and
humbly said, "My lord, I crave thy pardon for my
hasty words. With all my heart would I fight by
thy side in such a cause."

"Nay, I was not offended," answered Scrope
good-humoredly, then turning to the others, he con-
tinued gravely,--My lords, ye do know the frank
and loving nature of our Prince, and ye have not
forgot his humility toward the King. F faith he
will not relish our obtaining Henry's resignation by
using force when he lies so ill."

"Thou hast mistook my purpose," cried the
bishop, but the baron raised his hand,— "nay, par-
don me, I meant not to put it thus, but thou art de-
pending upon the King's illness for thy success
Now, my lords, we are all good swordsmen, let us
arm ourselves, gather our allies about us, and de-
mand the coronation of the Prince. Harry is be-
loved by the Parliament," he continued persuasively
"and a small display of force will conquer the entire
land. Thus might and not— I am loath to call it
trickery — "

58 Every Inch a King

"Search for no other word — I understand thy
meaning—" answered Winchester with dignity.
"Baron, I might well be angered at what thou say-
est, but I will forget it for the Prince's sake. Yet
I confess I scarce expected to learn from thy lips
that the Prince preferred an armed rebellion to
peaceful argument."

Scrope's face darkened with anger, and his small
eyes contracted, but when he would ha\e answered,
Winchester interrupted him with an appeal to the
others. "My lords, how many of ye agree with
me?"

The chancellor, Suffolk and Sir Michael cried as
with one voice,— "Thou art wise, my lord." And
the baron bit his lip, but forced himself to answer,—
"It may be that ye are in fhe right, my lords, I will
say no more."

"I thank thee. Lord Scrope," said Winchester
courteously, his momentary doubt of the baron dis-
pelled. Then he continued quietly, "We are, then,
all agreed that there shall be no fighting. We go
peacefully before the King, and if we fail, he cannot
charge us with being traitors to him. Brother, thou
art our pretty speechmaker, — how shall we address
Henry Bolingbroke ?"

The chancellor smiled— he did not relish blood-
shed, and was relieved at their decision, but in the
field of diplomacy he was most successful, and the
readiness of his reply showed his ability. "Let our
request," he answered, "be clothed in such form as

Every Inch a King 59

this; 'Sire, thou hast been very great upon thy
throne, and men do praise the deeds that thou hast
done. Now, in thy sickness, which is sore upon thee
do thou throw off this heavy load of state and rest
thee from thy labors. Thy gallant son-less noble
only than thy gracious self— will take the burden
from thee, and while thou still livest and canst guide
his youthful footsteps with thy long proven wisdom,
he shall rule. "

"Mayhap, my lords, the King will answer that the
Prmce doth rule already," suggested Scrope, but his
voice was drowned in the general chorus of ap-
proval. *^

"And now, my lords, what arguments shall we
advance?" questioned the bishop.

"The greatest one is the support of Parliament "
suggested Suffolk.

JThou art right," cried Winchester exultingly.
Henry doth fear the Commons more than the
Lords. Our strength doth lie therein. Oh, we shall
assuredly win his resignation."

"But if we fail, may we not fight for it?" asked
bir Michael pleadingly.

Winchester smiled, but ere he could reply the
baron exclaimed, "Lords, is not your purpose a
foolish risk? The King doth lie almost at point of
death. In a few days he'll trouble ye no more."

"The King may live for a full score of years "
answered Earl Suffolk; "those for whose death we
hunger seldom die save by foul means. Boling-

60 Every Inch a King

broke is still young and doth hold out against his
two years' sickness valiantly. Wouldst thou have
the Prince continue to submit to his jealous opposi-
tion?"

Scrope made no reply, but his heart filled with
anger. By what trick did they defeat each of his
propositions and make him appear disloyal to the
Prince ? Not one of them was as true as he !

Michael, impatient of this interruption, again
addressed the bishop, "May we not fight if we do
fail in peace?"

SuflFolk frowned at his restless son, but Winches-
ter answered his question thoughtfully.

"Sir Michael, I myself would gladly draw my
sword to win this victory for our Prince, and yet
methinks we could not win in open battle. The Lord
Arundel is in Burgundy, and beside ourselves here
present, and noble Courtenay, the chancellor of Ox-
ford, there are but few of any prominence. York and
his brother might join our forces, but Warwick and
Westmoreland, although they do love Harry Mon-
mouth well, would not consent to fight against their
king. And then," he continued sneeringly, "con-
sider the archbishop, with all the servile fellows that
do bow before him for pardon of their sins! And
my nephew Thomas, because of those paltry marks I
would not give him — had I no right to Somerset's
bequest, I, the executor of my brother's will ? — doth
hate me bitterly, and I believe would even fight his
brother for my sake. Then there is Stanley, and

Every Inch a King 6i

the lord chief justice, Salisbury, and Talbot of Hal-
lamshire, and even Courtenay's cousin, the blind
earl of Devon, who, they say, doth still wield a
valiant sword. And finally," he added, "if West-
moreland chooses to fight against us, his sons, both
John and Ralph, would join their father and, per-
chance, also the" husbands of his daughters— Lord
Mauley, Lord Dacre, Sir Thomas Gray and Sir Gil-
bert Umfreville. Where shall we find swords to op-
pose this host?"

"We are fortunate," said Suffolk grimly, "that
Westmoreland's nine sons by thy sister Joan are still
too young to arm themselves for battle."

In spite of their anxiety a general laugh greeted
this speech, and the chancellor said : "Thou seest,
Sir Michael, that to fight were madness. If argu-
ment do fail us, there is no hope."

The knight acknowledged, with great reluctance,
that a battle upon these terms would be worse than
useless; whereupon the bishop said, smiling, "Cour-
age, my lords, let us not talk of failure until the
deed be done."

"When shall we appear before the King?" asked
Suffolk.

"Let us make no delay," cried Baron Scrope, "the
King is very weak, and he may rally ; moreover, time
will make our purpose dangerous."

"Then do we make our final play without the help
of a strong argument," answered the chancellor.
"To me it seemeth best that we should wait until we

62 Every Inch a King

receive definite information from Earl Arundel.
Can we appear before the King with the tidings of
a victory, we can use it as a weapon against him."

"And if Arundel tells us of defeat?" questioned
the baron smoothly.

"My lord, thou lackest confidence," said Win-
chester, "we must all risk defeat, but it were best
that we expected victory. For my part, I agree with
Thomas that it were wisest to delay our plans until
we hear from Burgundy. What sayest thou, Suf-
folk?"

"I echo thy words, my lord," the earl answered,
smiling, and his son, in response to the bishop's
glance, bowed in assent.

"Enough, then," cried Winchester, "we are
agreed. Are there other matters to be discussed ?"

A general silence answered his question, and the
noblemen rose and prepared to take their departure.
The bishop stood watching them thoughtfully, then
suddenly stepping to the wall, he pushed aside a
piece of tapestry and drew forth a jewelled sword,
the hilt of which formed a cross. "My lords," he
said, "before ye leave this chamber, each one of ye
shall swear upon this weapon that ye will be true
to our cause."

A general expression of surprise was visible upon
every face, but Suffolk came forward at once and
took the oath, followed by De la Pole and then
Thomas Beaufort. Scrope was last. Winchester
watched each face in turn with keen eagerness, and

f-f

Every Inch a King 63

when the baron advanced his eyes seemed to pierce
him through and through. But my Lord of Masham
met his gaze fairly, with neither flush nor contrac-
tion of the brows. He laid hold firmly upon the
sword, and his voice rang clear and decided as he
said, "I swear upon mine honor, that in all things
I will be true to the cause of my Iprd the Prince."

Winchester gazed after him with compressed lips
"I was a fool to doubt— any of them !" he muttered
beneath his breath. "They will not break an oath
made with such solemnity." And from that mo-
ment all suspicion left his mind, never to return.

till

CHAPTER VII.

"Women, like princes, find few real friends."

Lou) Lyttlron.

Although it was the first week of November,
a wave of summer heat had crossed the land, and
caused the King to leave his winter palace and seek
the cooler residence of Windsor. There the court
had gathered to ride and hunt at will in the great
forests; and on this glorious autumn afternoon,
Queen Joan, attended by her ladies, had roamed
freely through the gardens, and, at length, arriving
at a pavilion, she had seated herself upon a marble
bench to listen to a concert by the King's minstrels.

The music seemed a fit background for the low-
voiced conversation of the women. Silence, for
any length of time, was impossible when there was
so enchanting a topic of conversation but half dis-
cussed.

"And most amazing of all," murmured the new-
made Princess Margaret, "'tis said the Prince doth
personally desire this marriage."

The Queen smiled coldly. "Ay, it doth so appear.
Of all wilful, headstrong men, he is supreme. The
King hath urged him constantly to wed, and sought
a daughter of Denmark and Valois; but Harry

^;i

Every Inch a King 6^

answered he'd have none of it And now, it seems,
against the King's advice, he'd win a princess of
proud Burgundy I I* faith, one never knows what
men will do."

"Dost thou not favor the alliance, madam?
Mcthought the daughter of Duke John had beauty,
and certain her do vry will not be small."

Joan raised her eyes to the calm, noble face of
the lady by her side. "Ay, Lady Westmoreland,
we do not oppose the matter, yet prithee tell us
why the Prince would not be guided by our own
grave counsel; why he refuses marriage with such
hatred, saying,— he will not wed till he can choose
a princess that shall truly please himself; yet now,
in secret, and with suddenness, before we even
guess what is afoot, Arundel is away to Burgundy
and sendeth word the duke will give his daughter."
The countess smiled a little. She saw the Queen's
displeasure arose because the Prince had not con-
fided in her ere the whole court had been informed
of it.

Joan of Navarre, formal and hard of heart, was
a superb actress, and always assumed a quick and
loving nature, and sought to have both men and
women think that she was all affection toward
each one. She wished to know the secrets of all
hearts and used her place as queen to win their
confidences. When Harry Monmouth returned to
court, she assumed the role of a devoted mother
whose every dearest wish was for her son. There

66 Every Inch a King

were, indeed, but few — or men or women — who
were not false and artificial like herself.

Henry of Bolingbroke was a man of coldness,
reserve and craft. He kept his thoughts, his ac-
tions, under absolute control. No impulses were
allowed to sway him, but every act was planned
deliberately. In many of his court, deeply in-
fluenced by his character, yet having not his
strength and nobler qualities, reserve and coldness
became proud hauteur and stoniness of heart, while
subtle craft changed to intrigue and deceit, all
being hedged about with formality.

Into such a circle came the Prince, fresh from
his wars, and the stern problems which had made
him a man. With perfect frankness, absence of all
distrust, and the easy courtesy which greets all men
alike, he sought their friendship, and received,
instead, coldness, formality and suspicion of his
motives. The nobles could not understand his
generous nature, his sincerity of purpose; while he,
in turn, shrank from their affectation, and grew to
hate the life of ceremony under which all that per-
tains to nature was concealed. Had the Queen
been sincere in the love which she professed for
him, he would have gladly opened his heart to her;
but he soon read her falseness, grew wearied by
her demands for confidences, and the advice she
offered upon every subject, and so found it im-
possible to have any other feeling for her than that
which duty called for.

Every Inch a King 67

Thus it was that Joan's first knowledge of a
Burgundian marriage came not from her stepson,
but from a formal announcement to the court. Her
Grace was in a most unpleasant humor, though she
strove diligently to conceal it. And now, a sudden
thought brought a gleam of malicious pleasure to
her eyes, as she turned to the Princess, and asked
very sweetly: "Will it not be charming, Margaret,
to have this high-born lady at the court? There
will be feasting and much merriment, and thou
Shalt sit beside her. at her right, as becomes the
wife of Harry's younger brother. Thou wilt enjoy
this greatly, wilt thou not?"

Margaret flushed, annoyed by her plain words.
She had been the Princess of the court hut scarce
a year (the King's two daughters having long been
married) and little relished taking an humbler
place. But with the readiness of one long used to
concealment of her feelings, she answered: "Ay,
madam, I shall gladly welcome my new sister to
the English court."

The slight accent on the word which proudly
claimed such near relationship did not escape the
Queen, who felt defeated. Then came a gentle
voice: "Madam, dost think the wedding will be
soon?"

It was Anne Stafford spoke,— Anne, in her
clinging garments, reflecting in their exquisite
hues the rosy gleams of sunset, her flowing hair,
falling in soft waves about her shoulders, her clear,

68 Every Inch a King

blue eyes full of pure innocence, her sweet, red lips
that never yet had felt the kiss of man— she moved
among these goddesses of beauty, these ladies
dressed in the height of fashion, and in her sweet-
ness and simplicity seemed like a modest violet
beside the haughty rose. As the Queen looked at
her, she suddenly remembered that, of late, the
ever gallant Prince had sought her out and shown
her such attention that the whole court had noticed
it and wondered. And the jealous Queen answered
with a sudden bitter meaning, — " 'Twill be sooner
than thou dost desire."

Anne shrank a little at her vehemence, but made
reply with gentle dignity,— "Your Grace, I would
it were to-morrow. The Prince already grows im-
patient for it. He thinks that there has been
needless delay."

"How dost thou know that he is so impatient?"

"He told me so," she answered quietly.

The Queen sprang to her feet in sudden fury:
"He told thee that he did desire it? The announce-
ment to the court came but this morning. The
Prince has not been here since Tuesday week.
When didst thou learn the marriage would take
place?"

Bravely she answered : "Near a fortnight since,
he told me, but he bade me keep it close."

The Queen's eyes blazed, and she said cruelly:
"r faith, but it is time that he were married."

The Lady of Stafford smothered a quick sob.

Every Inch a King 69

"Madam," she stammered, her cheeks bathed M'ith
crimson, "you cannot think— you s-irely do not
mean — "

But a loving hand stole round her slender waist,
a gentle voice whispered a word of courage in her
ear, and Lady Westmoreland turned and faced the
Queen.

"No," she said firmly, "her Grace does not mean
that; she knows as well as we that the kind
Prince has shown to each in turn of the fair ladies
who compose this court such gallantry as he has
shown to thee. Moreover, madam" (here she ad-
dressed the Queen), "during the absence of the
Countess of Stafford, my husband's niece is under
my protection; if thou hast aught to say against
her, speak to me, or even to Lord Scrope, her
future husband."

The Queen made haste to answer soothingly, —
"Nay, countess, I meant no thought .against her.
'Tis little wonder if our noble son, seeing her
beauty, knowing her worthiness, should find a
pleasure in her society. We did not know that she
would wed Lord Scrope. Mistress, I wish thee
every happiness."

Anne would have attempted some denial, but
the countess whispered silence, so, with a deep
courtesy, she kissed the Queen's fair hand held out
to her. But Lady Westmoreland smiled in triumph,
for Lady Holland had turned very pale.
Knowing that she had blundered, the Queen

70 Every Inch a King

made haste to engage the ever-powerful countess
in conversation, and endeavored to show her such
attention that she would forget the insult offered
to the Lady Anne; for the Earl of Westmoreland
was one of the King's most powerful friends and
adherents, and his lady, the sister of the King, was
acknowledged at the court as second to none, save
the Queen herself. There was every reason to
suppose, that in an open quarrel between the two,
the haughty ladies, as fearless as their lords, would
give their countenance unto the countess; and this
Joan dared not risk.

Meantime, Anne Stafford stood embarrassed,
with many eyes upon her. Then the Princess came
slowly forward and held out her hand. "Mistress,"
she said, trying to give a tone of sweet cordiality to
her cold, hard voice, "let its join with the Queen
in wishing the prospective bride of Baron Scrope
a joyful future. We are glad to know the baron
has shown so wise a judgment; and we who know
his lordship well, can praise the Lady Stafford for
her choice."

Anne stood confused. She knew her mother
had not yet given an answer to the baron, and her
own lips had prayed he be refused; yet had she
accepted the Queen's congratulations, and now
could only bow and murmur thanks. Then
sounded in her ears a voice whose quiver was not
all concealed. It was Lady Holland, sister to the
Princess.

Every Inch a King

"Let me also, mistress, wish thee joy. When
last his lordship rode beside my horse, he did not
tell me of his happiness. I* faith, he was unkind
to an old friend. Pray tell me, hast thou been
betrothed many days?"

Something in the eagerness of the tone, the
paleness and the trembling of the lips, made Anne
aware this lady was her rival; and still offended at
the Queen's hard words, she answered with slight
hauteur: "His lordship made his offer some
time smce, but even yet has received no formal
answer."

The thought that this delicate young girl should
hold Lord Scrope in waiting for a word, while she,
with her magnificence of figure, and her richness
and elegance of dress, she. with her almost royal
blood, must love in vain, and see Anne win the
prize— this thought brought color to Lady Hol-
land's cheeks. She was so little mistress of herself
m her surprise and consternation at the news, that
she would have made an angry, scornful answer,
had not another lady claimed Anne's attention

This was no other than Anne of Conisborough
she who was sister to the Earl of March. "We
scarce do know each other, Lady Stafford, yet
being so lately a young bride myself, my heart goes
out to every betrothed maiden. Thou hast my
heartiest congratulations."

"I thank thee, madam," answered the blushing
lady. "How does that boy whose advent was so

71 Every Inch a King

recent? We hear that he's as handsome as his
mother."

The Lady of Conisborough smiled, well pleased
with the plain compliment. "My son is well, and
growing with much vigor, although he yet is
scarce three months old. Oh, how I wish that he
were grown a man. I long to see a son of mine
at court."

Anne gave her a swift glance of sympathy,
thinking of her own young brother, Humphrey,
then with a quick remembrance she asked shyly:
"Is't long, madam, since thou hast seen thy
brother?"

The lady looked astonished. "What, my brother?
Oh, thou meanest Edmund, the Earl of March.
Why, he's in prison. I do never see him."

"Will not the Prince allow even his sister?"

"I* faith, I have never asked him to allow me.
I have not seen Edmund since I was a child."

Anne gazed at her, amazed at her indifference,
but ere she could make answer, the Queen ex-
claimed delightedly:

"Look, here comes the Prince!"

Across the greensward he came, with grace in
every movement ; his handsome head erect, his tall,
symmetrical and perfectly developed figure clad in
a rich doublet of soft olive satin, with full slashed
sleeves showing his white linen; his shapely limbs
covered by long silken hose, his leathern boots
pointed and curled upward. From his shoulders

Every Inch a King 73

fell, almost to the ground, a cape of cloth, lined
with white satin, while above his dark, smooth
hair was a cap with feathers which swept his shoul-
ders.

Little wonder that every eye was fixed upon him,
and every heart beat faster in the ladies' breasts.
As he came nearer, one could see that his oval face
was cut as delicately as a woman's; with long,
straight nose, and slender and well-curved chin
and jaw. His forehead, like his father's, was capa-
cious and indicative of great force of character. The
ruddy glow of perfect health was in his cheeks; his
brilliant eyes were alight with pleasure and his
charming smile was upon his lips as he bent low
over the Queen's hand.

"Thou hast deserted us," said her Grace re-
proachfully.

"Nay, madam," he answered, "say, rather, that
duty has, perforce, denied me pleasure. I have but
just returned from Hastings.— My Lady West-
moreland, is your lord hunting?"

"Ay, your Grace, he will be back erelong," and
the countess smiled upon her nephew affection-
ately.

With the genial courtesy of manner which had
so won the heart of every woman, he gave a happy
greeting to each lady, and finally came in turn to
Anne Stafford. As he bowed before her with a
grace which women might have envied, the Queen
addressed him: "

74 Every Inch a King

"We have this morning only learned of your
Grace's intended marriage."

"Ay," he answered, very calmly, "it seemed
best to make no announcement until there was
some certainty in the matter. A post hath come
this very day from Dover saying Arundel, with
the fearless duke, arrived in Paris on the twenty-
third. I do expect the earl will bring my bride when
he returns to England as a victor."

"Art very anxious for this marriage, Harry?"

"Ay, madam, I am most impatient for it."

The Queen glanced questioningly at his calm

face. He did not appear as eager as his words

would seem to merit. She ventured another stroke.

"We have but now congratulated the Lady Anne

on her coming marriage to Lord Scrope."

She watched him closely. He started, and
flashed an astonished look at Lady Stafford, then,
with a formal courtesy, he said: "I'm glad my
friend is to be made so happy."

She did not answer, but she looked at him, and
in that instant Harry partly read the truth; and
with a lighter heart, yet wondering, he seated him-
self beside the triumphant Queen.

i-S;

CHAPTER VIII.
"What is life, when wanting love?"

BUXNS.

Nearly an hour had passed when the King and
his party returned from hunting, and the little circle
of ladies broke and dispersed, some following her
Grace within, others wandering in the gardens with
their lords and lovers.

Fortunately, Lord Scrope continued still in Lon-
don, so Anne Stafford was yet free to accept the
escort Prince Harry offered her. His Grace had
joined fully in the jests and laughter, and contrib-
uted his share toward entertainment of the restless
Queen. Nor had the Lady Anne shrunk from her
part, yet now they were alone they both fell silent,
with thoughts too deep for mere, uncertain words.'
At last the Prince, sighing, looked at her.

"Now, tell me, wilt thou marry the Lord Scrope?
Or is there, as I thought, some deeper truth beneath
the Queen's plain words?"

She could not tell him that the countess had meant
to shield her from himself, but answered simply:
"r faith, my lord, there is some truth in it. The
baron hath asked my mother for mine hand."

"And what's thy mother's will concerning thee?"

"Methinks," she answered, "that she favors it

since Lady Westmoreland doth urge consent, yet

76 Every Inch a King

doth she wait upon her daughter's pleasure, for, as
thou knowest, she truly loved my father, and would
not have me wed against my will."

"And thou, fair mistress, what is thy response?"
She turned her eyes away from him and sighed.
"I do not rightly know my mind as yet. The baron
has been very gentle with me ; his blood is noble, his
estate is high, his person gallant, — and— he is thy
friend."

The Prince gave a slight start and said in haste :
"Ay, he is truly a good friend to me. A man of
noble qualities and mind. A statesman, a brave
warrior, and — my friend."

He turned upon her quickly and caught a glance
out of those innocent blue eyes of hers: "Yet, is
there something lacking, fairest mistress? Dost
thou desire somewhat more than this ? Is it not love
that thy heart hungers for?"

"I do not think Lord Scrope hath that within
him!"

She spoke half bitterly. She had felt the passion,
yet she had conquered it within her breast. She
might not wed the man that she had loved, yet did
she dread a marriage of pure form.

"And thou," she added wonderingly, "methinks
thou wouldst not have me wed Lord Scrope. al-
though he is the dearest friend thou hast !"

"No!" cried the Prince with sudden eagerness.
"He is not first, — there is one man beside."

"But what is that to me?" she asked him coldly.

Every Inch a King 77

"'Tis much to thee— for he doth truly love thee."
Had the earth suddenly opened to receive her,
Anne could not have felt such astonishment. An-
other suitor— and this time a lover. Her mind sped
swiftly over the young courtiers— who could be
called Prince Harry's intimate? Never for an in-
stant did the Prince's own name occur to her wise
mind— she knew him well— and although she had
often thought that he did love, she knew that she
was net the object of it. Yet who but Scrope, her
suitor, and Arundel,— that firebrand whom she had
never met,— could really be a friend unto the
Prince ?

Harry Monmouth turned and smiled upon her.
"What sayest thou to a captive lover?"

"The Earl of March," she cried with understand-
ing. And quick there bounded through her memory
a thousand pleasing fancies of the man. The Prince,
with a keen insight into nature, had never wearied
her with praises of him, his nobleness had been im-
plied, not spoken. At first, there was no mention
of his name ; then, with a sigh : "Poor captive Mor-
timer — how dearly he would love to feel this wind."
She asked him questions, and he answered briefly,
leaving her ever hungering for more. She begged
him for descriptions of the earl. His answer was,—
"I always see his eyes fixed on me with a loving
sympathy ;— how know I whether they be blue or
brown? His mouth smiles at me, and his hand is
gentle;— further than this, I am all ignorance."

7 8 Every Inch a King

She prayed to know hit age. "When I am glad,
heis as merry-young as were a boy; and when I
need his counsel, he is old. I never asked him what
ius years might be." So. during all their time to-
gcther, he d told her little, yet excited in her Interest,
compassion, and an unconscious depth of sympathy
And now the time had come, and Harry spoke.

It was a tale of love that anj woman might
listen to and feel a stir of pride, and in Anne's heart
hope bounded up full high. This man. so gentle -
patient in his prison, loving his caj ' .r with such a
fond affection, and worshipping a maiden seen in
he garden.~choosing her freely among all the
ladies--such a lover awoke in her romantic mind the
great desire that is born in women. Already she'd
put the baron from her thoughts, and ere the Prince
had finished with his story, her mind had pictured a
hfe of perfect bliss-love in a prison, comfort from
her heart to repay the eari for all that he had suf-
tered. Then came a sudden blot. What of her
mother? Harry, with eager eyes, discerned her
hotight. "Udy. give answer, wouldst thou wed
Lord Scrope?

^^ JNever." she cried, and turned with a quick shud-

'Thou mayest tell that to the Countess Stafford
As for this matter-trust it all to me. Let all that I
have told thee be kept secret, nor think that I would
have thee wed a captive. Thy mother and the Kin^
shall be persuaded: and when the eari woos thee

Every Inch a King 79

for himwlf, give answer freely out of thy pure
heart; but until then, keep thyself a maid."

Anne's mind was in a tumult. She was silent, but
as the Prince handed her a lighted torch she looked
mto his eyes and sofUy murmured, ere she ascended
to her own apartment : 'Thou hast my promise that
I will not wed."

They did not see a man in riding cloak standing
within the doorway, watching them. As the Prince
went to his own chamber the watcher ground his
teeth and muttered fiercely: "An' I did dare to
cross a sword with him, I'd challenge him before the
hour was out. Yet may I die a villain traitor's
death, if I am not revenged on Harry Monmouth."

The speaker was Henry, Baron Scrope of
Masham.

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CHAPTER IX.

"Vengeance is in my heart,
Death in my hand.
Blood and revenge are hammering in my head."

Titus Andronicus.

Is there any force in nature more strong than
wounded vanity? This was the sting which kept
Lord Scrope awake that autumn night. Anne Staf-
ford's words rang ever in his burning ears — "Thou
hast my promise that I will not wed." So, she
despised him, did she ? Scorned his offer, and chose
rather to listen to the Prince in secret meetings and
sweet conferences, than be a wife unto a noble lord !
And he, her lover (for so he judged Prince Henry),
who had pretended to be such a friend ; what right
had he to linger with the maid, when his alliance
with a foreign princess had that very day been an-
nounced in London!

Scrope's former lady had died five years before,
and the baron now sought another to govern his
great house and many servants. He had long ad-
mired the Lady Joan Holland, and he thought she
loved him. But when Anne Stafford had appeared
at court, during the summer months so lately past,
he had remembered the wealth of her mother, and
thought her winsome beauty a pleasing contrast to
the magnificence of the other ladies. Nevertheless,

Every Inch a King 81

he had seldom addressed her, — when the Prince's
marked attentions stirred within him a sudden
jealous resolution to win her hand. Not even paus-
ing for careful consideration, he had sought the
countess and made his proposition. My Lady of
Stafford had shown that she was pleased with the
idea, yet she had not given a free, unqualified con-
sent to it. "I kno\ •, my lord, 'tis not customary to
consult the maiden, yet my desire is for my daugh-
ter's pleasure. Woo her, lord baron, and if thou
dost win her, I will give a dowry few kings can
equal. My consent shall follow upon hers."

The baron was not altogether pleased thereat.
When they were wedded they would be much to-
gether. He felt assured he'd tire of her quickly if
he must spend long hours at wooing of her. His
anxiety was certainly most needless. When at the
court the Prince was by her side. The baron's scowls
followed them about, yet he was glad to ride with
Lady Holland, and every one supposed he was her
suitor. To-night, however, he'd sought the mon-
arch's court resolved to win the Lady Anne at once ;
and now, — he turned upon his couch and softly
swore. — Revenge upon them both, Anne and the
Prince, that was his only thought. He now remem-
bered that he had haled Harry Monmouth for many
moons before he thought of Anne. "What is this
man — the son of a usu'-ner — that we should always
humble ourselves before him ? By Heaven, but he
shall not be made the king!" Should he denounce

\:X :

82 Every Inch a King

the Prince as a plain villain, and tell the world he'd
never wed Anne Stafford ? Such vengeance would be
sweet, but the cost high. His place as treasurer the
Prince would take from him, and perchance demand
to fight as well. Yet if the King should know their
resolution to place his eldest son upon the throne —
ay, that might save his place, but not his life ! As
a plain swordsman, he knew the Prince excelled
above all nobles who composed the court. As for
the lady, should he stoop to win her? No, rather
ruin her and let her be. Yet, how could he accom-
plish this in safety? Truly, the problem v/as full of
certain danger, and when he rose to join the hunt-
ing party, the question was still seething in his
brain.

And now fate, which determines many destinies,
began to play her part. The Queen, the countess
(Westmoreland's fair lady) , and Anne Stafford
wfre absent from the y rty, but Lady Holland sat
her prancing horse, her ^ead erect the traces of her
tears concealed beneath a veil of finest lace, which
obscured faults, but heightened her proud beauty.
Then to her side came the Lord Baron Scrope — told
her he'd spoken to no person since he came, but
sought her first, and might he ride with her?
Wondering, she gave permission, then was silent,
expecting he would tell her of his marriage. But he
discussed with her the London gossip, the weather,
so wondrous warm for that chill month, asked her
concerning the King's return to health, and finally

■ n

Every Inch a King S2

begged to know about herself. At last she found
her courage all returning, and smiling archly, said,
as an old friend: "To think, my lord, that thou
didst never tell me the wondrous news about thine
own concerns." And when he prayed her for some
explanation: "I must congratulate thee upon thy
bride. The Lady Staflford announced to the fair
Queen that she and thou were formally betrothed."
Appalled at this sudden crisis in aflFairs, and re-
membering only his resolve to ruin her, and to
denounce the Prince, he cried in haste,— "The thing
is false; I will not wed with her."

But ere he could add some explanation, Joan cried
passionately :

"Ah, I knew it! How could I doubt the truth
for but one instant! Now shame upon that lying,
deceitful minx! She thought to shield herself
behind thy name. Fancy! She knew of the Burgun-
dian marriage from the Prince's lips before the court
had news. The Queen, in fury, charged her with
dishonor, and Lady Westmoreland, who knows the
truth, declared that she would be erelong thy wife.
I could not well believe that she would dare to utter
such a bold, unvarnished lie— perchance she thought
to throw herself upon thy mercy, thou art so gallant,
lord, toward fair women."

"She shall soon learn her error," answered
Scrope. Quick as a flash his plan of action lay be-
fore him. He had said no word save to declare that
they were not formally betrothed; nor would he

J til

84 Every Inch a King

chance the anger of the Prince by a plain denuncia-
tion of tht !ndy. Rather, his part lay simply in
denial, and then in silence. Her own actions, inter-
preted by Lady Holland's anger, would ruin Anne
Stafford as quickly as his scorn. For Henry's court
was austere in religious principles, and one breath of
shame would mean the lady's dismissal in disgrace.

Joan's voice broke in upon the nobleman's earnest
thoughts. "What will your lordship say unto the
Queen?"

"!' faith, I'll tell her that the thing is false!"

"And let her judge that lady Anne's done
wrong ? What thinkest thou Lady Westmorelr ^d
will say?"

Scrope flushed in some annoyance. He had for-
gotten the countess's part in this. The lady added :

"I cannot understand why they should choose thy
name for this affair."

Swiftly he answered: "I can make it plain.
Thou knowest Prince Henry will soon wed and with
such haste that all men are amazed. Now he would
greatly wish that Lady Anne should have an Eng-
lish husband at the court — a husband who was his
own nearest friend, who should be honored and ex-
alted high, and who in turn would freely give his
wife into the loving arms held out for her. Ah,
dost thou understand the matter now ?"

"Thou — his dear friend — " the lady gasped, "the
plot was made — thou didst not know of it ?"

"Nay, belike the Queen's suspicions forced them

Every Inch a King 85

to act before the hour was ripe. I have not seen the
Prince for nigh two weeks."

"Would he have dared to offer thee this insult?"

"Ah, madam, he knows the love I bear him. Even
this I would have gladly given save for one little
reason he knew not."

"Thou wilt not do it now?" cried Lady Holland.

"Nay, mistress, not unless he forces me. Listen,
fair lady, while I'm a free man, the vow I made of
friendship to the Prince would hold me even to such
a shame as this. There is one way to save myself
from ruin, and yet to keep me from this thing.
Were I to marry with another lady, even before the
Prince had spoken to me, he would be helpless to do
me harm. Thou knowest, Lady Holland, that I love
thee; for weeks I've ridden here beside thy horse,
longing to speak the words that burned my lips, yet
daring not to think that thou wouldst listen. If
thou, in pity, wilt but give me hope — "

Trembling with the joy which seemed tenfold
the greater after the misery of the long night, she
raised her eyes to his, her cheeks flushed scarlet, and
she held out to him her white hand.

Eagerly he seized it in his own, — "Lady, speak!
I cannot believe such bliss. Ah, what am I that I
should ask thy love?"

"A man, my lord, most noble of our court. My
love has been all thine for many moons."

Bending low upon his horse, he kissed her hand
and murmured softl\ "My queen, thou fairest of

86 Every Inch a King

the fa Art thou indeed mine own, my future
bride? Let us forget the scandals of the court, for-
get that we did ever live before, and look upon this
present perfect hour as the beginning of our perfect
life."

Thus rode they, side by side, she blushing in her
happiness, and he mui-muring sweet nothings in her
ready ear; his thoughts half filled with the pleasure
of success, the wound to his vanity partly healed,
and yet his longing for revenge still keen, and his
mind planning all that he should say to the Queen
and the Countess of Westmoreland.

CHAPTER X.

"Some rise by sin, and some by virtue fall."

Measure for Measure.

What a day was that at Windsor! For weeks
afterward the court was still discussing its events,
and time, which solves all problems, seemed to
throw but little light upon it. The Prince had had
a conference with his father, and then gone direct to
London on state affairs. But few among the ladies
had joined the hunt,— they lingered at the castle,
gossiping about the marriages that were to come.

The Lady Anne Stafford left her apartment at an
early hour and sought the chamber of the Countess
of Westmoreland. Long were they closeted to-
gether, their voices rising and falling in evident ex-
citement. At last the countess cried,— "Thou art
a fool !^^ If thou dost not wed him, thou wilt be
ruined." Anne's voice was heard in low supplica-
tion. Then the countess's anger broke forth agam,
but the listening ladies could hear no words.

Finally the door was opened and Anne came
forth, her eyelids red from weeping and her cheeks
pale, but her head held proudly erect, her mouth
close shut, every line indicating her resolution. The
eavesdroppers shrank back in the dark passage and
watched her with eager, curious eyes. With unfal-

88 Every Inch a King

tering steps she kept upon her way, and fi 'ally stood
before the Queen's private room. She knocked and
asked for entrance, the chamberlain answered,— her
Grace was yet asleep. Bowing, she moved forward
to her own apartment and firmly closed the door.
The bolts rang home and then ati was silent.

Oh, woman, charming woman, how dearly do you
love a mystery !

How many hours, think you, flew past before
these happenings were known and were discussed by
every lady present in the castle? Only two or three
had seen Anne Stafford leave the countess's room :
but ere ten minutes had slipped away, twenty had
learned every detail of it. The crafty countess had
dismissed all her attendants upon Anne's entrance,
and she now continued alone in her chamber, nor
did she leave it for many hours to come. None the
less, the details which her maidens furnished to
eager listeners of that exciting interview were, if
somewhat lacking in veracity, by no means deficient
in imagination. The Princess Margaret herself,
having heard the story from her mp'dens, felt that
the occasion justified her in early leavi.ig her apart-
ments and mingling with the eager ladies of the
court. How greatly she wished that her sister.
Lady Holland, was present at a time of such excite-
ment ! And it was Margaret who hastened to assist
the Queen in her toilet, and from her lips her Grace
first heard the story of the morning's events.

A little later an attendant told the Lady Stafford

Every Inch a King 89

that lier Grace, being informed of her desire for an
audience, would receive her at once. Anne instantly
set forth, bearing herself with dignity and grace.
Dressed, as always, in simple, ungirdled robes, her
white neck bare, her sleeves sweeping the ground,
she presented a striking contrast to the gorgeously
dr ,S5cd ladies, with their bodices and stomachers
richly ornamented, and their long trains heavily
trimmed with fur, who were gathered near the
Queen's apartments, chiefly that they might watch
her as she passed.

Her Grace, dressed in a rich gown of dark green
velvet, reclined among many cushions, while a lady
of the bedchamber was engaged in combing and
arranging her wealth of hair. The Princess stood
by her side, lazily waving a huge feather fan, and
several ladies of high rank were grouped about the
apartment. Anne's swift glance made her aware
that the Countess of Westmoreland was absent. As
she courtesied low before the Queen, her Grace held
out her hand and languidly spoke. "We were in-
formed, mistress, that you desired speech with us.
Prithee, say on — we grant you leave."

Anne's courage almost failed her before that host
of eyes, yet she answered bravely, in a voice which
rang as clear and sweet as a bird's note: "Your
Grace was good enough to otTer me, but yestere'en,
your congratulations upon my future marriage to
Lord Scrope. The announcement, as your Grace
will, without doubt, remember, was made by the

90 Every Inch a King

noble Udy Westmoreland. When Lord Scrope did
me the honor to ask my hand, I then did know
him but slightly, and prayed delay, that I might
learn to love him. The countess has insisted on the
marriage, and thought, did she announce it, I would
yield. Ana almost yield to her I did; but the long
night brought wisdom, and I am resolved that I can
neither love nor wed the baron. My answer to him
shall be sent this day, and it behooves me so to in-
form your Grace."

A murmur of amazement and delight ran through
the room, then the Queen asked: "Prithee, what
dost thou desire. Lady Anne? Dost thou scorn a
union with Lord Scrope, the royal treasurer?
Whom dost thou seek? Thou canst not wed the
Prince!"

Anne's cheeks flushed crimson, and she drew her-
self to her full height.

"Madam, you wrong me by such insinuations. I
will not wed a man I do not love were he the highest
m the land. I do not love Lord Scrope. There's
one who does— why should I keep her from a happy
marriage?" (She gave a meaning glance at Mar-
garet, which brought the color to that lady's cheek
and even the Queen smiled in understanding. The
Lady Holland's feelings were no secret.) "More-
over, madam" (Anne was braver now), "I do not
love the Prince, nor does he love me. Your Grace
doth '- w the kindness he hath shown to everv lady
who is of your court. Why should he not show unto

Every Inch a King 91

me the same? Yet, I confess, there was a special
reason why he sought me so freely ; his motive was
so honorable an(' gallant, that could I make it known
unto your Grace, you sure would judge him king of
noble men."

The Queen's whole face showed eager question-
ing. "What reat n had he, mistress ? Prithee, tell
us."

Anne's deep eyes gleamed with mischief, as she
courtesied. "I trust your Grace will grai i > me
your pardon. The matter is at present a clc - ^ cret,
but when I have consent to make it known, your
Ci ce shall be the first to hear of it. Have I your
Grace's permission to withdraw?"

The jealous Queen, devoured with curiosity, could
only bow assent, and feeling she had triumphed over
all, Anne proudly passed the eager ladies and sought
her chamber.

Ah, if she had but known how short this little
triumph was to be !

***♦♦♦♦

At nightfall came the i : iting party back, and
with them Lady Holhnd and the baron. Anne was
amazed to see him by her side, and still more, when
Lord Scro- e laid to .lit- Queen: "Will your Grace
deign to wiai. me happiness? The Lady Holland is
to be my bride."

"How now. my lord," she answered in amaze,
"but yestere'en we heard thou wert to wed the Lady
Stafford, and to-day she tells us that the will not

'!i

•'i'

^11!

92 Every Inch a King

have thee. Methinks thou hast lost no time in thy
new wooing."

"Madam, the report of my betrothal to Lady
Stafiford was not the truth."

"So she informs us, but we understood you had
not yet heard of her refusal." Oh, how he hated
Anne when he heard that! He almost threw his
caution to the winds and cried out that he'd not wed
the Prince's mistress, but with an effort he restrained
himself and answered coldly : "I do not understand.
I never wooed the Lady Anne of Stafford. Your
Grace doth know the Lady Holland here is she be-
side whose horse I've ever ridden, is she with whom
I've walked at eventide. I never sought to win
another lady."

Words are too weak to picture the scene caused by
this speech. The Queen cal'ed Anne before her and
then charged her with falsehood, treachery and dis-
honor. The Lady Westmoreland, being much
amazed, sought to defend her, and yet doubted her.
Before the torrent of the Queen's hot passion poor
Anne could find no word to justify all that she had
done and said, which seemed so wrong.

Lord Scrope, holding himself severely in control,
drew Lady Holland unto one side, and he himself
took no further part. He had made his statement,
he mtist now be silent. Finally the King's voice
broke above the tumult.

"This goes too far." Then turning to the Queen.
"Madam, the charges that thou makest against the

Every Inch a King 93

Prince are nothing short of monstrous. We, our-
self, have often seen him with this lovely maiden,
and never had we cause to think him other than a
pure, noble-hearted gentleman. My lords and
ladies, this must be kept close. Remember 'tis the
Prince of Wales ye slander, and no breath of scandal
must cloud his name. As for the statement of my
Lord of Scrope we must confess ourself somewhat
in doubt. Until the matter can be sifted clear, let
us extend to him congratulations that he has won so
beautiful a bride."

While the different members of the court were
greeting the happy couple, Henry turned to the
trembling Lady Stafford. "As for thee, mistress,
the story that thou tellest is, we confess, one that
much puzzles us. We have ever known Lord Scrope
as honorable, and so must judge that thou hast been
mistaken. As for the Prince — "

"Sire, you cannot doubt my innocence?"

"We do not doubt his, maiden, — no, nor thine.
But such proceedings must from henceforth cease.
We counsel thy departure from the court."

The lady spoke no word, save a faint cry; the
room swam before her eyes, then all grew dark.

;=fi

CHAPTER XI.

"I smell a device."

Twelfth Night.

A WEEK had passed ere the court removed to Lon-
don, and Prince Harry found space between his
duties to attend the Queen. He was welcomed a
trifle coldly.-yet that had happened many times
before, and caused him no surprise. He heard with
calmness of the betrothal of Lord Scrope and Joan
Holland, and his congratulations were so hearty
that the baron was greatly reassured. Evidently'
Lady Stafford had not confided in him. The Prince
had marvelled when he heard the news, yet since he
was convinced that Anne would keep her word to
him, he judged that the baron, upon her refusal, had
sought at once a balm for his wounded feelings and
found it with great promptness; and he was glad
that his friend could still be happy.

He was, indeed, amazed on learning that Anne
had left the court, but his thoughts swiftly sug-
gested an explanation. Her mother had much de-
sired that she should wed Lord Scrope; therefore
when she refused him, especially after receiving the
Queen's congratulations, the countess had doubtless
in an hour of anger, determined that she should no
longer enjoy the pleasures of the court.

Every Inch a King 95

The Prince now sought out Lady Westmoreland.
He knew that she had been Anne Stafford's friend.
The countess received him with sincere affection.
She had learned to love and trust her gallant
nephew, and there existed a bond between them
which often roused the Queen's jealousy. She knew
her stepson had no love for her.

"Dear madam," began the Prince, as he kissed
his aunt's fair hand, "I've sought thee, hoping thou
canst solve my many doubts. I learn the Lady Staf-
ford is not here."

"No," answered the countess in some embarrass-
ment (what if he should dem-.nd the reason?).

"Methinks I understand why she is gone. Did
she not say she could not wed Lord Scrope ?"

"Ay, didst thou know of that? Hast thou heard
all that happened, when she gave him her refusal ?"

"Nay," answered the Prince, smiling, "I have
heard naught of it, I trust the scene was not un-
pleasant for her, since it was at my wish that she
refused him."

"What dost thou n-a:i?" cried the countess,
startled. His wish,— could it be possible the Queen
spoke truth ? She gazed into his eyes. They were
troubled, but wholly innocent.

"Dear lady, wilt thou keep the thing a secret?"
She promised breathlessly. He smiled with pleas-
ure and sank down on a cushion at her feet, then
calmly told his story.

"I have a friend who is as dear to me almost as

■I ■

!il !

96 Every Inch a King

mine own life. Thou wilt be much surprised when
thou dost hear his name— it is Lord Edmund Mor-
timer, Earl of March."

She was amazed. "He who was Richard's heir?"
"The same, my cousin; the King made me his
guardian two years since, and every moon has but
increased my love. He is a man of noblest qualities,
in person handsome, and wise beyond his age. He
is the truest friend a man could have, and I have
wooed for him the Lady Anne !"

She started to her feet. "He loves Anne Staf-
ford?"

"Ay, madam, and doth seek her for his wife.
Sweet lady, sit once more^ and listen to me."

She sank back on her cushions, amazed, de-
lighted! "This was the reason that thou wert' con-
stantly beside the lady ? Thou didst not love her ?"

"/ love Lady Stafford? Surely that were indeed
impossible."

She faltered slowly: "Many at the court supposed
that thou didst love her."

Harry raised his eyes and gazed at her in much
astonishment.

"Is it possible that any could forget that the
Prince of Wales must marry for his country ? Nay,
dearest lady, such love is not for me. My heart
must all be given with my hand— unto the Princess
Anne of Burgundy. How often have I envied my
brother Thomas, who did choose his bride to please
himself alone, while I must wed an unknown, for-

Every Inch a King 97

eign princess.— But I forget the story of my friend.
Since Edmund cannot leave his prison chamber, I
pledged my word to woo the lady for him. I was
astonished when I learned of thine announcement,
but Lady Anne confessed she did not love the baron.
Then, for the first time, I told her of my mission,
and she hath promised that she will not wed until
I can prevail upon the King to set the Earl of March
at liberty. Then shall he woo the lady for himself."

The countess sighed with pleasure — she dearly
loved a romance, and her mind was quick in its
sympathy for the captive lover. She greatly wished
Anne's marriage, and so had favored Scrope, al-
though she liked him not. The Prince continued :

"I do suppose the Countess of Stafford, on learn-
ing of her daughter's refusal of Lord Scrope, was
angered and took her from the court. Is this the
truth?"

"Ay, the countess came and took her, and she
was greatly angered at events." The Lady West-
moreland gave her answer bravely. The Prince
should never know of those sad days from her.
She'd tried to tell him, and with entire innocence he
had misunderstood. She knew no one at court
would dare explain it — then let him live in ignorance
of the truth.

"Where has she taken Lady Anne ?" he asked.

The countess answered: "She hath been nlaced
in the Minories."

"She will not become a nun?" he asked in ni:.ste.

98 Every Inch a King

"Mcthinks that it will be her mother's wish."

"That must not be," he answered with decision.
"Would not her mother yield to my request?"

The Lady Westmoreland told him in dismay that
she certainly would refuse to listen to him.

"Now, on mine honor, she shall not be made a
nun! Canst thou receive her and keep her safe
from harm?"

"Thou knowest I must be at the court. I could
not shelter her," answered the lady, greatly dis-
tressed at his determination. A moment he re-
mained in thought, then his face brightened.

"Ah, methinks that I have solved the problem.
Nay, lady, since thou canst not help me, 'tis best that
thou shouldst be in ignorance of her abiding place.
I know that thou wilt give her thy sympathy."

"Ay, and what help lies in my power. Dost
think that she will love the Earl of March?"

"It is my dearest wish," answered the Prince; and
smiling in pleasure at the thought of it, he left the
countess's side to seek assistance for his future plans.
What he accomplished was unknown 'Ut evidently
he felt himself successful, for the expression of his
face showed a bright happiness which made men
wonder. For a brief space he allowed his busy mind
to fill with happy dreams. Lord Scrope's marriage
was to follow very quickly, and Harry thought of it
v»rith the greatest pleasure. Then he must persuade
his father to release the Earl of March, and grant
him his estates — perchance, on the occasion of his

Every Inch a King 09

royal marriage with the Burgundian princess, the
King would yield. Then Anne and Edmund should
meet at last, and meeting, how could they fail to love
each other ?

The future seemed so rose-colored to the Prince
that he forgot his own unhappiness. Thinking of
the love between his friends, he almost forgot the
precious miniature which had brought him such
sweet, yet bitter hours. His own loveless marriage
seemed far away, and even the coldness shown him
by the nobles, and the undeserved jealousy of the
King, which had of late much increased in strength,
even these seemed only fancies beside the realities
of his joyful thoughts.

But even while he lingered at the court, the grim
black clouds were gathering around him, and the
gallant head which he now held so high was to be
bowed down with misery and shame. The future
often seems most brilliant when we stand upon the
threshold of our saddest days.

^1 (

CHAPTER XII.

"Defend me from my friends;
I can defend myself from my enemies."

Marshal Villais.

Events were moving quickly during the first days
of December. The court was all astir with interest
over the coming marriages, and had not yet ceased
to discuss the sudden departure of Lady Stafford.
Moreover, the King's formal defence of the Prince,
being followed by an increased coldness toward him,
— certain men of the archbishop's party had been
emboldened to show the young man open disrespect,
which his frierds had resented with such warmth as
to bring a rtnvke upon them from the monarch.
Then came the news of the capture of St. Cloud.
The allied forces of English and Burgundians had
fought the Orleanists on November ninth and
gained a brilliant victory. The time new seemed
favorable to the Beauforts for the important step
that they had so long contemplated. The Prince's
wisdom in the Burgundian alliance had been vindi-
cated ; his marriage with the Princess would quickly
follow. Already Richard Courtenay, the famous
Chancellor of Oxford, had been commissioned to
treat with the Burgundian ambassadors for its con-
summation. Archbishop Arundel and his party

Every Inch a King loi

were in retirement, and Winchester did not conceal
his sense of triumph.

Gathering the heads of his party together at his
palace, the doughty bishop sent a messenger to ask
the Prince's attendance, and then addressed the
nobles. "My lords, the hour for which we have long
waited has arrived. Our policy has triumphed at
St. Cloud, the nation waits with eagerness and joy
to see the marriage of the Prince accomplished. If
we can greet the lady as our Queen, Burgundy will
refuse nothing that we ask of her. The Prince will
join us presently, and then, lords, to the King, and
may we never rest contented until he has granted
us his resignation."

"Knows the Prince our purpose?" asked Lord
Scrope.

"Nay, baron, we've waited till the hour was ripe
for action. He has a most unruly conscience. Did
he sleep upon't, he might refuse."

"Thou dost not fear he will refuse to-day?"
The bishop laughed. "Not as I shall present it.
Nay, my lords, my nephew is still human. What
man among us would decline a crown ? Moreover,
the King's scorn hath angered him. Didst see him
flush when Baron Roos passed him without a look?
And Arundel said to the King: Thy son will rule
us after thou hast gone— methinks that Falstaff will
be chancellor.' My brother turned his back upon
the Prince, and Harry left the room without a word.
Thou needst not fear he will refuse consent."

1 02 Every Inch a King

Then Suffolk spoke. "Were it not well, my lord,
the arguments thou offerest to the Prince, should
chiefly be that this is necessary for England's good ?
I know his Grace full well, and I misdoubt that he
is very loyal to the King."

"Thou needst have no fear," cried Winchester,
"I'll put the matter in such a light that he can find no
word against it. Lord Suffolk, thou wilt help me, if
there's need?"

The earl smiled assent, and was about to answer,
but checked his speech, and raised his hand for
silence. Footsteps sounded in the passage, the door
was flung wide, and the Prince, attended by De la
Pole, entered the chamber.

Each man rose to his feet and made as low
obeisance as if the project was already a success,
and he greeted the crowned monarch. Henry of
Monmouth received this homage with a modesty
which well became his greatness; he gave a happy
greeting to each one in turn, then bidding them all
be seated, addressed the bishop.

•'Cousin, I judge ye have more news from France.
I am in haste to learn the purport of it. Have we
won yet another victory ?"

"Nay, my lord," Winchester answered quickly, —
"no post has come to us since Thursday last;
we've sent for thee, sweet Prince, on other matters
which we desire to discuss with thee."

De la Pole had made fast the door, and now stood
guarding it. The Prince raised his eyebrows as he

Every Inch a King 103

notici J this precaution, then glancing around the
room, he asked : "Why is not my lord chief justice
here?"

"We did not think his presence necessary,"
answered the chancellor, and a smile was visible
upon every face.

Henry frowned slightly. "And my lord, the
King? Is he too ill to attend his council ?"

"We do not meet as council," answered Winches-
ter; "our presence here lacks all formality. We have
a certain proposition to make your Grace; wilt
please you hear us ?"

"I've come at thy request to listen to thee; speak
freely, cousin, as has been thy custom." So saying,
the Prince drew off his heavy gloves of dogskin,
seated himself where he could see each face, and
quietly awaited the bishop's words.

Winchester watched him anxiously. His ques-
tions had made the prelate doubtful of his own
powers of persuasion, but he nevertheless began his
argument with a calmness and assurance which de-
ceived the noblemen about him.

"My lord," he said, "the information which has
come to us from France is excellent. It seemeth
reasonable to hope that your union with the Princess
will speedily take place." (A slight shadow crossed
the Prince's face at this, but Henry Beaufort did
not notice it.) "We know that 'tis your Grace's
desire to honor the fair Princess to the utmost. The
plan we are about to suggest will help you mightily

ffi

104 Every Inch a King

to accomplish this." The Prince merely bowed in
silence, and his uncle hurried on. "Other considera-
tions have led us to this step. The Kin^^, your
father, is growing constantly more ill. His strength
departs from him with every new-born day, and he
is frequently unable to meet his royal council, and
often most important measures wait for weeks till
he's gained the health to consider them. This is
unjust to our long-suffering nation."

Henry made a quick, impatient movement. "Me-
thinks that I have heard of this before ; prithee, say
on, my lord, what is your will ?"

"Nay, pardon me, sweet Prince," answered the
bishop; "we needs must tell thee all our arguments,
that thou mayst be convinced our course is just. I
beg you, therefore, to consider for a moment the
vows your father made when he was crow..ed, all
that he promised to his faithful people, and how he's
broken these promises on pvery hand, denied his
words, and treated with injuaiice the very men who
placed him on his throne."

The Prince rose to his feet and answered sternly :
"Such falsehoods, uncle, come with ill grace from
thee. If thou didst send for me to hear abuse, I
prithee give me leave to go from here, or else let
these base charges come from the lips of one whom
I can answer with my sword."

The Earl of Suffolk, remembering his promise,
came swiftly forward. "Nay, good my lord, you
bade us to speak plainly, and you will surely listen

Every Inch a iCing 105

to us with patience. My lord, the King, hath made
us very angry, when we remember all that you
have done — ^your youthful victories over the brave
Welsh, the constant sacrifices you have made, your
earnestness and wisdom in the council, your readi-
ness to journey to Calais and your just government
over the Cinque Ports, the pureness of your life—"
Henry interrupted a trifle scornfully,— "This
eulogy can only weary these waiting noblemen.
Prithee, on to more important business."

Suffolk hesitated in some dismay, and the chan-
cellor hastened to add his voice to the discussion.
"Your Grace is most impatient ; we love to listen to
the earl's praises. You are the idol of the people,
lord, and long ere this the King had been dethroned,
had not the love they bore you kept them loyal.
While your father put all his trust in you, and gave
you freely that position to which your abilities
rather than your rank entitled you, England was
content. But now, all this is changed The King
seeks to oppose your wisdom in the council; he
greets you with a coldness t»-.at is shameful, and suf-
fers without rebuke the insuits offered you by those
who should at all times bow their knee before your
greatness. My lord, he is ungrateful and unjust !"

The young man's cheeks were crimson, as he said
with digniiy : "I fail to underst- .id, lord chancellor,
your object in recalling to my mind the unpleasant
memories I have striven to forget. Uncle of Win-
chester, thou didst send for me saying that matters

I ■'•

1 06 Every Inch a King

of the deepest import required my presence at thy
conference. As yet, ye have not made your pur-
pose known, and I'm weary of this strange delay."

"My lord," answered the bishop very quietly, "we
desired your Grace should understand the reasons
which have forced us to follow the path we are re-
solved to tread. In brief, the thing is this: The
English people have become dissatisfied, and they
are ripe for a bloody revolution. What we propose
is to address your father, convince him that he is
too ill to rule, and peacefully persuade him to resign.
The crown shall then be placed upon your head and
England will be spared another war."

The Prince was very pale, and his eyes flashed as
he faced the anxious circle of noblemen. His voice
trembled a little as he made his answer. "And did
ye think I would agree to this? Ye do misjudge,
my lords, if ye fear war. The Parliament which
made my father king is faithful to him still. There
is no danger of civil revolution. As for myself," his
voice grew very stern, "ye have mistook if for one
instant ye believed me a traitor. Zounds ! my lords,
what must ye think of me to dare propose it ! Why,
ye are mad !"

A babble of voices broke in upon him. — "The
King's too ill to reign."— "He's lost all wisdom."—
"Consider, if the Princess could be crowned." —
"The King has broken his vows and forfeited all
allegiance." — "He will not let you govern as you
should."— "He is unjust."— "He suffers insults to

Every Inch a King 107.

I.3

you."— "He listens to every evil word against you."
—"Think of all that you have done for him—"
"fighting"— "and ruling"— "and giving him your
counsel." "He is ungrateful"— "cruel"— "unrea-
sonable."— "You shall have justice if we die for it."
—"Justice! Justice!" cried every voice in chorus.
Above the tumult the Prince's clear voice rang
out. "Shame on ye. lords, that dare to prate of
justice," he cried passionately. "I blush that I have
listened to such words. Do I not owe the King a
double duty, both as his son and as his humble sub-
ject? What have I done that I deserve his grati-
tude? Fought, say ye? Were not his wars my
own, and must I not use my strength to keep mine
heritage ? Occupied high places in the government ?
Were not these great offices and powers my father's
to bestow as he judged fit? Was it not kindness,'
that he gave them to me? If he should ask to h^ve
them back again, is't not his unquestioned right?"

The nobles shrank from him as Henry's voice
rose higher in fierce earnestness.

"What is't he's done that angers ye? He has
looked coldly on me ? True, yet would he not unless
I had done wrong. He's suffered insults, say ye?
Nay, but has rebuked those who, in their unreason-
ing love for me, would fain have made me what I'm
not— his equal. What is there in this that lacks
justice to me? If he has been more cold than I de-
serve, why, he is ill; when he is well again, which
God grant soon, he then will show once more his

fi Pi

1 08 Every Inch a King

love for me. And, even if he had shown me injus-
tice, do ye forget that I am his son ? Am I not bone
of his bone, flesh of his flesh ? Am I not his own, to
use as he desires ? Verily, if he should slay me with
his own hand, it would still be his right ! Oh, think
shame, my lords, that ye have dared propose this.
If the crown come to me in such a way, God grant
that it may never touch my head.''

Winchester, by this time having regained his
breath, tried to use fresh arguments, but the Prince
would not listen to him.

"My lords, I will not hear another word of this.
I have refused, and so the matter's ended. Ye are
my friends, but remember, lords, if one of ye dare
to do the slightest evil against my lord and father,
ye shall feel the vengeance that the Prince of Wales
pays to all enemies of the King of England."

So saying, with head uplifted and haughty step,
the Prince departed from the chamber, leaving be-
hind him the amazed conspirators. His heart was
heavy, but it would have been heavier still could he
have seen the Bishop of Winchester sink back in his
great chair, and laugh aloud.

"Ah, what a gallant prince we have, my lords.
Didbc mark the angry fire in his eyes? Well, he
shall be our king within the month. Upon what day
shall we request an audience?"

CHAPTER XIII.

"Why should a man, whose blood is warm within.
Sit like his grandsire cut in alabaster?"

Merchant of Venice.

"Nay, Edmund, thou needst have no fears, I've
pledged my word that she shall be thy bride, and
'twill go hard but I'll redeem that pledge!" Once
again, the Prince had sought the earl's prison
chamber to tell him of the progress of his wooing.

Lord Marc'i was, not unnaturally, much dis-
tressed on learning that Lady Anne had left the
court, and still more so when he found she had been
placed in a nunnery. Nor was he comforted by the
knowledge that Scrope had been her suitor. " 'Tis
not in reason that she will refuse acceptance of so
excellent an offer; my lord, thou hast made me
hope in vain."

"But, Edmund," the FYince protested, "she hath
given me her promise that she will not wed until
thou art free to woo her. Moreover, the baron
marries Lady Joan Holland ere the moon has
waned."

"But Lady Anne may still regret her promise
and learn to love Lord Scrope."

"By Heaven," cried the Prince indignantly, "if

'-i E

no Every Inch a King

thou dost think so meanly of thy sweetheart, thou
art not worthy of the lady's love."

Mortimer sprang to his feet, and crossing to his
friend's side, said as pleadingly as a girl : "Forgive
me, lord, it was my jealousy. Forget that I have
ever dared to doubt her. Yet when Lord Scrope
of Masham cannot win her, what hope is there for
captive Mortimer?"

"There's every hope," came the hearty answer.
"Why, Edmund, she could not choose but love thee.
Nay, cheerily, now, for thou shalt soon be free."
He hesitated, then added bravely, — "I do expect
my wedding will presently occur. The rinai ar-
rangements are now in progress, and I shall ask
mine honored father to let thee join ur . t the great
banquet. Mayhap the Lady Anne will be there
also. Nay, Edmund," hastily, for a flash of joy
came to the other's face, "thou must not hope too
much. The King has been cold to me of late. Even
on this occasion, he may not grrnt my wish, but
I will use mine utmost power to bring thee happi-
ness."

For some moments both were silent, thinking
of the future; but while the earl's thoughts were
happy ones, a cloud settled on Harry Monmouth's
brow. It was no longer possible to forget his own
fast approaching marriage, and to the Prince's mind
this event meant nothing but misery. Amid the
conflicting standards of that day, when those of
noble blood and high position could be corrupt.

Every Inch a King

III

while the lower ranks must continue virtuous, the
heir to England's throne had placed a high ideal
before his eyes and followed it with simple, stead-
fast purpose. Marriage, to him, meant a complete
union, ending only with death. He acknowledged
to himself that he had learned to love the pictured
face he carried in his bosom. This love he must
root out, leaving him with a free, undivided heart
to give his foreign bride. He did not dare to hope
that he could love her, but he resolved to show her
all respect, all honor, and all possible aflfection.
Naught but his duty should keep him from her side;
he would play his hard part so well, that the world
would think he fairly worshipped her. In this high
ideal of duty lay the reason he had opposed the
many marriages suggested by the King, declaring
that he wished to choose his bride without the aid
of courtiers. But when Burgundy asked for
England's succor, the Prince resolved to sacrifice
himself, rather than lose the benefits nf such an

alliance. It was no small thing that he gave up

for from his eariiest childhood he had craved pure,
unselfish love; and now— he smiled in his sorrow,
as he suddenly thought of the young Princess,—'
was she, too, longing for a love she could not have?
Did she dread leaving her native land, and was she
wondering what manner of man was to be her
husband? Instantly there came an imaginary pic-
ture of her to his mind— fresh, and fair, with wide,
childlike eyes, half-filled with terror of the coming

■i

a ;

112 Every Inch a King

future, shrinking a little as she saw these strange
great Englishmen, with their keen eyes upon her
— greeting them with a timid dignity, and ever
looking to her mother's face for courage and
approval. 'Poor child," the Prince murmured
softly, and his heart filled with ready sympathy.

Mortimer raised his head. "Didst speak to me,
my Prince?"

"Nay, Edmund, I was thinking of my little for-
eign bride. God comfort her if she also fears the
future. I wonder if I can make her happy?"

"Thou wouldst make cny maiden happy, dear
my lord. *Tis passing strange Anne Stafford loves
thee not."

Harry laughed merrily, and shook his head at
him. "Thou art a jealous, lovesick swain, my lord.
The Lady Stafford did scarce look at me. I would
thou couldst have seen her face that night when
I did tell her that thou wert her lover. The crimson
dyed her lily cheek and neck, her eyes fell shyly,
then again sought mine, to read if I were speaking
all the truth—"

"My lord, thou wilt make me mad," the earl
cried. "Methinks I cannot live another day with-
out a glimpse of my sweet Lady Anne."

"Thou must be patient, Mortimer," the Prince
urged, smiling. "No great event can be accom-
plished in an hour. Thou wilt enjoy thy happiness
so much the more, that thou hast waited for it.
We must not risk approval of our course, if thou

Every Inch a King 113

art free to wed her in a month. But, Edmun '. ;
have other plans for thee; if thf -^ do fail, -u
needst not be anxious. We will not lei ..:' lady
become a nun, even if I break mine honorable
trust."

The earl was instantly eager and curious. "What
dost thou mean? Ah, prithee, tell me, tell me.
Nay, then, thou shalt not rise from yonder seat
until thou hast explained these words of thine."

He sought to seize his friend, but the Prince
eluded his grasp, and ran swiftly to the other side
of the room. Mortimer pursued him, but Harry
was wonderfully swift of movement and not easily
caught. Here and there they ran, circling the
heavy oaken table many times, and overturning
whatever obstacles lay in their way. The earl, dis-
hevelled and excited, was breathlessly denouncing
his friend and begging for confidences in the same
sentence, while the Prince, losing neither his calm-
ness nor his perfect physical control, was running
and dodging with an ease and grace of movement
which caused a lively admiration in the panting
earl's heart. This was by no means the first time
they had tried each other's skill,— like all healthy
young men, Harry dearly loved physical exertion,
and excelled easily in the popular sports of the day!
Now, all his gloomy thoughts were gone in an
instant, and with flushed cheeks and laughing eyes,
he threw his heart into the play. The merriment
had reached its height when a heavy knock fell on

4 ;

>■;

114 Every Inch a King

the oaken door. Neither of the young men heeded
it. The earl was driving his guest into a comer,
and felt that victory was sure. Again the knock,
louder than before — the Prince had given a sudden
turn and escaped to the centre again, the earl ran
slowly after him, almost helpless with laughter.
This time, a sword-hilt pounded on the door with
a vehemence which made the rafters of the room
tremble and ring with sound. The two runners
came to a sudden stop, then Harry crossed and
flung wide the door. Baron Scrope of Masham,
wrapped in a riding cloak, stood upon the thresh-
old. His eyes sought his prince's flushed and
happy face, then with one swift, scornful glance
swept the disordered room, and rested curiously
upon the young earl, who leaned breathless against
the wall.

"It pleases your Grace to spend your hours in
merry pastime," observed the baron, with some
disdain. He hated any lack of dignity, and guessed
that Harry had been very free.

The Prince's flush deepened, — he was in no mood
for scornful glances, even from a friend. "Where-
fore are you here, my Lord of Scrope?" he asked
with dignity.

"The council send by my hand letters of impor-
tance from Lord Arundel."

"Give them me," was the brief answer.

They were produced and Harry quickly glanced

Every Inch a King 115

at them, then broke the seal of a private missive,
an anxious frown gathered on his brow. Here was
news indeed! The Earl of March now came for-
ward, and with courtesy invited the stranger to
enter. Scrope would have accepted, for he was
very curious as to who this man might be, but the
Prince raised his head. "Nay, Edmund, we must
not tax thy hospitality. My lord, descend and ask
one for my horse. I'll be before you at the western
gate."

Reluctantly the baron departed on his mission.
The eari turned anxiously to his friend : "Must thou
go, my lord? There is so much I fain would say to
thee."

The Prince was silent for an instant, thinking,
then roused himself with a sigh. "Edmund, take
courage, all may yet be well. I'll send thee'word
if I have any news that doth aflfect thy interests.
Farewell, I cannot promise when I'll come again."

"Thou art troubled, lord," said Mortimer, plead-
ingly. "Ah, stay one hour, and let me soothe thee
as I used."

"Nay, tempt me not," Harry answered quickly,
"affairs of state call me hence. I must to London
to join my father's council, and then, perchance, to
Dover or Calais. I cannot tell thee of the matter
now, but methinks a fortnight will make all right
again. Go within, Mortimer, and so farewell."

The Prince smiled brightly, pressed his friend's

1 1 6 Every Inch a King

hand, and closed the door upon him; then, as he
hurried down the passage, he read once more Arun-
del's private letter:

. . . "Our soldiers are unpaid, and without
comforts. . . . The Duke John increases every
day in hauteur, and will not even listen to remon-
strance. Instead of completing arrangements for
your Grace's marriage, he avoids the subject, and
refusts to name the date for our departure as escort
for the Princess. ... If matters are not mended
presently, I must request your Grace to call me
back to England — mine honor and my patience
will not brook that I retain my post and see our
country daily insulted in mine own person !" . . .

The Prince crumpled the paper in his hand, and
groaned. "My hopes have failed. The alliance will
be broken. My lord, the King, has proved that he
was right— I am not fit to lead! I have done
wrong and England is disgraced. Oh, God, give
me thy help in this dark hour!"

CHAPTER XIV.

Traduced by ignorant tongues, which neither knTw

My faculties nor person, yet will be

The chronicles of my doing, let me say

T.S but the fate of place, and the rough brake

Ihat virtue must go through."

Henry VIII.

tnlZl ^? ^7 1 •^^""">'' '" '^"^ y'^' °' o"*- Lord

beaut u, Th"' "' '"^•^^' '"^'"^^ ^'-^ -^
beautiful There was a crispness and sparkle in

the a,r that made one long to be up and doing.

The skies were blue and cloudless, the ground hard

and smooth beneath the horses' hoofs. Down a

white, wmding road, came at a brisk pace a little

body of men-at-arms, a score in number, mounted

on strong spirited steeds, their halberds glistening

in the sunhght. At their head rode the slender

upright figure of their young commander, his

handsome face glowing with health and spirits, his

bnlhant eyes noticing each detail of nature and of

man. h,s ready smile often on his lips in answer to

the jests of h,s faithful soldiers. Many natures are

easily depressed, while others possess a buoyancy

of spirit which nothing can destroy. Henry

of Monmouth was rarely fortunate in that he

belonged to this latter class. It was two weeks

' I

1 1 8 Every Inch a King

since he had left London and journeyed to Dover.
There he had received other letters from the Earl
of Arundel, each making it still more evident that
the alliance with Burgundy must cease. Had the
King permitted, Henry would have gone in person
to woo his bride, but failing his consent, he re-
mained at Dover, using his utmost powers to
prevent a rupture. Convinced at last that his
labor was useless, he started on his return to Lon-
don, determined to urge the prompt recall of
the English troops. It was no easy task for the
high-spirited young man to go before his father,
as he intended, and say: "My policy has failed;
and you were wisest in that you did oppose it."
He could not perceive that time would vindicate
his wisdom, and prove the greater failure of the
archbishop's plans. He only knew that he had
sought to make England a still greater nation, and
he had not succeeded. And the marriage? That
also was not to be. For an instant he had felt a
thrill of joy at the thought, and taking the exquisite
picture from his bosom he had kissed it passion-
ately. But this relief was only for a moment — he
knew he must promptly seek another bride, for
every month that passed without his marriage only
increased the annoyance of the King. To whatever
proposition his father made, he was now bound in
honor to consent.

These were bitter subjects for a young man's
thoughts, and to the Prince they brought the keco-

Every Inch a King 1 1 9

est sorrow and anxiety. To his mental distress he
had added severe bodily fatigue, for knowing that
the council was to meet on this, the fifth day of
the month, he had determined to reach London
and report to it, and owing to delays at Dover, he
had only stopped two hours for a night's rest.
The soldiers with him, men of brawn and muscle!
who had endured the privations of the Welsh cam-
paigns, were yet much wearied by the hurried trip,
and looked with wonder at the delicate voung man
who seemed as fresh and full of life and spirit as if
he had just risen from a couch of down and started
for a hunt.

As they rode over the worn Roman pavement of
Watling Street and reached the outskirts of the
city, Henry showed the greatest interest in his
surroundings. Horses, grazing in the meadows,
raised their heads to whinny at the passing strang-
ers, herons and moor-hens rose from the brooks
and marshes, and here and there a ploughman
would cease his whistling, or a milkmaid her song,
to gaze with wondering eyes after the little com-
pany. Presently they clattered over London
Bridge, between the close-built houses, waiting
a moment for a boat to pass and the drawbridge
to swing back into place, and during the brief pause
Henry's eyes had rested with evident abhorrence
upon two human heads, weather-stained and
pecked at by the birds, which the executioner had
placed upon the central tower. His men, likewise,

I20

Every Inch a King

!f I I

'' ' I.

^?^' t

observed them, but with absolute indiflference—
the sight was too familiar to cause even a comment.
After crossing the bridge, the party turned into
the narrow, dirty, unpaved street of Upper Thames-
they were nearing their journey's end, and rode
more slowly, while the people thronged out of the
shops and houses to raise cheer after cheer for
Pnnce Hal" and "Harry Monmouth." Every
man, woman and child on Upper Thames and in
Eastcheap knew and loved Henry personally, for
he had often wandered on foot through these
regions, mingling with the people freely, helping
their needs, and using his utmost power to right
their wrongs and guard them from injustice. Little
wonder, then, that the men shouted, the women
waved their hands from upper balconies and chil-
dren crowded about the horses' feet. Henry re-
ceived this admiration with modest pleasure his
hps were parted in a loving smile, and his 'eyes
searched the multitude of faces and seemed to
bestow an answering greeting on each one. Since
he had first appeared in London as the Prince at
the early age of twelve, his popularity among the
masses had never waned, but on the contrary had
increased and deepened year by year, until now he
was loved far better than the King.

As they rode on, passing with difficulty through
the crowded street, the outlines of a handsome
stone mansion rose before thorn. It stood upon the

Every Inch a King 1 2 1

bank of the Thames, west of the Swan Stairs, with
the water lapping the massive walls which rose four
stories in height, pierced by innumerable latticed
windows. The long extent of roof was broken by
pointed gables, five on each side, giving a quaint
anJ hoirelike effect rarely seen in London residences,
which too often suggested fortresses. This man'
Mon, buil by Sir John Poultney, four times Mayor
ot Loiidon, and once possessed by John Holland,
Duke of Exeter, had, upon his execution for treason,'
reverted to the crown and been granted by Henry
IV. to his eldest son. It was a pleasant sight to
many wearied eyes, and a grizzled captain exclaimed
with a sigh of relief,— "Look! There is Cold Har-
bor at last. By St. Anne, methought the Lollards
had burned it to the ground, we were so long without
a glimpse of 't."

The Prince answered gaily over his shoulder.—
"The way is always longest when we think 'tis
ended. Is not thy chief desire, Grafton, for a cup
of sack?" ^

The man laughed heartily. "Ay, captain, thou
hast hit me there; i' faith, the journey's made me
very thirsty."

"We'll open another cask of the red Gascony
wine my father gave me," answered the Prince.
"Ye've earned both rest and favor, men, and I am
pleased with all that ye have done."

What praise is sweeter to a soldier's ear than the

! I

122 Every Inch a King

commendation of his general? The guardsmen
flushed with happiness and felt repaid for all the
hardships they had undergone.

They rode between the massive gates into the
courtyard, and instantly all was confusion, as
servants poured out to greet their master, some
leading away the horses, others shouting to their
newly returned companions, while a few hurried
within doors to prepare a meal for the hungry
travellers.

Henry did not dismount, but called an esquire
to him. "Where meets the council, boy? Is it
within?" '

"Nay, my lord, it meets to-day at Westminster,"
answered the lad, and would have added more, but
Henry abruptly wheeled his horse.

Several who had accompanied him on the jour-
ney prepared to mount again, but the Prince
stopped them. "Nay, ye have ridden far, and are
much wearied. I will not keep ye from needed rest
and food."

"My lord," said an esquire, "if you will have
patience for but an instant, we'll send for horses
and accompany your Grace."

Henry shook his head. "The hour is late— I
must away at o^.-e." And in a moment he had
passed the gates, and ridden forth alone.

The street was almost deserted now, and the
Prince spurred his horse past the crowded hovels
of Upper Thames, then on by the Monastery of the

Every Inch a King 123

Black Friars, the gloomy walls of the Fleet, and
the stately Temple; finally he entered that long,
straggling highway known as the Strand, and lined
with the mansions of the nobility and of the high
dignitaries of the Church. The magnificence of
their architecture was in sharp contrast to the
wretched buildings crowding the narrow streets
within the walls, and Henry sighed a little, for he
would gladly have done away with poverty. Guid-
ing his horse with care, since the street was unpaved
and full of pits and sloughs, he passed the palaces
with speed, frowned slightly as York Place came
in view and he thought of the old traitor, Arch-
bishop Scrope, then reached at last the palace of
Westminster, the chief residence of his royal father.
Although both the Tower and the Savoy were used
by him at times, Westminster was the favorite, for
its situation on the Thames, surrounded by gardens
and meadow lands, far out from the throbbing
city's heart, gave peace and rest to the wearied King.
The Prince had felt no surprise that the council
was meeting here instead of at Cold Harbor, as
was its wont. "They thought I would not have
returned to-day," he reasoned. Riding through
the gates, and across the drawbridge, lowered at
his call, he dismounted and gave his horse into
a groom's charge, saying, as he patted the velvet
head: "He's borne me far to-day, and is much
wearied. Look to it that he has ample food and
rest. I shall not need him for many hours to

: i

|:( |.

■i , fe!

124 Every Inch a King

come/' Then running lightly up the steps, Henry
laid his hand upon the door, but it was promptly
opened from within, and two knights of the court
appeared upon the threshold. They were not
members of Archbishop Arundel's party; but, seeing
the Prince, they started, hesitated, then coming
forward passed him with averted heads. The
young man bit his lip, but said no word, and
quickly entering the palace, strode down the long
passages leading to the Council Chamber. Before
the door, he stopped in some surprise;— surely the
guard was doubled, and it was not usual to see the
captain's sword unsheathed,— but so slight a mat-
ter was instantly forgotten as he recognized the
officer, and greeted him with a flashing smile:—
"Ah, Derrbury, art thou on guard to-day? 'Tis
many weeks since I did see thee last. Hast thou
recovered from that wasting fever?"
^^ In much embarrassment, the captain stammered :
"I thank your Grace, I am quite well again."

Henry looked amazed at his confusion, but con-
tinued merrily in a lower tone: "Has Mistress
Alice consented to be won as yet? Ah, sir, thy
blushes betray thee. I have heard many tales of
this." Then he added carelessly: "It groweth
late. Have the lords been long in presence?"
"About an hour, my lord," faltered the officer
The Prince stepped forward to the door, then
fell back in amazement, as the guards crossed their
halberds before him, and exclaimed,— "How. sir-

Every Inch a King 125

rahs. what means this outrage? Know ye what
ye do?" "^

The capiain stepped quickly forward. "Your
Grace's pardon, but you may not enter."

"What, /may not enter? I, the Prince? Derr-
bury, thou art mad !"

The officer was ve.y pale and his eyes were
troubled, for he dearly loved his Prince. "Is it
possible, my lord, you do not understand? You
have not heard? Nay, then, 'tis not for me to tell
you. But it is my command your Grace shall not
pass through yonder door."

"By Heaven! sir," cried the Prince hotly, "dost
thmk to play with me? Fellows, stand aside, or
I will slay ye with mine own hand."

He drew his sword and advanced upon them
The guards hesitated, yet stood their ground- but
ere he could strike a blow, the you^' ful captain had
sprung upon him from behind, ana with a sudden
movement dashed the sword from his hand. Then
standing before the door, his own steel uplifted, he
cried: "Back, my lord, back, and do yourself' no
harm ! You shall not enter save over my dead
body, for if you do, my head must answer for it
Know, furthermore, that if your Grace persists, I
am commanded to arrest you and take you to the
Tower. So says my lord, the King."

The amazed Prince had picked up his fallen
sword and started to attack him, but as the <ficer
proceeded, hi3 arm fell by his side, and he stood

126 Every Inch a King

in silence, white to the lips. Then, with an effort,
he asked steadily: "Upon what charge wouldst
thou arrest me, captain?"

And Derrbury answered gravely: "That of high
treason to my lord, the King."

Henry staggered, as if from a physical blow; his
sword rang on the floor, and he buried his face in
his hands.

With tearful eyes, the captain came swiftly for-
ward and knelt before his Prince. "My lord, forgive
me that I must do my duty against you. I love
you, and I know that you are innocent. Would
to God another held this place."

Henry raised his head— he was himself again.
Extending his hand to the kneeling officer, who
kissed it fervently, he answered: "While thou
liyest, Derrbury, I know that I have one true
friend. Nor do I trust thee less because thine
honor and thy duty to my father compel thee to
proceed against my person. But do not grieve for
me, for 'twill soon pass. The King has listened to
some idle tale from one who seeks to do me injury.
He'll surely let me prove mine innocence. Dost
thou conduct me to the Tower at once, or may I
have some speech with friends before I enter the
dark gate?"

"Nay," answered the captain hastily, "your Grace
is not my prisoner. The King's commands were, if
you did persist on entering the Council Chamber,
we should take you captive. You have not done

Every Inch a King 127

so, therefore, you are free to go wherever you
desire,— only you must make no attempt to see the
King."

The Prince breathed a short sigh of relief. "His
Highness is very kind in this, but I have come with
matters of importance that I must place before his
honored council. Is it permitted that I wnte to
htm?"

"No, my lord," answered the captain firmly.

Henry was puzzled. What harm lay in a letter?
He thought a moment, then asked, "Cannot some
member of the council speak with me here?"

The captain hesitated. "I do not know, my lord;
I will propose it."

He gave a short command to a guard, who
entered. The Prince leaned wearily against a win-
dow ledge, and patiently awaited his return. In
a moment the door was thrown open and sharply
closed behind two persons, the soldier and a young
man of handsome face and figure, richly dressed, at
sight of whom Henry sprang forward, crying:
"My brother Thomas! Ah, thank God that thou
hast come to me. What have I done that I am
banished from our father's side?"

"My lord," answered Thomas of Clarence hastily,
"the council waits. I cannot stay to question.
What is the message thou wouldst send by me?"
The Prince drew from his doublet several letters,
saying humbly: "I have been in constant corre-
spondence with Lord Arundel. Tell the council

128 Every Inch a King

that I am convinced my policy was not the part of
wisdom. The alliance with Burgundy must end
at once. I beg them to recall our troops without
delay."

Lord Thomas answered coldly: "Meastres have
already been taken to this effect, and the Aing has
graciously received ambassadors from the Count
of Armagnac requesting our assistance."

Henry started. This was a change indeed. He
made no comment, but held out the letters. "Give
these to my lord, the King, and beg him to examine
them with care."

Clarence drew back. "I cannot take them, lord."
^^ "How now," the Prince cried in astonishment,
"there is some mystery here,— I prithee tell me why
am I not permitted to send these, or even a letter
of mine own, unto my lord, the King? Nay,
brother, never turn thy face away, but expound to
me the meaning of this wonder."

"Hast never heard," Thomas faltered, "that
poison can be carried in a letter as easily as in
food?"

"Poison ! I' faith, I am still ignorant."
The younger p Ince dared not meet his brother's
eyes, but answered in low tones: "When one is
proved a traitor, and desires a throne, if fair means
fail him, will he not use foul?"

On- instant Harry Monmouth stood silent,
hon. .ed; then he cried sternly— "As God lives, I
am innocent, Clarence ! If I have ever sought to

Every Inch a King 129

rob our father, yea even of his very smallest honor*
may Heaven keep me from the throne of England I
Who are my enemies that dare to utter so base a lie
as this?"

"No enemies, my lord, but thy dear friends,"
Clarence answered sadly.

^^ A sudden thought came to the puzzled Prince.
"Tell me, brother, who are the lords within yon
Council Chamber?"

"Archbishop Arundel is the chancellor; myself
am president; others, Gascoigne, Sir John Stanley,
our cousin Neville, and my lord of Warwick. The
Baron Scrope remaineth treasurer."
Henry understood, and groaned.
Thomas faced him quickly. "Knowest thou now,
my lord, what has been done?"
"Ay, I do know all."

The young Prince shrank back in sorrow and
dismay. "Oh, my lord, and thou didst swear to
me thme innocence. How couldst thou have sinned
so deeply against our father? Ah, Harry, Harry,
God forgive thee and keep thee from the blacker
sm of — death."

Henry was silent for a moment, then answered
simply: "Thomas, mine uncle, and the other lords,
did tell me, with a dozen feeble reasons, that 'twas
their purpose to go before my father and ask him
to resign the crown to me. I answered plainly I'd
have none of it; and being certain the affair was
ended, I did quite forget the matter. I do suppose

130 Every Inch a King

they disregarded my desire and did as they had
purposed; but for myself, I never gave consent, nor
would I have worn the crown if they had won it."

"My lord," said Thomas, "would they have
sought to make thee King against thy will ? Shall
we believe thy words and doubt their actions?"

"Then thou dost think I am a traitor, Clarence,
and that I've added to that sin these lies? Believe
it, if thou wilt. Twill but increase the punishment
that I must bear. Go, brother, and take my humble
duty to our father. Tell him that I will in all things
obey him, and look to Heaven to prove that I am
guiltless. I do suppose we may not meet again,
therefore, farewell; God have thee in his keeping."

With a heavy heart the Prince turned away, but
Clarence, running forward, fell on one knee and
kissed his hand, crying: "Thou art no traitor,
Harry, but a true prince. I would believe thy word
against a thousand, and I will tell the King that thou
art innocent."

Henry smiled sadly into his brother's earnest,
loving eyes, and answered: "Nay, speak no word
in favor of me, or they will say thou art a traitor
too. I am content that thou believest me. 'Tis well
thou hast my seat in council, Thomas, and God
grant thee greater wisdom than was mine. Farewell,
my brother, think of me with kindness when men
do charge me with such villainy."

When Thomas entered the Council Chamber, hi
bore the letters from Arundel, and when the Baron

Every Inch a King 131

Scrope exclaimed: "Is't possible your Grace was
so imprudent as to accept these letters from the
—traitor?—" the young Prince turned upon him
haughtily, and answered in a tone they long remem-
bered,-"My lord of Masham. these are from my
hand, and I would die a hundred deaths before I
would suspect the Prince of Wales of such a crime
as that 1"

'II

CHAPTER XV.

"To My the truth, so Judas kissed his Muter;
And cried— til hail I whereas he meant— all harm."

Hehky VI.
Of two evils I have chose the least."

PUOI— iMITAnOK OF HOKACI.

How difficult it is to satisfy a man set on revenge ?
His longings are. at first, moderate; but when he
has achieved one step he must on, nor will he be con-
tent until he's brought his enemy to the depths of
disgrace and shame.

The Baron Scrope of Masham had at first re-
solved to ruin Lady Anne of Stafford, and but for
the King's stern interference would have succeeded.
He had, at least, driven her from the court, and had
roused many voices against her. Then he turned
his thoughts upon his friend, the Prince. Already
the Queen's jealousy had given tongue to many
whispered scandals, and these were ktpt alive by
Udy Margaret, Clarence's wife, and her sister, the
new-made Lady Scrope— her wedding had occurred
at Christmas time, during the Prince's enforced ab-
sence at Dover. The baron soon learned that his
lady shared his own concealed hatred of the Prince.
Both she and Margaret had chosen to consider them-
selves slighted because Harry showed greater atten-
tion to Lady Stafford than to their noble selves.

Every Inch a King

^33

It was. therefore, an easy task to keep the fires of
envy and of malice burning fiercely. Scropc did not
even let them know of his changed feelings, and de-
fended the Prince whenever they spoke against him.
yet he mventetl numerous causes for bitterness He
showed a sense of grieved injury at Harry's absence
on the occasion of his marriage, disregarding the
fact that he had chiefly urged the Prince'! dep^fture
He also told Joan, with much reluctance, that he had
l>een shghted m presence of a stranger, and gave her
most remarkable accounts of Harry's conduct in
Lord March s apartments-matters which she de-
lighted m discussing with ''her dear friend and
namesake, the Queen of England.

But all this was mere play to the resourceful
baron. His other labors were more worthy of his
gemus. On learning of Bishop Beaufort's plans, he
had impressed upon the conspirators the necessity of
convmcing the King that they had yielded to the
Prince s entreaties. Then, before the appointed day
for action, he had gone privily to the King and he-
rayed their purposes, saying that the Prince had
formed the plot himself, and that he. the baron, had
consented only that he might learn the worst and
warn his monarch.

when the nobles appeared before him he answered
all the.r arguments with a firm courage and strength
of indignation that amazed them. Lord Scrope vvas
absent, on a plea of sickness, and Bolingbroke did

r •

:■ 1

134 Every Inch a King

not betray his knowledge, but listened with apparent
astonishment, increasing to anger, and ending in the
sentence of banishment from both council and court.
But Scrope remained lord treasurer! None of
them considered this as strange — the baron was not
with them, so why should the King suspect him
more than Gascoigne, who was still chief justice?
They took their punishment without complaint, and,
being from the court, they never dreamed of the
opinion which was quickly formed against the
Prince. They had done no violence, nor were they
feared. They'd asked for the King's resignation, he
had refused and banished them from his person;
there was no calumny. What reason, then, was there
for treating the Prince diflFerently? They supposed
that he would be dismissed from the council — they
never knew that every member of that brilliant
court had he?rd within a week that Harry Mon-
mouth had sought his father's life, and was now
plotting, with poisonous drugs and witchcraft—yea,
even with his sword, to slay the King. It was said,
his Highness's epileptic fits, which had much in-
creased of late, were due to the evil eye of a London
witch, a boon companion of the Prince of Wales.
But such tales were too vague and shadowy — there
must be others of more character !

The baron, skilfully playing his double part, now
made a secret journey to Cold Harbor. His intent
was to see "his friend," under the guise of risking

Every Inch a King 135

much for love, and while he held a proud place in
the King's regard, yet keep the devoted friendship
of the Prince.

Harry received him with much graciousness. In
his own heart his love had somewhat cooled. He
had thought the baron's marriage rather hasty, since
he had been so lately in love with Anne, and he had
been offended when Scrope had shown his scorn
before the Earl of March. Yet he had never doubted
him, and to-day he was especially cordial in his
greetings.

The baron had carefully prepared an explanation
of his remaining treasurer, but he was given no
chance to use it.

"My lord of Masham, thou art very welcome,
and I have special cause to commend thy friendship.
I hear thou art still lord treasurer."

"Ay, my lord, your Grace must understand — "

"I understand the matter perfectly," Harry in-
terrupted. "Am I not right in thinking thou wert
absent when mine uncle Winchester appeared before
the King?"

"I was indeed absent," began Scrope reluctantly,
— but the Prince added promptly, —

"Then thou alone, amongst all these my friends,
didst have sufficient love for me to obey my desires
and forget thine own. Thou alone hast not stamped
me as a traitor to my sovereign lord. Baron, I thank
thee. Thou art a true friend."

136 Every Inch a King

Villain though he was, a faint blush dyed the
nobleman's cheeks at this, and for an instant he was
confused. But presently he answered humbly: "I
am rejoiced, my Prince, if thou art pleased. I had
feared thou mightst misjudge me; but upon mine
honor, my dearest wish is to serve your lordship."

"And, my lord," Harry answered, smiling "he
serves me best who doth perform my will. Thou
only, Scrope, among that little band whom I last met
withm the bishop's palace-thou only, hast been ad-
mitted to my presence. I sent mine uncle word
when he came begging to speak with me, that he had
caused hts sufferings and mine, and until I had sub-
dued mme anger against him, it was not wisdom
that we two should meet. But thou, my lord, art
always very welcome."

Scrope answered proudly: "And I shall often
claim that welcome. Prince, although I risk my head
to come to thee."

Harry looked up, surprised. "What meanest
thou ?

"Nay," answered the baron, "I was unwise to
speak, but since 'tis done, I must fain make the
meanmg clear. I grieve to tell your Grace the court
doth judge thee as one who seeks to rob the King of
hfe. Mine humble protests are of no avail" (he
had protested warmly-he played his double part
continually and with the utmost skill) ; "and men
do think thou art so wrapped in sin, that were it
known that I had been with thee, I fear the King

Every Inch a King 137

v'ould take his trust away. Yet did he slay me, I'd
still visit thee."

He had protested his love a bit too much; the
words did not ring quite true, and the Prince felt it ;
yet he would not allow himself one doubtful
thought.

"Nay, baron, I must forbid this foolish risk. Thy
life and services as treasurer are far too precious to
toss into a scale and be outweighed by the pleasure
of our meeting. Come not again, therefore, till I
can prove that I am innocent of all these charges,
and we can freely meet once more at court."

The baron was far from pleased at this — it was
part of his purpose to run a little risk, and so to
prove his friendship to the Prince, but he reflected it
might be as well if he } aided once more his wishes
to his lord's, and stayed away in safety.

The Prince's next words turned his thoughts into
a different channel.

"Pray tell me of my sovereign lord and father.
Is he at present well ?"

Scrope's face grew sad. "I grieve to tell thee,
lord, the King is worse. These falsehoods breathed
about thee much distress him, and seem to give
strength to his disease."

Harry sighed deeply. "Thou dost make me sad ;
my lord, use thy good offices to win me favor. If
only I might have speech with him, I could convince
him that I am much wronged."

"I'll try what I can do, my lord, but yet I fear

; I'i

1 3 8 Every Inch a King

there's small chance of success. Thou knowest I
S"°' ^'^'"""^ "^" ^'' favor-since I am thy

"Thou art right, baron, I had forgot the peril.
Tis best thou shouldst not even speak my name "

in. « 'T ^IfK^'"'' *^' ^^'■^ °^ ^^^°P<= ^^^ think-
ing— Twill be my care thou dost not see the Kine

I know that thou couldst gain his trust and love-
even to me thy charm is dangerous."

It was, in fact, so dangerous that the nobleman
abruptly rose and said farewell, for Harry's silvery
voice recalled the days when they had sung together
on the Thames; and Harry's winning smile brought
back those months when they were fighting side by
side in battle, when the Prince's courage and sweet
cheerfulness had stirred a genuine admiration in his
heart. And then there followed the busy years in
London, and as the Prince rose higher in power and
rank he d always given a high place to his friend

The baron did not analyze the causes which had
changed his shallow love to fiercest hate, but as he
increased in greatness and saw himself unloved and
knew that he owed every blessing to his Prince he
first felt jealous of Harry's popularity, and then' his
pride rebelled at the thought of how entirely he was
at the mercy of his benefactor. Should the Prince
turn against him, he would sink to the oblivion from
which he came. True, his blood was noble, but
there were many nobler still, and he thought bitterly
that there was nothing in himself to lean upon The

Every Inch a King 139

Prince alone had kept him at the head. Then came
the foolish jealousy of Lady Anne of Stafford. In
Itself this had been nothing; but the fact that she
would lightly throw aside himself as husband for a
few smiles given by the Prince— this was the spark
that lighted the long-hidden train of hatred. In that
instant when he overheard her words, he had re-
solved to prove that though the Prince were ruined
he would still be great. The fates that rule all
destinies had taken his part. Surely they would not
desert him now when victory was so near. Many
were the things to be accomplished before the final
tnumph—he must be calm and make each play with
care; if he should falter all might yet be lost,
btemly he crushed the last faint protest of his heart
and conscience. If the Prince's presence weakened
his resolution, he was resolved he must not see the
Prince. Harry had given him an excellent reason-
had, indeed, forbidden him to come again. So the
matter was settled; and now, onward,— it was his
play, and every card a trump !

Meanwhile, Harry himself was pursuing a course
which gave excellent assistance to the baron. The
Prince had felt keenly the general distrust of him.
Frank and loving as was his nature, the coldness
shown him by certain of the court had tried him
sorely. Although circumstances had prevented the
deep affection naturally given by a son to his father
he had respected the King and shown him all obe-
dience. He had constantly excused, not only to

140 Every Inch a King

others, but to himself, the King's peevish temper and
mgratitude, and he had labored diligently to win his
affection and trust. The thought that his father
could believe him a traitor who, longing for his
throne, would seek his life, was intolerable.

In sorrow, and almost in despair, the Prince, upon
that fatal fifth of January, had returned to Cold
Harbor, and, seeking his own chamber, had firmly
bolted the door. Already physically exhausted from
his long journey, and faint for lack of food, he sank
upon his couch and abandoned himself to the keen-
est mental suffering. For hours the tumult raged
within his breast;— he, the Prince, his monarch's
eldest son, to be turned from the court in such dis-
grace ; to be denied all intercourse with the King, and
to be feared as a base murderer. "God, thou alone
canst help me; have pity on me," was his cry. And
yet he could not still his heart for prayer, but lay
with clinched hands and fierce-bitten lips, fighting
against the cruelty of fate. How could h? ever prove
his innocence? The stab had been given by his dear-
est friends. Who would believe him if he freelx-
said that he had refused consent to Winchester's
proposal ? And even if men did believe the fact, he
could not make tliem understand his motive. He
must allow himself to be judged guilty. And of
what? A simple conspiracy to dethrone his king?
Nay, more, far more than this ;— he was a son, veil-
ing beneath his feigned obedience a crafty longing
for his father's death. This was what men believed.

Every Inch a King 14,

This what the King supposed to be the truth I And
now what manner of life was left to him? He had
been bamshed from the Council Chamber. He was
to have no part in the government. The thought
startlmg m its evil meaning, brought him in agony

n. !n ?'*, .°/'^' "° '^^'' ^" ^"y*^^"^ P^^^-
ing to this land ? He, the heir apparent, to be kept

m ignorance of weighty measures and great poli-
cies ? Must he abandon Calais and the Cinque Ports
to strangers who would rule for gain, and never
journey m person to these towns ? Men who would
allow their stewards power to tax the people, and
deny them justice? Harry knelt before hi couch
and buned h.s face in his arms. Oh. his poor cities,
which he loved so dearly! But for himself-how
should he spend the time if robbed of that employ-
ment which was almost life unto his active spirit
J>. 1st he be content to gossip at the court? He
raised his head, dismayed,-even this poor, narrow
door to happiness was closed, and he must not even
ask for entrance. A fierce longing filled his veins
with fire,-to have the love, the constant fellowship
of that pure maid whose image painted on the piece
of parchment was now engraven on his very heart
To linger by her side and gaze into those deeply
earnest eyes-would she not wipe away his bitter
tears? lo feel her delicate hand tremble in his; to
see that small, sweet mouth smiling with joy because
they were together with their love! And then to
press her close and kiss those lips-oh, was he mad,

l.f

142 Every Inch a King

to brood upon this folly? What place had such
dreams in the breast of one who stood before the
world a miserable traitor? Only a man of pure and
noble heart must dare even to think upon her vir-
tues. He was unworthy of even this scant comfort.
What, then, remained to him?— a gloomy, useless
and impatient life within the prison walls of a mon-
astery,— a life upon which his active spirit looked
with loathing, or —

There sounded a heavy knocking at the door and
well-remembered voices calling him: — "My lord
Prince,"— "Hal, art thou within?" "Ho there, my
lord! What, art dead?" "Hal! Madcap boy, wilt
thou not ope the door?"

For an instant the Prince stood undecided. Should
it be the monastery, or this? Should he confine him-
self within four walls, or live a free life with these
merry friends ? The knocks increased and made the
great door tremble. The voices rose and fell, and
rose again; then Harry swifth crossed the room
and called a merry greeting as he went. The die
was cast, and he had chosen this !

■ I

CHAPTER XVI.

"Oh, what a goodly outside falsehood hath !"

Merchant of Venick.

A MONTH had passed since Scrope's visit to Cold
Harbor, and lying tongues had blackened the
Prince's name until that great class of the English
nation, the townsmen, the merchants and the labor-
ers — those who were in future centuries to rise up
mightily and govern England— until these men
began to shake their heads and think that it was
possible they had misjudged their hero, and that he
was indeed a brave and brilliant soldier, but yet
a weak, ungoverned, faulty man.

This belief was a cruel disappointment to the na-
tion. They had long ceased to love their present
King, and had waited anxiously for the time to come
when Harry of Monmouth should sit upon the
throne. They had thought that every virtue was
possessed by him, and had been filled with delight at
the knowledge of his approaching marriage. But
now, — the wedding would not take place, the alli-
ance with Burgundy (the Prince's desire) had
failed, — ^and then it was known that he had left the
council. The reason for this was unexplained, but
gossip said the Prince preferred to pass his time in
idle pleasure. Then came the vague rumors that

I '

144 Every Inch a King

Harry had sought to take his father's life—the
greater number claimed the King's wine had been
poisoned, orders whispered the Prince had drawn
his sword and had only been prevented from his
purpose by courtiers who had wrenched the weapon
from him I Men met in taverns and discussed the
situation with gloomy brows. The Prince, it was
known, had left the court— none guessed it was by
the King's command— he was said to have refused
to see the Bishop of Winchester and other lords, and
the only explanation seemed to be that he had re-
solved to cast off all his old friends and abandon
himself entirely to dissipation. And now it was
said that he was leading such a life that men must
blush even to speak his name.

The Prince, meanwhile, neither knew nor cared
what men thought of his conduct. Shut out from
all his regular employment, forbidden the court, and
having there no friends who ventured to come to
him and comfort his distress, he felt that to have
denied himself all pleasure w uld have been useless
and unnatural. Many of Y hours were spent in .
reading eagerly what book? ;>e could procure; others
were devoted to long rides and outdoor sports-—
what harm if he spent a few of them in drinking and
making merry with those London men who were
devoted to him? He never guessed that when he
dined in Eastcheap, and when, at times, those who
were with him made too free with the red wine, that
rumor made of him a constant drunkard; that when

Every Inch a King 145

his friends engaged in a not infrequent contest with
the watch, he himself, though far away at rest, was
called a brawler, and breaker of the law; and when
once several of them, hot with wine, had masked
themselves, and taken from some travellers the
wherewithal to dine for a few days, and on the next
morning, the Prince, learning of it, had gone before
a justice and out of his own slender purse paid back
the full sum to the sufiferers— on this occasion
rumor had declared that the Prince of Wales had
turned highwayman and spent his nights in robbing
all who passed !

England felt keenly the disgrace of ii, and it was
not long ere other nations learned of these proceed-
ings, and smiled in joy;— let the King die and this
wild Prince be crowned, then France need have no
fear of her great rival, for England would be ruled
by madmen.

If Harry had not been regarded as a traitor, those
nobles who loved him well— Westmoreland, War-
wick, Lord Cobden, and Courtenay, the Chancellor
of Oxford— these would have gone to him and
freely told him how the people grieved over his con-
duct and implored him to give up his evil life. But
they dared not attempt to see him, fearing the King
would have judged them disloyal to his person.

No one felt more keen sorrow over the Prince's
misdeeds than did his father. Bolingbroke had, in.
deed, seen little of his son, save in the Council Cham,
^er. Their natures were too utterly unlike to allow

p \

:ii

146 Every Inch a King

either coidial sympathy or deep affection to exist
between them, but even when most jealous of his
successes the King had been proud of him, and now
Ins pride was turned to bitter shame. He longed to
:'nd for the Prince, give him a fatherly reproof and
11. re him to mend his ways before it was too late,
Lm he had been forced to believe that such a pro-
refding would be in the highest degree dangerous
i lis person. And now the climax of his sorrows
' -^ il 'und, for Lord Scrope, the treasurer,
arrr e U cue Council Chamber and asked with much
rc'iic: iice whether any one present had received
no ic of the receipt of moneys from the garrison
of Calais. He regretted extremely the necessity of
making this matter public, his personal love foi the
Prince was known to all, but since he had accepted
his high position from the King, his duty and his
honor forced him to speak plainly. He had in-
trusted to the Prince of Wales, some three months
since, a large amount of money for the payment of
the garrison at Calais. He had no assurances in his
possession that this payment had been made (which
was quite true, for he had destroyed the papers) and
rumors had reached him that the Prince had retained
the funds for his own uses. "Of course, such state-
ments are entirely false," Scrope added in haste,
"the Prince's honor is above dispute." He hoped
that the lords might be able to enlighten him, for it
was infamous that such charges should be un-
answered.

Every Inch a King

- '+7

The gloom had deepened upon the King', brow

• he Mw the doubt «cpre,«d i„ „«4 f^

Cla.«,ce. fl„,h,ng with anger, .xd,im«i in ko^"

I faith, but every tongue is ready to add wme

shame unto my brother', burden, fe,t I did nev^

Shi*:"" '"'^•""«' ' "»'»• «> '"^-^ '" »>>
"Your Grace is right." answered the baron

and for that reason they must cease at once. There
be men who gladly seize each chance to poison eveV^
mmd agamst the Prince, but for ourselves. Ih^
know his Grace, denial is needless "

"Speak for thyse/f. lord baron," answered Arch-
bishop Arundel, "methinks my knowledge of the

h"TV' T"'"'' '"^ *° "^ '^' '"^-^Sht that he
has taken these public moneys comes charged with
truth Is't not a reasonable thing that one who spends
h.s mghts and days engaged in drinking and b^wt
ing. who even scruples not to seize by force the prop-
erty belonging to .11 those who pass-is't nS
reasonable I say, that sucli a man, possessing pub-
he funds should freely use them f,>. his purposes >
Behke thou'lt find this money, Scr ,pe, withbthe
taverns-there to pay for ack which Harry Mon-
mouth has furnished to his friends."

"Thy judgment is sex ere, my lord archbishop,"
came the calm voice . f t!.e Earl of Warwick. "The
charges thou dost bring against the Prince are
founded only on .he London gossip. Because we

148 Every Inch a King

know he sometimes dines in Eastcheap, accom-
panied by Sir John Falstaflf, Bardolph, Poins, and
other men, more merry than virtuous, this is no
proof that he has become a drunkard, or that he does
delight to break the law. The charge of theft
against him is monstrous! Methinks that did we
know the truth of it, we would be shamed for credit-
ing such falsehoods."

"I thank thee, Beauchamp, for those gentle
words," said King Henry, sighing. "They are
spoke, we know, to ease the sorrows of a father's
heart. But we may not disguise beneath kind words
the bitter deeds that wound our pride and love.
When one becomes a traitor, other faults are but
attendants on that greater sin. Since we do know
that Harry would gladly take our life to gain the
crown, why should we doubt that he would rob the
state?"

The youthful Thomas of Clarence arose and
approached his father, saying, "My liege, prithee,
hear me. I do know that the Prince, my brother,
''! innocent and wronged. He never sought the
crown, much less thy life. My uncle Winchester,
for his own purposes, chose to demand thy resigna-
tion, and when thou didst refuse, he laid the blame
upon his absent nephew. This is the truth."

The King glanced at his son doubtfully, then met
Lord Scrope's gaze and remembered the baron's be-
trayal of the conspiracy. "Thomas," he answered,
"thou dost love thy brother, and willingly wouldst

Every Inch a King 149

believe him innocent. But we do know that he is
guilty of treason against us, for we have proofs of it
thou knowest not."

Clarence paled a little. "Proofs, my lord? Dost
thou then condemn him utterly?"

Before the King could answer, Westmoreland
said : "My liege, were it not justice that we heard
the matter? As yet, I do believe him innocent. If
you have certain knowledge of his guilt, methinks
you should not conceal it. Perchance the Parlia-
ment would then consent to proclaim the Prince
Thomas England's heir. We cannot have a traitor
on our throne."

Clarence raised his voice in protest: "While
Harry lives, I will not take his place. He is the
prince, and he shall be the king."

But the council did not heed him. Every c ,- was
fixed upon the monarch. Henry paused an instant,
and to Lord Scrope it seemed eternity ere he
answered calmly :

"Cousin Neville, the evidence I hold cannot with
wisdom be published to the world. Therefore, con-
tent ye that Fm satisfied my son is guilty of the
charge against him ; but for the nonce, 'twould not
be wisdom, in our opinion, that Harry should be
punished publicly. When foreign courts have
greater cause to regard us with alarm, we can then
banish him our shores ; but until then these matters
must be secret and he remain the prince in name,
though stripped of all his power. Should he and his

150 Every Inch a King

adherents join with Burgundy against our state, we
should have cause to fear him. Therefore, lord
baron, you need not press your charge."

Scrope smiled a little— fate was with him still, for
the King's words had a marked effect— Arundel
openly approved his monarch's wisdom, while War-
wick and Westmoreland sat with gloomy brows, and
even Clarence felt an instant's doubt of his brother's
innocence. Gascoigne was convinced of Harry's
guilt, and Sir John Stanley had never doubted it.
What wonder, then, if within a day all London
knew that the Prince was charged with using for his
pleasure public moneys, and fully half of London
believed it to be the truth ?

Harry himself learned of it while supping at a
London tavern. The jolly Falstaff had heard it in
the streets, and greeted his friend with joyful im-
pudence: "Now what is this I hear about thee, Hal?
Hast turned a robber on thine own account? And
yet thou wouldst not join with us for a frolic.
Shame on thee for a saintly hypocrite !"

"What meanest thou. Jack? What is it thou hast
heard?" demanded the Prince, expecting to listen to
some jest.

"Nay, but thy sin has found thee out at last, and
all the court is whispering the question— what has
become of the moneys tor Calais ?"

Harry started. "I do not understand."
Falstaff laughed loudly, and his companions
joined him. "Why, thou mad wag, dost think to hide

Every Inch a King 151

behind thine innocence? Nay, 'twill not serve thee
here, I promise thee. The lords in council are greatly
distressed and thy father weeps in shame for thee.
They have certain knowledge from Calais that thou
hast not paid the garrison, but keepest the money for
thine own pleasure. Come, Hal, an' thou wouldst
not be called a false, ungrateful friend, I prithee,
share the plunder with us. I'm hard pressed for a
few English crowns,"

The Prince flushed angrily, and turning to Poins,
demanded almost fiercely: "Ned, what is there of
truth within this lie?"

"By our Lady, Hal, but Falstaff is in earnest. This
saying has spread abroad through London, and the
chief justice is for punishing thee, but the King will
not permit the charge. Natheless, they all believe
thee guilty."

Harry raised his head proudly and answered : "I
g^ave the garrison their pay some three months since,
and 'twas acknowledged with due formality. No
money has been given me of late, whether for Calais
or any other purpose. Until the matter is plainly
laid before me, I shall make no attempt to prove my
cause. Jack, Ned, and the rest of ye, I'll hear no
more of this. Come, sit ye down, and speak of other
matters."

But although Harry was firm in his determina-
tion not to justify himself, scorning to notice these
rumors and falsehoods, the charges against him
were promptly proved to be mere lies. It happened

152 Every Inch a King

that soldiers of the garrison at Calais had come to
London bearing important letters and the news that
Earl Arundel and his forces would shortly sail for
England. These men, being questioned about the
truth of the charges against the Prince, waxed very
angry, denied them utterly, and presently appeared
before the council and formally swore they had re-
ceived all payments.

So ended another play of Baron Scrope's, to his
apparent joy but secret displeasure; yet the mischief
had, after all, been done. Men's minds were poi-
soned with suspicion of Harry Monmouth, and they
remembered the charge, while they forgot its false-
ness. Scrope, seeing the result, smiled a little, and
murmured to himself— "The time is very near when
I can strike— a little patience, and the end will come.
Oh, how I long to raise my voice and cry, — The
Prince is dead. Long live the Prince of Wales !' "

h:.

CHAPTER XVII.

"Sound the trumpet !

No true knight is a tarrier."

Robert Brownikg.

July had come once more, that charming month
of flowers and sunshine, of glorious days, and cool,
perfect evenings, which make the summer such
a happy season for all who crave a life in the open
air. London was well-nigh deserted by those who
had made it gay in winter time. The King, moving
restlessly over the country, was living for a time at
Greenwich Manor, and thither the greater number
of the court had gone. Other nobles had retired
to their distant castles; the citizens mourned their
loss, for the extensive trains of the earls and bish-
ops, their extravagant dress and mode of living, and
the gaieties they devised, kept the city in a constant
state of wonder and delight.

And now, London would have despaired save
for Harry Monmouth, who had unexpectedly ap-
peared and settled at Cold Harbor as i it were
his intention to remain. He had spent the spring
roaming from one royal palace to another, avoiding
the King and travelling very simply. He had re-
mained at Windsor for a time, hunting and seeking
comfort and advice from Mortimer, and now he

i fe

154 Every Inch a King

had returned to that mansion which more than
any other he called his home. He was welcomed
joyfully by FalstaflF and his friends, but to-night
other men were his companions. The great hall
was arranged for a feast, and the blackened rafters
rang with merriment; soldier and servant crowded
one another at the lower boards, while on the dais
?at the Prince himself, upon his right and left two
noblemen, one having the rugged appearance of
a soldier— both of whom shared Harry's own dis-
grace of exile from the court. Below them were
their chief attendants and the officers of the Prince's
household.

It had been a right merry evening, the bowl
circling freely, and the tables laden with abundance
—for Cold Harbor was noted for its royal enter-
tainments; but Harry wearied of it early, and while
the fun was still at its height, he rose, motioned
to his two companions, and withdrew to his own
apartments.

"My friends," he said to them, "I oft do love
this noisiness and laughter, but to-night I am sore
weaned and long for quietness. Let us depart the
house and be alone. Remain ye here until I come
for you.

He withdrew and left them silent and wondering.
It was months since these two men had been to-
gether, and they were friends; yet something in
their host's manner had impressed them, and now
that they were left alone, memories and thoughts

Every Inch a King 155

crowded too close for speech. At length the soldier
broke the silence.

"Dost thou remember, Michael, how we did sup
here with our Prince before I left the country?
That night, both Winchester and his brother were
of the party; thy father, likewise, and Baron Scrope
of Masham. Courtenay then made his strong
appeal to us that we would support him against
mine uncle and not allow the metropolitical
visitation of Oxford. Thou hast not forgot his
plea?" *

"Nay, 'twas well worthy to hold its place in every
memory. Courtenay is a man of power, my lord."

"He is indeed, and the Prince loves him well.
Tell me, does he share our banishment?"

"Nay, he was treating with the ambassadors of
Burgundy, and so did not go before the King.
Therefore, his Highness has disregarded him, but
his labors at Oxford keep him from the court."

The soldier's memory was evidently still engaged
upon that former evening at Cold Harbor, for he
presently said, —

"The Prince sang for us then. How often have
I thought of it and longed to hear his voice ring
out again. Occleve was present — thou hast not
forgotten, Michael?"

De la Pole smiled at the recollection. "Ay, and
he read a poem to us in Henry's honor. And the
Prince, reading the manuscript only once, brought
his harp and sang the poem through without mis

I w

156 Every Inch a King

take. That was a happy evening, Thomas, by my
faith."

The Earl of Arundel, for he it was, but lately
returned to England, sighed a little as he answered :
"How great are the changes since that merry
time. Then the Prince's court was larger than his
father's and men desired only to do him honor.
And now, we two alone are left to share his exile.
The hall where we have supped to-night was
crowded then, and no man's place among us was
assured unless he was invited to Cold Harbor.
The music, and the plays which Harry loved— oh,
dost remember when we three did act, and how the
chamber rang with cheers and bravos? Upon
mine honor, those were days of mirth. I would
that we might live them o'er again !"
De la Pole laughed softly.

"Dost thou remember, Arundel, our last hunt
together? Thou hadst thy roan that thou didst love
well, and I my black mare, who has borne me
bravely, and when at last we overtook the deer, lo,
there was Harry Monmouth upon foot, easily keep-
ing pace with our steeds, and finally with his own
hand throwing the cord that brought the deer to the
ground. I never thought that a man could be so
fleet of foot as he."

"Ay, he h?.i run thus many times. There're
certain of the court that look with suspicion upon his
feats. They claim that there is -tchery behind
them."

Every Inch a King 157

"They are but simple fools," the knight answered
scornfully, "all men can so develop their bodies if
they but choose."

"Few men have bodies knit so perfectly to be
developed."

"True, in that the Prince hath 'vantage over all,
but had he not made the best use of it, in careful
training and much exercise, he would have been
no better than ourselves. Dost thou recall the
tournament at Windsor, and how men wondered
when they marked his strength? It was the day
that Scrope did fence against him. By St. George,
but I've never seen a sight which gave me greater
pleasure! The baron was so proud, so confident
in his strength and skill, so eager to fight any one
of us, and in the twinkling of an eye, the Prince
disarmed him and held him at his mercy. Scrope
gasped, glared at him, turned and walked away, and
will not even let us speak of it."

The knight chuckled at the thought, and then
frowned and made an exclamation beneath his
breath.

The earl looked at him quickly. "Of what art
thinking now?"
"Of Baron Scrope. Is he a friend of thine?"
Arundel laughed. "Nay, I have all the friends
I wish without him. I never liked him; he is too
grave and learned, too dutiful and too religious for
me. I cannot tell thee why it should be so, but
I misdoubt he is not all he seems."

158 Every Inch a King

"Excellent, my lord," cried De la Pole, "I echo
thy very words. Lord Scrope and I are ever at
sword s point, and yet he'll not consent to fight
with me Zounds! I do believe him a coward or
a traitor! What didst thou think. Arundel, of his
remammg a member of the council?"

.u "^*^^"&,^t »^ »*>-an8rc. yet he did not accompany
thee before the King." *^^

mZTj^'! he's known as Harry Monmouth's
A^l lu "k ""^^ '^' ^'"^ ^»^°"^<^ h°«°r him?
h^rd k?" ^* """' °^ ""^ ''°"''" '^""'''' "*'^

Q/i"" TV^''''^ ^'' ^*^*^- "^°*t '"ca" the Lady
Stafford, Michael? I did never meet her "

"Ay, she it was. V faith, I understand but little
of the matter^ One day, so says my wife (for I was
aosen ), the Countess of Westmoreland announced
that Lady Anne would wed the baron. Next
mornmg my cousin comes before the Queen and
says that she has changed her mind about the
mamage and will that day send her refusal to the
baron. At night, Scrope rides back from a hunt
at the side of Lady Joan Holland and tells the
Queen she ,s to be his bride. And when her Grace
asked him about Anne Stafford, he swore that he
had never sought to win her."

n,el"J" w '°'?''^ ^"''"'^- "^^hat dost thou
mean? Was there no more of it?"

"There were some lying tales about the Prince

Every Inch a King 159

and my fair cousin— Bess would tell me naught, for
she declared that they were utter falsehoods."
"Lady Elizabeth has most excellent judgment."
"r faith I'll tell my lady what thou sayest; 'twill
please her well. The stories I have heard have no
foundation, and I could swear that every one is
false, yet I confess, Anne Staflford left the court
her innocence unproven."

"And dost thou think Lord Scrope has wroneed
her?" *

"Ay, I do believe it, yet I know not how. And
he is wedded, while Lady Stafford is placed in a
nunnery. The King himself dismissed her from the
court."

"What said the Prince?"

"He knoweth where she is, but not the reason.
His name was slandered, and his father bade us
be silent. 'Tis true he was much with her, yet
methinks they neither of them even thought of
love."

A moment's silence, then Arundel spoke. "I
would that we could solve the mystery. I love our
Prince, as thou dost, and I know that he is far more
virtuous than other men. And surely thy cousin
Anne hath been wronged."

"Ay," answered Michael, "and I would give half
my lands to prove her innocent, and yet I see no
way."

"If the Prince knew all?"

i6o

Every Inch a King

'•Well, dost thou care to tell it him. Arundel?"
No, on my word," cried the earl, laughing, "he

M ^"Tif "'. '^"^ ''""'y ''•°'" "^y »p»- B"t thou.

Michael? The lady is thy cousin."

nnif « ♦ri'^ '^* "^^^ *"'"*= °"'y «»t«'' I would

not tell the Pnnce to save her life."
"Peace, then, or thou hast done it, for he comes."
Harry entered hastily and closing the door be-
hind him. came quickly forward with excitement
m his face.

"Your pardons, that I've left you for so long I
sought a craft that we might spend an hour upon
the water, but there has come a letter that changes
all. What say ye. lords, wilt help me in a venture^
Ye are both knights and bound to give your aid
unto all damsels in distress. Ye are my only friends
and I have sore need of ye."

"And thou mayst ask the hardest service of me
and I will give it willingly." cried Arundel; and
Michael added. —

"My strength, my sword, my life, are in thy
keeping— use them as thou wilt."

The Prince flushed happily. It greatly pleased
him to have them trust him thus. "Nay, my dear
lords, methinks that we shall have no need of blows •
now hearken to my purpose." And opening a letter
from the Countess of Westmoreland, Harry read
as follows :

'I promised thee, good cousin, all help in my

Every Inch a King i6i

power to keep a certain lady from being forced to
sacrifice her life to Mother Church. My lord, the
earl, has this day received a letter from his daughter
Elizabeth, a nun in the Minories, saying that on
the morrow the Lady Anne Staflford will take the
veil. His daughter adds.—'She yielded with reluc-
tance, urged to it by her mother, the former
countess, who, after a final visit to the convent, has
now returned to her distant castle.' I cannot
interfere, my lord, thou raayst do what seemeth
best to thee."

The faces of the two young men who listened to
this epistle were a study. When Harry ceased his
reading. Sir Michael turned his eyes away and
asked: "VVonldst thou prevent her from becom-
ing a nun.? "

**I would," the Prince cried eagerly.

Then said De la Pole, in a cold voice: "What
is thy reason for this step, my lord?"

The Prince glanced at him, astonished by his ♦on;.
but answered promptly: "Will ye both pledc/ .au>
honor to keep the matter secret ?"

They gave a hasty assent, and Harry com ■.--cd
very quietly:

"My well beloved friend, the Earl of March, de-
sires Lady Stafford for his wife. I've wooed her
for him, and obtained her promise that she will
wed no man until the earl can gain his freedom and
offer her his love. My father's banishment of me
from his favor h?.s kept me from obtaining Ed-

l62

Every Inch a King

the Lady Anne can know Lord Mortimer and either
accept h,m or refuse him, as she will, I am resolved
She shall not become a nun."

As he finished speaking De la Pole sprang for-
ward and seized and kissed his hand. cryringV-"!
^nk thee, noble Prince, for thy goodness toward
my cousm. Tell us thy plans, and let us haste
away, for it were cruel if we came too late."

CHAPTER X\!II.

"Alas f to-day I would give everything
To see a friend's face, or hear a voice
That had the slightest tone of comfort in it"

Longfellow.

Those were weary months which Lady Anne
Staflford had spent in the Minories, that famous and
influential convent belonging to the Franciscan
Order of St. Clare, which was situated just outside
the walls of London, near Aldgate. It was in
November when her mother, receiving Lady West-
moreland's message, left her distant castle and came
hurriedly to London. The proud, high-spirited
woman was furious at the treatment her daughter
had received, and no less angry with Anne herself.
Lady Westmoreland had gone immediately to her
mansion in London, taking Anne with her, and
thither the countess came. The blood of her father,
the royal Duke of Gloucester, and her mother!
Eleanor Bohun, coheir of the proud Earl of Here-
ford, was throbbing in her veins, and she had scarce
patience to listen to her hostess's story. She re-
peated with the utmost haughtiness the statement
that Baron Scrope had asked her daughter's hand
some months before, but she was deaf to Lady
Westmoreland's suggestion that she should appear
at court in defence of Anne.

164 Every Inch a King

"Never I I know the Queen too well for that.
Dost think that I desire a rebuke? Oh, Scrope doth
know that he is safe from vengeance. Her father
is dead, Humphrey has seen but ten short years.
We have neither kith nor kin nearer than thy hus-
band and his sons, or Michael of Suffolk. There
is no person to defend this maiden, so Scrope may
speak his lies without restraint."

"Thou knowest," answered Joan Beaufort,
soothingly, "that Richard, .ny eldest son, is but
twelve years of age, while my lord's sons by Lord
Stafford's sister, John and Ralph of Oversley, are
married and busied with their wives and households.
'Tis thy misfortune, lady, not our fault, that Anne's
fair name cannot be cleared by the sword."

"Her fair name, forsooth ! Scrope's death could
never clear it. Ay, mistress, thou mayst blush with
shame! Didst then consider ,? few smiles from the
Prince a worthy fate for one whose blood was noble
as thine own?"

Anne raised her head with gentle dignity. "Dost
thou doubt me, mother, — thine only daughter?"

"For what reason didst linger with the Prince?
Come, answer. 'Tis rumored that thou didst in-
form the Queen that Prince Harry had a purpose in
thus seeking thee. If thou canst clear thyself, I
prithee, do it. '

Anne had turned very pale, but she answered
firmly: "I cannot tell thee, mother, of the reason
until the Prince permits. He has my promise that

Every Inch a King 165

I will keep the matter a close secret, and thou know-
est, madam, a Stafford never breaks a pledge once
given."

The countess flushed and was for an instant
silenced, for, since she had promptly consoled
herself for the earl's death by marrying William
Bourchier, she had forfeited the right to the proud
name of Stafford, although she chose to retain her
title and live upon her great estates until her son
should come of age.

Lady Westmoreland, who, although she bad not
yet seen the Prince, was convinced that Anne was
greatly wronged, seized the opportunity to begin
a vigorous defence of the maiden, but the mother
interrupted angrily,— "What right hadst thou to
give thy word unto the Prince? Fie on thee—
these excuses serve for nothing! Dost think that
I can soon forget what thou hast done? Refused
a marriage with a nobleman in favor at the court
and of high rank, a union of whkh thou mightst
well be proud, and by thy refusal bring on thyself
the charge of evil relations with our Prince. " By
Heaven, I had supposed that he of all men at the
court was most virtuous!"

"And so he is, madam," cried his loving aunt.
•'Whatever Harry's purpose was, be sure that 'twas
all nobleness and honor."

"Mayhap thou art right," answered the lady,
mollified. "It may be that I have misjudged them
both; Sut, Anne, thy conduct is not less blamable,

1 66 Every Inch a King

for even if thou art wholly innocent, the court
doth think thee guilty, and thou hast dragged
thy father's name into the dust. Thou shalt have
no further opportunity to bring upon thee such
suspicions. Thou shalt be placed within the
Minories."

With dismay upon her face, Anne made a vigor-
ous protest and Lady Joan added her plea, but the
countess was inexorable.

"Nay, thou shalt go, and there the matter ends.
But as thou bearest thyself within the convent, I
will determine thy plan of future life."

At first, therefore, Anne was far from hopeless
over her situation. She submitted quietly to the
new life, trusting that her mother would relent, and
feeling confident that the Prince would not allow
her to be made a nun,— she, indeed, looked almost
daily for rescue. As time went on, however, and
she received neither message nor visit, her heart
sank within her. Then came the news, discussed
even within the cloister walls, that Harry had left
both council and court and abandoned himself to
pleasure. Anne was not slow to perceive that this
meant the delay and probably the failure of what-
ever plans he had made for her. While he was
living such a life how could he persuade the stern
King to grant Lord March's release? And this, she
understood, was the first step that must be taken
before her own freedom could be accomplished.
At first, she blamed the Prince for not breaking his

Every Inch a King 167

trust and setting the earl free, but she soon realized
that the King would only set about his recapture
and confine him more strictly than before, and her
marriage would be more hopeless than ever.

It was at this period of her discouragement that
her mother came to the convent, not indeed to
restore her freedom, but to urge upon her the
wisdom of taking the veil. The countess's anger
had long since died away, and she made it plain that
she entirely trusted her daughter. "But remember,"
she said quietly, "my single word cannot prove
thme mnocence unto the court. There it is still
supposed thou hast done wrong, and even were the
Queen to receive thee again, how, thinkest thou,
would other ladies treat thee?"

Anne sighed. She knew only too well the jeal-
ousies and suspicions of the court. "Nay, madam "
she answered, "I have no desire to lead again that
restless, unnatural life. Prithee, take me back once
more to Stafford Castle and let me live there quietly
and in peace."

The countess looked amazed. "Why, who would
seek thee there to marry thee? By my troth, fair
daughter, thy future looketh black. While at the
court. Lord Scrope asked for thy hand, and thou
didst deny him. It was unwise in thee, ay, most
imprudent. Even had not the Queen sought to
sully thy fair name, it were unlikely another noble
gentleman would seek thy hand when there was
chance of such rebuke. And now that thou art

Ill

t.W.

1 68 Every Inch a King

looked upon askance, what lord would dream of
asking thee in marriage?"

Anne's heart sank lower and lower. For an in-
stant she meditated breaking her promise and
telling Lady Stafford of Lord March— surely the
Prince would pardon this betrayal. Then, like a
sword-thrust in her heart, came a doubt of Morti-
mer's love. "Did he know all, would he not scorn
to think of me? How can I ever hope for marriage
with him— I who have been sent disgraced from
court?"

Her mother watched the crimson rise and fade
in her cheeks, the quiver of her lips and the bright
tears which sparkled in her clear eyes;, and putting
out her arms, drew her into a motherly embrace.

"Sweetheart, thou needst not weep. 'Tis not
thy fault that the Prince was unwise in his gracious
favors, but I do blame his Highness very greatly.
He must have known — "

"Thou shalt not blame him, mother," cried the
maiden hastily, and raising her head from the coun-
tess's breast,— "Prince Henry is the very soul of
honor, and no man equals him in loving friendship.
When he did learn his friend the E — " she checked
herself hastily, and hid her face.

"Nay, daughter, tell me what is in thy heart."

But Anne only shook her head and clung to her
mother desperately. "I cannot tell thee, oh, believe
me, madam; but some day thou shalt know the
beautiful truth. Oh, I did hope so much, and now.

Every Inch a King 169

even he— it .wiU be months ere-the Prince's amaz-
ing conduct—" and the maiden broke into such a
passion of weeping that the countess was dismayed.

"Nay, my sweet, I prithee cease these tears.
Look up-the sun is breaking from behind the
clouds. Methinks that 'tis an omen for thy life.
Thy darkest hour has surely passed away. Nay,
daughter, kiss me and be at peace once more."

With a long, shuddering sob, Anne raised her
head, pushed back the radiant luxury of her hair,
and put up her rosy mouth for the promised kiss;'
but her eyes were yet dim with tears.

"Oh, madam, thou art right— I cannot wed, and
It is therefore the part of wisdom that I become
a nun."

But the countess answered soothingly,--"Nay,
we will speak no more of this at present. Let thy
thoughts dwell upon a happier theme, and when
I've gone thou shalt consider it again."

But Anne could not put it from her mind. At
length the countess, seeing how the thing was
haunting her, slowly began to dwell on it once
more, describing all the virtues and good works
practised by the nuns of St. Clare, placing before
her every benefit, and drawing a dazzling picture
of a future when she should be the abbess of a
wealthy convent with rank and power exceeding
that enjoyed by many a maiden lingering at the
court. Then did she pause, and wisely said fare-
well.

170 Every Inch a King

During the week that passed ere her next visit,
Anne spent her time in prayer and meditation. Her
mind would dwell on all that she had lost and linger
on the virtues of that noble earl who had sought
her love. Then she would dream of that gallant
friend, that brave and honorable lord, Henry Mon-
mouth; and then, with downcast eyes and reddened
cheeks would come the remembrance of those
wretched days and all that she had suffered, and
anger against the Queen, and confused wonder at
Scrope's conduct, would overwhelm her until she
sank upon her knees and wept. Anon, becoming
peaceful, soothed by her very tears, she bent her
mind upon a quiet future within the sacred cloisters
of the Minories.

So passed the days, in tumult and distress, yet
always leading to the same conclusion: "The
Prince forgets that I am still alive, and there's no
assistance he can give to me. Belike Lord March
has heard these evil falsehoods, and so has closed
his heart to me forever. Tis plain that I can never
hope for marriage, so I must wed with holy
Mother Church."

When the countess made her second visit, Anne
was calm and full of resolution. "It shall be as thou
desirest, madam. I have considered all thou saidst,
mother, and am convinced that thou hast spoken
wisdom. Prithee, say unto the abbess that I'm
resolved to take the veil at once."
When Lady Stafford left the convent walls to

Every Inch a King 1 7 1

ride iway to her northern castle, she bade her
daughter a fond farewell, commended her for her
nobleness, and added: "When I am next in Lon-
don, I will come and hold some converse with thee
Do thy duty and give thy heart to God. Ere many
years, methmks thou wilt have risen to high place."

She ceased, and kissed her, well assured thit
Anne would live in peace a nun. and die an abbess.

Could she have looked into the future and wit-
nessed their next meeting, she would have been
lost m wonder and amazement. Though we have
formed our plans most carefully, one breath of fate
may overturn them all.

CHAPTER XIX.

"One touch to her hand, and one word in her car.
When they reached the hall door and the charger stood near •
So hght to the croupe the fair lady he .wung. '

So light to the saddle before her he .prunf I

•TWllT' r •"'■ ««"V^*' ^«^' bush, and «umr;

They 11 have fleet Siceds that follow,' quoth young Lochinvar."

Scott.

The eventful day was come at last— the day for
which every inmate of the convent had waited with
the utmost eagerness. Even in such a great and
wealthy mstitution as the Minones. the admission
of a new sister into the holy bond was an event of
the utmost importance. The nuns vere ignorant
of Anne s story, but they had heard rumors that
she had been a great lady of the court, and that
some mighty lord had loved her well; but whether
this noble lord had died, or she refused him, they
could only guess. Her constant tears, however
made the former explanation of her presence seem
more likely. Her cousin, the Lady Elizabeth
Neville, who on account of her high rank received
many privileges denied to the humbler sisters
became at once her friend and confidante, although
even she knew not of the reason for Anne's reluc-
tance to take the vows of the Order of St Clare
Soon, however, all hesitation had ended; the abbess

Every Inch a King 173

had joyfully accepted her decision— she hoped the
convent would be enriched by a fair proportion of
Lady Stafford's wealth— and now in the beautiful
chapel the final ceremony was to take place which
would decide forever the future life of the high-
bom maiden.

Since every lady was obliged to choose between
marriage and the Church, both careers offering an
almost equal opportunity for exalted position and
great influence, love alone making the difference,
the convent was the resort of every maiden who,
for lack of beauty, rank, or opportunity, judged it
impossible that she could marry to advantage. But
that Lady Anne Stafford, whose sweet loveliness
many might have envied, whose pro; A birth and
noble heritage were known to all, and who, more-
over, had lately been at court, — that she should
have despaired of marriage seemed impossible; and
her entrance into the religious life could only be
explained upon the supposition that she had loved
and lost, and therefore would not wed.

If the nuns had been greatly interested in Anne
during her short no/itiate, they were still more so
on this, the day when she was finally to take the
veil. Realizing fully how irrevocable were the
vows she was about to assume, it is little wonder
that during the long night watches Anne had not
closed her eyes. She had spent many of the weary
hours in prayer, but to her great dismay she found
herself, even on her knees, longing for some escape

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174 Every Inch a King

from her doom. She had supposed her mind to
be entirely calm. She had made her decision after
much thought and prayer; she had bidden her
mother farewell with tearless eyes, and had quietly
taken her place among the sisters. As time ad-
vanced she had grown really eager for the final
ceremonies which would bestow upon her the right
to share their beautiful life, and as she witnessed,
day by day, the charities for which the Gray Nuns
are so noted, her heart was filled with pleasure at
the thought that she could soon take part in them.
But now, when the last act was at hand which
would bestow upon her all that she desired, her
courage suddenly failed her; the virtues and advan-
tages of the life were forgotten, and her heart cried
longingly for love, love, love ! "What care I for
Church or charity? What even for a convent of
mine own? I'd rather be an humble wife, even
living in a prison chamber, and have the love Lord
Mortimer could give me, than be the abbess of
the noblest convent within the limits of our Eng-
land. O God! why didst thou give me hope but
to torment me with this buried life? Were I not
a woman and so helpless, I'd break my bonds
asunder and flee from here. But Heaven help me,
there is no haven in London— I must submit to
this unhappy fate P'

Little wonder, then, that Anne's face was pale
and her eyes red from weeping when the morning
dawned. She attended early matins, and then shut

l'(

Every Inch a King 175

herself in her cell and refused to partake of the
food which was sent her. Thus the long day wore
away, until the fatal hour finally arrived and the
chapel bells called on all to -.ssemble for the solemn
service. Two by two the nuns came, in long proces-
sion, dressed in their gray gowns, with veils falling
from their heads to their shoulders and leaving the
sweet faces but half visible. Their hands were
clasped before them, and their heads bowed, as they
glided forward silently to kneel in rows upon
the cold stone floor. They were followed by several
attendant sisters of higher order, and finally the
aDbess herself, who took her place at their head.
The venerable, white-haired bishop, attended by
two priests, came slowly forth and stood before
the altar, while the nuns rose to their feet and
broke into a Latin chant which lasted for several
minutes. As they ended, the doors at the end of
the chapel were again thrown open, and the novice
entered and came forward, supported on each side
by an attendant nun, Elizabeth Neville being upon
the right.

The Lady Stafford was dressed in robes of white
with a white veil of fine silk draped about her
shoulders and concealing her long and beautiful
hair. As she moved between the lines of nuns with
stately grace, her pure white face was calm, her
eyes clear and seeming intensely black in contrast
with her pale cheeks, her mouth was firmly closed,
her clasped hands did not tremble, and her step

¥m

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176 Every Inch a King

betrayed neither faltering nor hesitation. To look
at her, no one would have dreamed of the agony
she had suffered in the night. As she approached
the altar and knelt, the nuns sank upon their knees
and chanted prayers of supplication for her who
was so soon to be one of them.

Then the bishop turned and looked down upon
the novice expectantly, and Anne, summoning all
her strength to keep her voice firm and quiet, raised
her head and distinctly repeated the formula in
which maidens request admittance into the Fran-
ciscan Order. The bishop gazed upon her beautiful
face with admiration and some wonder.

"Is it thy true desire to enter this sacred life and
devote thyself to the service of God and man?" he
asked, in his quavering voice.

"It is, reverend father," she answered bravely,
but with lowered eyes.

"Dost thou swear that there is no reason why
thou shouldst not be received?"

"I do so swear," breathed the voice faintly.

The bishop was not entirely convinced, yet the
wealth and station of the lady caused him to put
aside his scruples.

"Holy Mother in God," he said, addressing the
abbess, "wilt thou receive this maiden into thy fold,
and keep and guard her faithfully?"

Upon his words there sounded a crash as it
might have been of ' Aer, or of metal ringing
upon metal, but every eye was fixed upon the

Every Inch ? 'ing

177

group before the altar, ano very ear listened
eagerly for the abbess's snawer.

"I will receive her," she said, "and with my might
will I guard and protect her from all harm or dis-
hono*"."

Again sounded the crash, followed by a confused
uproar, in a distant part of the cloister, but the
nuns were too intent upon the scene before them
to give heed. The bishop gazed upon the kneeling
maiden.

"Rise, daughter," he commanded, "thou shalt be
received. Withdraw and put upon thee the habit
of the Order of St. Clare; then come before me to
make thy solemn and perpetual vow to live a life
of poverty, chastity and obedience."

Anne rose to her feet, but even as Elizabeth and
her companion came forward to lead her away, the
doors of the chapel were thrown violently open, a
loud voice cried,— "Hold, in the name of the
King!" and six men, three of them muffled in great
riding cloaks, so that even their faces were hidden,
and three in the uniform of the King's guards,'
advanced into the chapel. The frightened nuns
ran screaming to either side, huddling together as
if for mutual protection, some sobbing and one or
two fainting with terror. Anne shrank back
against the wall and the bishop and his priests
stood amazed and dumb. The abbess alone kept
her self-possession. "Peace, ye fools," she
cried to the nuns, then sternly addressing the

178 Every Inch a King

men who rapidly advanced,— "What means this
intrusion, sirrahs, into the holy precincts of the
Church?"

The three foremost men came forward, the men-
at-arms remaining near the entrance. Receiving
no answer, the abbess again cried out to them to
leave the chapel. "Have ye no respect for God?
This ground is sacred — even the King's men have
no right upon it !"

Without answering, the three continued to ad-
vance until they had reached the altar. Then one
of them quickly st-^pped to where Anne Staflford
stood, trembling i terrified, and whispered in
her ear, — "Fear not, fair lady, wilt thou go with

She started at the voice, and uttered a glad cry
of assent. Quick as lightning he pulled oflF his
rich cloak, revealing himself as a knight dressed in
full armor with his visor down. Wrapping the
cloak about the maiden, he seized her in his arms
and started toward the door. The abbess sprang
forward to prevent him, crying, — "Forward, maid-
ens, close the doors and bar their progress !" But
instantly from out the two cloaked figures standing
near flashed two glistening swords, and as the men
rapidly faced the abbess, one cried, — "Whosoever
bars our way must sacrifice his life."

The leader, with Anne in his arms, ran swiftly
forward as if he carried but a feather; the other two
followed him, gazing backward that none might

Every Inch a King 179

approach, and in an instant all six men had left the
chapel.

"Run, maidens," cried the abbess's voice, "bid
them bar the outer doors !" But not a nun stirred
ne cowards, will ye not obey me?" she cried, and
swiftly went herself,— but it was too late. Other
men had guarded the retreat, the attendants were
shnekmg and wringing iheir hands in fright, and
the doors stood wide. The abbess sprang to the
entrance hoping to call some passer-by to her aid
but two soldiers guarding the doorway forced her
within, and pulled to the heavy portal. Opening
the sliding panel of the door she tried to call for
help, but saw only her assailants, and ere she could
determine on any action the Lady Anne had been
placed in a horse litter, the men had sprung to
their saddles, and in a moment the entire party of
a score of men had ridden away. The abbess
watched them, breathless, and in amazement saw
them nde to the near-by drawbridge, which was
promptly lowered, pass through the Aldgate. and
enter the city walls. With the utmost rapidity
possible she secured a messenger and sent him into
the city, but it was an hour before the great bell
of bt. Paul's rang out into the evening air to call
together the townfolk to the sheriff's aid Thev
assembled at Cheapside by the score, men of all
ages and classes, mostly armed with an anlace, or
Irish knife, although some had pikes, and a few
swords. '

1 80 Every Inch a King

The sheriff himself addressed them, telling them
that a noble lady had been carried off by force
from the convent of the Minories, and had entered
the city. Had any seen a party of horsemen bear-
ing a lady's litter? Two or three had seen such
a party, but they differed widely in description —
a lady travelling thus, surrounded by her guards,
was no uncommon spectacle. The sheriff then
commanded them to patrol the town from end to
end and seek to rescue the lady. The men dis-
persed, but when the morning dawned no one had
found the Lady Anne Stafford.

Meantime, a messenger was spurring north to
bring to the lady's mother a message from the
abbess, telling her that her daughter had been
stolen from the convent. The frantic countess
prepared for an immediate return to London, but
ere she could set out another messenger arrived
and delivered her the letter following:

"Madam, you have already learned, methinks,
your daughter is taken f~ >r.i the Minories. It was
against the law of n ' > d of man that she

should be made a nut. need have no fear for

her, she is in the safe a. noble lady, there to

remain in peace and secrecy until such time as she
can wed a lord who will be worthy of her father's
daughter. Seek not to find her, for you cannot
do't ; but rest in peace, for she is safe and well.

"This from the hand of Michael de la Pole, son
to mv Lord of Suffolk."

CHAPTER XX.

"I loved you ere I knew you ; know you now,
And, having known you, love you better still."

OWIM M«EDITH.

"Fear not!" Those words sounding in Anne's
cars, brought sudden and entire rest to her troubled
heart. He had come then, at last, her deliverer, her
friend! One instant more, and she had made her
vows and it had been too late; but as always, Henry
of Monmouth had come in time— he never failed, he
never waited until the opportunity was past, but
seized it at the moment. These were the comforting
thoughts that filled Lady Stafford's mind, as the
Prmce bore her down the chapel, between the rows
of trembling nuns, and on through rhe convent it-
self, to the open air. The confusion of the scene, the
stern commands of the abbess and the terror of the
women— none of these things impressed hei, for her
heart was throbbing with relief and joy and grati-
tude. It was the cool wind blowing upon her face
that brought her to a sudden realization of her posi-
tion, and she glanced swiftly around her. Al the
entrance stood a party of men, possibly a dozen in
number, each with his horse's bridle thrown over his
arm. They were guardsmen save for one who was
muffled in a riding cloak like the Prince's two com-
panions.

182 Every Inch a King

To her great relief, for she had no strength for a
journey on horseback, Anne saw also a handsome
litter, covered with a round vault with openings at
the side, and with a fine horse fastened to the shafts
at each end. The Prince hurriedly placed her within
he litter, where she found robes and cloaks for her
comfort, and then the men mounted th ir horses.
The other members of the party now hastily came
forth from the convent and sprang to their saddles,
and in an instant the little company had started at a
brisk trot with che litter in their midst. They rode
directly to the city wall, and one of the soldiers
summoned a warder and demanded passage in the
King's name. The drawbridge, which had been
raised only a moment before, when the sun sank in
the west, was promptly lowered at the call, the gates
were opened, and they passed into the city. The
warder glanced rather curiously at the litter, and
noting the direction from which they had come,
asked of one of the guard: "Have ye been
robbing yonder nunnery ?" But ere the man could
answer, one of the gentlemen loosed his cloak so
that w torchlight fell upon h armor, and said
haughtily, —

"My cousin has been staying with the abbess for
several days, and we have but gone to bring her to
the cty."

"I crave your pardon, my lord." answered the
man hastily. And then as the rider flung him a
piece of gold, he cried.— "God bless your lordship

Every Inch a King 183

and the young lady. I will never forget your lord-
ship's kindness."

That may have been one reason why when an
unusually alert citizen sought two hours later to
learn froni the authorities at Aldgatc of the route
taken by those who had stolen Anne from the con-
vent, the warder told him shortly that the company
to which he alluded had not passed through his
gate.

Once within the city the little party traversed the
less frequented streets, bearing steadily towar-* the
west, where Ludgate led to the open country, and the
Prince now rode up to the side of the litter.

"Thou art not frightened, lady?"

•'Nay, my lord," she answered, smiling out at
him ; "why should I fear when thou art with me ?"

"I thank thee for thy trust," answered Harry,
smiling, "It is a bold deed to snatch thee thus
from the very arms of he Church. Thou dost not
regret this life that thou hast lost ?"

"Never, my lord! I longed for freedom, and thou
givest it me. Whatever thou hast planned for me
is good."

"I desire thy happin ^s, fair maide and I be-
lieve thy future will be happy."

Harry turned and motioned to a comp*fiion, who
promptly drew rein beside h-m. "Thot: * ot for-
got thy cousin Michael, lady ?" asked a oice.

Anne started and leaned out to peer in it- dark-
ness. "Is it trulv thou ?" she cried.

I I

184 Every Inch a King

The knight laughed. "Ay, without doubt ; didst
think that I would countenance so merry a plot and
not join in it? Ah, but my cousin countess will
weep to-night."

"Oh, my mother. I' faith, I had forgot. What
will she think ? Cousin Michael, canst thou not send
her a message?"
"What I To take thee to the nunnerj- again ?"
"Nay, Heaven forbid I I meant not that ; but she
will be sore astonished at the news, and I would fain
spare her anxiety. Moreover, she will never cease
her effort until she's found out my abiding place."

"Michael." spoke the Prince, "the laJ.v s wise. I
prithee send a message to the countess telling her
that her daughter is safe and well, and that 'tis use-
less to seek for her. Sign thine own name, and she
will be content."

Michael, after some further argument, consented.
Tablets were produced; and the knight, without dis-
mounting, wrote the letter and gave it to one of the
guardsmen, who separated from them and started on
his journey.

Meanwhile, the Prince addressed the lady : "Mis-
tress, permit me that I present to thee my dear
friend Thomas, Earl of Arundel." The youi>t'
nobleman rode up, and loosening his cloak he raised
his visor that she might see his face in the dim twi-
light. Anne extended her hand, saying earnestly:
"My lord, I thank thee for thy kindness to a maiden
unknown to thee."

Every Li^ii a King 185

He bent low on his horse and kissed her hand, ex-
claiming w?th the knightly grace v.hich became him
well,— "While Atundel lives, his sword lies at the
service of Lady Anne Si ord "

She flushed and answered • yiy, — "I am much
blessed in having such good frien<!s."

"Thy friends are indeed many, fair mistress,"
smiled Arundel, "and they are powerful, likewise;
*or few at r-^uri would our bold Prince undertake
such a vr u ;."

While ' .y chatted, Ludgate came into view,
and the Prince rode on ahead and hailed the war-
der:

"Ho I Dougale, art within ?"

A tall, powerfully built man appeared in the door-
way, and came promptly forward.

"Dost know my voice, Doupnie?"

"Ay, your Grace, I know it well."

"I am leaving the city with my friends, and
quietly, as thou seest. Open the gates and lower the
drawbridge v/ith speed."

The man obeyed promptly and the little party
passed through. Harry waited until the last, then
turned toward the warder. "I trust to thy discre.
tion, Dougale," he said quietly.

"My lord," answered the man gravely, "neith .r
threats nor torture shall force my tongue t > speak
of this event."

The Prince drew off his gauntlet and extended his
hand. The man kissed it fervently, murmuring, —

i86

Every Inch a King

''God bless thee, noble Harry, and keep thee safe
from harm."

An instant later the drawbridge was in place
once more, and the one clue to their destination
destroyed. For the wise Prince knew that by enter-
ing the city walls, instead of riding around them
they would confuse their pursuers and throw them
off the scent. Even that short mile of streets from
one gate to the other was sufficient for the purpose

Harry rejomed his party with a light heart. Rid-
ing to Lady Anne's side, he presented to her such
food and drink as they had carried with them, and
she partook of it gratefully. "We are, methinks,
safe from immediate pursuit." he told her gravely
"but we must on with haste. For the nijjht we'll
rest at Windsor." ^

She blushed a little under cover of the darkness
and asked him shyly: "Is Lord March at Windsor?''

"Not now," answered the Prince; but ere she had
space to wonder at it, a horseman ranged beside her
and loosened his cloak about him, so that his hand-
some head was bare. She turned, startled, and in
the clear, bright moonlight saw a face that never left
her memory. It was that of a man young in years
and beardless, so that his sweet, firm mouth showed
plainly. The delicacy and exquisite clearness of his
features spoke of many generations of noble blood
His wealth of fine brown hair fell in profusion about
his face and shoulders, and his deep brown eyes
were bent upon her with an eagerness of longing

Every Inch a King 187

that made her tremble. One breathless instant, and
then the Prince's voice sounded in her ears. "Lady
Lord March is here !"

She gave a little cry and leaned quickly toward
her lover. "Thou art free!" she said in tones that
trembled eagerly. "How has this thing come to
pass ?"

"Nay, lady, thou mistakest," he answered sadly.
"My freedom is only of the Prince's goodness for
one day. In a few hours we must reach Windsor
Castle, and then I go back to my prison chamber."

A little sigh escaped her. He rode closer. "Dost
thou pity my cruel lot ? Prithee, give me one word
from those sweet lips of thine."

"Is thy lot so cruel ?" she asked him shyly.

"Ay, 'tis bitter, lady. When I love with all my
heart and soul, how can I live content within four
walls ?"

"But thou art free to-night, my lord !"
"A short two hours! What recompense for all
the gloomy days of silent misery?"

"Methought," she answered archly, "that an in-
stant's happiness were worth an eternity of wretch-
edness."

He started to seize the little hand that was just
visible, then checked himself. "What chance have I
for even one instant's blessed happiness ? The Prince
commands I shall not speak of love. He says that I
have nothing to offer thee, nor can I wed thee while
I am a captive. He takes thee to my sister Eleanor

i88

Every Inch a King

she who .s wfc unto the Lord of Devon, and there
he vows, thou Shalt remain in peace. Bu for myL7f

a frt „,r "'" '" ""'""'■ '"" "» **« '^hen'^n,
■a free man once more and have my rank and title at

he court, I shall have leave to woo thee a, mv
Ie.sure ; but now I must not speak a word of lof. "
bhe turned upon him and asked with haughtiness

And dost thou let the Prince control thy sS
Methought all Englishmen could use .heir'on^« "

"sur^rv th, P •''™"""': '^'''^^'^ =' her Spirit,
surely the Prmce is wise. What right have I to

whisper words of hope and love to thee wh^I ca^

offer thee but this alone ?"
"My lord, a woman's heart asks for naught else "
He seized her little white hand in his fl and

kiss^ „ once and twice, and yet again. She drew

L!T T '■; ^T""^"' ^"^"- "Alas, my lord, is

".Ay, sweetheart, a thousand times would I! Ah
f I might but have thee in my amis and ride with
thee alone across the world I"

a sift tgb.^ ' '"""'' •" ^'"'''" ="' ^-P'-d with
,^ nvovndst thou, fairest maiden? Wouldst thou

•„r^Ml'' T°'' *' """■"• UPO" mine honor

Zi^ " Tf-' ^■°"™''-' ^"' ""- "■"" lids;

reach the end of it wouldst thou bear me off into
unfathomed space?"

Every Inch a King 189

"Ay," he answered softly; "thou wouldst have
wings, my sweet, to soar unto the skies and to our
God. And since I held thee in my arms, thy wings
would help to bear me up to heaven. Wouldst thou
take me with thee, fairest maiden ?"

"Methinks," she answered, but in a tone so low
that his lover's ear could scarcely catch the words,—
"methinks that we might pass some heavenly hours
upon this earth before we go above."

***♦*♦♦

What cruel tricks time plays upon us ! Surely the
sands within the hour-glass had not run out the
first quarter ere the Prince rode up and joined the
lovers.

"Edmund, the towers of Windsor rise before us.
Thou must say farewell and ride with me."

The earl gazed about him in amazement. "Me-
thought we had only now left London. Is it possible
we are at Windsor?"

The Lady Anne leaned forward toward the Prince
and asked pleadingly : "My lord, cannot the earl ride
with me to Exeter? Ah, good my lord, wilt thou
not grant this boon ? Twill only be for a few days
my lord."

The Prince shook his head. He could not trust his
voice. Mortimer rode close to him. "Dear my
lord, give me this blessing. Thou sayest thou art
my friend— wilt thou refuse me this little favor?
What are a few days compared to the long years of
my confinement ?"

if '^

190 Every Inch a King

"Peace, it cannot be."

"Thou art cruel to me !" cried the earl. "Tis not
much I ask of thee, and thou denyest it. I' faith, but
I will go in spite of thee!"

Harry laid a quick hand upon his rein. "Listen,
Edmund; I have neither power nor skill to keep
thme absence secret longer than to-night. The royal
guards would not obey my word did they discover
hou wert not within. Whilst I myself was travel-
ing afar the news would ring through England, and
the Kmg, furious, would send his soldiers for thee
Were we two found together thou wouldst die, and
even I might suffer death for treason. Come we
approach ; bid thy sweetheart good-night."

Sadly but submissively Lord March leaned from
his horse and kissed the lady's hand. "Dear one
farewell. God have thee in his keeping. These
blessed moments are worth eternity."

"Farewell," she answered with a little sob,— "God
grrnt that we may meet again erelong."

They crossed the drawbridge and rode into the
courtyard. The horses were led awav, and while
the Prince and his friends entered the great hall
where instantly all was confusion, caused by the un-
expected visit, Mortimer separated from them and
quietly sought the garden which gave him secret
access to his chamber.

Next morning the travellers assembled at an early
hour, refreshed by their night's rest. Lady Anne
came from the women's apartments, her cheeks

Every Inch a King 191

flushed with excitement and her eyes bright. The
Prince greeted her with formal ceremony and placed
her at his right hand, with Sir Michael at his left.

It was by no means an unusual thing ior the
Prince to appear at Windsor with such guests; and
a glance here or a smile there had sufficed to make
the servants suppose that Michael and Lady Anne
were lately wed. The Prince's delight in romance
was well known, and what more likely than that he
should give his protection to this bridal party?

While horses were being saddled for the journey,
Harry gave his escort to the lady and led her once
more to that beautiful garden in which the roses
were blooming in profusion. She gave a cry of de-
light and plucked a great red one, all wet and
glistening in the early morning. While she yet lin-
gered, a door opened in the wall and she raised her
eyes and gazed into her lover's happy face.
Only a moment could they be together, but when
the Prince came forward to their side, the earl
said, —

"My lord, before we part, pe mit us, in thy pres-
ence, to exchange rings in token of our betrothal."

Harry glanced hesitatingly at the maiden. "Were
it best," he asked, "that thou shouldst give thy hand,
fair lady, without the countess's consent ?"

"My lord," she answered sweetly, "I will never
wed without t- 7 mother's sanction ; yet if she deny
me, I still woi ^vear his ring in token of my prom-
ise to wed Lord March, or else to die a maid."

192 Every Inch a King

"will wed the

"And I, my lord," cried Mortimer,
Lady Anne, or die without a wife."

"God bless ye both," said the Prince tenderly, and
jommg their hands together, he himself made the
exchange of rings. For one brief instant the eari
tooJ his loved one in his arms, and placed upon her
sweet lips the first kiss; then the Prince spo^. and

'^^T^' '"I °^'""*' ''^^ ''^'''^ ^"d went
their different ways.

and
the
!arl
her
ind
ent

CHAPTER XXI.

"You must come home with me and be my guest ;
You will give joy to me, and I will do
All that is in my power to honor you."

Shelley.

Among the many noble qualities of Prince Harry
was his constant thoughtfulness for others, and this
quality jv&s never better illustrated than in the case
of Lady Anne Stafford. When he first learned of
the maiden's departure from the court, he had at
once seen that it might be necessary to take her
suddenly and forcibly from the convent, and he
had promptly made all arrangements for that possi-
bility. The sequel proved his wisdom; for the
failure of the Burgundian marriage and his own
disgrace had made it impossible for him even to
ask for Mortimer's pardon, and but for his fore-
thought, Lady Anne would have been compelled
to take the veil. As it was, however, her present
and fut r". happiness was secure. Troubled by
Anne's predicament, and by Lady Westmoreland's
inability to help her, the Prince's mind had hastily
considered every lady of the court. He had thought
seriously of Anne of Conisborough, as being sister
to Lord March, but many objections occurred
to him. The lady was far from strong, and she
was engrossed by her first-born son and by her

J 94 Every Inch a King

constant attendance at the court, for she seldom
left London. As Harry puzzled over the problem,
a sudden solution occurred to him. and quitting
his aunt s apartments, he had promptly sought the
Countess of Devon. It was some time before he
found her. seated quite alone in a distant hall and
bendmg over an illuminated manuscript of one of
Chaucer's poems,-so engrossed that she did not
near him until he spoke.
"Lady Devon. I have been searching for thee "
She started, and raised her head. She was a small
woman, dressed simply in dark green velvet, and
she wore no jewels. Her face was delicate and
sensitive, but without much beauty. Her eyes were
large and shy, and her manner showed a lack of
ease and assurance which prevented her from dis-
playing those noble and attractive qualities of
sweetness, gentleness and purity which she never-
theless possessed. Eleanor Mortimer had seldom
appeared at court with her husband, the Earl of
Devon, preferring to spend quiet and contented
days in their distant castle of Rougemont at
Exeter, sitting among her maidens, spinning or
playing upon the harp, and freely opening her
heart to those around her.

When the earl's first wife died he was a man of
fifty years, and almost totally blind; yet the young
Lady Eleanor had gladly married him, and with
all her tender heart had devoted herself to her
husband. He was very fond of her, proud of

Every Inch a King ig^

her sweet voice and love of poetry, and boastful
of her many virtues and her skilfu! management
of his scores of servants; but he knew .hat she did
not appear to advantage among other noble ladies
so he rarely asked her to accompany him, when, in
spite of his blindness, he made frequent journeys
to London, and took part with zest in all the
pleasures of the court.

Upon this occasion, however, he had told her
that without an occasional change of scene she
would grow old before her time. He had patted
her cheek and said that he was not content that she
should live in such seclusion— let her don her
richest garments and boldly claim her place among
the highest— and she had reluctantly consented to
accompany him.

The ladies of the court were too self-engrossed
and too eager for admiration to bestow the slightest
attention upon this plain little lady, virtuous and
high-born though she might be. Her only sister,
Anne of Conisborough, greeted her kindly, but
failed really to understand her, so that the Lady of
Devon spent her hours very much alone; and was
therefore, far happier than she had expected to be!
Now, she was enjoyinr one of the Canterbury
Tales and was both astonished and dismayed on
hearing her name spoken and finding the handsome
and gaily dressed Prince standing before her. She
was not ignorant that could the ladies of the court
have heard his words, they would have instantly

196 Every Inch a King

been filled with wonder and envy at h« ■ good for-
tune, nor was she indifferent to the charms of the
gallant lord to whom she had been presented upon
his arrival but a few hours before. Yet the prospect
of a conversation with him filled her with actual
terror, and as she rose hastily she glanced swiftly
about her as if meditating actual flight. But Harry
had no intention of permitting her to escape.
^^ "I have interrupted thy reading," he said gently.
"It is passing strange to see a lady of the court
spending her hours thus."

He had touched upon one of her strongest
principles; and forgetting fright in indignation, she
answered with spirit:

"Does not your Grace deem it more profitable
than to spend the time in idle gossip? '

The Prince flashed ipon her his brilliant smile,
and answered merrily:

"Oh, didst thou think that I was blaming thee?
Nay, Lady Devon, I but envied thee. Tis many
days since I have found an hour for quiet pleasure
with poetry or music. Dost thou not sine, fair
lady?" ^

She looked startled at the question, and answered
shyly,

"Oh, at times, my lord. How didst thou guess?"
Harry laughed and begged her to be seated, ere

he answered :

"Does not the one enjoyment mean the other?

Thou couldst not rightly love all poetry unless

Every Inch a King 197

thou hadst the love for music also. Thy brother
shares thy taste in both these arts."

•'My brother," she cried, sinking upon the stone
bench and scarcely noticing that the Prince placed
himself beside her, so interested was she in his
words. "Dost thou then know Edmund Morti-
mer?"

•*Ay, truly; for the King placed him in my per-
sonal charge full two years since. If thou couldst
see him, thou wouldst love him, lady. He i
exceeding handsome, and learned also, gentle an
possessing every virtue."

"Dost thou know him well?" she asked, aston
ished at his praise.

"Ay, as mine own soul. He is my dearest friend,
and I do love him above all other men. We have
been oft together and I have spent many happy
hours within his prison chamber. It is for his sake,
madam, that I sought thee, for thou canst do us
both a mighty favor."

"Can I? Be assured I'll gladly do it." Ev«" y
trace of embarrassment had left her now, an^ ler
face was lighted with an eager, happy smile. i hat
seemed to transform her whole appearance. There
was color in her formerly pale cheeks, and a light
in her eyes, as she added quickly : "I have not seen
my brother for many years, but it would give me
the greatest joy to serve him. Prithee tell me what
'tis thou desirest, and I will grant it, even to half
my wealth I"

198 Every Inch a King

He smiled his pleasure, • .id then answered sim-
ply,— "1*11 tell thee the enti.e story, madam, if thou
wilt promise to keep it a close secret."

She promised eagerly, and he gave her a brief
account of Mortimer's love story, and the reason,
as he supposed, why Lady Anne had left the court.
Eleanor had arrived after her departure, but she
had heard the event discussed, and was delighted
at the explanation. The Prnice continued,—

"It is my hope that on the occasion of my coming
marriage, my father will give Lord March his
freedom; but since, by some mischance, there may
be delay, and as I fear the Countess of Stafford
might insist that Anne become a nun, I desire some
method of placing her in safety. If circumstances
force me tr this act, wilt thou consent to guard
her '.r thy brother?"

"Thou meanest thou wouldst take her from ♦he
convent?"

"Ay, if no other plan be possible, and I must find
a safe abiding place where she may rest until the
earl is free."

"Oh," she cried, "I will receive her gladly ! I
know that my Lord Edward will consent, and
I will guard her for my brother's sake."

Without betraying the secret, she secured her
husband's permission, and the Prince was greatly
delighted at his success. Throughout the long
winter, therefore, the Lady Devon waited for some

►he

Every Inch a K.ng 199

word, her eagerness to sec the maiden increasing
day by day. As the months passed by, however,
she had ceased to expect her, and therefore when
a horseman rode into Exeter and delivered a letter
—"From my lord, the Prince."— her cheeks grew
cnmson. her eyes sparkled and her hand trembled
violently as she read the missive.

"For the Udy Eleanor. Wife to My Lord Cour-
tcnay of Devon, these :

"Thou hast not forgotten thy promise, I am as-
?* ^ o*^°ir^ ^° ^'^'"^ protection for the Lady
Anne of Stafford, who travelleth under my escort.
We follow closely upon the messenger, and pray
that thou wilt grant to us a welcome. I commend
me to your ladyship most humbly.

' "Henry P."

The Earl of Devon, learning of the arrival
quickly sought his wife. "How now. my lady'
How comes it that the Prince sends messages to
tltcef Read me the letter."

She obeyed, adding anxiously: "Thou gavest
me permission to receive the maid while we were at
the court. Thou dost remember?"

My lord frowned a little and knit his brows, as
lie listened, then asked in some surprise: "Whv
should the Lady Anne Stafford journey hither?
And for what reason dost thou receive her, madam ?"

She answered quickly,— "Lord March, my

200 Every Inch a King

brother, loves her, and the Prince requests that we
will harbor her until Edmund is free to woo and
wed. I asked thy leave, my lord,—"

Courtenay interrupted, "Nay, I am quite con-
tent that she shall come, if thou wilt find pleasure
in her company. I have heard naught about thy

brother's love." ,

" 'Twas a close secret, my lord, I prithee speak

not of it."

He promised, and asked to hear the note
again, then went to his own chamber, where he
forgot it in preparing for a hunt. A dozen maidens
might take up their abode under his roof, and
it would cause him scarce a thought.

But my Lady of Devon was of different mettle.
To her this arrival of a strange lady was an event
in her quiet life. She ordered an apartment made
ready adjoining her own chamber; she carefully
selected from her maidens several to attend upon
her guest; and she made every arrangement that
occurred to her active mind, lest aught should be
lacking for Anne's comfort. Then she prepared
chambers for the Prince and his party, commanded
the servants to be in readiness to give him a royal
welcome, and ordered pigs to be roasted, fowls to
be dressed, and quantities of rich viands and pastry
to be cooked, while the most delicious wines were
secured to accompany the food. It was only when
the great, gloomy castle, built by William the
Conqueror himself, had fairly been transformed

SiT

;

Every Inch a King 201

into a place of revelry and merry-making, that
Lady Eleanor had leisure to indulge in curious and
anxious thoughts. Would the Lady Anne find
pleasure in her welcome, or would she despise the
efforts of her hostess ? Would she be content with
a quiet, country life, or would she miss the gaieties
of the court and be restless and dissatisfied ? Above
all, would she be gentle and sweet and simple, — a
companion and a friend to her future sister, — or
would she, as was far more likely, be cold and
haughty, proud and selfish, and dressed in jewels
and the richest gowns? '^Oh," the little lady
mused, "how then could we live together peacefully ?
For, by my faith, methinks that I would hate her !"
These doubts had reached their height, when the
sound of hoofs, the lowering of the drawbridge, and
the hearty cheers of the servants proclaimed the
arrival of the expected guests.

The earl, dressed in a rich crimson suit, and
wearing many jewels, with his countess robed in
a simple and yet rich gown of black velvet, her long
train edged with ermine, immediately proceeded to
the great hall, where, surrounded by their esquires
and ladies, all gorgeously attired, they awaited the
approach of their guests, who had gone to their
chambers to don more suitable apparel. Presently
the doors were opened and the Prince, who had dis-
carded his armor for an exquisite suit of cream-
colored satin, attended by Arundel in green silk,
and by De la Pole in deep purple velvet, came slowly

202 Every Inch a King

forward with Lady Stafford on his arm. So hasty
had been her flight and so hurried her journey, that
she was obliged to appear in the same white robes
in which she had expected to take the veil. But
nothing else could so well have served to display
her beauty ; for moving forward with quiet dignity,
her head held erect, her rich golden hair falling like
a mist around her shoulders, and mingling with
the graceful folds of her gown, she was as charming
a picture of girlish loveliness as the old hall of
Rougemont had ever held. Lady Eleanor's heart
went out to her ar once; and while her husband
formally greeted the noblemen, she held out both
hands to Anne, drew her near and kissed her on
each cheek.

"Maiden," she said gently, "thou art welcome
to Rougemont, and that thou mayst spend many
and happy hours here, is my earnest wish."

"I thank thee, Lady Devon," answered Anne
heartily; "may God bless thee for the shelter thou
dost offer to a homeless maiden."

A merry evening was that first one in Exeter.
The great tables were laden with good cheer, the
bowl circled t'reely, and the earl's minstrels de-
lighted the ear with their charming music. Shortly
before the ladies rose to seek their apartments for
the night, a little incident occurred which charmed
both high and low. The boisterous merriment of
the retainers had somewhat subsided, for they had
drunk freely of the wine and were a trifle drowsy,

Every Inch a King 203

the musicians had changed their songs from gay to
sad, and tuned their harps to minor strains. A
certain melancholy seemed to be settling upon
guests and hosts alike, when the Prince, rising from
his place, called for a harp, and amid the sudden
and intense silence raised his voice in a dainty love
song in honor of the Lady Anne. Silvery clear, but
very soft at first, sounded the words; then as he
entered more into the theme the voice increased
in depth and fulness, swelling higher and higher
until the black rafters rang with sound and sent
back a throbbing echo. Harry had forgotten him-
self and his surroundings — before his eyes there
moved that sweet face which he had never seen and
yet which had awakened in him so strong a love,
and to her he sang, pouring out his heart in melody,
that he might lay it at her very feet. Those who
heard it never forgot that song, and there were
several who marvelled at it greatly. But Anne
had guessed before, that he did love, and when she
bade him good-night and farewell, for he was to
leave the castle at break of day, she looked into his
eyes and murmured softly:

"My lord, thou hast given me love and happiness
by thy great kindness to my Lord of March. Tis
Ly thy favor we can live and lope. May God
reward thee by granting unto thee a wife whom
thou canst love with all thy heart."

"Thou hast read my secret," he answered quietly,
"Edmund alone doth know the truth of it, and one

204 Every Inch a King

day thou shalt hear it from his lips. Whether it be
God's purpose to bless me thus, I know not, but
methinks it may not be. Yet, maiden, I thank thee
for thy happy wish. God bless thee and guard thee
in his loving care."

CHAPTER XXII.

"The gods are just, and of our pleasant vices
Ivlake instruments to scourge us."

King Leak.

A BUSY and eventful summer had passed over
England. Prince Thomas had been made Duke of
Clarence in July, and throughout the eight months
from January to August he had presided over the
council, and had filled the honored place at court;
while it was chiefly owing to his influence that a
treaty had been concluded with the Duke of Orleans
in May. And now, the autumn found him already
in France in command of a force of eight thousand
men, and each post brought news of his capture of
fresh towns from the Burgundians while en route to
join Orleans at Bourges. Meantime the English
council, at the head of which the youthful Prince
John had quietly and gravely taken his place, was
united in firmly supporting their absent Prince and
the new policy he had negotiated. Thomas's vic-
tories filled England with enthusiasm, and even the
King, ill though he was, took a keen interest in
events and was delighted at the success of this sec-
ond treaty, since that made with the Burgundians
had so miserably failed.

During all these interesting events he who was
most fitted for the high duties of statesmanship,
whose wisdom and skill in council had for so many

206 Every Inch a King

years been of inestimable value to his country, he
who was still regarded as the future king, had not
only been denied the smallest share in the govern-
ment, but had been allowed to remain in ignorance
of everything pertaining to it, until such time as
the entire country should learn of it.

Harry of Monmouth was a proud man, and the
distrust of him, so ^ .g continued, cut him to the
heart. He was, moreover, exceedingly anxious over
his father's health, and he was deeply troubled that
he could not go to him, or even receive accurate re-
ports of his condition. Once, in the spring, when
the monarch was staying at Windsor, the Prince had
passed near ; and learning that his father was much
worse, had gone to the castle and sought admission.
An officer of the guard advanced from out the
tower, and informed Harry, across the open moat,
that while the King remained there he could not be
received. The Prince flushed hotly, wheeled his
horse and galloped off so rapidly that his attendants
had much difficulty in overtaking him; and ever
afterward he had been careful to avoid that part of
the country where he knew his father to be at the
time. Greatly as he suffered from his unfortunate
and embarrassing position, he hid his wounds under
a smiling face, and sc-r-ely one of those who wit-
nessed the zest with which he entered into all sports
and contests of skill, or enjoyed his merry jests at
dinner, imagined that his heart was filled with sor-
row.

Every Inch a King 207

His visit tc mdon in July had been a brief but
♦-erry one ^-k to none, even among his intimates
— for so Falstaff and his companions were regarded
— did the idea occur that Harry's sudden departure
could be in any way connected with the mysterious
disappearance of Lady Anne Stafford. True, the
events occurred upon the same day, but the lady had
been brought into the city, while Harry had left it
to travel from place to place, as was the custom in
those restless days. It was not known that Arundel
or De la Pole had dined at Cold Harbor; for the
Prince, fearing the knowledge of their presence with
him would still more prejudice the court against
them, had carefully guarded the fact, and when the
two young men returned from Exeter they sep-
arated and quietly went to their own estates.

Lady Stafford had sent message after message to
Sir Michael entreating him to come to her, or at
least to send her more definite information regard-
ing her daughter; but the knight was too cautious
to think of journeying to Stafford and placing him-
self in his aunt's power, and his replies assured the
countess of Anne's welfare, but impressed upon her
the hopelessness of endeavoring to find her, so that
at last the anxious mother gave up in despair and
resolved to wait until events gave her some clue.

Thus the incident was almost forgotten when
Harry of Monmouth returned to London in the late
autumn, to be joyfully welcomed by his merry
friends. The long, useless summer, the scornful in-

;ll

^■'Ml'i

'■ I,

208 Every Inch a King

difference and even insults to which he had been
subjected on occasional chance meetings with mem-
bers of the court, and the apparent hopelessness of
any immediate change in his position, had so dis-
couraged the Prince that he was glad to throw him-
self heart and soul into whatever pleasure London
could afford ; and it is little to be wondered at if he
felt that Falstaff, Poins, and Bardolph were his true
and only friends. To escape from his own gloomy
thoughts, he spent his waking hours almost entirely
in their society ; he shared eagerly in whatever revels
they proposed, and although he was careful to avoid
transgression of the law, and continued to restore,
as far as possible, from his own exceedingly limited
funds, whatever money they took from travellers,
yet he grew to regard their occasional offences far
more leniently, and to shield them from the rigor of
the law.

Such a condition of affairs did not escape the
watchful eyes of those who sought to injure the
Prince by every possible method, and the stories
which were told about him were so exaggerated and
represented such an alarming situation, that even
those at court who loved him best were forced to
believe that the reports were founded upon truth,
while others demanded that he be stripped of his
titles, attainted and banished from the kingdom.

Public gossip, far more than Harry's own acts,
had caused such an increase of crime of all kinds —
since every evil-doer claimed that the Prince vrould

Every Inch a King 209

protect him in case of need — as to make it evident
that some strong, bold action was necessary to force
obedience of the hw. Fortunately for England, the
man then occupying the exalted position of chief
justice of the King's Bench was strong, absolutely
fearless, and so high-minded and upright that he al-
lowed nothing whatever to prevent him from doing
his entire duty.

Sir William Gascoigne had heard with distress
the tales of the Prince's ungoverned life. Nearly
two years before, when Harry Monmouth had first
shown his pleasure in the society of these mischiev-
ous men, the judge had not hesitated to express his
concern thereat ; and now, during the last month, it
seemed that his worst fears had become realities.
Something must be done, and that quickly, or law-
lessness would reign supreme. With a boldness and
scorn of evil consequences for himself which render
him worthy of the highest admiration, Gascoigne
struck at the very heart of the matter.

A traveller had appeared before one of the lesser
judges to demand redress. He had been robbed of
two pounds and a cloak. It so happened that the
cloak was of a peculiar appearance, and a full de-
scription of it being given, men were despatched to
search for the offender. Before many hours had
passed, the lost property was discovered in the pos-
session of Bardolph, one of the Prince's dearest
friends. The officers dared not arrest such a man,
and the judge himself hesitated when they reported

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2IO Every Inch a King

it; but Gascoigne !jeard of the matter, and resolving
to make an example of one robber, promptly sent a
large body of men, heavily armed, with commands
to bring the transgressor to the bench at once, and
he himself would try the case.

They proceeded to one of the inns in Eastcheap,
and there found Harry dining with much merri-
ment, and attended by half a dozen friends, Bar-
dolph among them. They forced their entrance so
hurriedly, that those within had no warning until
they found themselves surrounded by twice their
number. The Prince sprang to his feet, demanding
angrily, —

"Now, sirrahs, what means this intrusion ? May
I not dine in peace without such interruptions?
Why come ye here?"

"Your pardon, my lord," answered the sheriff.
"We are commanded by the judge to bring Master
Bardolph before him without delay."

"For what offence?"

"Upon the charge of robbery, my lord."

The Prince made an impatient movement. "Well,
be it so. If he is guilty, he shall come to-morrow
to answer to it. Ye have my word as pledge, so
pray depart."

"Impossible, my lord," replied the sheriff firmly,
"he must come with us now. We can take no
denial."

The Prince's eyes blazed, but he controlled his
anger. "Be it so. We will all come with you ! Jack,

^»!f

)

Every Inch a King 2 1 1

Poins, Gadshill, prepare ye and come on. Bardolph,
thou needst have no fear. I will answer for thee."

The officers dared not object, so the entire party
prepared to start, when Harry asked,— "Before
what judge does he appear?"

When he had heard the answer, he looked a little
troubled. Gascoigne was not a man to trifle with.
A sudden resolution came to him.

"Jack and Ned, mount and come with me. The
rest of ye ride on with Bardolph. We will follow
shortly."

And riding hastily to Cold Harbor, the Prince
donned a rich suit more suited to his rank, and when
he came forth to begin the journey, he was sur-
rounded by an extensive guard of men-at-arms. As
they rode rapidly up the Strand, Harry suddenly
remembered that his last journey to Westminster
was on that occasion when he suffered dismissal
from the court and the council, and this remem-
brance by no means relieved his present anxiety, al-
though he would not permit his thoughts to dwell
upon it. He knew that crim - had greatly increased
of late, and he had cause to fear that' Gascoigne
would not be lenient toward a convicted wrong-
doer — he knew well that Bardolph was guilty.

The trial was in progress, and with confident as-
surance that he would escape, the prisoner had even
admitted his guilt, when, amid great excitement,
the doors were thrown open, and the Prince entered
and advanced toward the seat of justice. He was

212 Every Inch a King

dressed in an elegant costume of delicate yellow
satin, the doublet slashed and exhibiting the white
nifBed linen, his limbs clad in white silk hose, and a
long cape lined with white satin falling from his
shoulders to the floor, while upon his head rested the
golden coronet of the Prince of Wales. His men-
at-arms placed themselves about the entrance, and
the officers of the court glanced at them with evident
apprehension, for they were outnumbered.

Gascoigne rose to his feet and came forward to
the edge of the dais — a noble and majestic figure,
very tall, his rich scarlet robes falling in graceful
folds about him, and his strong face calm and dis-
passionate.

"What is your will, my loid, that you come
here ?" he asked quietly.

Harry bowed slightly, as if in greeting, and
answered, —

"The prisoner, sir, is my good friend. I pray to
know for what offence he has been brought before
you?"

"For the offence, my lord, of taking from yon
traveller a cloak, found in his possession, and the
sum of two pounds."

The judge's face W3S calm, his manner courteous.

Harry hesitated a moment, then asked: "Does
he deny the charge ?"

"No, my lord, he admits his guilt."

The Prince turned toward the man. "Bardolph,
where is the cloak?"

Every Inch a King 213

"Yonder, my lord ; master traveller has it again."

"Hast returned the money likewise?"

"Nay, that were folly. Besides, 'tis spent for
sack," answered the prisoner with a grin.

The Prince drew forth his purse, and taking from
it one pound and fifteen shillings extended the
money to the judge, saying with a smile, — "Sir
William, my purse contains no more than this, but
if you will make up the rest to this worthy man. I
promise that you shall receive it from me within
a fortnight."

Gascoigne accepted the money and the traveller
received the full sum and left the court content.
Then spoke the Prince.

"Sir, prithee set free the prisoner without delay,
that we may return to London."

There was an instant's intense silence, then the
judge answered very calmly: "Not so, my lord.
Although he that was robbed is satisfied, yet justice
and the law have been imperilled and must receive
their due. Yonder man must go to prison until the
King's pleasure give him freedom."

Harry was amazed. He had never before encoun-
tered such a stern idea of justice. "You jest, sir,"
he exclaimed. "That which was taken has been
given back, — surely the demands of the law are
fully satisfied? There is no reason for this severity!"

"If such is your idea of justice. Prince, your judg-
ment is less keen than it once was. I say again, the
man shall go to prison."

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214 Every Inch a King

Harry flushed, and feeling himself to be in the
wrong, answered somewhat angrily: "You have
spoken, sir; I came not to bandy words with you.
but now, as Prince of Wales, heir to the throne, I
command that this prisoner be par 'oned and placed
at liberty."

A slight color came to the j .st'ce's cheei.s, and a
swift glance around made him L-cr^'i/e ho'v few his
officers were beside so many guardsmen, yet he
answered fearlessly:

"Your Grace has no power to pardon a prisoner
of this court. If you desire the freedom of your
gallant friend, go to the King, your father, and ob-
tain from him a formal pardon ; pending which the
prisoner shall spend his time in the jail."

Thus defied, Harry turned and motioned to his
guard. "Set free the prisoner!" he cried, but in-
stantly the officers surrounded Bardolph and raised
their weapons. Furious, the Prince advanced upon
the justice with flashing eyes and his hand upon his
sword. All present in the court room, the sheriff
and his men, the hesitating guard beside the door,
and the eager crowd of people who had assembled
to witness the trial, watched the two chief actors in
this drama with breathless interest, — would Harry
strike, would there be even murder done before
their eyes?

But Gascoigne, although fully realizing his per-
sonal danger, and knowing the probable results of
what he intended, yet stood unmoved, his head erect,

Every Inch a X.ing 215

his face calm and fearless, and as Harry advanced
he raised his hand and pointed toward him, cry-
ing,—

"Prince, thou forgettest the majesty of England's
law. I stand here for the King, thy sovereign lord
and father, and in my person represent his greatness.
When thou dost offer insults to me, thou dost aim at
law and order, the root of England's might. And
thou hast aimed at it," he continued, his voice ring-
ing boldly forth, "ay, and struck it too. Thou dost
spend thy days in drinking and thy nights in brawl-
ing — we learn thou dost not even scruple to give
thy aid to those who rob innocent travellers ; ; nd
under thy protection crime has so increased tiiat
soon, methinks, there can be neither law nor justice
within our England. And to-night thou comest in
person to rob the law of its victim — to set at liberty
a thief and drunkard, and thou proclaimest him to
be THY FRIEND. Oh, shame upon thee! Art thou
Prince of Wales? Our country blushes at the
thought of it! I charge thee, in the King's name,
cease this wildness; control thy passions, and give
such an example to those who shall in future be thy
subjects, that they shall not feel shame to follow
thee. And now," he added sternly, "for thy con-
tempt and disobedience, that thou hast sought to
free by force a prisoner from his just bondage, go
thou to the prison of the King's Bench, whereunto I
commit thee, and remain there until the pleasure of
the King, thy father, shall be known."

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216 Every Inch a King

The spectators had quite forgotten to breathe.
Every eye had been fixed upon the justice during
this amazing speech, and now all quickly turned
toward Harry Monmouth — was it possible his
sword was still undrawn ?

The Prince had at first been too astonished at
Gascoigne's boldness to attempt an interruption, but
as he proceeded and Harry heard himself denounced
in open court for faults that he had been so careful
to avoid, he was first bewildered, then, in spite of his
innocence, deeply ashamed ; and now, in the intense
silence, he stood with bowed head and white face,
striving to realize how keenly Englishmen must
have suffered since they supposed the heir to the
throne to be so evil a man as this ! A brief instant
he struggled with his thoughts, then suddenly be-
coming conscious of Gascoigne's command, he
quietly drew his sword, and sinking on one knee,
placed it in the justice's hand m token of his submis-
sion; then, without a glance -'^ friends or guards-
men, he turned promptly '~- . sheriff, and said
humbly :

"Lead on, I am ready to accompany you."

The sheriff glanced in amazement at Gascoigne,
but in response to a gesture of command, called three
attendants to his side, and in a moment the little
party had passed from the court room, and with the
Prince of Wales in their mif^ were riding rapidly
to London.

The heir to England's thron — the future king —
had yielded to the majesty of 1 w.

CHAPTER XXIII.

"No change, no pause, no hope ! Yet I endure."

Shelley.

Even during those stirring days at home and
abroad, men forgot the Orleans alUance and ceased
to talk of the latest victories. When they gatheret^ in
taverns or upon street corners, one topic alone was
eagerly discussed — "Hast heard about Prince Hal
and the Judge Gascoigne?" The story spread like
wildfire over London, and rich and poor, high and
low, received it with bewilderment increasing to
amazement, incredulity, slowly becoming belief, and
ending in admiration and delight. The general
verdict was unanimous: "Did I not tell ye he was
a noble prince? By my troth, could I but see the
man who spread such lies about him! — "

The English people had indeed suffered at the
thought of Harry's supposed misdeeds, and after the
long months of sadness and dismay, they were
prompt to seize upon this glimpse of a noble spirit
and to behold in it a prophec> of happier days to
come. The utter confusion of those criminals that
had hoped for protection from one who submitted
his own person to the law, gave the judges courage
to follow Gascoigne's example and take prompt and
decided action, and the effect was visible at once in

2iS Every Inch a King

the increase of -rder and general safety within the
city.

One of the most interesting features of the situa-
tion was the probable effect of the incident upon the
King; and the chief justice himself was not without
anxiety upon this subject. Although confident that
he had but done his duty, he yet knew that his act
was without precedent, and not only did he expect
dismissal and punishment upon the accession of the
Prince, but he feared that Henry IV. himself would
take his office from him for daring to deal so
severely with one of the royal blood. It so happened
that the King had returned to Westminster Palace,
and when the astonished guardsmen saw their mas-
ter led to prison they hurriedly left the court and
sought his royal father to tell him, in tones of
trembling excitement, of "the outrageous insults
put upon our Prince!" The monarch listened in
astonishment to the recital, then sat for a moment
speechless, the full meaning of the incident grad-
ually dawning upon him, until when a courtier
asked: "What doth your Highness think of such
bold conduct?" he turned upon them all a coun-
tenance so filled with joy and gratitude that they
were amazed, and answered clearly, —

"Methinks that God hath blessed me very greatly,
for he hath given me a judge so brave and true that
dares to justly punish mine own son ; nor am I less
blessed in that this son of mine will so submit the

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Every Inch a King 219

greatness of his blood unto the law and justice of
our country."

Although the hour was growing late, the King
commanded two of his lords to go at once to the
King's Bench Prison and order the Prince's release.
"For 'twould be villainous that England's heir
should sleep in a common jail !"

He now summoned the Earl of Warwick to his
presence. "Hast thou heard about our son Rich-
ard?"

The earl bowed. "But even now the news hath
reached mine ear."

"Dost thou not think, my lord, that Harry is
misjudged? By my troth, such a man as we have
thought him would have slain Gascoigne a score of
times ere he'd submit."

"Your Highness knows." answered the earl
proudly, "that I, for one, have ever believed him
gu 'tiess. To-day my trust in him hath been .ruly
proven."

"Thou art right, Richard, and although my
doubts still cloud my mind, yet for th -bedience he
hath shown to-day I will at least allow him explana-
tion. I prithee go, my lord, and make it known
throughout the palace thai ' the Prince of Wales
reqrest an audience, it is our pleasure that he be ad-
mitted."

But nothing was farther from Harry Monmouth's
thoughts than to seek an interview with his royal

2 20 Every Inch a King

father. Not one word did he address to the sheriff
or his companions during that rapid ride back to
London, through the city and over London Bridge.
Even when they reached Southwark and, galloping
up High Street, drew rein before the great, gloomy
prison, whose grim walls spoke eloquently of the
misery within, — even then the Prince seemed to be
entirely oblivious to his surroundings. He dis-
mounted like one in a dream, looking neither to the
right nor left, but mechanically followed his guard
through the portal. He neither saw the curious,
amazed glances cast upon him nor heeded the low-
voiced conversation between the sheriff and the
wardens, but followed obediently wheresoever they
led him until he found himself alone in a small cell
arranged for the temporary occupation of distin-
guished prisoners, most of whom were either
promptly executed or taken to the Tower.

The clanging of the bolts behind the departing
officers aroused Harry from his revery. He started,
and gave a swift glance around the chamber. In the
light of one flickering torch he noted the thick stone
walls, the low ceiling, the uneven floor, the high
barred window from which came a faint gleam of
twilight. The torch was fastened upon a rude stone
bench, which was the only furniture. In one corner
was a mass of straw and upon it a heavy blanket.
There were a few dirty rushes upon the floor, and
near the door a mug of cold water stood, beside it a
plate of food, which the warden had left for his

Every Inch a King 221

illustrious prisoner. As these details became visible
to Harry's eyes, a curious, grim smile came to his
lips. "Truly," he murmured, "a fit abiding place for
the most royal prince, Harry of Wales !" — and rais-
ing his hand, he removed from his head the golden
coronet which he had still retained. The torch flick-
ered u.-v^n the jewels and sent straight flashing
gleams around the gloomy cell. Harry stood a
moment, his eyes fixed upon the symbol of his rank,
then he placed it upon the bench, and drawing his
rich cloak about him, sank upon the straw and lay
motionless, intent upon his thoughts. How long
he remained thus he knew not, but on a sudden the
bolts were drawn back, the heavy door was opened,
and the glare of many torches filled the room with
light. Harry sprang up as the warden advanced,
saying respectfully: "My lord, the King, your
father, bids us set you free."

The Prince bowed with a certain haughtiness, re-
placed the golden circlet on his head, and followed
him. In the courtyard he found the royal mes-
sengers, who started when they saw his costume,
and greeted him with the utmost deference. Harry
did not reply, save by a bow, but promptly mounted
his horse ; and thrre was something in his face that
prevented them from addressing him during the
journey.

On arriving at Cold Harbor, the Prince drew rein.
"My lords, I thank you for your escort; fare-
well!" and before they could find a suitable reply

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22 2 Every Inch a King

he had ridden within and the gates were shut behind
him.

Of course the events of the night were known to
every one within the mansion. Such of Harry's
own g lard as had not gone to the King returned
within the hour to tell their fellows all that had
taken place, enlarging the tale with picturesque ad-
ditions. The upmost excitement reigned. Their
lord sent to prison like a common thief ! England's
heir, the best-beloved, the hope of the nation, to
await within a dungeon the King's pleasure ! Would
not his father welcome joyfully the chance to keep
him in confinement ? Over their cups, the crowds of
soldiers and servants discussed the situation in deep
voices, intense with eager feeling. "Oh, if ye had
but seen 't !" one of the witnesses was saying. "He
called to us to free the prisoner, and then up sprang
the sheriff's men to guard him, and while we stood,
uncertain what to do, Harry Monmouth comes up
to the justice and strikes him such a blow o' the
cheek — " "Peace, with thy lies," cries out another,
"he never struck him!" "How, thou fat villain,
have I no eyes ? Can I not see what lies before mine
hand?" "Thou didst never see Harry Monmouth
strike a blow, I warrant !" "An' I did not, call me
rogue!" "Thou art a rogue without the calling!"
"Hold!" cried another, "prithee, on with the tale.
What happened after?" The two guardsmen con-
tented themselves with glaring at each other for a
space, then he of the free wagging tongue went on :

Every Inch a King 223

"My lord chief justice frowned at Prince Hal
until his face was black as a starless night, then says
he, — Thou scurvy rascal, thou thief and drunk-
ard!' " — "He never dared!" cried a chorus in great
excitement.

After this there was no possibility of calm. High
and low, the steward and the meanest servant,
the commander and the humblest soldier were
mingled in one great mass of men swaying back and
forth throughout the hall, hissing Gascoigne's
name, and breaking out into delighted cheers at each
new plan for rescue or revenge. Those guardsmen
who had weakly allowed their lord and master to be
taken from them, without one blow in his defence,
were roundly scored, and only their vivid descrip-
tions of their helpless amazement, and the rapidity of
the Prince's departure, served to pacify the general
wrath against them.

At a later hour, came those who had seen the
King, bringing the joyful news that the prisoner
would be speedily released. Scarcely had they
comprehended these tidings — and many were still
incredulous about them — when they heard the cheers
of the men-at-arms at the gate, and a moment later
Harry was himself in the midst of them. They
crowded forward to welcome their beloved master
with every expression of joy and relief, but at sight
of his face the cheers died upon their lips. Harry
was very pale, and as he gazed at them, they saw
the grief and shame which filled his heart. He

f I

224 Every Inch a King

waved them back and raised his hand for silence,
then asked brokenly:

**Is it thus, men, that ye receive me when I come
back to ye, disgraced? Will ye welcome the thief
and brawler and cheer the protector of criminals ? I
have this day been branded in open court as a law-
breaker and evil liver ! Will ye greet such a man as
your Prince ? Nay, rather, go to the King and tell
him ye will no longer serve his ignoble son. At day-
break I leave London. If there be any among my
soldiers who would still follow Harry Monmouth —
but not the Prince of Wales — let them prepare to
follow me. For the rest of you, I thank you for your
many years of faithful service and I shall not forget
your love for me. Be it your charge, steward, to see
that every man receives his due, and whatsoever
remaineth after all are satisfied, take thereof for
thine own purposes and divide the rest amongst
them. When all are gone, bar the gates and depart.
Ye have heard. I bid you all farewell."

Amazed and troubled they parted before him, and
as he passed, more than one rough hand sought to
brush away the unaccustomed moisture from eager
eyes, and more than one voice trembled over a "God
bless thee." The Prince made no attempt to hide the
tears that well-nigh blinded him, but hurried from
the hall to his own chamber, there to spend the night
in bitter thoughts.

When finally the first faint beams of daylight
entered his high window Harry rose hurriedly, clad

Every Inch a King 225

himself in his plainest garments, made his few
necessary preparations, and descended to the great
hall. Only half a score of men-at-arms were there,
but they had provided fix)d for him, and the ex-
hausted Prince gladly partook of it. He ate hur-
riedly and in absolute silence, then bade them bring
the roan mare to the courtyard. He lingered for a
moment, looking his last upon the place where he
had spent many of his happiest hours. The black-
ened rafters spoke eloquently of the merry feasts
that had been prepared beneath them; the great
oaken walls had echoed the jests and songs. Upon
yon dais had sat many of the noblest men \! . Eng-
land — the Beauforts, Scrope, Earl Arundel, and
Suffolk and his son, Westmoreland and Warwick,
the learned Courtenay, Carpenter, and Rudborn,
the poets Lydgate and Occleve, and above all his
brothers — Thomas, now winning England's bat-
tles, and John, presiding over England's council.
Ay, the day had been when these two had been
proud and happy to sit upon Harry's right and left,
and greet him as their host and noble lord. Oh,
the merriment of those bygone days — the jests, the
songs, the free-flowing bowl ! And one night, when
a rich feast was spread, and the guests were of the
noblest in the land, Gascoigne had been among
them — ay, Gascoigne ! and he had sat upon the dais
there and entered heartily into the gay life, and even
jested and joined in a merry song, and had been
proud to sup with the Prince of Wales. And last

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226 Every Inch a King

night that same royal host had bent his knee before
his one-time guest and received from his lips a rat-
ing, the remembrance of which brought the crimson
to his cheeks. Was he, indeed, awake? Could it be
true? Was he condemned before the world for
faults which made his people blush to think of him ?
Torn by a thousand bitter, cruel thoughts, Harry
threw his riding cloak about him, gave one final,
longing look around the hall, then slowly passed
the door, never to return, and leaving behind him
the free and happy life which was henceforth to be
a memory alone.

Resolutely putting the past behind him, and
striving to forget there was a future, he hurried to
the courtyard; but in the doorway stopped and
gazed around him in amazement. Nearest him
stood an esquire holding his beautiful mare, but be-
hind were scores upon scores of horses, crowding
every inch of open space, and a man mounted upon
each. As the Prince appeared every one bared his
head and bowed low in the saddle. Harry's quick
eyes noted that all seemed prepared for a long jour-
ney, and he demanded hastily: "What means this,
sirs, why are ye here?"

"My lord," answered the steward, who sat his
horse near by, "you gave permission to those
who would follow you to assemble here at day-
break. They are here, my lord, and not one man is
missing!"

The color flamed into the Prince's cheeks, a glad

Every Inch a King 227

light flashed to his eyes, but he answered quickly,—
•This must not be! Would ye follow a man dis-
graced?"

"Ay, we would follow," came the deep chorus of
two hundred voices.

"Bethink ye, I have neither gold nor place. Even
to my ears have come the rumors that I shall be
attainted and exiled from the land! Now, truly,
there will be no delay. Would ye follow a penniless
fugitive?"

"We follow," came back the answer.

"To exile?" demanded Harry sternly.

' Ay, to hell !" cried a deep voice. And the two
hundred echoed, "Ay, to hell !"

"Come, then," answered the Prince; and with
cheers that rent the air they rode after him out be-
tween the gates, and with never a backward look or
a faltering heart followed him joyfully past the city
walls, not knowing and not caring whither they
were bound since Harry Monmouth led them on
their way.

if •

CHAPTER XXIV.

"For who, alas! has lived,
Nor in the watches of the night recalled
Words he has wished unsaid and deeds undone ?"

Rogers.

"My lords, the time has come for us to act." It
was the Baron Scrope who spoke — the royal treas-
urer addressing the English council which had as-
sembled in one of the cham.bers of Westminster.
The King, being in better health than for many
weeks, was present in person ; at his right hand sat
Prince John, who, in spite of his extreme youth,
was so grave and thoughtful that he was judged to
be exceeding wise and entirely worthy of his high
place. At the King's left was Archbishop Arundel,
the chancellor; while Westmoreland, Warwick,
Scrope and Stanley made up their number — Gas-
coig^e, being engaged upon the bench, did not ap-
pear. It was the beginning of December, and only
three days after the Prince's arrest. That event was
still eagerly discussed, and no one felt surprised that
it should be alluded to in council. For several
months, indeed since Harry's dismic^sal from their
midst, many of the King's advisers "fcad advocated
a petition to Parliament, begging it to declare
Thomas of Clarence heir apparent. The archbishop,
ably seconded by Stanley and Gascoigne, was espe-

Every Inch a King 229

cially eager; and Scrope had, with much display of
reluctance, and— "for the good of the nation" —
joined his voice to theirs. It v.ns what he most de-
sired; for he felt that Harry's banishment would
make his personal triumph complete, and to-day he
believed that his time had come.

"Ye know, my lords," he said quietly, "that Eng-
land's king must be the noblest of the royal house.
It was for this reason that we decreed the retire-
ment of Richard, and in his place seated the Duke
of Hereford on the throne." He bowed low to the
King as he spoke, and Henry smiled slightly. "We
love Prince Harry well, but we cannot deny that he
has many faults. While we trusted in his reforma-
tion we stayed our hand; but now his sins have
forced my lord chief justice to punish him like any
common lawbreaker. Methinks this act must force
us to decision."

Arundel glanced at the King's troubled face with
a grim smile. "Do you hesitate, my liege?"

Henry did not meet his eyes, but answered
slowly: "I would the boy might answer to the
charges. I cannot think that he is beyond repen-
tance."

The archbishop laughed scornfully. — "My lord,"
he said, "you were ever too merciful. Your High-
ness's son is known to drink and swagger; he has
been charged with theft, and it is proven that he is
ever ready to protect a criminal. Think you that

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230 Every Inch a King

Englishmen will obey and reverence a king who
was committed to the jail ?"

"His very yielding proves a nobler spirit," cried
Warwick hastily.

"This is odd reasoning, sir," replied Arundel;
"thou then proclaimest thy fondness for a milksop
— a feeble coward, who dares not strike a blow in
his own defence! Suppose that I should bid him
hang himself! Wouldst thou not love him an' he
did obey me?"

"My lord, thy argument is none too wise," be-
gan the Earl of Westmoreland coldly. "Hast no
respect for the ancient laws of England?"

Arundel bit his lip. "Thou dost not understand,
Neville," he said, — but the earl cut him short. "I
understand thy hatred of Harry Monmouth, and
that thou desirest Thomas for Prince of Wales, nor
do I think that thou art in the wrong ; but I will not
have thee use false arguments."

The archbishop flushed. "If thou canst prove to
me that it was false — "

"Hearken, then, and thou shalt have the proof,"
answered Neville promptly. "Is not the Parliament
more mighty than the King? Nay, I am guilty of
no disrespect, his Highness will acknowledge the
truth of it."

"Ay, cousin," answered Henry smoothly, "thou
art right. Proceed then to thy further argument."

Westmoreland gave a triumphant glance around

I'M

• vf)

Every Inch a King 23 ,

him, and continued impressively: "What is the
highest duty of ParHament? To make the laws
whereby our land is governed. Our safety and our
welfare alike depend upon prompt obedience to these
laws. Therefore, when our Prince submitted his
own person to the decrees of justice, he showed a
spirit of humility that doth belong unto the noblest
minds. Art answered, lord archbishop? Art con-
tent?"

Arundel shrugged his shoulders and smiled
coldly. "Thou arguest well, Neville, and elo-
quently. Wilt thou proceed and prove the Prince a
hero? Wilt thou deny the charges made against
him?"

"I will deny that he is proven guilty !" came the
bold answer.

Henry looked up quickly. "My lord, I thank thee
for thy confidence. Methinks mv hope is stronger
than before."

Arundel was alarmed. Could it be that their plan
was to fail at the last moment ? He rose to his feet,
with rapid speech, — "Sire, I trust you will not care-
lessly deny the favor that we ask. Were your High-
ness's eldest son a noble man, no heart would throb
more joyously than mine ; but he is proven dissolute
and false. Methinks you do forget his conspiracy
against your royal person !"

The King sighed and bowed his head. This was
indeed a fact and not a rumor. Arundel saw his
advantage and hurried on :

^•r

> •*■

232 Every Inch a King

"His life has, during the past year, been filled
with brawls and midnight robberies, and his pres-
ence before Gascoigne proved that he did delight to
shield a felon from the law's revenge. You have
not forgot the charges made against him of using
the funds intended for Calais — "

"That charge was proven false," cried Warwick
sharply.

Arundel laughed. "Ay, two soldiers in the
Prince's pay have so declared! My lord, thou art
too hasty in thy love. Sire," he continued gravely,
"these stains upon Prince Harry's name seem ample
reason for his bani?hment. His base conspiracy
against yourself is worthy of the punishment of
death. You have been very gentle with his faults,
and by your kindness only spurred him on. Yet
were this all, I would not urge you thus, but he has
brought upon us ridicule and shame by the ill-ad-
vised alliance with Duke John. He's shown, me-
thinks, he cannot govern wisely. As for my Lord
Prince Thomas, Duke of Clarence, his life is pure;
his virtues are unquestioned ; he has ever been a true
and loyal son, and he has proved his wisdom in the
council and now displays his valor on the field. Par-
liament would joyfully proclaim him heir. My lord,
we do not seek for Harry's death, but simply for his
peaceful banishment. He shall receive a suitable
allowance and doubtless foreign monarchs will re-
ceive him. Do with him as you will, my noble lord,
but grant that Thomas may be Prince of Wales."

Every Inch a King 233

A troubled silence followed, while the King con-
sidered all the arguments used to convince him.
Then, glancing slowly from one face to another, he
spoke : "We've heard the pleasure of my lord arch-
bishop, but we would know what every one desireth.
Lord Scrope of Masham, thou hast urged his exile."

"Ay, sire," answered the baron promptly. "When
Harry Monmouth sought your Highness's death I
was convinced my love had been misplaced. I can-
not root all feeling from my heart, but for my coun-
try's welfare I ask his punishment."

A slight smile played about Arundel's lips, but
Warwick glanced at Westmoreland and frowned —
the brave and chivalrous earl loved the Prince well,
and instinctively distrusted Baron Scrope. Henry
glanced toward Stanley, — "What sayest thou. Sir
John?"

The knight replied unhesitatingly, "Harrv must
be banished and Prince Thomas declared the heir."

"And thou, my son of Lancaster, what dost thou
wish ?" the King demanded. Every eye was turned
upon the lad sitting so silently and gravely among
these older men. For which brother would he give
his influence ? In his heart Henry hoped for a spir-
ited defence of the accused Prince, — if Thomas him-
self had been present the debate would have ended
swiftly. But John replied with stately condescen-
sion: "My brother Harry loves me well, my liege;
I cannot speak against him."

The King flashed an indignant glance at him, and

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234 Every Inch a King

as he saw Arundel's satisfaction, he exclaimed in
angry disappointment, — "It seems thy love for
Harry scarcely equals that which he has ever shown
for thee. Hast thou no word to speak in his de-
fence?"

John looked mildly surprised. "Methought that
'twas a sacrifice of duty unto love merely to hold my
peace. What possible defence could I advance? U
I said aught, my conscience would impel me to urge
his banishment, and this I will not do !"

The King frowned deeply. "'Tis well that thou
art silent, oh, virtuous son!" he exclaimed with
scorn; and amid the suppressed laughter of Scrope
and the chancellor he turned, almost in despair, and
addressed those two who had not yet declared their
final purpose. "My lords of Westmoreland and
Warwick, ye have both freely expressed your love
for Harry and for me. What sa--- ye — shall we ban-
ish him from England?"

They gazed at each other, troubled and doubtful ;
then Neville answered for them both. "Sire," he
said, "we chiefly do desire the highest good for
England, and we suggest that the Prince of Wales
receive a free and impartial trial upon the charges
that are brought against him. We do both hope and
verily believe that he will be found entirely innocent ;
but if he's proven guilty, banish him."

The King rested his head upon his hand and
seemed to be gazing into the gloomy future. At last
he answered slowly: "Methinks that I must bend

II i.

Every Inch a King 235

unto your will. Cousin Neville, a trial were worse
than useless, the proof against him is too strong for
hope, and I do certainly believe him guilty of evil
living, protection of criminals and the desire for my
throne and life. His trial could only be a public dis-
grace, and I will not submit him to this shame. For,
lords, in my last weary hours of life, methinks I love
this wayward son of mine. 'Tis nigh a year since I
did see his face and I do often hunger for his pres-
ence. Therefore, my lords, I would be gentle with
him, yet I must yield my love unto my duty. Now
hearken! If—"

A sudden rap upon the door was followed by the
entrance of a horseman, splashed with mud, and
breathless with hard riding, who came swiftly for-
ward and, kneeling, presented to the King a packet.
Henry's face brightened. "Ha! Art from France?"

"Ay, my lord," the messertgci answered. "The
Duke of Clarence commends him to your Highness
and bade me bring these letters with all speed."

The King rose to his feet and held aloft the packet,
saying impressively : "Lords, my decision will not
be delayed, for here I hold the fate of Harry Mon-
mouth! If, when I break these seals I find within
the tidings of present or swift-coming victory, then
shall the Prince be banished from the land and
Thomas be acknowledged as the future king. If I
do find defeat, then as I live, Harry shall continue
Prince of Wales !"

With fingers that trembled in their eagerness he

- «

1 1

•I!

236 Every Inch a King

opened the letters. Every eye was on him ; every
man leaned forward and wailed breathlessly for the
final word. He read, and his eyes grew wide with
amazement; he clutched the sheets and his breath
came in quick gasps; wonder and bewilderment
grew upon his face; then suddenly he brought his
hand down upon the great table near him with such
force that one would have thought a crash of thun-
der sounded, and raising his head, he exclaimed de-
fiantly: "By Heaven, but I have won against ye
all!" Then turning swiftly to Lord Warwick, he
cried out,— "My lord, begone, and mount thy swift-
est steed ! Ride with thy might to London— to Cold
Harbor ! Say to the Prince our sentence is revoked ;
we do fc get what evil he has done, and have re-
membrance only for his virtues. It is our pleasure
he attend upon us within the hour. Tell him we are
in council and have sore need of his long-proven
wisdom. He shall receive his own exalted place.
Stay not to question— go with speed, my lord !"

"Your Grace is mad !" cried the archbishop hotly,
and thought to keep the earl from departure, but
Warwick swiftly passed him and was gone.

With amazement and alarm upon their faces the
councillors pressed forward, demanding an explana-
tion. The King thrust the letters toward them, and
they seized them frantically and struggled for their
possession. So great was the confusion and bewil-
derment that it was not until the sands of the glass
had run a quarter of their course that all were ac-

Every Inch a King 237

quainted with the contents of the duke's last mes-
sage, and when they knew it, they could only gaze at
one another in blank dismay. Arundel, proud and
self-reliant, could not conceal the pallor of his cheek,
and the King saw and rejoiced that this powerful,
arrogant man had received a severe blow. The
cause was told very simply in Thomas's letters, and
amplified by the messenger's statements. In sub-
stance it was briefly this— that England had been
made a catspaw to pull chestnuts out of the fire!
Her army had been used to capture numerous towns
from the Burgundians, and then the rival powers
had peacefully concluded an alliance, and under an
agreement, made on the 14th of November, Clarence
had been offered a small sum of money, and forced
to withdraw with his army to Guienne. In short,
the Orleans alliance had been abruptly terminated ;
and whereas England had withdrawn with dignity
and of her own free will from the former Burgun-
dian alliance, she had now been carelessly thrust
aside when her army was no longer needed,— as if
she were a weakling for stronger powers to play
with! Little wonder that the archbishop felt that
the hour of his downfall had arrived. Without
doubt the Prince would be reinstated in full power,
and he must bow his head before — Beaufort,— or
Sir John Falstafif?

But the storm that was gathering around him
never broke. Even as the King in his triumph
turned upon him, recalled to his mind all he had said

238 Every Inch a King

and done against Harry Monmouth, and told him
plainly that did he hope for further favor he must
bow his knee and humbly beg for pardon of the
Prince, — even as Scrope, appalled by the sudden
failure of his plans, was striving desperately to pre-
pare for this tremendous crisis in events — this unex-
pected and most public meeting with one whom he
had wronged so cruelly, — in the midst of all this
amazement and dismay, the door was hurriedly
opened and Warwick entered — alone. The King
started forward. "My lord, where is my son ? He
follows close?" Warwick hesitated, and Henry
saw the trouble on his brow. Startled, and fearing
he knew not what, Henry cried out again, "Where
is my son ? Where is the Prince of Wales ?"

The earl, who understood as did no other man the
doubting love and long-repressed desire which had
so tortured the royal heart, dared not meet the
father's eyes, but answered gravely: "My lord,
Prince Harry is not within the city. Upon the day
following his arrest he left at daybreak with his
entire household, equipped for a lengthy and distant
journey. Cold Harbor is deserted; its gates are
barred. No man can tell me whither he has gone."

The King in his keen dismay and sorrow held out
a trembling hand toward Lord Warwick as if seek-
ing for both physical and mental support. "Gone !"
he cried brokenly. "Gone, without one word ? Is it
the truth that he indeed cares not when I am ill, and
troubled, and alone? He knows that my days are

Every 1 ich a King 239

very few, and numbered, and yet he doth leave Lon-
don secretly. Oh, my son, my son ! must I then close
mine eyes without a glimpse of thy sweet face which
I do love too late? How often have I spurned thee
from my side, and now my heart doth call to thee in
vain. Oh God, have pity on me! Richard! Nev-
ille! Come near me, friends, I prithee, or I fall !"

They caught him in their arms and gently bore
him into another chamber. England's King had pre-
sided over his last council. The end was drawing
near.

CHAPTER XXV.

"Tell me, sweet lord, what is't that takes from thee
Thy stomach, pleasure, and thy golden sleep?
Why dost thou bend thine eyes upon the earth.
And start so often when thou sitt^t alone?
Why hast thou lost the fresh blood in thy cheeks,
And given my treasures, and my rights of thee,
To thick-ey'd musing and curs'd melancholy?"

Henry IV.

Upon a rocky eminence overlooking the little
town of Pontefract, wliich nestles at its hnse, and
commanding extensive and picturesque views of the
beautiful country, \\as situated one of the most
famous castles in all England. In the midst of its
surrounding earthworks, the gray walls rose grim,
stately and magnificent. A deep fosse encircled the
whole, with the barbican and drawbridge at the
southwest angle giving entrance to the great keep at
the western end, below which lay an extensive
bailey. The eight strong, round towers were at
equal distances in the curtain-wall of the enclosure,
and at the northeast angle was a rich chapel served
by five priests. Ilbert de Lacy had done his work
full well. Although three hundred years had passed
since the Norman built this noble structure, Ponte-
fract Castle still ranked as one of the strongest and
grandest fortresses in the land ; — its situation noon
the towering rock, its extensive fortifications, its

; ' 1

Every Inch a King 241

massive walls, in places over ten feet in thickness,
making it well-nigh impregnable.

Thither Harry of Monmouth journeyed in those
early December days, riding, grave and silent, at the
head of his devoted followers. He had left Londuii
with but a vague idea of his destination, his one im-
pulse being to leave the capital as far behind him
as possible. With this intent he had turned toward
the north, and ridden up the great white road of
Ermine Street. By the time they reached Brau-
gling, however, and found lodgings for the night,
his decision had been made. Expecting an imme-
diate decree of banishment, the Prince desired to be
near Scotland ; and in his present mood he could ill
brook the though! of being the guest unto a noble-
man. Therefore, he would go to the royal castle
of Pontefract, whose adjacency to York, — that
busy, ancient town whicli always knew the latest
London news, would permit of any message reach-
ing him, yet whose gloomy walls would afford him
the seclusion that he craved.

Harry was received with joyful welcome at God-
manchester, Ancaster, Lincoln, and other cities
through which he passed ; but he had little heart for
merriment, refused the honors which they sought to
give him, and passed on hurriedly to his journey's
end.

Great was the excitement in the little Yorkish
borough when the Prince arrived in their midst
accompanied by an extensive --nH the • #>w<=

t '
if

IIS

242 Every Inch a King

spread that he was to tarry at the castle indefi-
nitely. Not since Archbishop Scrope had been
condemned to death within the walls for conspiracy
against the King — an event which took place seven
years before — had one of the blood royal visited
Pontefract; and men, women and children made
haste to prepare a royal welcome for their g^uest.
Harry was forced to appear at the great banquet
given by the mayor in his honor. For the people's
sake he robed himself in choice garments, and tried
to forget his dismal thoughts that he might receive
their kindness graciously. The humble citizens who
entertained him thought that there had never lived
so noble a prince before. His handsome face and
graceful carriage impressed them ; his gentle dignity
and charm of manner fascinated them, and ere the
feasting ended they would gladly have given their
last twopence if he would only have dined with them
again.

But the Prince had made his wishes plainly known.
"My friends," he said, "I have come into the north,
leaving behind me the gay London life, and seeking
for rest and peace at Pontefract. It is my pleasure
that ye should forget me, for I shall seldom leave the
castle walls. I do not travel as the Prince of Wales,
nor shall I visit York or other places. Give me leave
to dwell in quietness, and grant me your protection
from intruders."

Although it was a great disappointment to all that
the Prince would not live in royal state, they under-

Every Inch a King 243

stood his wishes and jealously guarded him from
formal visits of neighboring dignitaries. And if
they missed the hunts and splendid banquets, they
were exceeding proud that he had graced their feast,
and that no others might share his blessed presence.
From time to time he would appear among them,
returning their every greeting graciously, stopping
to speak with some merry child, or to bring color to
an invalid's cheek by his sunny smile and cheering
words.

The people had heard vague tales of his riotous
living, and wondered much at his grave and quiet
dignity; but his bearing delighted them and ere a
week had passed they understood why the London-
ers so worshipped him. Their proudest moments
were when some York merchants or knights of the
shire v juld approach with their trains, and the
mayor himself would frequently appear in person to
inform them, with ill-concealed triumph, that "His
Grace has come to us for rest and peace; it is not
possible that we admit you." The noble visitors
were usually most indignant ; but argue or threaten
as they would, the gates remained closed to them,
and they were obliged to ride home again without a
glimpse of the famous Harry Monmouth,

The Prince was very grateful for this protection,
and the citizens were more than rewarded by his
quiet yet sincere, "I thank you." Each day he sent
a soldier into York to learn if any message or proc-
lamation had been received from London. He was

244 Every Inch a King

acquainted with the failure of the Orleans alliance,
and also the rumor that the King was failing rapidly,
both of which caused him much anxiety, but no de-
cree of banishment reached him, nor any message
from the dying King. Of his father's desire for him
he had no idea ; for the monarch, cut to the heart by
his son's departure, and moved by the archbishop's
continued arguments, would not permit Warwick to
send for him. — "Nay, since he cares not for me, e'en
let him go ; I'd rather die remembering his face than
with his actual but loveless presence." Arundel, of
course, was careful to prevent the knowledge of the
King's real feelings from being known — he still
hoped that did Bolingbroke die without a reconcilia-
tion, Prince Thomas might be crowned.

So Harry Monmouth lingered within the distant
castle, spending many weary hours upon the battle-
ments engrossed in gloomy thoughts. If this cruel
knowledge of men's harsh opinions had but reached
him in a more gentle manner! Were there no
friends who could have come to him and gently told
him that he was unwise ? If only Warwick, West-
moreland, ay, or Gascoigne himself, had visited
Cold Harbor and spoken thus: — "Men say evil
things about thee. Because thou drinkest with Fal-
staff, Bardolph, Poins, they claim thou lovest
naught but wine and revelry. Because thou dost
return the moneys that they seize, there be those
that think thou hast had a share in the robberies.
Thy efforts to preserve thy friends from harm ^lave

Every Inch a King 245

made men say thou wouldst protect all crime."
— If some one had only put it thus before him,
quietly and without witnesses, he would have seen
that he was doing wrong, and stopped in haste ; but
they had barred him from council and from court,
forced him, by insults and by scorn, to seek what
pleasure and comfoit these friends offered him;
denied him all share in government or warfare ; held
their peace when they saw him doing wrong ; then,
suddenly, withoi.t one word of warning, or even
seeking to learn whether rumor spoke the truth,
Gascoigne had charged him with living an evil life,
breaking the laws of England and protecting crim-
inals—declared all this before his friends and ser-
vants, before the throng of curious spectators, and
had given him no chance to justify his actions, but
straightway committed him to the common jail ! It
was not wounded pride, however, nor a sense of
injury which caused the Prince to dwell upon that
public rebuke. True, his disgrace had hurt him
keenly and he felt that Gascoigne had been most
severe, — ay, even unjust, for was not every man
entitled to speak in his own defence? — but it was
the opinion which the justice held of him and which
others undoubtedly shared, that brought to him such
intense grief and shame. Was it possible that they
could so easily misjudge him ? That actions which
were in themselves innocent could be transformed
by a word into sin? Then he began to ask himself
the question — ^was he indeed so innocent of wrong ?

1 I

III

246 Every Inch a King

He had not intended to do evil, but doubtless few
sinners so intended. He had spent his hours in
drinking with his friends— what if his desperate
situation had forced him to it — did that make the
fact less real ? Never had he taken part in robberies,
yet when he used his money to replace the thefts was
he not aiding his friends in committing them ? And
he had, indeed, protected Falstafif and Poins more
than once, and sought to release Bardolph from the
law's control. True, they were not common robbers,
but men of brains and wit and birth, who, over-
heated by their cups of sack, had gone out into the
night to play a jest,— to enjoy the excitement and
the contests of skill which lay in attacking passing
travellers. They had but done this twice or thrice
for sport, and all that they had taken was repaid, yet
in the judgment of impartial law they were the
equals of any vulgar thief.

Harry would have been the very first to insist
upon obedience to the laws — when he shielded his
friends it had not occurred to him that he was pro-
tecting criminals, but new he saw most clearly what
he had done; and with clenched hands and fiercely
bitten lips he cursed his own blindness and folly, and
prayed that he might have the chance to prove how
deeply he repented of his faults. But what if this
blessing were denied him ? What if he had sinned
too deeply for forgiveness ? Could he pay the pen-
alty with that high courage which would be the
token of his royal blood ?

Every Inch a King 247

He shuddered and glanced around the gloomy
castle. Here rose that grim tower whose walls were
ten feet in thickness and whose only entrance was a
trap-door in the floor of the turret. Into that black
hole his ancestor, Thomas of Lancaster, had been
thrown, to lie, bruised and half starved, on the cold
floor, and dragged out at last only to be taken to
execution. Yet Thomas had met his fate bravely, as
became the grandson of a king. Across the court-
yard lay the chamber where the poor, weak King
Richard had been confined, and where, only twelve
years before, he had suffered a mysterious death. Yet
Richard, in the hours of his downfall, had borne
himself with better spirit than when he sat upon the
throne, and many were the tales whispered around
Pontefract of his patience and submissive dignity.

Ah, but these princes had lived for many years,
had shared in the great events of their times, and
their wearied spirits must at last have welcomed
death. But he was young, scarce a man in years,
longing to work, to fight, to bring glory to his be-
loved country. To wait in chains and then to die
were easy; but such was not his fate, — had it been
so h( would not have been released from King's
Benci Prison. Nay, his future was to be far more
wretched. Exile was his bitter punishment. The
King, no doubt, believed it merciful — still loving his
wayward son, he would not take his life, nor force
him to exist within a dungeon, but would banish
him from England, granting him liberty to roam at

248 Every Inch a King

will in foreign lands. Ay. he would be free— free
to wander restlessly from court to court, received at
each with careless courtesy, or even with harsh
words and scornful looks; free to watch his country
from afar, knowing himself an outcast, despised of
men or utterly forgotten, forbidden to share in Eng-
land's government, denied even the right to draw
his sword in her defence; or else free to know that
his own brothers feared him, that they doubted his
submission to the King whom Parliament had de-
creed should rule; free to be the centre of foreign
plots to place him on the throne; free to struggle
with temptation and overcome it, and then to have
his tempters laugh at him, and, as his uncle Win-
chester had done, force him to seem a traitor against
his will ; free to see his countrymen lie dead, slain
in the efifort to keep him from the throne ; free to see
England torn by civil strife, his very brothers war-
ring against each other as the Third Henry's sons
had fought so long ago; free to stand helpless, buf-
feted by fate, powerless to prevent this misery and
yet proclaimed by all the author of it— O God!
was it not his duty to choose eternal death and fall
by his own hand rather than live to bring calamity
to his beloved people?

In agony of soul the Prince sank upon his knees
and raised his eyes to the great vault above, in which
not even a star shone to give him comfort. "Help
me, merciful Father," he implored, "teach me what
is thy will concerning me." And as he prayed, in

Every Inch a King 249

the soft twilight he seemed to see a face looking
upon him with pity and deep love — a woman's face,
vague and undefined, like the faint memory of child-
hood, but yet so sweet, so beautiful, that he gave a
cry of remembrance and joy. "Mother! Hast thou
come to soothe thy troubled son ?"

Mary de Bohun had died when her eldest son was
but six years of age, yet from her he had received
the only love his childhood knew, and it seemed
entirely natural that she should appear to comfort
him in this his darkest hour. Her brown eyes, ever
filled with tenderest affection, gleamed out of the
darkness, and her faint voice sounded in his ears : —
"Courage, my son ; go to thy father, for he is dying
and longs for thee." "He will not receive me,"
Harry answered, but the gentle voice repeated, —
"Go, go, before it is too late!" The Prince sprang
to his feet and stepped quickly forward, but the
vision faded from before his eyes. He raised his
voice and called "Mother, mother!" Out of the
darkness came a soldier's figure, and a deep voice
asked, "Did you call, my lord?" Harry shook his
head impatiently, but the man continued, — "The
mist is heavy and it groweth cold. Your Grace hath
been asleep." "Asleep?" he asked, astonished. "Ay,
my lord, I passed you an insunit since and you were
sleeping. Will your Grace go in ?"

The Prince entered the round tower which he had
chosen for his abiding place, and in much amaze-
ment went to his chamber. Was it indeed a dream.

250 Every Inch a King

or had she actually appeared before him and given
him this command? Had he not seen her eyes and
heard her voice, ay, and spoken to her with his own
lips? But the soldier declared that he had seen him
sleeping. What matter? Dream or vision, he
would obey her wish,— he would once more beg to
see his father, and if the King still doubted his loy-
alty, then he would pray to suffer a traitor's death
rather than to live and cause him grief and shame.

Eariy the next morning Harry arose, and sum-
moning his servants together informed them that he
would start within the hour for London. "I go to
seek an audience of my father, and if I fail I will re-
turn with speed. Therefore, abide ye here to wait
my pleasure. Only a score of soldiers shall go with
me, for I must travel with the utmost speed." The
selection of his companions was made with diffi-
culty, since each one begged to be of the number:
but presently the little company was prepared. As
Harry mounted, he glanced over the great castle and
asked abruptly,— -"What name belongeth unto the
tower wherein I slept ?"

One of the officers answered, "My lord, until now
that tower alone hath been without a name. We
will call it the Tower of the Prince of Wales."

Harry laughed grimly,— "Nay, I would not have
it bear a name so empty,— for I am stripped of
honors and of power, and soon, methinks, must
even give up the title. Call it, rather, by the name
of that man because of whom I came here in dis-

Every Inch a King 251

grace, — that man before whom I did bow my knee
in token of obedience. From henceforth let it be
known as 'Gascoigne's Tower.' " And, smiling at
the irony of fate, Harry rode forth and turned his
face toward London.

i !

CHAPTER XXVI.

"If it were now to die,
It were to be most happy ; for I fear
My soul hath her content so absolute,
That not another comfort like to this
Succeeds in unknown fate."

Otriuo.

Eltham Palace, situated only nine miles south
of London, was associated with many of the Kind's
happiest days. Here he had wedded Joan of Na-

irLVV^°'' '"^ !:''" ^' ^^^ ^'^' '^' Christmas
season three years before with feasting and much

mernment The beautiful old palace, one of the

chief royal residences since Henry the Third's time

two centuries before, had witnessed many a festive

S ^A "?7 ^r ^"'"* P^'^y °^ "°W<^»"en and

he dlr vl^^^l" u-'"" ^^^^^ ''' ^'^y ^^"« to hunt
the deer with which its three great parks were filled.

I he King had come here frequently with his court

and now that he believed his death was fast ap^

YuTedde.^ ^^^ ^'°"™'^'^ '^''^'' *° ^P«"^ t^^
He was unable to sit his horse, and had been com-
pelled to mak^ the short journey in his royal car-
nage, which in former days he had scorned as too
luxurious for a warrior. This vehicle was drawn
by four handsome horses harnessed in a row, with
the postilion mounted on one of them, armed with

Every Inch a King 253

a short-handled whip of many thongs. The carriage
itself had four wheels, richly carved, and their
spokes expanded near the hoops into ribs forming
pointed arches; solid beams, painted or gilded
elaborately, rested on the axles, and above this
framework rose an archway rounded like a tunnel,
the sides of which were pierced by square windows
shaded by silken curtains. The interior was hung
with the richest tapestries, and the seats, on which
the King reclined, half sitting and half lying, were
furnished with embroidered cushions and soft robes.

Yet, in spite cf all this unwonted luxury, the
wretched roads, the constant groaning of the axles,
the violence with which the carriage advanced and
stopped, descended into the hollows and bounded
at the ditches, made the short drive a constant mar-
tyrdom, and even his Queen's tender ministrations
could not bring pleasure into the sick man's face.

Upon his safe arrival at Eltham, however, he
made it evident that he would not brook being
treated as an invalid. He gave commands that the
feasts were to be as elaborate and the entertainments
as merry as upon any former year, and he himself
was carried to his place upon the dais of the great
banqueting hall and presided over the board with
his accustomed dignity. There were gathered the
greatest nobles in the land ; and men in rich doublets,
and beautiful women in magnificent gowns, made
the court almost equal in brilliancy to that which
had assembled here to witness the King's marriage.

254 Every Inch a King

The influence of the holy season of Christmas and
the consciousness of his near-approaching end, had
caused Henry, in spite of the remonstrances of
Arundel. Scropc. and his Queen, to send gracious
messages to his brother. Bishop Winchester
(Thomas Beaufort, already pardoned, was fighting
m France), and also to I^rd SuflFolk and his son. in
response to which the noblemen, accompanied by
their ladies, had promptly arrived at Eltham. to be
welcomed cordially by the monarch, and kindly by
those of the court who either did not hate them or
had the sense to conceal their feelings. Because of
the archbishop's bitterness, his nephew, the Earl of
Arundel, was alone refused this general pardon

"My lords," Henry had said in welcoming the>;e
exiles to the court, "this is the season of good will
to men, and it behooves us to forgive whatever evil
ye intended gainst us, and to receive you once again
as loyal subjects ready to serve our person. There-
fore, we bid ye welcome to our court." Boling-
broke's trust was not disappointed; for one by one
they bowed their knee and declared their allegiance
to their King and vowed their readiness to die for
him. Therefore, in spite of his ill health, the Christ-
mas was one of the happiest Henry had ever spent.
One thing alone marred his pleasure ;— although
John of Lancaster gravely occupied his place, and
Humphrey of Gloucester, the youngest of the royal
princes, joined with full zest in all the merriment,
the King mourned for his elder sons. The Prin-

Every Inch a King 255

cess Margaret spoke often of her husband, — "fight-
ing in France, and denied our merry pleasures," but
her grief at Thomas's absence did not prevent her
from smiHng mos* bewitchingly upon the lords who
clustered about her. Once the monarch had said to
his Queen, — **I would that Harry were present at
this feast;" but Joan had answered angrily. — "Me-
thtnks thou hast a-plenty of traitors at thy board
without desiriuR the leader of them all." nnd Bol-
ingbroke sighed and did not refer to him .igain.

But this silence did not prevent him fnjm many
earnest thoughts. Gloomily, he relived the } ears once
more and wondered if he had fulfilled the duties of
a father toward his first-born son. In Harry's child-
hood they had been separated, Bolingbroke being
an exile from the country, while the boy occupied a
position of partial confinement at Richard's court.
Upoii Henry's usurpation of the throne, the Prince
had fc I time remained in London, maintaining
a ;.;.!.<! r l-.ouseliold ; but after the battle of Shrews-
^■■vry. -u i\i,ich, although only sixteen, he played so
^•J';..i n r,,ut, receiving there his first severe wound,
yet 1 .u'ing to leave the battle-field until victory was
assured, Harry went to Wales and the King saw
little of him until his return from the Welsh cam-
paigns and a successful expedition against Scotland,
to reside in Lonlon, And during the five years that
had elapsed since then, what had been the relation-
ship between them? The Prince's immediate and
universal popularity had excited the King's jeal-

256 Every Inch a King

ousy; his eagerness to take a prominent place in the
council, h,s keen interest in all state affairs, and his
amazing knowledge and wisdom, as well as the ear-
nestness with which he performed all his duties
made the monarch fear his active spirit and readilJ
listen to evil tales against him. And now he
doubted those tales, even such as seemed to have
been proven; he told himself that his jealousy was
unfounded, and he remembered bitterly that while
many of Harry's enemies had made the court most
unpleasant for him. he himself, his father, had re-
pulsed every effort of the Prince for closer friend-
ship; had refused to listen to his protests and ex-
planations, and finally had dismissed him from the
court because Lord Scrope had charged him with
high treason. And, when it was all too late, and the
slanders upon the Prince's name had driven him far
from London, the dying father repented of his injus-
tice and longed passionately for his son's presence
forgiveness and tender love. Was it God's purpose
to deny him this, in punishment for his many griev-
ous sms? J s ^y

No, the merciful Father was gentle with him, for
upon the first day of January, while the King sat
with his courtiers around a blazing fire, in one of the
great halls of the palace, there came servants and
told him hastily that the Prince of Wales, attended
by his guard, stood without and prayed to be ad-
mitted. Henry's weary face brightened at the
words, the light came to his eyes and a faint color

Every Inch a King 257

showed in his cheeks, but ere he could speak the
archbishop cried indignantly, — "I had not thought
he dared to be so bold. 'Twere well your Grace
commanded he be seized and taken to the Tower.
He doth presume upon the kindness you have shown
him, in granting him his present liberty."

Without a look at the angry and alarmed church-
man, the sick man addressed the servants : "Say to
the Prince that we will give him audience. Admit
him and conduct him to our presence with all the
honors worthy of his rank."

"Hold!" Arundel thundered. "Your Highness
shall not see him! Think you we will permit a
traitor to approach your person ?"

The King's eyes flashed. "Sirrahs," he demanded
of the hesitating servants, "have ye not heard our
bidding? Away with speed and do as we com-
mand you." Then, turning toward his nobles, —
"Hark ye, my lords. I am resolved upon this mat-
ter, and no arguments that ye can use shall change
my purpose ; but every protest that ye make against
my son shall be remembered to your disadvantage."

"Our King is mad," came Baron Scrope's clear
voice. "Draw, my lords, and defend him with your
lives."

"Put up your weapons," answered the monarch
sternly, "and stand behind me. If I am mad, yet I
am still your King, and when I do command, ye shall
obey! Dost think that one so near to death as I
would fear a sword-thrust? I would gladly wel-

It! I

258 Every Inch a King

come so swift an ending of my misery. Will ye give
place, or shall I call my guards ?"

Reluctantly and sullenly the noblemen about him
parted and drew back, leaving a broad, clear space
between him and the entrance. As they did so, the
doors were flung wide, and the guardsmen came to
a salute and the servants bowed almost to the ground
as the Prince entered the hall. Motioning to his
attendants to remain upon the threshold, Harry
Monmouth advanced across the open space alone.
Months had passed since the nobles had last seen his
face, and every eye was bent upon him curiously.
They noticed first his peculiar costume — a long,
dark-blue robe, over which was an academical gown,
while around his collar hung many needles with
thread, symbolizing the slanders which had attacked
him. Then they gazed wonderingly at his face.
Those who lead a riotous life show its traces in their
countenance — their faces are red and swollen, their
eyes heavy and clouded, their manner reckless, lack-
ing all self-control. The Prince was very pale, his
eyes were clear but downcast, and if the thought of
all the evil they believed against him made his heart
burn with shame and sorrow, he yet bore himself
with a quiet dignity which astonished them. Never
had he looked more princely than when, bowing low
before the King, he said humbly, in his clear, sweet
voice, — 'I thank your Highness for your gracious-
ness in granting me admittance. Will it please you
to permit that I speak with you alone?"

Every Inch a King 259

A murmur of amazement and protest rose from
the noblemen which brought a slight color to
Harry's white cheeks ; but Bolingbroke commanded
silence by a gesture, then said firmly. — "Prince, it
shall be as thou desirest. Beauchamp, Neville, lift
me up and carry me to yonder closet."

The two noblemen advanced and raised him in
their arms ; then the Prince following, they bore him
slowly down the long hall, past the irresolute cour-
tiers and into the antechamber, wher? they laid him
upon a couch. Henry smiled upon them. "I thank
ye, lords. Now pray withdraw and leave us here
alone." The earls hesitated and glanced at the
Prince. He raised his eyes to theirs, and allowed
each in turn to search his very soul ; then, silently,
and with every token of respect they departed from
the chamber and closed the door bdiind them.

The King raised himself on one elbow, but ere he
could spoak the Prince came swiftly forward and
passionately threw himself upon his knees beside the
couch. Drawing the jewelled dagger at his side, he
offered it to his father, saying in a low, intense voice
which thrilled the single listener: "Sire, I know
not what I have done to deserve such deep distrust,
but if thou dost believe I am a traitor, I pray thee
slay me here with thine own hand and end thy
doubts and fears and my keen shame !"

Whatever Henry may have hoped or expected to
hear from his son's lips he was utterly unprepared
for such an outburst; and in an amazement which

2 6o Every Inch a King

bereft him of all speech he unconsciously accepted
the extended dagger, and lay, silent, gazing in be-
wilderment at the kneeling figure.

But the Prince did not raise his eyes nor see his
father's emotion, so when the weapon was taken
from his hand he supposed that the King intended to
employ it, and promptly laid bare his breast and
leaned a little forward to receive the fatal blow. An
instant's breathless silence followed, then Harry
spoke again, very quietly : "Thou dost not strike, my
lord ? I have confessed myself and am prepared to
die. Better were it a thousand times that thou
shouldst end my life than believe that I have one
thought toward thee that is not loyal, true and hon-
orable."

The dagger rang upon the floor, and with a cry of
"Harry !" the King held out his arms. The Prince
raised his head, and in an instant was folded in a
close and tender embrace. "My son, my son, thank
God thou hast come back to me," said the father
brokenly. "Thou canst not know how my heart has
hungered for thee these many months. Methought
that I must die without thee, Harry, but God has
granted me to go in peace, knowing that thou art my
true and loyal son."

In response to his father's wish the Prince seated
himself upon the edge of the couch. "Sire," he said
gently, "I would so gladly have come to thee before,
had I not believed thou wouldst refuse me entrance.
When thou didst send me in disgrace from court

Every Inch a King 261

thou didst forbid that I should try to see thee, and
I then sent thee promise of my obedience."

"Ay," answered the King, sighing, "then it did
seem wisdom, for men beHeved that thou wouldst
seek to kill me. Why didst thou so desire the crown,
my son? Couldst thou not wait the short years of
my life.? Thou hadst all the powers of royalty,—
wert not content I should have the empty honor?"

"My lord, I never sought to take thy crown," re-
plied the Prince simply. '^Mine uncle and my friends
desired it; I did refuse to listen to their purpose, and
they approached thee against my strict command."
The King started and gazed keenly into his son's
face. The Prince met his glance openly and freely,
and Bolingbroke, wearied and ill, made no attempt
to understand, nor reason out Scrope's treachery
and the archbishop's hatred, but simply believed and
rejoiced in his son's innocence. "I trust thee abso-
lutely, Harry, nor shall I ever doubt thee more," he
said; and the Prince's pale face flushed with happi-
ness as he raised his father's hand to his lips. There
was a moment's silence, and then Bolingbroke
asked: "I understood the reasons for thy absence
during the long year, but, Harry, after Gascoigne
committed thee to prison, why didst thou not then
come to me?"

The young man gazed at him in amazement. "I
never dreamed of coming then, my lord. If thou
didst punish me when I was innocent, how could I
hope for pardon, being guilty? My lord," he con-

2 62 Every Inch a King

tinued, with downcast eyes and reddened cheeks,
"never until the justice rated me had I the slightest
knowledge of the opinions men held about their
Prince. When council, court, and friends were lost
to me, I sought forgetfulness in wine and frolic. I
now perceive that I have done great wrong, and I
acknowledge, sire, that thou wert wise when thou
didst warn me against these men whom I have made
my friends and intimates. That life is ended, good
my lord, forever. I never more shall greet Falstaflf
or Poins, nor shall I dine or drink in London tav-
erns. Whatever be thy will concerning me, I vow
to thee that from henceforth I'll live a life of purity
and honor."

The last cloud was lifted from the King's brow by
these words and his eyes were filled with happy tears.
He understood for the first time the causes that had
driven the Prince to such a course ; and he realized
how great and noble a sacrifice to duty was con-
tained in this quiet abandonment of the gay, free,
merry life which was so suited to the Prince's happy
nature — a life that he had lived for years, but that
only during one brief month had he lived wrongly
and turned pleasure into sin; yet now, to guard
himself from lying tongues, he would close every
door to evil. The bitter thought came to the King
that if he had only trusted and loved his son, all this
sorrow and misjudgment would have been avoided ;
yet when he tried falteringly to ask pardon for his
jealousy and injustice, the Prince knelt once more

Every Inch a King 263

beside him and earnestly replied: "My liege, thou
wrongest thyself. Thou hast done naught without
weighty cause. Never have I blamed thee, sire, for
mine own faults are many, and I have not deserved
either thy love or trust. 'Tis I who ask forgiveness
of my lord."

"Thou hast it, Harry, from my very heart," the
King responded; and then he added wistfully, —
"Canst thou love me, Harry?"

A smile so sweet, so tender, came to the Prince's
lips, that it needed not his words to fill the dying
monarch's cup to overflowing, — "I do love thee, my
gracious liege and father."

"Thou wilt not leave me again, Harry," the King
pleaded ; and his son answered gently, — "Never, my
lord, if thou wilt let me stay." And when, a half
hour later, Westmoreland entered the chamber, he
found the Prince still beside the couch, on which the
monarch lay, sleeping like a child and smiling in his
sleep.

CHAPTER XXVII.

"To die,— to sleep,
No more ; and, by a sleep, to say we end
The heartache, and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to.— 'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wished."

Hamlet.

"Hast heard the news, my lord chief justice?
Thou must hereafter teach thy tongue to speak with
graciousness when thou dost mention our most
noble Prince." Archbishop Arundel's strong face
^yas drawn into a sneer and his voice gave expres-
sion to his scorn.

The King had been brought back to Westminster,
and Gascoigne, prevented by ill health from joining
iti the Christmas festivities, had promptly presented
himself at the court upon his arrival in London.
Now he stood, calm and dignified, facing the arch-
bishop, and concealing beneath an impassive coun-
tenance the anxious thoughts which filled his busy
mind.

"So rumor speaketh truth?" he asked carelessly.
"I heard a fortnight since that the King had received
his son, but methought that it was idle gossip."

"Nay, 'tis too true, and I must warn thee, Gas-
coigne, that Henry has gone well-nigh daft about
him. He will not permit Prince Harry to leave his

. M

Every Inch a King 265

side, nor will he listen to a word of protest Be
wise, my lord, and give him gentle words."

Sir William permitted a slight smile to show upon
his lips. "How is't with thee, lord bishop?" he
asked coolly. "Hast thou learned to conceal thy
feelings under honeyed phrase?"

Arundel drew himself up somewhat haughtily.
"For me, concealment is unnecessary. The King
doth know my feelings in the matter, nor has he
judged me guilty of injustice. I have opposed
Prince Harry's policy, but never have I railed
against his person I"

Gascoigne raised his eyebrows, "No, my lord?
And dost thou now commend him for his good-
ness?"

Arundel flushed, then answered with sudden
frankness: "To speak the truth, my lord, it is too
late. Harry doth know my hatred, and returns it,
nor would a few fair words alter my fate. He is
all-powerful now, and it doth seem that save by his
death alone could we prevent his claiming and ob-
taining the mighty crown! And when he is the
King, then God have mercy upon our England !"

Lord Beauchamp, Earl of Warwick, joined the
two, asking in surprise, — "My lord chief justice,
wherefore art thou here ? This is no place for one of
thy opinions."

Gascoigne turned toward him quickly. "Will not
the King receive me, noble earl ?"

Warwick shrugged his shoulders and answered

. m

ir^ '

266 Every Inch a King

bitterly,— "Mayhap he will admit thee to his cham-
ber, but thou needett have no hope of speech with
him."

"And wherefore not, my lord?" questioned Sir
William.

"Because his son doth never leave his side. What
canst thou say before Prince Harry's face?"

Gascoigne stared at the carl's flushed cheeks and
angry brow in absolute amazement. "My Lord of
Warwick," he exclaimed, "methought that thou at
least didst love the Prince."

Beauchamp bit his lip. "I love the King," he
answered fiercely, "and when his Grace lies dying it
were fit that I attended on him. But he doth prefer
the presence of his traitorous, unnatural son. God
pity us when he is crowned our King!"

He strode away, leaving the justice gazing after
him in sorrow and bewilderment. "Oh, jealousy,
how mighty is thy power!" he murmured, but the
archbishop, smiling, answered suavely. "Thou seest
Harry Monmouth has few friends. Methinks not
one of us will escape his vengeance, but 'tis as well
that we should fall together."

Arundel was right,— the Prince had indeed few
friends at the court. His enemies had felt confident
in their victory— they had driven him from council,
blackened his fair name and almost gained the
King's consent to have Thomas proclaimed the heir.
Could they prevent Harry's reinstatement in the
King's favor, upon the monarch's death they could

Every Inch a King 267

proclaim the younger prince as King. Victory was
almost in their grasp, when, on a sudden, Harry
Monmouth had returned, was immediately received
and pardoned, and now he alone seemed to possess
the confidence of the King. Alarmed and dismayed,
his enemies, at the head of whom was the bold and
revengeful Queen, sought by every means to drive
him from the court. Joan, indeed, did not scruple
to charge the Prince before his face with every vil-
lainy she could invent, and she even besought the
King upon her knees to grant her Harry's death, but
her words fell on closed ears. While the Prince
stood, fairly quivering with fury, the sick man's
glance wandered aimle ,iy about the chamber, pass-
ing her by without a sign, to rest at last in peace
upon his son's white face. Then he softly mur-
mured, "Harry," and in an instant the anger died
from the young man's eyes, and a deep, tender love
took its place as he knelt and answered gently, — "I
am here, my liege." .And while the baffled Queen,
with a glance of undying hatred, hurried from the
chamber, the King took his hand within his own.
and closed his eyes, content. Many, many times was
this scene enacted during those sad weeks, and each
encounter left the Prince more pale and his heart
filled with grief and sadness.

Few, indeed, dared openly t- speak against him,
and his constant presence, day and night, beside his
father prevented many bitter attacks upon him ; but
in every face he saw distrust, in every tone heard

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268 Every Inch a King

scorn. The King was too ill to attempt argument
or defence of him, and those who loved him best had
no knowledge that he had declared his innocence, far
less that he had vowed to abandon his unworthy
pastimes and never more to consort with those
merry Londoners who had been his misleaders.

It soon became apparent that his constant pres-
ence beside his father was exciting jealousy in the
hearts of those who should have been his friends.
Warwick, Westmoreland, and others who had sought
to defend him from injustice, looked now upon him
with suspicious eyes, and, being ignorant of his refor-
mation, they could ill brook his constant attendance
upon the monarch. Moreover, there were many who
thought the Prince took an unjust advantage of the
King's illness to regain his rightful place, not realiz-
ing that it was the King's request that kept him at
his side. Although Henry spent many hours lying
apparently oblivious to his surroundings, should the
Prince even so much as rise to cross the room, the
sick man would turn restlessly and call, "Harry,"
nor would he be content until his son was once more
sitting by his side. Therefore, upon this wintry
afternoon, when Gascoigne presented himself at the
royal chamber, he found the two together ; the King,
apparently brighter and stronger than for several
days, half-sitting and half-lying among his cushions,
while the Prince, dressed in a simple costume of dark
velvet, was seated upon a bench beside him, in his
hand a poem by the poet Lydgate. Henry was gaz-

Every Inch a King 269

ing affectionately upon that face which had grown
so dear to him, when he noticed that his son
glanced up, started, and changed color. Surprised,
the monarch turned his head and beheld the justice
advancing toward them. The Prince rose anC asked
hastily, "Will your Highness grant me leave? I will
return erelong." But Henry put out his hand.
"Nay, Harry, I prithee leave me not," he answered,
and his son could but obey. Gascoigne drew near
and bowed low before the invalid. "I am rejoiced
that your Highness hath reached London without
mishap," he said heartily.

Henry extended his hand. "Thou art truly kind
to come to welcome me," he answered cordially.
"We missed thee. Sir William, at our Yuletide
feast. I trust thy health is in better state ?"

"It is, sire," Gascoigne replied, smiling. "I am
growing old, my liege, and worn with care, yet
death has touched me not. I hope your Highness's
strength hath increased since you left us. The air
of Eltham giveth life and health."

"Methinks I am more strong," said Henry, while
his eyes rested upon the Prince's face with a smile
of entire contentment. "This boy beside me doth
make me well with joy. Thou seest that I have my
son once more."

Gascoigne glanced swiftly at the young man,—
they had not met since the scene in the court room.
Harry had remained standing near the couch, his
eyes fixed on his father, his lips compressed. Now

270 Every Inch a King

he raised his head and drew himself up haughtily.
He was the Prince, — should he receive no recogni-
tion at the hands of this bold man? A slight, half-
scornful smile came to the justice's face for a brief
instant, then ignoring his future King entirely, he
replied, "I rejoice that your Highness improveth
day by day."

Harry flushed. Must he still humble himself be-
fore this powerful judge? Should not Gascoigne
ask for his pardon? The King, watching closely,
had seen Sir William's smile, and, reading its mean-
ing, exclaimed imperatively, — "My lord, thou hast
not greeted the Prince of Wales."

Gascoigne was annoyed, but with entire calmness
he promptly turned and bowed, saying, "My lord
Prince, I give you greeting."

Harry's eyes fell before the justice's gaze, ana 00
greatly embarrassed to reply, he merely bent his
head. But who will blame Gascoigne for saying in
his heart, "When my good friend, the King, doth
live no more, I am assured my life will quickly end.
Prince Harry hath no love to waste upon me."

Indeed, such was the belief of various members of
the court. Many feared that the Prince would take
personal vengeance upon them, while others ex-
pected to share in the general dismissal which was
prophesied. In the heart of every nobleman there
was anxiety, — would not the chief places of the land
be bestowed upon Falstaflf and his friends? And
how could proud England endure the ridicule and

Every Inch a King 271

taunts of other nations ? Law and order, peace and
justice, dignity and power, would end with BoUng-
broke's death, and in their place would reigr vanity
and idleness and foolish mirth. And what escape
was possible from this misery ? Thomas of Clarence
still lingered in France, and many of his strongest
adherents were with him. Neither John nor Hum-
phrey would be acceptable to the nation. Unless
Thomas returned, there was no choice but to pro-
claim Harry as King. Urgent messages were sent
to the Duke of Clarence, and the physicians used
their utmost endeavors to keep the monarch alive
until his arrival, and, indeed, Henry seemed to rally
and grow stronger; but on the twentieth of March,
while praying before the shrine of St. Edward in
the abbey, he had a final attack of his disease, and
was rem <ved to the Jerusalem Chamber in the ab-
bot's house. There the noblemen gathered, in sor-
row and dismay, the physicians came hastily to his
side, and the priests approached to give him spiritual
succor, but Bolingbroke waved them back. "Nay,
trouble me not, I have confessed my sins and am at
peace with God and man. And as for you, your
medicines are useless. This is the end from which
ye cannot save me. Where are my sons. Prince John
and Humphrey?"

Th -ame forward, weeping, and Henry feebly
placed nis hand upon their heads and faintly blessed
them. Then his eyes passed from face to face, as if

1:1

'^ !=•

272 Every Inch a King

to bestow upon each mighty lord his fare%vell greet-
ing. In answer to his gesture of command they all
drew back a little space, leaving a single kneeling
figure beside the bed. Henry gazed for the last time
upon that face which had grown day by day more
dear to him, and whispered regretfully: "I would
have seen thy brother Thomas once again ; give him
my blessing, say I longed for him."

"I will, my liege," the Prince promised in a chok-
ing voice.

The King smiled faintly and pressed the hand he
held. "Harry, thou art very dear to me," he mur-
mured. Then, a brief moment of strength returning,
he continued, but in so low a voice that the Prince
alone could hear his words: "My son, remember
the promise thou hast made to me. Give up all that
is evil; clothe thyself about with majesty; make
those about thee friends, not enemies, and live and
rule as doth become thy blood, with dignity and
glory, might and power. Wilt thou do this V'

"I will," answered the Prince firmly.

"Swear it," pleaded the King, searching his son's
face.

Harry swept the tears from his eyes and raised
them to his father's. With a mighty effort he calmed
his trembling lips, and in a quiet, steady voice re-
plied in low tones : "As God lives, I swear that by
his help I will so order my life and rule this land
that England may be glorious and free, and united
in loving and honoring its King. And if I fail to

Every Inch a King 273

keep this vow, my liege, I will by mine own hand
deliver my country from its unworthy ruler."

Bolingbroke smiled iiito the earnest eyes and
answered : "Now can I die contented, trusting thee,
for I do know that thou wilt keep thy vow. God be
with thee and bless thee, thou dearest of my sons."
He placed his hand upon the bowed head, then let it
fall once more by his side. "It is over, — Harry, —
farewell," he murmured faintly.

Passionately the Prince kissed again and again
the King's thin, wasted hand, his figure quivering
wi' the sobs he sought in vain to repress.

A moment of intense silence, then Bolingbroke
cried out in a stifled voice, "Air! Raise me!"

The crowd of courtiers pressed forward, but
Harry's voice rang forth sternly, "Give place, my
lords ! Away !" Tenderly he raised the dying mon-
arch in his arms. For a minute Henry struggled for
breath and life, then with a wearied sigh his head
fell back upon his son's breast, and the light died out
from his clear eyes.

An instant Harry remained motionless; soon he
laid the lifeless form among the pillows and gently
closed the eyelids. Then as Warwick, the arch-
bishop, and many others crowded around him with
exclamations of grief mingled with many tears, he
who was now the ruler of them all wrapped his cloak
about him, and swiftly passing from among them,
went to his own chamber, barred the door, .' d was
alone at last and free to indulge the grief \v lich al-
most overpowered him.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

"Warwick. — Here come the heavy issue of dead Harry.
O, that the living Harry had the temper
Of him, the worst of these three gentlemen i
How many nobles then should hold their places,
That must strike sail to spirits of vile sort.

"Chief Justice.— O God, I fear all will be overturned!"

Hen«y IV.

When the first shock of Bolingbroke's death had
passed away, the nobles suddenly realized that
Harry Monmouth was the King at last, and on the
following morning they reluctantly proclaimed him
England's monarch. The intense enthusiasm of the
common people surprised and puzzled them, and
they said to one another with bitter smiles : "These
foolish men little dream of the shame which they
must suffer presently. They will soon learn to know
this man they hail, and they will wish they'd bitten
out their tongues ere they had greeted him as Eng-
land's ruler."

But as the day passed quietly and no message or
command came from that distant room, the lords
wondered and were filled with strange uncertainty.
Where was the Prince ? Why came he not forth to
claim his exalted place and humble them all before
him? But Harry kept his chamber, spending his
hours in mourning and prayer, and not until the

Every Inch a King 275

funeral obsequies were performed did he appear be-
fore them to pay the last honors to his father's mem-
ory.

When all was over, the chief noblemen gathered
in one of the halls of Westminster to await the first
momentous interview with the young monarch.
"Didst mark his pallor, and the misery in his face?"
questioned Earl Warwick. "Can it be possible he
truly loved the King?"

"Not he," answered Archbishop Arundel, with
a bitter laugh ; " 'twas but hypocrisy ! Thou shalt
find the tears and black soon gone, and he will dye
his robes in wine and blood."

"Perchance, my lord," suggested the Bishop of
Winchester coldly, "we do not all fear the Prince as
thou dost. I do not look for death or quick dis-
grace."

"Yet thou shalt find it," answered Stanley
sharply, "methinks not one of us will escape. Art
thou content to bow before John Falstaff ?"

Wine'.. -»lored, and replied angrily,— "Thou

dost n-' ,. my nephew! Never will he submit
our nat • uch indignity."

But the cnief justice answered with the calmness
of despair: "My Lord of Winchester, it hath been
long since thou wast of the court, and thy belief in
Henry's nobleness hath not been destroyed with
ours. Yet I must warn thee, cherish no false hopes.
'Tis not in reason to expect a transformation in a
day, nor have I ever heard that power and might

Ill

276 Every Inch a King

would cause a man to sacrifice his passions and
awake in him a nobler spirit. Since as a Prince he
led a reckless life, truly he will not govern himself

as King."

A murmur of sorrowful agreement ran through
the room, then Westmoreland, with a glance of ad-
miration at the quiet, grave face, said,— "Sir Will-
iam, thou thinkest of the nation, not of thyself.
Dost thou not fear what he will do to thee?"

Gascoigne smiled quietly. "Why should I fear,
most noble earl? I have but done my duty, and
should he decree my death, I would receive it with
quiet mind."

"I would that I could offer thee a little comfort,"
said Richard of Warwick. "In olden days I loved
our Prince most dearly ; but of late years I have seen
little of him, and in the midst of all these bitter
charges I dare not even think him innocent. I fear
me that unless thou wilt acknowledge the virtues of
his companions, there is but little hope for thee."

"And that, my lord, is quite impossible!" answered
the justice proudly.

"Impossible, Sir William?" asked a clear voice
behind him. The nobles started, and turned in great
confusion. The young King had entered the room
quietly, acknowledged in silence the deep bows of
many of his subjects, and rapidly approached the
central group, who, engrossed in conversation, were
entirely unaware of his presence. And now he stood
before them still clad in his sombre robes, his pale

Every Inch a King 277

face speaking eloquently of weary days and sleepless
nights, yet with a noble dignity in his manner which
made these astonished men suddenly conscious of
his new position, and caused them to greet him with
every possible mark of reverenje He received their
embarrassed salutations with calm graciousness,
then looking Gascoigne in the eyes, asked again:
"Dost thou mean, lord justice, that thou wilt not at
my request commend my friends ?"

"Not when they have done wrong, my liege,"
answered Sir William, respectfully but firmly.

Henry continued very quietly: "And myself, my
lord ? Wilt thou say no word in praise of thy new
King?"

"Gladly will I commend your Highness when you
shall prove yourself worthy of my praise," was the
bold answer.

A murmur of amazen.ent and alarm rose from the
ncblemen, but Henry raised his hand for silence.

"Thou hast dealt severely with me, Gascoigne," he
said sternly. "Thou ,t charge thy Prince, in open
court, with offences of which he was entirely inno-
cent. Rumor alone told thee of my evil living, my
delight in robbery, my protection of criminals!
Thou hadst no knowledge whether these things were
true. Because I came asking for the pardon of a
friend, was it well to charge me with such false-
hoods?"

"V/ere they falsehoods, my lord?" asked Gas-
coigne proudly. "Was not this / iend, whose par-

I- r

278 Every Inch a King

don you did demand, a self-confessed criminal?
Was not your friendship a proof of evil living, and
did you not seek to protect him f ro: > the law ?"

The young King flushed, and cried out sharply—
"Gascoigne, I warn thee, remember I am King, and
hold thy future in the hollow of mine hand! Thou
didst charge me with unproven faults, used me with
scorn before my friends and servants, and finally
committed me to a vile prison. Wilt thou not ac-
knowledge thou didst wrong?"

"My lord," answered the justice simply, "my con-
science doth not condemn me, and even if you slay
me for the deed, I will not beg for pardon by a lie."
A sudden brilliant smile came to Henry's face,
and extending his hand, he answered distinctly;
"Since thou art obdurate. Sir William, / must yield.
At another time I will make more clear to thee
wherein the world hath wronged me. To-day it
shall suffice that I admit thy action against my per-
son was just and wise. My lord, these men thou
dost condemn shall be banished from my presence
and my thoughts, and I will curb the freedom of my
life, remembering that I am now great England's
King. As for thyself, it is our pleasure that thou
Shalt still bear the sword of justice which thou didst
make glorious in our father'-, eign. And further, be
thou near our person <.t tht court, and if thou dost
perceive in us such faults as misbecome our state
and dignity, be thine the tongue to frame a just re-
buke."

Every Inch a King 279

As he ceased, a low murmur of amazemet t and
joy rose among them all and increased until it al-
most became a cheer; but Gascoigne bent his knee,
and with eyes blinded by happy tears humbly
kissed his youthful monarch's hand. Then, hile
the nobles stood, amazed and doubting, Henry ad-
dressed them with serene dignity. "My lords," he
said simply, "ye have greatly feared me, nor can ye
readily believe that I will rule as doth become my
state. Time must convince you of my sincerity, but
what I purpose cannot be peril med without your
aid and counsel. Uncle of Winchester, wilt thou
accept the place in our royal council of lord high
chancellor ?"

"I will, my liege," answered Henry Beaufort,
with a glance of triumph around him.

"I thank thee," answered the King quietly. "We
know the worth of thy abilities. Are my Lord of
Suflfolk and his gallant son in presence?" The two
noblemen came forward from another part of the
hall. Henry greeted them with a flashing smile and
extended his hand, which they kissed respecifalls-
"Will ye aid us in our government, my !o,ds?" he
asked, and they joyfully assented. The King glanced
swiftly around him. "Where is my dear Lord
Thomas of Arundel ?" he cried. Sir Michael again
advanced, saying.— "He is without, sire, awaiting
your Highness's pleasure." The King waved his
hand toward a group of lesser nobles: "Attend
him, lords, and escort him to our presence without

'M-

280 Every Inch a King

delay." Three or four hastened to obey, and the
monarch awaited their return in silence. In a mo-
ment the young earl was seen advancing, his head
held high, his cheeks flushed and his eyes hright
with pleasure and excitement. Henry greeted him
with the utmost heartiness. "Welcome once more
to court, lord earl," he cried, "and may thy future
honors repay thee for thy unjust disgrace. I ap-
point thee mine own successor as Constable of Dover
and Warden of the Cinque Ports. Wilt thou also be
our royal treasurer, my lord?" Scrope started and
paled slightly— what was to be his future? But the
happy earl knelt and kissed his monarch's hand as
he answered: "Your gracious words, my liege, have
blotted from my memory all my past sorrow, and
though I am unworthy of these many honors, it is
my dearest wish to serve my King."

Henry would not have been human had not a
gleam of triumph crossed his face as he glanced
first upon the group of his early friends, who stood
together, their heads held high, their faces wreathed
in smiles, and then allowed his eyes to rest upon
those others who had so scorned him in earlier days.
Westmoreland and Warwick stood a little apart,
doubt, yet hope, written upon their faces, relief that
so much had been nobly done, but fear that the
young monarch would yet revenge himself upon
those whom he doubtless considered his enemies.
Archbishop Arundel had turned half away from the
royal person, his face was set and his eyes fixed upon

Every Inch a King 281

the wall before him. Neither Scrope nor Sir John
Stanley dared face his King; but while the latter
stood with lowered head and fingers nervously fum-
bling with his sword, the baron held his head
haughtily erect, and with firmly compressed lips and
determined eyes awaited his sentence. Without
doubt Henry had learned all the truth. What could
he hope but his richly merited reward of death ?

A moment the King gazed upon the scene before
him and thought of all the misery that the doubt and
distrust of these men had brought to him; then the
petty desire for revenge gave place to the higher
vengeance of magnanimity. An instant he turned
toward the two earls, smiled upon them, and said
briefly, "Cousin Neville and my good Lord War-
wick, we know the wisdom our father found in you,
nor will our council be complete without your pres-
ence. We do desire your assistance in all our gov-
ernment."

"Your Highness shall receive it," they answered
heartily; and content, he turned once more and
gazed upon those three uneasy men who would not
meet his eyes. An intense stillness fell upon the
great hall, and every distant nobleman tried to draw
nearer, and every ear listened eagerly for Henry's
words. He had been generous — most generous,
especially toward Gascoigne, who stood near him,
watching every act in the little drama with the ut-
most interest. It was not in reason, thought many
of the courtiers, that the King, who had been so

III

282 Every Inch a King

deeply wronged (not by them, thank Heaven!),
would forgive all his enemies. Evidently the three
had no expectation of forgiveness — they certainly
deserved their punishment. Hark ! the King speaks.
Henry's clear voice rang distinctly out through the
great crowded hall. "In our haste to welcome and
reward those who were our personal friends as
Prince, we have for the moment neglected those who
have been our father's trusted friends. First of
these, in power, and strength, and nobleness, is the
Archbishop of Canterbury." Arundel turned and
coldly bowed, but did not meet Henry's eyes. The
King gazed into his calm face a moment, then took
a step toward him. "My lord archbishop," he said
quietly, "I cannot offer thee the proud place in coun-
cil which my father gave thee, yet I trust thou wilt
not deny to me the wisdom of thy advice in govern-
ment."

For the first time in his life the proud churchman
started and betrayed his feelings, which were of
complete astonishment. "Your Highness means,"
he stammered, "that you desire me to join your
royal council of state?"

Henry bowed. "Ay, that is our request. Thou,
who art the highest of our churchmen, didst place
our father's crown upon his brow. We trust that
thou wilt perform this ceremony for ourself. We
desire from henceforth to rule as mightily and ably
as any of our ancestors, and thy wisdom will aid us

Every Inch a King 283

to this achievement. Canst thou deny this favor to
thy King?"

One instant the proud archbishop hesitated, then
humbled by the earnest pleading in Hen-y's eyes, he
answered simply: "My liege, in chancel, or in
council, in high or low estate, Arundel will gladly
serve the King who has this day proved so worthy
of his race."

The color flamed into the young man's face, and
as he clasped the archbishop's hands in his, the deep
brown eyes which had grown so sad of late spoke
eloquently of his gratitude. Then he turned appeal-
ingly toward his friends, and his relief and joy al-
most overpowered him as Winchester and his old-
time enemy looked into each other's eyes, and for
the sake of the young Prince whom they had both
despised oflfered to each other a friendly hand. Then
the young Earl of Arundel came forward to greet
his uncle, from whom he had been so long estranged,
and the happy King turned hurriedly to the last two
men. "Sir John Stanley," he said cordially, "for
thy good services to our country we will bestow
upon thee the Order of the Garter, and do also
appoint thee Lord Lieutenant of Ireland for the
term of six years, being well assured that thou art
fully worthy of these honors." The knight, sur-
prised and overwhelmed, could only kiss Henry's
hand, and upon his knees endeavor to stammer out
his gratitude; but the King graciously bade him rise,

284 Every Inch a King

then very quietly addressed that one man upon
whom every eye in the assembly now rested.

"My Lord Baron Scrope, thou hast been a
friend both to our father and ourself. For three
years thou hast most worthily fulfilled thy duties as
royal treasurer. We would have gladly retained
thee in that place, and near our person, but circum-
stances compel us to send thee into France."

"Am I exiled for life?" asked the baron hurriedly,

with dry lips.

"Exiled!" exclaimed Henry, "you mistake, my
lord— or surely thou wert jesting! We send thee
upon a mission of state so delicate and so important,
that to thee alone, our dear, beloved friend, dare we
trust the execution. Thou shalt learn further of
this without delay. Meanwhile, consider what
lords thou wilt choose to assist thee, and come to our
chamber to-morrow at an early hour."

As Scrope bowed low in assent, he tried to see
and read his monarch's face. What did it mean?
Was Henry still ignorant of the truth? Ah, how
he hated him in his great triumph! If he could only
strike a fatal blow before it was too late! And then he
started and an evil light came to his eyes— ay, the
King was generous, he was forgiving, he was pre-
pared to pardon and to trust all who had been his
ancient enemies. Would he not release and pardon
one who had been a friend? And even with the
thought there fell upon Scrope's ears the voice of
Gascoigne asking almost gaily: "Your Highness

Every Inch a King 285

hath assured all of the court that you will be their
friend. Will you not ask of us in return to receive
one single man who is a stranger to us but not to
you ?"

The King answered gravely : "Ay, Sir William,
there is one for whom I shall beg a welcome."

"And his name, my liege?" asked the justice
quickly.

A sudden silence fell upon all standing near, and
the answer was distinctly heard, and produced as
great a sensation as any incident of that eventful
day. "His name, Sir William," answered Henry
calmly, "is Edmund Mortimer, Lord Earl of
March."

■ i I

CHAPTER XXIX.

"The people's prayer— the glad diviner's theme!
The young men's vision, and the old men's dream I"

Drydin.

Oh, how England rang with the news on that
March day I All fear and doubt were banished from
M people's hearts. The Prince whom they had
loved for so many years, whose brilliant career they
had watched so eagerly, whose few faults they had
forgiven and forgotten, ever ready to close their
eyes to all signs of evil, and to see in the slightest of
his acts a token of his nobility of spirit — this Prince
whose assumption of the crown they had anxiously
awaited, had within the brief hour of his first ap-
pearance before the court proved how richly he
deserved their trust. Had he not shown the utmost
generosity toward those who had sought by every
means to ruin his fair name ? Had he not exhibited
the greatest tenderness toward his dead father?
Was it not wonderful that one so young could, at a
word, dismiss all tliose merry friends from his com-
panionship and take upon himself such majesty that
all men looked upon him with amazement? And
what kindness he had shown toward his old play-
fellows ! They were, indeed, forbidden to come near
his presence by ten miles, until such time as their
behavior should be worthy of those who would be
the friends of England's King, yet in so banishing

Every Inch a King 287

them Henry bestowed upon them such rich gifts
that they could spend the remainder of their Hves in
virtuous happiness and comfort. And then came
the news that the young King had summoned around
him the mightiest nobles of the land ; that for each
newcomer he had a hearty welcome and a place of
honor, and that ere a day had passed he had so
.vrought upon them that the proudest among them
did him reverence, and the bitterest enemies called
each other friends, their only rivalry being in their
desire to serve their King!

Little wonder, then, that the bells pealed forth,
the hill-sides were alight with bonfires, and the
sturdy citizens forgot their many cares and gath-
ered upon every street corner and in every tavern
to shout and sing in triumph, only pausing long
enough between their cheers to drink bumper after
bumper to the health of "Harry Monmouth, our
King, God bless him !" Never had there been such
intense enthusiasm throughout England; London
went almost wild with joy. A ad the most delicious
thought of all to that great, supremely happy middle
class of English people was the knowledge that they
had not doubted nor misjudged their Prince, but had
ever defended him from calumny, and that at last
they had proved their cause.

And the court? Were the great nobles who had
wronged him so cruelly ready to acknowledge that
they had utterly misjudged him, and that, except
for the one brief month when he had been driven

288 Every Inch a King

almost to despair by their harsh treatment of him,
and when, with so much evil ready at his hand, he
had yet touched so lightly upon sin, and had so
nobly paid the bitter penalty — except for that, he
had ever been worthy of his name and place ? Never !
What, admit they had so amazingly misjudged him?
That all the evil they had so readily believed was
false, that the story of his base conspiracy to seize
the throne, his traitorous attempts against his
father's life, and the charges against his honesty and
purity were merely lies? Incredible! Nay, there
was a far simpler explanation. It was preposterous
to think that they could be so mistaken, it was im-
possible to doubt the truth of all those evil rumors!
There was too great an array of "proof" j .ijainst the
Prince ! No, the truth was that they had indeed been
accurate in their judgment of him, but that God, in
his goodness, had seen fit to show his mercy to his
faithful people, and in the hour of the King's death
had so changed the nature of their gracious Prince
that he had repented humbly of his past sins, and
had put the old evil behind him, appearing before
them as pure as though he had passed seven times
through the cleansing fire. In the King's grave
had been buried the old spirit, and by a miracle he
who was in future to rule over them received in its
stead a spirit full of such nobility that every man, in
grateful wonder, must yield him reverence and serve
him with humble love.

Such was the verdict of the court, and for many

^fe.it

Every Inch a King 289

centuries history has repeated its decision and
stated solemnly that "Henry's youth had been wild
and dissolute," but that his nature changed entirely
when he became king f

Harry Monmouth, however, knew nothing of hii
own "sudden regeneration," and so was without the
comforting knowledge that those who had once de-
spised him and called him a headstrong boy now
gazed upon him with wonder not unmixed with awe
and in their pride and joy and gratitude were pre-
pared to serve him faithfully, with honor and with
love,— one must not disobey or distrust a being
whose spirit is the gift of God! But Henry, aK
though hoping to win their confidence in time,' be^
lieved that it would be a long and difficult task;' and
as he folded his dignity about him as a garment
how desperately he longed for even one hour of free
dom and happiness ! But he never faltered, he never
despaired. The merry past he had put behind him
forever, nor did he even allow himself a backward
glance. The severe duties of the present filled his
mind. It was his task first to heal the personal feuds
of the court and win the cordial, loving support of
every nobleman; then to unite all his people in the
close bond of loyalty to their King; and finally to
lead this united nation to such great victories that
England should be feared and reverenced in every
land. "'

It was not an easy task for a young man of
twenty-five, believing that he was distrusted on

290 Every Inch a King

every hand, to set before himself ; but the glorious
manner in which Harry Monmouth fulfilled it forms
one of the brightest pages in history.

The Duke of Clarence, hastening home from
France in response to the urgent appeals of Arch-
bishop Arundel and his friends, was in a most
anxious frame of mind. Messenger after messenger
had reached him imploring his instant return. —
"The King, thy father, lies at point of death; thy
eldest brother is unfit to rule ; return, we do beseech
thee, ere all is lost ! The crown is thine, wilt thou
but come for it." Harry unfit ? Harry to ruin them
if he should rule? The crown to be offered unto
himf Truly, the English nobles had gone mad!
The young duke, who had trusted and loved his
brother with all his heart, had been too occupied
with battles and diplomacy to lend an ear to . .ssip.
But now, amazed and bewildered, he sought on every
side to learn the meaning of this intense anxiety, and
there was poured into his ears an array of charges
against the Prince which stunned him. Was it pos-
sible that his beloved brother had so changed?
Doubting and dismayed, he hurriedly set sail and
had just landed at Dover, when the final message
reached him, telling of the King's sudden death and
the reluctant proclamation of Henry as the new
ruler. "Thy delay hath been our ruin," wrote Earl
Warwick. "Yet, dear my lord, I pray thee, hasten
to us. Mayhap thy influence may save us from dis-

Every Inch a King

291

jrac. and tanUhment. Th. Prince doth k«o hi,
chamber and no man hath seen hi, face. W^rem
ble when we think upon our future "

u,Hr ^°"" •'^'"' ^''""'"- '"«'«"? with the
utmo»t,peed,arnved in London. As he rod. throull
^e crowded streets he was cheered hearti y but ^!
h^s amazement it was as the brother of th"^ King"
Harrys name was on every hp. and the bur« of

TZ^^'I ^r«'«' -"y -ntion of htwe^
nell-nigh deafenmg, "The King's brother-the

K.ng-God bless him!" and the shouts would swell
and swell, until it seemed as though every man t
England must be present to add his voice to'thTgre "
chorus of cheer*! '«C« »» *u , . great

Duzzled "Hrr i- ™^'" "« **«• n"":!'

\Vo^^ ,h '' ',' ^"''■pped by such men as these.
Would they applaud the downfall of the nobles'
Would they accept Falstaff as chancellor " H^'ode

m orm the Kmg of h,s arrival, then entering the
h II, he glanced around it curiously. I. was crowded
by noblemen-the highest of the land, and of
dd? P»7- ^^i-hester and Archbiship Arun
del formed the cemre of a little circle who were
engaged ,n earnest but quiet conversation. Gas!
CO gne and Lord Suffolk stood beside Chancdlor
Courtenay, and near them were Earl Arundel and

fchn ^'7* ""^""^ "'■" =• ^""^ "Wch Sir
John Stanley was in the act of telling them

aarence fairly gasped. Men who had hafed tS.

292 Every Inch a King

other bitterly were sUnding side by side talking ear-
nestly or gaily, as the case might be. Nobles who
had not been at court for years held honorable
places among that gay throng— and neither Falstaff,
n> " Poins nor Bardolph were present! What had
come to pass?

The archbishop, suddenly glancing up, saw the
young Printtf standing, amazed, upon the threshold,
and came hastily forward to greet him. "Ah, my
lord duke, we are right glad to welcome thee home
once -lore," he exclaimed. Clarence stared at his
smiling, confident face in bewilderment. "Art still
at court, my lord?" he demanded bluntly, too con-
fused to even return his greeting.

The churchman laughed gaily. "As thou seest,
my lord ; ay, and at the King's request, I am to be a
member of his council. These are joyful days for
Englar»d, Prince; her King is noblest of all nob'

men."

"Ye did misjudge him, then!" cried Qarencc joy-
fully; but Arundel shook his head. "Nay, Prince, I
fear we scarcely knew his faults, but when thy father
died it pleased the Lord to soften Prince Harry's
heart. He has repented of his evil deeds, and now
doth live a pure and upright life, governing the
realm with power and majesty. His present nature
is the antithesis of his former self— thou wilt find
him wondrous changed, my lord."

He ceased abruptly and drew bac' with a low
bow, leaving the young duke standu.g alone. A

Every In h a King 293

hush of expectancy had passed over the room and
now every face brightened with a spontaneous joy,
and every head was bowed as if its highest pleasure
lay in that obeisance.

The young King had entered, and as he passed
among them Clarence noticed his gentle gracioiis-
ness. Was he altered? His face was paler than of
old, and a certain sadness lingered in his eyes, as if
he hadsuffered during these longmonths. There was
also an air of sovereignty about him which became
him well, but the brilliant smile which filled his face
with radiance was unchanged, and his voice had
never been more sweet and winning than when,
with outstretched hands he cried : "Welcome, my
br••^fher, thrice welcome to England and to our
court!" And at his words there flashed through
Clarence's mind the thought of their last meeting,
when Henry had been denied admittance to the
Council Chamber, and with a sudden realization of
all the shame and anguish he had suffered, ihe
young duke gazed into his brother's eyes and
answered with a solemn depth of gratitude,—
"Thank God that I can greet thee as my King!"

And at that moment came what must have been
the young King's greatest triumph, unequalled even
by his victories; for vhile he stood, surrounded by
many of his court, and still believing that they dis-
trusted him and wondering if he could win his
people's love, there came a messenger from Parlia-
ment, the members of which, summoned from the

Ill >■

294 Every Inch a King

remote parts of the country, had assembled within
the hour. "Great King," he said, "the lords and
commons assembled this day in your high court of
Parliament, do crave permission of you to send in
their allegiance without delay, for they so love and
honor you that they would pledge their lives unto
the service of your Highness's person before your
consecration and coronation make you their sacred
King."

An instant's intense silence, while every man
slowly realized that never before in the history of
their country had such an honor been offered to a
monarch, and then the courtiers expressed their joy-
ful congratulations in a ringing cheer. It was some
moments before Henry could be heard; and then
slowly, in a voice broken by his emotion, he made
a response so worthy of his greatness that the world
still reads and echoes the applause of his enthusi-
astic courtiers :

"I thank my lords and commons," he said, "for
this evidence of their devotion, and do exhort them
in their spheres to use their power for the advance-
ment of the kingdom. The first act of my reign
shall be to pardon all who have offended me ; and I
do so desire my people's felicity, that I will be
crowned on no other condition than to use all my
powers to secure it. I pray unto God that if he
foresees I am like to be any other than a just and
good king, he may be pleased to take me from the
world rather than seat me on a throne to live a
public calamity to my country."

CHAPTER XXX.

"I would be friends with you and have your love."

Merchant of Venici.

Alone in his prison chamber, pacing the floor
with restless stride, his head bowed and his face
troubled, was Edmund Mortimer. Four days had
passed since Henry Bolingbroke had closed his eyes
in death, and never had the young captive spent days
more filled with anxiety. His dear, beloved friend,
who had passed so many precious hours in this very
chamber, who had promised to use his utmost influ-
ence to set the earl free and secure his happiness,
was now the King and clothed with might and
power, — and still he was a prisoner! What did it
mean? Had Henry Fifth banished every friend of
Harry Monmouth's ? Or was he alone entirely for-
gotten in the young monarch's triumph? Could it
be that the King feared him, or doubted his loyalty,
now that the sceptre was in his own hand? Such
an explanation seemed impossible, and yet if the
Prince had changed so greatly as rumor claimed,
perhaps he did expect like change in others !

Gloomily, the earl reviewed the past months. His
last meeting with Henry had been in August, when
the Prince had tarried for a day at Windsor and
had brought him news of the safe arrival of Lady
Anne at Exeter. He had noticed then, with much

296 Every Inch a King

anxiety, that Henry seemed no longer able to dispel
the gloom which was settling upon his spirit; and
altho- T Mortimer had made every effort to cheer
his guest, it had been of no avail.

A few weeks later the Prince had returned to
London, where alarming stories were at once whis-
pered about him, many of which reached the earl
through his guards and servants. These suddenly
culminated in the tale of Henry's arrest ; and then
Mortimer could obtain only vague rumors to the
effect that the Prince had left the city once more and
gone into the north. A month later came his recon-
ciliation with the King, followed by general dismay
and apprehension at the court; and now England
was hailing the young ruler as one new born to
righteousness.

It was a vague, uncertain story at the best, full of
apparent contradictions, and the more Lord March
endeavored to trace the truth, the more confused
and alarmed did he beer ne. He was amazed that
Henry had neither journeyed to Windsor nor sent
him any message; but until the King's death he had
contented himself with the thought that his Prince
must be kept away by events beyond his control;
now, however, since Henry was all-powerful, this
reason could no longer explain his silence, and Mor-
timer concluded that either he had been entirely for-
gotten or else that the new King would follow his
father's policy and keep him a close prisoner.

The young earl had been so long shut within four

■i

Every Inch a King 297

walls that his own narrow life had formed his little
world ; and he did not realize that the King of Eng-
land, upon his accession to the throne, had matters
of more importance to consider than the freedom of
any single man, however noble in blood or dear in
friendship. Yet when, later, this knowledge came
upon him, it was accompanied by deep wonder and
admiration that in the midst of all his manifold and
difficult duties, so promptly and thoroughly per-
formed, Henry of Monmouth could yet find thought
and leisure to accomplish those little things which
make life so iiappy and beautiful for both high and
low.

This revelation was near at hand; for even as
Mortimer paced his room with a gloomy and
troubled brow, there came a vigorous rap upon his
door, and in answer to his summons there entered
two gentlemen, richly dressed, at sight of whom the
earl sprang quickly forward with a cry of welcome :
"My Lord Arundel and Sir Michael de la Pole! Ye
are most kind to seek my prison chamber; 'tis rare
indeed that I am honored by such noble guests."

"I would that we might claim that exalted desig-
nation," said Arundel, laughing, as they clasped
hands. "In truth, we are but humble messengers
bearing a letter from our gracious King."

He drew forth a packet, of which Mortimer, with
flushed cheeks and brilliant eyes, broke the seal.
The letter was in Henry's own handwriting, and
ran as follows :

298 Every Inch a King

"To our dearly beloved friend and kinsman, Lord
Edmund Mortimer, Earl of March, greeting :

"We send to thee our good friends the Earl of
Arundel and the Knight de la Pole, who have re-
ceived from us full power to give thee thy unre-
stricted liberty. We have secured from our royal
brother the Duke of Clarence a grant of all the lands
in his possession which once belonged unto thine
honored father. These it is our purpose to bestow
upon thee, that thou mayst suitably sustain thy rank.

"We will give thee a hearty welcome at our court]
and do desire that thou come hither with thine
utmost speed, for it is long since we have seen thy
face.

"Henry R."

As Mortimer raised his eyes from the missive the
blush of shame was upon his cheeks. "I have deeply
wronged the Prince," he said bravely to the noble-
men before him. "We have been so near in friend-
ship that I expected instant freedom; and during
these weary days my heart misgave me, and my
thoughts were both disloyal and unjust. Oh, how
could I have doubted his graciousness !"

"My lord," Sir Michael answered, "methinks
thou dost not understand the thing that he has done.
The country is amazed that he will free thee, and his
advisers counselled him against it. Dost thou for-
get that thou wert Richard's heir?"

"Prince Harry hath no cause to doubt my loy-
alty," cried Mortimer angrily.

"Nay, my lord," said Arundel quickly, "'tis not a

Every Inch a King 299

question of thy loyalty, but some do fear that dis-
contented men will seize upon thy freedom as a pre-
text to rebel against the House of Lancaster."

"Dost think I would consent to such villainy^"
the earl exclaimed impatiently.

De la Pole smiled. "They would not ask for thy
consent, my lord. Nav, my Lord Mortimer, do not
thmk we doubt thee, 'twas but my purpose to make
clear to thee how others do regard the young King's
action. Upon the first day that he appeared before
us, even m the midst of his appointments to his
council, he spoke of thee and said that he would set
thee at liberty. The court was astonished at the
news, yet he would not listen to a single protest "

The earl flushed with gratified p-ide that he had
been remembered at such a time, yet he asked hesi-
tatingly: "Why, then, has he delayed mv freedom
for so long?"

"By Heaven," cried Arundel hotly, "dost think
the King hath no measures of more importance to
consider than the freeing a single man?"

"Nay, Arundel, bethink thee what thou sayest "
cautioned the knight, for Lord March had straight-
ened himself in ofifended dignity.

"I crave thy pardon for my hasty words," said the
soldier quickly; "King Henry doth so labor, day and
night, to advance the welfare of his kingdom, that
we, his friends, regard his white cheeks and sleep-
laoen eyes with deep anxiety. Twas that which
roused mine

anger, not thy word

- "

til
I

300 Every Inch a King

Mortimer extended his hand, and answered
frankly : "I was at fault, my lord. Tis difficult for
a man so much alone as I not to believe that he is
all-important in the world. I did forget that kings
have other matters to think upon besides the wel-
fare even of their friends."

"And yet, my lord," said Michael, "this was not
the reason for his delay. Scarce a day passed but he
would speak of thee, and say to those of us who
knew thee slightly, 'I would that Edmund were at
Westminster;' but he would add, *I shall not send
for him until my brother Thomas doth return and
give to me his lands. When Edmund doth appear
before the court, it must be as the wealthy Earl of
March, not as a poor, untitled prisoner.' It was but
yestereven the duke arrived, and ere he had been
present a short hour the King took him aside, and
they stood long alone. Then Henry sent for us and
bade us ride to Windsor in the early morning and
bring thee back with speed. He was smiling happily
as if that which he had long desired were accom-
plished. Prince Thomas looked both puzzled and
dismayed, as though he scarce knew what had hap-
pened to him, and so I guessed that he had given up
the lands."

Mortimer opened his letter once more. "Ay, Sir
Michael, Henry doth speak of it herein. Oh, how
unworthy am I of his goodness! My lords," con-
tinued the earl, turning appealingly toward both
noblemen, "ye two who are the King's friends, can

■HHI

Every Inch a King 301

ye forgive me my ungrateful thoughts, and let me
share the love that he doth give you? I do desire
greatly the friendship of you both — when I shall
have proved myself deserving, will ye grant this
boon?"

'"Tis we who should sue for thy friendship,"
cried Arundel nupulsively. "When my Lord of
March, the cousin and favorite of the King, appears
at court, he will have a score of noblemen seeking to
do him pleasure. And shall Arundel and the Knight
de la Pole be then considered worthy of a word ?"

"My lord," answered Mortimer simply, "my love
will not be freely given to any one who asks it. My
King doth hold the chief share of my heart, — when
I have divided the remainder between his two dear-
est friends there shall none be left."

Arundel looked slightly puzzled by this speech,
but Michael understood the feeling of dread which
this young prisoner must feel at going out into the
great world, and also the longing in his heart for
friends who would be sincere ; so, with a quiet ear-
nestness of manner the knight looked into Morti-
mer's eyes, saying, "Lord Edmund, we are friends
from this day."

The young earl seized his hand, and when Arun-
del cried, "I, too, my lord, will truly be thy friend,"
his cup of happiness was full to overflowing.

An hour later the three young men, attended by
an extensive retinue, were on their way to London ;
and in spite of the wretched roads the sun had scarce

302 Every Inch a King

begun to descend from its highest place in the
heavens ere the palace came in view. On their ar-
rival Arundel took I-ord March to his own cham-
ber, where the latter donned a gorgeous costume of
white satin, wearing a black band upon his arm as a
token of respect for the late King.

Henry had been informed of their arrival, and so
had descended to the dining hall to welcome them.
It was a wonderful scene which met the young earl's
gaze. Accustomed from childhood to the four walls
of his prison room, this lofty and extensive chamber
seemed almost awe-inspiring. To his eyes, the hall
was crowded, and the gay court costumes of both
men and women formed a dazzling mass of color,
while the low hum of voices, broken here and there
by a silvery laugh, produced the eflfect upon him of
loud and discordant sound. Had he been of plebeian
birth, Mortimer would have been confused and em-
barrassed in his unaccustomed situation; but the
blood of princes was throbbing in his veins, and he
moved forward between his gallant friends with
calm face and unhesitating step.

The gay throng separated and drew back, leav-
ing an open space between the advancing trio and
that slender, upright figure, whose black robe made
the only blot upon the brilliant scene. And suddenly
the meaning of it all became clear to the young earl,
and his hand trembled and his cheek grew white
with excitement. Until that moment he had ex-
pected to greet Harry Monmouth, his dear-beloved

■f

■ -.1

Every Inch a King 303

friend. Even the letter had failed to reveal the
truth to him, but now, as in a flash, he realized that
he was to appear before his mighty King. No fond
embrace, no tender, loving word — those days were
over and the time had come for humbly bended
knee and deep respect in tone and manner. Ay, the
gracious, loving Prince had changed as if by magic
into a being great and noble, far above his subjects,
— a god among men.

They were nearer now, and Mortimer raised his
eyes and gave one glance into the face before him.
Upon that calm white brow sat majesty enthroned ;
regal dignity was in the poise of the uncrowned
head, and the eyes had lost their troubled look and at
last were serene and confident. But as the earl sank
upon his knees a change came to the face, a loving
look flashed into the brown eyes, and the lips curved
in the enchanting, joyous smile which had been the
Prince's chief charm; and Mortimer, kissing the
hand held out to him, felt vaguely that there was
something wonderful in those opposing qualities,
but could not realize that Henry of Monmouth, al-
most alone among the kings of history, had united
and blended in perfect unison the calm majesty of
a great monarch with the sweet graciousness of a
loving man.

As Henry's voice sounded in his ears, bidding
him welcome to the court, the Earl of March looked
into the eyes he loved so well, and in a clear voice
answered fervently : "Sire, I thank you with all my

304 Every Inch a King

heart for this gracious welcome; and here, before
the members of your court, 1 beg to offer your High-
ness my allegiance; and I swear that while I live I
will acknowledge you as my true and lawful King,
and that my sword and life shall be ever at the ser-
vice of my sovereign."

"I thank you, Earl of March," answered the
King, and then, while the hall rang with cheers, he
raised the kneeling earl to his feet, and added
softly : "God bless thee, Edmund, mine eyes have
hungered for thee, and it doth make me happy to see
thee at last in thy rightful place."

An hour later, when Henry sat down to dine, the
Earl of March was placed at his right hand ; but so
attractive was Mortimer's fair young face, and so
touching his evident devotion to the King, that not
one of the great nobles begrudged him his exalted
seat.

CHAPTER XXXI.

'Soft is the breath of a maiden's yes ;
Not the light gossamer stirs with less ;
But never a cable that holds so fast
Through all the battles of wave and blast."

Holmes.

"Methinks the hour is nigh when we must
part." The Lady of Devon pulled the threads in
and out of the piece of tapestry she was weaving,
and glanced swiftly at the maiden by her side, who
was busily engaged in sewing upon a long silken veil
which she hoped one day to wear over her head dur-
ing a certain very sacred ceremony. She blushed
now and kept her eyes fixed demurely upon her
work. "Tis fortunate," continued Lady Eleanor in
a musing tone, "that thy wardrobe is at last com-
plete, and thou canst finish yonder veil in a few
hours. Thou wilt be arrayed as charmingly as any
lady of the court. I shall miss thee, Anne, when
thou hast gone to thy lover — old Rougemont will be
gloomy indeed without thy sweet, merry presence."

The Lady Anne StaflFord reached out and seized
one of the countess's hands, pressing upon it a fervent
little kiss. "How kind thou hast been to me," she
murmured 'Thou hast labored for me throughout
these long months, and thou hast thyself supplied

3o6 Every Inch a King

those fine linens and velvets and exquisite silks — in
truth, I am provided like a queen ; and all has been
thy gift, yet a year since thou didst not know my
name. Oh, was there ever goodness like to this?"

Elean'^r laughed softly, and leaning forward
kissed Anne's pink cheek. "Dear, wilt thou not wed
my brother ?" she asked gaily. "Could I permit his
bride to appear in unworthy raiment ?"

"Nay, but my mother would have provided me
when she did learn the truth."

"Ay, doubtless," answered the countess, "but
wouldst thou have been content to wait another year
before thy marriage? Nay, my sweet sister that is
to be, this hath been a happy winter in my quiet life.
I have stitched many joyful thoughts and prayers
into thy wedding garments. Anne, when the Prince
warned me thou wert approaching, my heart was
filled with anxious fears ; but thy presence here hath
been a constant joy to me. Ay, and my Lord Ed-
ward also hath been comforted in his affliction by
thy sweet voice and ready sympathy."

Anne smiled brightly in answer to these words.
It had indeed been a happy, busy winter for all the
inhabitants of Rougemont. The blind earl and his
devoted countess had taken the young maiden into
their warm hearts, while she had repaid their great
kindness by such a sunny spirit of contentment that
no one could be gloomy or dissatisfied in her pres-
ence, but all were fain to share her joyousness. The
extensive preparations for her marriage had kept

Every Inch a King 307

not only Eleanor and Anne herself constantly em-
ployed, but every woman servant witiiin the castle
had shared in the pleasant labor.

The countess had, from the first, perceived that
since the Lady Staflford must remain in hiding until
Mortimer was enabled to marry her, she would be
obliged to choose between the alternatives of wait-
mg for long months afterward, while her mother
provided proper garments for her, or of marrying
without delay and appearing unworthily gowned for
her position. Therefore, ICIeanor. whose few years
of married life had not destroyed the memories of
those sweet days when she was herself a bride at
once determined that this high-born maiden should
l»e suitably prepared for the great event of her life.
The earl's consent was easily obtained— his only Hv-
nig child, a son by his first wife, had already mar-
ried—and the young countess labored with as much
love and pleasure as if she had been making ready
her own daughter.

And now, at last, all was completed. The rich
materials had been converted into exquisite gar-
ments, and the fair young bride spent many happy
hours in gazing deligluodly upon that goodly array
—what true woman does not enjoy the possession of
beautiful apparel ?

Yet now that the long-expected day was fast ap-
proaching, the future seemed a vague, uncertain
dream to Lady Anne. Would her lover be set at
ireedom? And would he still desire the maiden

■a

308 Every Inch a King

whose heart he held? "Will he not marry me at
some wayside chapel and take me secretly to Scot-
land with him ?" she asked fearfully.

The countess's voice rang out in a peal of merry
laughter. "What, hast thou lost thy courage, Mis-
tress Anne ? Hast thou not said a score of times to
me that thou wouldst gladly wed him in his prison ?
And dost thou hesitate to live with him in exile ?"

"No, no!" she cried eagerly; "I would follow him
unto the ends of the earth; but, dearest madam,"
she continued, half laughing, half ashamed of her
desire, "I would that I might wear my pretty gowns
at court."

"And so thou shalt," cried Eleanor, embracing
her. "Fear not, my sweet, the Prince will give thee
every happiness."

"How greatly thou dost trust him," murmured
Anne.

Eleanor flushed as the memory came to her of
that h ^y night when he had sung that passionate
ode to love, — the tender voice still rang in her will-
ing ears, but she answered very gravely, — "He is
my prince — my king. Whate'er is best, that he will
surely do."

"When did the messenger say the late King
died ?" asked my Lady Stafford musingly.

"Upon the twentieth ; — 'tis twelve days agone."

"And upon what day will the Prince be
crowned ?"

"Nay, thou canst not hope to witness that great

it:. J

Every Inch a King 309

ceremony," answered the countess. "'Twill be in
eight days more— upon the 9th of April."

"Dost thou not think thy brother will be freed
before that day?" asked Anne uistfally.

"Tis possible, yet he will lot leave Lc.rJon until
that event be accomplished."

"Dost thou expect that he v^.li cou.- for me him-
self.?" cried the maiden, her cheeks aflame.

Lady Devon laughed mischievously. "We shall
soon learn." she answered; "in a fortnight more
methmks thy doubts shall end most happily."

"Will it be so long?" and Anne sighed so gloom-
ily that the countess sprang up and gave her a play-
ful httle shake, mingled with many kisses. "Thou
impatient child!" she exclaimed. "Throughout the
long winter thou hast been contented, yet now thou
wilt not wait in peace for a few days."

Anne joined in her laughter, and was about to
give a merry answer when the sound of a horn
made both ladies start and listen intently. The
sweet, merry notes rang out again, and a great com-
motion followed in the courtyard below. The oun-
tess sprang upon a bench, and peered through a hi-j,
window. "Oh," she exclaimed, "a great body of
horse, and the men in fine array. I' faith I do be-
Heve they are of the King's guard. Run, 'maiden,"
she cried to Anne, who stood below, fairly trembling
with excitement, "nm and don thy choicest gar-
ments, then come to the great hall. Away— make
haste !"

3IO Every Inch a King

Lady Stafford darted from the room as if her feet
were wings, and Eleanor, after one more peep from
the window, dismounted from her perch and hur-
ried to her own chamber.

In a surprisingly short space of time the earl and
his wife, richly ti-rayed, and surrounded by their
ladies and esquires, had taken their places upon the
dais of the great dining hall. To the countess's in-
tense anxiety Anne had not appeared, and she was
about to send a messenger to summon her, when the
doors were thrown wide and the steward an-
nounced : "The Lord Earl of March !"

Eleanor started and caught her breath. The hour
so long awaited was already here. Her brother!
The lover of Lady Anne! She gazed at him with
intense eagerness. He was dressed as richly as a
prince, in royal purple velvet, trimmed with ermine,
the white satin lining of his cloak making a striking
background for his handsome figure. He came for-
ward proudly, his head held high, his manner full of
dignity. Behind him stood half a score of officers,
among them Captain Derrbury, who attended him as
his esquires. "Thou must be furnished royally," the
King had told him when he protested ag-tinst the
generous arrangements of his sovereign. "When
thou canst, thou shalt have thine own livery and ser-
vants. Meanwhile, thou shalt use mine. Shall I
send thee with a few mean followers to escort thy
bride?"

Every eye was fixed upon the gallant earl, and

and

Every Inch a King 311

many a woman's heart beat faster as he came for-
ward. Mortimer looked neither to the right nor to
the left, but straight before him. The Earl of Devon,
feeling although not seeing his near approach, ex-
tended his hand. "Lord March, I bid thee welcome
to Rougemont," he said graciously.

"I thank your lordship," answered Edmund dis-
tinctly. "I have come, my lord, at the command of
our gracious King to summon thee and thy countess
to his coronation. 'Tis his desire that the highest
of the land shall be his guests, and he is most urgent
that ye shall not say him nay."

"Ah!" quoth my Lord Courtenay, well pleased,
"we thank his Highness, and shall be glad to con-
form to his request. Dost thou hear, madam?
Thou shalt accompany me."

For once, the Lady Eleanor did not protest. "I
am content, my lord," she a*^«\vered happily. Mor-
timer turned and gave hei . ching glance. She
was not beautiful, as he hat > ^ed. Indeed, for an
instant he was greatly disappointed ; but now, as she
raised her eyes, and shyly, yet with heartfelt ear-
nestness, said softly: "Brother, it doth rejoice my
heart to welcome thee," he quite forgot her plainness
and remembered only that she was his sister; and
bending, pressed a fervent k' ', upon her hand as he
answered,— "Madam, I have much for which to
thank thee, and words cannon 'convey my gratitude.
Prithee, how doth the Lady / me of Stafford ?"

Eleanor's face was brightened by so brilliant a

liM

312 Every Inch a King

smile that Edmund's heart went out to her in that
moment. She was silent for an instant, gazing into
his eager eyes, then she answered with a rippling
laugh, "Thine eyes can answer thee more fully than
my lips. Turn, brother, and behold."

The earl whirled around and stood transfixed.
The Lady Anne had entered the great hall and
was moving calmly forward, accompanied by six
ladies-of-honor. Dressed in pale yellow satin, her
long train edged with rich fur, her sleeves falling to
the ground, her waist, embroidered with jewels, cut
square to show the white neck, and her fair hair
half hidden by the veil which fell in graceful folds
from her headdress, — she was the picture of a
haughty court beauty, moving with head erect and
stately step. But suddenly she saw Lord Mortimer,
and glad recognition flashed in her eyes; color
flamed to her cheeks, her proud head was lowered,
her feet faltered, and she stood still, amazed, con-
fused, and trembling.

One instant's hesitation, then with eager foot-
steps and blazing eyes, which betrayed his story to
every person present, the Earl of March swiftly
crossed the hall and sank upon one knee before the
lady. "Sweetheart," he whispered, "hast thou no
welcome for me?" Her eyes met his timidly, then
bravely. Passionately he kissed her fair white hand.
"Rise, my lord," she murmured.

"My ring is still upon thy hand," he said ; "I have

Every Inch a King 313

come to claim thee as my bride. Wilt the go with
me, Anne Stafford?"

"Ay, my lord, with all my heart am I content to
go," she answered him, and the look in her eyes was
sweeter than her words.

He rose and took her by the hand and led her to
where the countess stood watching them with tear-
dimmed eyes. "Fair sister," said the earl, "thou
hast kept this maiden for me throughout these many
months. I thank thee for the kindness thou hast
shown her, and now I ask that thou wilt give her
unto me."

The Lady Devon took Anne in herarmsand kissed
her tenderly. Then she placed her hand in Mor-
timer's, saying, "Take her, my brother, and see that
thou prove thyself worthy of so precious a posses-
sion."

Several hours later the lovers were alone together.
The lady was sitting upon a marble bench, while
Mortimer reclined upon some cushions at her feet.
They had been silent for a space, their thoughts
meeting in sweet sympathy, then the earl said,—
"Thou hast asked me many questions of my past,
but nothing of our future. Dost thou not fear to
wed a penniless, untitled man ?"

"Art thou indeed penniless?" she asked him
gravely ; then touching his cloak, she added with a
shy laugh, "Thou art not arrayed like a destitute
man, my lord, and thy gallant esquires and hosts of

314 Every Inch a King

servants^-do they accompany one without wealth
or rank?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "To-day I am the
King's messenger sent to summon the Lord of
Devon unto the coronation feast. It was necessary
that I should appear worthy of my mission. But
to-morrow, — " he gazed into her eyes longingly.
"My sweet," he said, "in thy shining garments thou
shouldst occupy the honored place at the King's
table, and can I dare to dream that for my sake thou
wouldst give up the gay life at the court to follow
so unworthy a man as I ?"

"Thou meanest that thou wilt be exiled?" she
asked anxiously.

He seized her hand passionately. "Wouldst thou
go with me, lady ?"

Her eyes fell, and her lips trembled a little. "I
like not the thought of exile," she answered sadly.
He released her hand.

"My wife must follow me," he answered gravely.
"She must share my sorrows and comfort my dis-
tress. If I am doomed to be a banished man, her
happiness should consist in being with me."

He had turned his face away, but now an eager
hand was laid upon his shoulder and a sweet voice
said hurriedly: "My lord, dost thou doubt my
love ? In truth, I do not desire exile, but could I be
happy in the highest place unless thou wert by my
side ? Ah, my dear lord, I am ready to go anywhere,

Iff

Every Inch a King 315

even into the great unknown realm of death, so thou
wilt but be with me."

He looked at her,— her eyes were full of wistful
tears, but such a love shone forth that suddenly he
seized her in his arms and rapturously kissed her
hps. "My bride!" he murmured, as she, blushing
and quivering like a frightened bird, yet clung to
him as if content at last.

"Sweetheart," he said gravely, looking into her
eyes, "I sought but to know the full depth of thy
love. Dost thou believe that I would ask thee to
share so wretched an existence? Nay, I am far too
unworthy of thee, even were I a prince; and yet I
cannot give thee up," he cried passionately.

"Indeed thou canst not," she answered with a
joyful laugh, "however much thou mightest desire
it, thy only choice is now to marry me."

What he answered only she could hear, but the
blushes chased each other over her cheeks and neck,
and her eyes sparkled with tender joy.

"Nay, lady," he said presently, "when thou wed-
dest me, thou dost wed the Earl of March. The
King received me as his honored friend; placed me
at his right hand at meat, and did show such kind-
ness to me that the greatest nobles of the court did
welcome me with graciousness. My title and my
ands are all restored, and Lady March shall never
u ,^'^^^°"°''- ^Vilt thou be happy, dearest?"
"I' faith, my lord, methinks my cup is full to over-
flowing. Will there be no blot upon my joy?"

ill

3i6 Every Inch a King

"None except myself," he answered humbly. But
she put her pure white arms about his neck, and
looking into his deep eyes, whispered softly : "Ed-
mund, my husband, without thee my life were dark
and cheerless, i'hou alone dost make it into
Heaven."

w »'

CHAPTER XXXII.

"The road shall blossom, the road shall bloom,
So fai. a bride shall leave her home;
Shall blossom and bloom with garlands gay,
So fair a bride shall pass by to-day."

The day before the coronation had at last arrived,
and never had the English court presented a more
brilliant assemblage of lords and ladies. From the
four corners of the kingdom the nobility had gath-
ered to witness the impressive ceremonies and par-
take of the sumptuous feasts.

Among others whose presence Henry had particu-
larly requested was Madam Bourchier, who still
retained her former title of Countess of Stafford,
and she was accompanied not only by her son Hum-
phrey, the earl, a handsome boy, who, in later years,
was to become the first Duke of Buckingham, but
also by her husband, William Bourchier, a man of
gentle and submissive demeanor, but who was to
prove his bravery in the French wars and win there
the proud title of the Earl of Ewe. The King had
been informed that certain persons whose arrival he
had been anxiously expecting were already within
the palace, so when the three were presented he
greeted them most graciously, and instead of per-
mitting them to mingle with the gay throng detained
them in earnest conversation.

I.? I
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318 Every Inch a King

"Is this thy son's first appearance at court?" he
asked the mother, gazing kindly into the lad's big
eyes.

"Ay, my liege," she answered, "during the long
winter he has been my chief comfort and companion
since my daughter so cruelly deserted me."

"Call her not cruel, madam," Henry exclaimed
hastily, "didst thou not separate her from thee by
placing her in the Minories?"

"True, my liege, but to keep me in this wretched
ignorance of her welfare was most unfilial. My
heart has been heavy with doubts and fears these
many months."

"Thy anxiety was natural and most commend-
able, madam, yet thou hadst the assurance of
Michael de la Polo fn?- uer safety."

The lady started. "How knowest thou this, my
liege?"

"I saw the letter writ," answered Henry calmly.

The countess trembled with excitement and dis-
may as the memory of the Queen's charges surged
through her brain. "How now, sire!" she de-
manded almost fiercely, "what shall I think of this ?
Dost thou know where my daughter Anne is hid ?"

Henry gave a swift glance around the hall, then
lowering his voice, answered rapidly, — "Madam, I
must pray thy forgiveness, for 'twas I who took her
from the convent. She was beloved by a noble lord
and I was not content that she should become a nun.
I implore thee, by thine own wedded happiness, do

Every Inch a King 319

not refuse to grant the boon that my friend will ask
of thee;—" and before the bewildered lady could
grasp the meaning of these hurried words the King
had stepped forward to welcome his latest guests
atjd Humphrey, with a startled cry of "Sister
Anne!" had rushed past him and literally thrown
himself into the blushing maiden's arms.

If certain members of the astonished court looked
deeply shocked at so grave a breach of etiquette.
Henry himself appeared to greatly enjoy the con-
fiised scene. He greeted the Eari and Countess of
Devon most cordially, and the look of gratitude
which he bestowed upon the latter repaid her richly
for all that she had done. Then as Ladv Anne ad-
v-anced, her brother still clinging to her rapturously,
the King bent low over her hand and exclaimed gal-
lantly,— "Ah, fairest lady, there be many here who
envy thy happy brother, and wish that they might
follow his example." Turning to the Countess of
StaflFord, who had stood speechless and astounded
during these rapid events. Henry led Anne forward
saying gently,— "Madam, I took thy daughter from
thee; I now restore her unharmed to thy care."
An instant the two women gazed into each other's
eyes; then with a little cry the countess held out
her arms and Anne buried her face upon her
mother's breast.

The young monarch turned quickly away and
flashed at Mortimer a brilliant smile of welcome and
congratulation, at the same time addressing my

»;S:

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320 Every Inch a King

Lord Devon most graciously. He conversed with
the earl and Lady Eleanor for a few moments, then
once more approached the Lady Stafford and pre-
sented to her and to her husband Lord Courtenay
and his wife. While she was expressing to them
her gratitude in fervent language— for Anne had
hurriedly told her of their great kindness— Henry
called Mortimer to his side. "I do not need to ask
thee. Edmund, if all is well with thee," he said,
"thine eyes betray thy happiness."

"Oh, my lord, never was man happier," answered
the earl, every tone of his voice trembling with joy,
and his eager glance constantly wandering to where
his loved one stood, "she welcomed me with such
sweet graciousness that methought my cup of hap-
piness did overflow. My liege," he added hurriedly,
with an anxious look, 'dost thou think her mother
will consent?"

Henry smiled reassuringly. "Do not let thy
courage fail thee," he answered, then taking Morti-
mer by the hand, he brought him to Lady Stafford.
When she saw the two young men standing before
her, the one in his sombre robes and his royal air
of dignity, — the other, far more richly dressed, his
fair, youthful face full of eagerness, his eyes im-
ploring her to be kind, a sudden comprehension of
the King's words flashed to her mind and she shot
a swift glance at her daughter, who, with crimson
cheeks and downcast eyes, stood by her side.

"Madam," said the King, "this is my cousin and

Every Inch a King 321

dear friend, the Earl of March." She raised her
eyes and gave him a searching glance as she uttered
a few words of greeting.

.. ^^* ^f^^ *"*' ^^^ *^*^® ^^"^y ^"^ frankly.
"Madam," he said, marvelling in his own mind that
his voice was so clear and steady, *1 have loved thy
daughter for two long years. My gracious lord and
sovereign, knowing my heart, wooed her for me
while I was yet a prisoner, and for my sake did take
her from the convent. And now that, by his good-
ness, I am free and restored to my title and fair
estates, I pray thee, give me Lady Anne to be my
wife."

The countess looked from his handsome, eager
face to her blushing daughter. Anne raised her eyes
ar;d gave her mother one swift, appealing glance,
thei: turned with a rare smile to her lover. The
countess saw that smile, and the knowledge of her
own happiness brought a mist to her eyes. She
glanced questioningly toward Bourchier, and when
that gentleman, amused yet gratified by her muisual
appeal for his opinion, said quickly, "Prithee grant
them their desire," she hesitated no longer, but tak-
ing Anne's right hand placed it in the earl's, saying
brokenly, "Take her, my lord, and may God bless
you both." And when the earl tried, in his great hap-
piness, to thank her for this priceless gift, and Anne
seized her hand and pressed it fervently, King
Henry quietly moved away and, mingling with his
courtiers, smilingly said, "Ye must congratulate the

322 Every Inch a King

Earl of March, my lords; he hath won the Lady
Anne of Stafford for his bride."

>l> 4t * « 41 41 *

That night the impressive ceremony of conferring
the order of knighthood took place in the great hall
of Westminster. The candidates, after having per-
formed the required ablutions, were robed in long
green coats lined with miniver, and having upon
their left shoulders a double cord of white silk with
pendent tufts. Among them, to his great delight,
was Mortimer ; and when he found himself actually
being created Knight of the Bath, he felt that
Henry's kindness was indeed without limit. The
usual feast followed the ceremonies, but the King did
not partake of it. Indeed, the young monarch, greatly
to the surprise of many of his court, was determined
that every ceremony should be marked by great sim-
plicity. His father had conferred the order of
knighthood in the Tower, his ride to London and
back being a grand and triumphal procession; but
Henry the Fifth would have none of such display.
"My father is scarce cold within his grave," he said
to certain of the nobility who remonstrated with
him. "Shall I deck myself with brilliant colors and
rejoice that I am to be the King?" And Henry's
wish prevailed, even on the day of coronation.

Passion Sunday, the 9th of April, 14 13, dawned
dark and threatening, and as the morning advanced
the storm and wind increased. Many were the
prophecies occasioned by this gloomy weather, but

Every Inch a King ^23

Henry was undaunted by the elements. He arose

^^r^Cr' ''""^'' ^'^" proceeded to th
cnapel, where three masses were celebrateH lu

inor ladies, and there were also present certain of
the most .mportan. gentry. Presently S^e "a
procession entered the sacred building; the bishoos
and pnests leading, followed by the kteg whose

scarlet robes, mantles and hoods of ermine and
golden coronets worn by the great nobleH; h"s

hJ^'^T" '!" °' ^"^cration was administered

I„H fi ^^ u ""'*'• ""^ "^'«' '" « bishop's robes
and finally the crown of St. Edward the Confes^;

was placed upon his head. These ceremonies S

concluded, the young King addressed those who w«f

^thered to witness his coronatim, in a spe^rso

c|ples which had so amazed and rejoiced his cour-

The great nobles left the Abbey, and went to the
d.mng-ha,l of the palace-where a most d^rlte
a^d'enlhr '^'^-'^'-^'''^ with eame^ne^
young King; and never was a monarch's health

„ i

1 1

324 Every Inch a King

drunk with greater joy. But Henry himself went
quietly to his own chamber; and, refusing to take
any part in the rejoicing, he spent the remainder of
that memorable day in solitude and prayer.

Three weeks later, however, occurred an event in
which the King took a most prominent part, for the
first time appearing in royal raiment and allowing
himself to enter thoroughly into the pleasures of the
occasion.

Mortimer, impatient for the consummation of his
happiness, had used every argument to hasten his
wedding. The countess finding, to her amazement,
that all preparations had been made for her daugh-
ter's marriage, could offer no opposition, and so the
day was speedily determined upon.

The Bishop of Winchester, seeing how sincere
a friendship existed between the young earl and the
King, and being anxious to please nis royal nephew,
proposed to give the marriage banquet at his palace.
His offer was gratefully accepted, and upon a beau-
tiful day in early May, when Nature had donned her
choicest garments, a brilliant company assembled in
St. Saviour's Church.

The noble birth and modest bearing of the young
earl, and the beauty and wealth of the fair lady, had
caused the young couple to be regarded with a very
general interest, which was intensified by the knowl-
edge of their romantic story. Any doubts which
might have still existed as to the lady's feelings for
the King were entirely dispelled by her very appar-

Every Inch a King 325

PtiJ^-^ ^°'-^"i *'""*■ The account of ,he
Princes wooing fully explained what had once
looked so strange, and not only was Lady An«
completely vindicated, but all the memb^^of Z
court mcluding the widowed Queen her«lf Mf
.mpe^led to show their sorrow for thelpast "t&e
by bestowing upon the fair young bride ev™!
s.ble honor and attention. Therefore, the fan^'
church was crowded with the noblest of thl^d

dTd^lft"'^^'"' '"*''' '*'^-»<' -t^X-

bea'^xrnth^th^i^tttrnr

.»seabo„thershoulders.andT^Urrerdrb^
the long sdlcen veil upon which she had labored for
so many happy hours. A. the church doorTe brfd J
^rty were met by the bishop, and there the b^u fu
b^rothal ^rv,ce took place, the King hims'f g ^
Z ^u '•"^"^y- Then they advanced to the aUar
and the b.shop solemnly declared them mantd

After the ceremony Henry led the Lady March

royal spender, and when all were in their places he

iX : f:'"' '"' "''" -'•-"Drink, lordfand
Mies to our cousm and dear friend, the Earl of
March and to his beautiful and noble brWel" Id
am.d cheers which made the stately palaT LemW.
.he ^«ts Placed the r^ wine to th^r^^d S

" I II

II ^f

CHAPTER XXXIII.

"Nay, but the man that was his bedfellow,
Whom he hath duU'd and doy'd with gracious favors—
That he should, for a foreign purse, so sell
His sovereign's life to death and treachery !"

HwntY V.

Baron Scrope of Masham had been present at
both the coronation and the wedding, and Henry
had treated him with such kindness that the court
supposed him still a dearly beloved friend of the
young monarch. Scrope himself was entirely puz-
zled by his situation. It did not seem possible that
Henry was still ignorant of his treachery in the
council, yet the baron occupied as honored a place
as if he had been absolutely true. His vanity pre-
vented his realizing that in the momentous events
following Bolingbroke's death the nobles had other
matters to discuss which far exceeded in importance
the ambiguous conduct of the former treasurer. On
the other hand, his suspicious nature could not com-
prehend that spirit of absolute trust which was so
beautiful a part of the King's character. That
Henry had never once doubted him seemed beyond
belief; and the baron, searching for an explanation,
decided that a deep motive must underlie the King's
conduct — ^that he was to be treated with great kind-
ness and raised to mighty heights, only to fall the
farther in the end.

Every Inch a King 327

Cruel and unscrupulous himself, Scrope vowed to
frustrate the expected revenge of his royal master.
He made his plans deliberately, and then bent all his
energy toward their execution. It must be his ruin
or the Kmg s; and he would fight to the very death '
When the young King had appeared for the first
time before the court, and had appointed the Earl of
Arundel his treasurer, the baron believed that all
had been discovered and that he would receive his
richly deserved punishment. Henry's reference to
1^ ranee he had instantly construed as a decree of ban-
ishment, and had the King been of a suspicious
nature, or the hour less filled with engrossing inci-
dents, Scrope's exclamation.-"Am I exiled for
life? would have betrayed him. But Henry, recall-
ing the occurrence, thought that the baron, after
being deprived of his high place in council, might
easily misunderstand his own hasty words, and other
and more important matters quickly drove this
memory from the royal mind.

Knowing well what treatment he deserved no
amount of kindness upon the King's part could con-
vince Scrope that he was safe from Henry's ven-
geance; and while the King's gracious words,
making him the chief ambassador upon a mosi
important foreign mission, still rang in his ears, the
baron s brain was busied with the thought of how
he could yet ruin the man he had grown to hate

The announcement that Mortimer would be
set at liberty had. in a flash, shown him the one

m \\

328 Every Inch a King

spot where he could strike at the King; but even as
this idea came to him, a sudden memory of the scene
in the young earl's apartment, when he had borne
Arundel's letters to the Prince, warned him that he
must proceed with caution. Apparently the two
young men had been on terms of friendship; — in
that case Mortimer, upon being set at liberty and
restored to his estates, would not be prepared im-
mediately tc conspire against the King. In a few
months, however, he would doubtless be ready to
demand the throne.

But Henry's words indicated that the French
mission must be executed with all despatch, and
Scrope determined to choose such men for his com-
panions as would best assist him to accomplish his
own purposes. What names should he propose
upon the morrow?

Going to his chamber, he spent many hours in
thought, reviewing in his mind the various noble-
men of the court. Among the knights, no one
seemed more suitable than Sir Thomas Grey of
Northumberland. He was proud, hot-spirited, an
excellent swordsman, and a devoted follower of the
disgraced House of Percy, Earls of Northumber-
land. His influence would win to the cause he
espoused the chief men of the northerri part of Eng-
land, and possibly, through his friendship with the
banished son of Hotspur, Scotland itself might give
them aid.

Every Inch a King 329

As Scrope considered these possibilities, a con-
tented smile played about his lips. Ay, Grey should
accompany him! Who else?

A sudden daring idea came to the baron. Why
not choose a man of even higher rank than himself?
Henry had not limited his choice. Suppose— and
Scrope's cheek grew hot with excitement— suppose
he suggested one of the blood royal! But no— he
dared not trust a brother of the King— if one of the
young princes rebelled 'twould be for his own sake,
and not to elevate the House of Mortimer. But there
was the Duke of York, descended from a younger
brother of John of Gaunt— would he join their con-
spiracy? Alas! he was a strong man, and full of
gratitude toward the young King who had been
most kind to him— was there a .nan in England
toward whom he had not shown kindness? thought
the baron angrily. No, Edmund of York would not
rebel, even to win the throne for himself! There
was no one, then?— stay! Richard of Conisborough,
the very man ! A younger brother of York, he was
weak and jealous, ever ready to turn against even
his dearest friends. And he had married Anne Mor-
timer, the earl's sister ! But she had latelv died, and
he had just wedded Maud, Lord Clifford's daughter.
Would he fight for the brother of his former wife?
A sudden evil gleam shone in the baron's eyes. Had
not rumor said that Richard had killed his wife by
coldness and faithlessness? And was it not now

'I;

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II: iH

330 Every Inch a King

reported that he was filled with remorse, and almost
hated the new lady of Conisborough ? Ah, he would
stir that remorse to fiery heat! In memory of the
wronged Lady Anne, my lord should use his sword
to help their cause I

The next morning Scrope went to the King and
proposed these two names. Henry was delighted.
Excellent, my lord. I had desired to honor my
cousm Richard. I will create him Earl of Cam-
bridge l^fore ye do depart. Is not the knight a
fnend of the House of Percy?"

"Ay, my liege; if thou canst win his support by
thy favor it will be well."

The King smiled thoughtfully. "Ay, baron, that
IS our desire. Henry Percy shall be recalled from
banishment and his title and estates restored to him-
and we must so honor his powerful friends and
neighbors that every one shall be loyal to his King »

Scrope was considerably alarmed by these good
intentions, but he comforted himself with the
thought that he would have several months in which
to poison the minds of his companions during their
sojourn in a foreign land, and he resolved to strike
so quickly upon their return to court that no new
kindness of the monarch could make them hesitate
to act against him.

Of what happened during the long period of time
which the ambassadors spent in France the worH
knows little. Doubtless they executed their mission

Every Inch a King 33,

acceptably, since Henry kept them there. However
they d.d not avert a war; for in July. ,4,5. the Eng-

assembled at Southampton to embark for France

hZT f. ^u'" "'°'"' '""'''^"' '" »^» PJan« than he
had dared to hope. Both Cambridge and Grey were

determmed to put Mortimer upon the throne; and

he baron had contrived to make them believe that

the conspiracy was theirs, and that he himself had

He was st.ll danng to hope that should they fail he
could escape punishment. Traitor that he was
Scrope skilfully obtained assistance from The
J^rench. It was his quiet influence which secured
from certam officials the offers of large sums of

Zol '' t "TV""' ^'""^""^ '^' E"g"«h King
nto their hands. Cambridge and Grey entered into
the p an with great enthusiasm-the baron did not
actually pledge his word. Perhaps he believed that
the Frenchmen would not kill the young monarch
but simply hold him in an honorable captivity-^
situation which would be too dangerous-for Henry
must die before Mortimer could rule. But mean-
time the hope of the foreign gold would prevent
Cambridge and Grey from abandoning the plot

In another direction Scrope had failed entirely
Through his allies-and they supposed the idea to
be their own-he had endeavored to have Percy

S ?r7 ^r?^ ^••"^y'-"To revenge upon the
King the death of your father and your own dis-

332 Every Inch a King

erace " But the Earl of Northumberland r-tumed
Hpirited answer.-Th. King had '»«"«» h.mm
blood and granted him his titles and estates, and
w« even th^ arranging with the Scottish Govern-
ment that he should be exchanged for that royal
pt^ce. Murdoch Stuart, son of the Duke of Altany^
Therefore he would be loyal to the Kmg and serve

''^'^T^lL been informed of the conspir,^.
which was fortunate for Scrope, since upon the
young Earl's final arrival in England he at on« M-
sembW all the liegem«t of his house. "><». ™"*'"B
with them to Southampton, threw himself at
H*r y'sfe^^d declared that he »<> "s oUow-
were prepared to fight to the death for the Kmg^
Tither agiinst the French, "or any persons whatsc
ever who are your Highness's enemies.

Henry received him most graciously, and
throughout his campaigns Percy was one of his

'"rheTn'^l^h army was to sail upon the .ad of
TuW The a.st arrived, and at last the conspirators
Slid no longer delay making theirpl- known ^
the Earl of March, whom they had deeded to carry
So the frontier of Wales, and there to pro-
S him King in the hope that the discontented
Welsh would rally to his support. ,.„,„.

The baron would i.ot risk being himself present
at the interview with March, but he -med ^^rn-
bridge again and again to proceed with great cau

Every Inch a King 333

tion and not to betray their plans until he was as-
sured that the young earl would give them his
hearty support. Scrope counted upon Mortimer's
youth, inexperience, and the natural desire of every
man for power, especially when it is his by right of
birth, as affording sufficient reason for the earl's
rebellion. He failed to comprehend the power of
those qualities of gratitude and love of which his
own nature was incapable, yet he was, nevertheless,
uneasy over the coming interview. His cowardly
desire to save himself at any risk was his own ruin.
Had he been present, his keen knowledge of human
nature would have warned him that Mortimer's
calm attentiveness and quiet questions were no
promise of support. And yet Edmund played his
part so well that he might even have won in a con-
test of skill with the baron. Amazed and filled with
fury at the proposition, the young earl, with won-
derful self-control, forced himself to listen quietly
at first, with faint protests against any thought of
disloyalty, then to betray an increasing excitement
and interest as the weak and impulsive Cambridge
unfolded the plot before him; to question closely
without seeming to do so ; and finally to exclaim, —
"I must have time, my lord, to consider so tremen-
dous a proposal as thou hast made ; to-morrow, — to-
night, thou shalt have my answer. At what hour
can I meet you all ?"

The delighted Cambridge named an hour and
place, and, going to Scrope, told him enthusiastically

I ?

334 Every Inch a King

that March was transported by the plan and would
meet them that night to make the final arrange-
ments. The baron receive' n. -tatement doubt-
fully ; but as, in answer to 1, ii.'sMons, Cambridge
described the young earl's i uv.tr, . ven he appeared
to be satisfied.

Mortimer, having left ( tni l■l'l^•e's r.partments,
went to his own chamber Si bi.c'-i' "• ^ wife
what had occurred. Anne i reive- Hir .nformation
with breathless wonder. " hey \:>'M make thee
King?" she cried, tremblinf '*E«in .md, hast thou
,iven thy consent?" "I have as yet made no re-
sponse," he answered ; *but to-nij?ht they have ap-
pointed a meeting at which I have promised to give
my decision." "And then?" she asked, dinging to
his arm and searching his face eagerly. He smiled
into her anxious eyes, then bent and kissed her ten-
derly, as he answered, "I shall pray the King to
allow me to guide his soldiers to the meeting place
and to arresi them for high treason." "Thank
God!" she cried. "Ah, my Edmund, how could I
have doubted thee even for a moment." "Thou dost
not dcL. e to be Queen, my sweet ?" "Never through
treason," answered the Lady Anne.

The King was in his chamber ; several of his gen-
erals had just left him, and he was alone. Mortimer
was admitted, and the door was closed.

♦ ♦»♦♦♦*

Two hours later, Westmoreland, Thomas Beau-

Every Inch a King J35

fort, and the Earl of Nottingham were stimmoned
to the royal presence. They found Henry alone, his
face white and very stern. **My lords," he said,
keeping his voice steady only by a great effort, "we
learn that there are traitors here among us. Our
late ambassadors to France have conspired against
our person and have agreed to sell us to our enemies
and place the Earl of March upon the throne. Mor-
timer has this day learned of the plot and has in-
formed us of it. Go, lords, and arrest these men
and bring them immediately to trial. Our departure
for France must be delayed until this matter is de-
termined."

The astonished iioblemen gazed, speechless, at the
King. Henry stood for a moment, grave and silent,
then suddenly he turned and sank upon a bench, cov-
ering his face with his hands. "My God," he cried
in agony, "whom can I trust? Scrope was my dear
friend, the coirpanion of my youth, the man to
whom I ha\ e shown every honor ; upon whose loy -
alty I would have staked my very soul. Can it be
possible that he is false?"

"What proof is there, my liege ? March's unsup-
ported word ?" asked Westmoreland.

"Wouldst have me doubt this other friend, Nev-
ille?" demanded the King sternly. "Nay, cousin, he
could have had no reason to torture me by such a
wretched tale. Cambridge betrayed to him the en
tire plan, and Scrope was hand and glove witn his
companions. Yet think not that I do cond-tan!i

'I' "

336 Every Inch a King

them wit^'out a hearing. If they shall utterly deny
the charges, and at their trial give proof of inno-
cence, we will restore them to our confidence."

Thus spoke the King, but there was no hope upon
his gloomy face.

The nobles departed to do their monarch's bid-
ding, and the news of the arrests startled the entire
court. Scrope and Grey at first denied their guilt
entirely ; but the weak Earl of Cambridge, overcome
with fear, made a complete confession. In his fury
at being betrayed, he also charged Mortimer with
having taken an active part in the conspiracy; but
Edmund's account was too circumstantial to allow
the slightest doubt of him to enter the King's mind.
A court was at once summoned to try Ihe prisoners,
and the evidence against Cambridge and Grey
caused them to be immediately declared guilty of
high treason. Scrope had so cunningly concealed
his own share in the plot that he was convicted sim-
ply for privity in the conspira,,/ He admitted a
"knowledge of the general scheme," but denied that
he had known of any attempt against Henry's per-
son, and demanded a trial by his peers.

A second court, composed of the highest nobles,
and presided over by the Duke of Clarence, was
summoned, and Cambridge and Scrope appeared
before it. The proofs of guilt were even stronger
than before, and on the 5th of August the two trai-
tors were condemned to death. The baron saw at
last that there was no hope for him, but even in his

Every Inch a King 337

final hour he perceived how he could still cruelly
hurt the King he could not ruin. He asked permis-
sion, for the sake of former days, to speak with him
alone. The nobles, fearing they knew not what,
tried to prevent it, but Henry consented and bade
them all withdraw to the farther end of the hall.
And then Scrope, looking into Henry's eyes boldly,
with his hatred no longer concealed, told the simple
story of his long endeavor to ruin the King. "Thou
hast won," the baron cried with a bitter laugh, "it
is but right that thou shouldst know thy triumph."

And Henry stood and listened to the shameless
words, his face ashen, his eyes appealing, as Scrope
tore the mask from his every deed and showed the
King how utterly blinded he had been. "Hold!"
Henry cried at last. "Thou art su-ely mad! Art
thou incapable of shame that thou canst tell me this ?
Or dost thou at the last repent thee of thy sins ?"

"Repent!" and Scrope gave a sharp, scornful
laugh. "Repent? Never! I go to my death, O
King, sorrowful that I can do thee no further in-
jury. Thou hast conquered, Henry, for I die; yet,
while thou livest, thou canst never wholly trust an-
other man!" And with a smile of triumphant hatred
upon his face the baron turned, rejoined his waiting
guard, and was led forth to his death.

The King had commanded that the usual proc-
esses of torture, decreed by the court's sentence,
should be omitted, and the execution of the three
conspirators was speedily accomplished. For the

33 8 Every Inch a King

Earl of Cambridge and Grey of Northumberland
the punishment was merited, but sufficient. Henry
alone knew that in the case of Baron Scrope of
Masham it was far more lenient than his crimes
deserved.

CHAPTER XXXIV.

"O love, love, love 1

Love is like a dizziness ;
It winna' let a poor body
Gang about his business."

H00&

In the year fourteen hundred and nineteen, and
the month of May, a meeting was arranged between
Queen Isabella and the Duke of Burgundy on the
one hand, and the victorious King of England upon
the other.

The past few years had been busy ones for Henry
of Monmouth. The gradual and brilliant conquest
of France had displayed the wonderful qualities of
the conqueror. Brave and fearless, the leader in
every battle, and, during the intervals of peace, the
wise and clement ruler, Henry had bound his own
people to him by such strong ties of love and ad-
miration that never once during his glorious reign
did the formerly restless and rebellious Pariiament
fail to give him the most loyal support, and to will-
ingly provide him with the necessary funds with
which to carry on his vast enterprises.

England had applauded the conquest of Harfleur;
it had gone almost wild after the victory of Agin-
court, and now at last, weary by the long war, Johi,
Duke of Burgundy, had joined with the French

f;. *

340 Every Inch a King

Queen in offering most advantageous tenns of peace
to Henry. One of the victor's chief demands was
the hand of Catherine of Valois in marriage, and
upon the morrow the Princess was to appear at the
conference in person. The reports of her grace, her
modesty, and her great beauty had made the Eng-
lish lords both curious and eager, and she was the
one topic under discussion among them, the question
of her appearance seeming of more importance than
the King's acquisition of the throne of France!

Upon this beautiful May evening the Eari of
March left his tent, and passing through the camp,
wandered down to the bank of the River Seine,
which stretched before him, glistening like silver in
the moonlight. A passionate lover still, Mortimer's
chief interest in the momentous meeting lay in his
hope that it would result in a peace which would
make it possible for him to be once more with Anne ;
and as he stood gazing into the cool depths of the
water, his thoughts were not concerned with the
Princess, but with his beloved bride. The memories
of the past years came crowding upon him, with
their constant, sweet joys, and his heart throbbed
with longing as the tender, wistful face of his wife
rose before him and he felt again in imagination
the touch of her lips upon his own.

An approaching footstep roused him from his
revery, and turning sharply, his sword half drawn,
he cried out, "Who goes there?"

"Is it thou, Edmund?" asked a clear, sweet voice.

ill

Every Inch a King 341

The earl sprang forward. "Sire! Your Highness
is not alone ?"

The King advanced wrapped in a long riding-
cloak, which concealed both face and figure so that
one might have supposed him a common soldier.
"I am alone," he answered, "I stole secretly from
out my tent that I might pass an hour in solitude."

Mortimer hesitated and glanced at his friend
doubtfully. "Shall I withdraw, sire?" he asked.
"Wilt thou be in safety?"

Henry smiled. "I have my good sword, but go
not, Edmund, for to thee, dear friend, I can freely
speak my thoughts." He extended his hand and
drew the earl down beside him upon the bank. For
a space they sat in silence, gazing into the cool
depths of the river. Then, sighing, Henry asked in
low tones, "Hast thou ever regretted, Edmund, thy
marriage with Lady Anne?"

"Regretted it!" cried Mortimer earnestly. "My
liege, every day and hour have been crowded with
happiness. My love grows deeper with each pass-
ing moon, and Anne doth fill my life with sweetest
joy. My lord, I can never repay thy blessed kind-
ness in giving me my bride."

The King seemed scarcely to hear this eager
speech, but pursuing his own line of thought, said
slowly,— "Didst thou truly love her before thou
hadst spoken with her?"

"Ay, my love sprang up within my heart when
first mine eyes beheld her," answered Mortimer,

M' ' '

! !■

342 Every Inch a King

puzzled by the question — surely the King had be-
lieved in his passion before he wooed the lady.

A long silence followed. Then Henry, as if
speaking to himself, said in a low, sad tone, "I be-
lieve that could I wed her whose face I love, I, even
I, the King, might know the meaning of earthly
happiness."

The earl gave a start and tried to see his friend's
averted face. "I do not understand," he muttered
fearfully. Henry sighed again, then answered
gently, "Hast thou forgot the night that I came to
thy chamber and showed to thee my precious minia-
ture?"

Mortimer leaned forward and touched the King's
arm. "Canst thou mean, my liege, that thou hast
loved throughout these busy years a woman whom
thou hast never even seen? Good God! Why hast
thou not sought her out and made her thy true
wife?"

"And Queen of England ?" asked Henry bitterly.
"Wouldst thou have thy King marry beneath his
rank? She may not even be of noble birth, and I
must wed with royal blood alone!" He laughed
shortly, then reached out and seized the earl's hand
as if longing for a touch of sympathy. "Listen," he
said, in low and trembling tones. "That night when
I did tell thee of my love methought it but the fancy
of a moment which I could toss aside at pleasure. I
then expected to wed the daughter of Burgundy,

ill

*■■

Every Inch a King 343

and when the alliance was broken, I allowed myself
to gaze often upon that charming, pictured face. I
placed the maiden foremost in my heart and let my
love for her uphold my courage, strengthen me
amidst my cruel trials, and be the inspiration of my
life. And now," he added, rising to his feet and be-
ginning to pace the ground with restless, impatient
steps, "now I find 'tis not an idle fancy, but a living,
breathing woman whom I love ! I curse the day I
fought to win the Princess — I hate to hear them
praise her virtuous beauty! To-morrow must I
meet my future bride — ^and I cannot force myself
to destroy the miniature!"

The earl sat in silence, unable to find any words
of comfort, while Henry paced back and forth in
front of him, his hands clinched, his under lip
caught between his teeth, and his head thrown back
as if in defiance of his fate. Suddenly he stopped
before his friend, and in low tones thrilling with
something akin to horror, exclaimed, — "Edmund,
what if she be among the Princess's ladies ?"

The earl sprang to his feet. "Impossible!" he
cried.

"Nay, most possible," answered Henry gravely.
"I am convinced that I shall see the maiden upon the
morrow !"

"It may be thou wilt not know he.," faltered Mor-
timer.

"Dost think that I could fail to recognize the face
I love?"

'■' W ■

344 Every Inch a King

"Perchance she will disappoint thee, and— and
destroy thy love," suggested the earl despairingly.

"Never!" replied the King in so confident a man-
ner that one would have thought he expected to be
happy with the maiden of his choice. "I shall find
her all that I have dreamed — a tender, loving
woman, beautiful and noble, worthy of the greatest
prince in Christendom. And I can never tell her of
my love!"

He sank upon the ground, and pulling up some
long grasses, tore them in bits. "I envy the fate of
that young monk !" he exclaimed.

Mortimer's face grew white. "Sire, thou — thou
wilt do naught unworthy of thy place?" he pleaded
brokenly.

Henry raised his head and sadly smiled. "Fear
not, Edmund," he replied ; "did I regard my duty to
my people as of so little moment I would give up my
throne and wed whom I desired. God gave me my
life, and I must keep it until the end. But why did
he give me this tormenting love ?" he cried passion-
ately. "Why must I be thus cursed?"

"My liege," said Mortimer gently, "no love is a
curse. Thou canst make thine a noble blessing."

"Doth it indeed seem possible to thee, Edmvnd?"
cried the King almost fiercely. "Tell me, I prithee,
how thou wouldst proceed. When I do stand before
the Princess Catherine, and greet her as the future
Queen of England, when I iio vow to take her as my
wife, and pledge to her my honor and loyalty, can I

Every Inch a King 345

then see among her train the lady whom I love with
all my heart, and yet declare my love shall be a bless-
ing? By Heaven ! thou art mad to call it sol"

Henry sprang to his feet and held out his hands
appealingly. "Ah, Edmund, I would gladly die to-
night could I but have one hour of happiness. Oh,
my friend, my fate is very bitter I"

The earl went to him and gently placed an arm
across his shoulders. "Dear my lord, be comforted,"
he said, in tones that trembled with deep sympathy.
The young King stood a moment, struggling to pre-
serve his self-control. It was years since any one —
even the earl himself — had dared to show such ten-
derness for him, and the touch of Mortimer's arm
almost unmanned him, but in an instant he was calm
again. "Remain here, Edmund," he said steadily,
"I will return erelong," and he turned hurriedly
away and descended the slope to the water's edge.

Henry knew that not even his friend could help
him in this last fight. For half an hour he paced the
bank alone, battling with the desires of his heart,
which he believed unholy. With hands clinched and
a brow upon which the moisture stood in drops, he
fought to tear his love from his pure heart, that he
might bestow upon the Princess that entire loyalty
which he felt was necessary to every holy marriage.
The agony which this struggle cost him would have
driven a weaker man to desperate deeds; but at
length, with a prayer for strength upon his lips,
Henry of Monmouth drew from his breast the

34^ Every Inch a King

miniature, tore it into small pieces, and throwing
them into the water, watched them slowly drift
down the moonlit stream and vanish into the black
depths. The young monarch knelt for a moment
imploring help and comfort from that Power who
alone could grant his plea, then rising, he ascended
the sloping bank and called softly, "Mortimer I"

The earl, who had grown very anxious at his long
absence, sprang forward with a cry of relief. He
could not see in the dim light that Henry's face
was calm and peaceful once more, but in his voice
he heard the note of triumph and confidence. "Come
with me, Edmund," said the King quietly, "I have
often shared thy couch — to-night thou shalt share
mine, for thou must be beside me on the morrow
when I greet my bride, the Princess Catherine."

CHAPTER XXXV.

"And to his eye
There was but one beloved face on earth,
And that was shining on him."

Bywm.

The thirtieth of May dawned clear and beautiful.
Most elaborate preparations had been made for the
great meeting. The French were encamped at Pon-
toise, the English at Mantes, and between the vil-
lages Queen Isabella had caused to be erected two
great tents ; that of the French being of blue velvet
richly embroidered with the nation's emblem, the
fleur-de-lis, surmounted by the silver figure of a fly-
ing hart, with enamelled wings; while the English
tent was even more magnificent, being made of al-
ternate blue and green velvet with two antelopes
worked upon it, one drawing in a mill, the other
seated on high, with a branch of olives in his mouth ;
— the motto, "After busy labor comes victorious
rest," explained the design; at the top of the tent
rested a golden eagle, whose eyes were two dia-
monds.

Between these gorgeous tents was a magnificent
centre pavilion, on either side of which were placed
barriers, to be closely guarded, that none but the
highest dignitaries might enter.

At three in the afternoon the two parties issued

34^ Every Inch a King

from their tents and proceeded in state to the pa-
vilion. The scene was a most brilliant one. The
Queen, gorgeously robed, walked by the side of
John of Burgundy, with the Princess Catherine
upon her left. They were followed by an extensive
train of lords and ladies splendidly arrayed.

King Henry, in royal robes and crowned, walked
at the head of his great nobles with such proud dig-
nity in his mien that he inspired awe in every breast.
His face was calm, as befitted one who had con-
quered his own spirit, and his heart was quiet and
content. The battle with his love had ended, and
without dismay, but with the determination to do his
duty fully, he moved steadily forward to greet his
future bride. Entering the pavilion, the King first
advanced to Isabella, and saluted her by a profound
obeisance. Then he turned toward the Princess.
Catherine, in the very height of her youth and
beauty, stood beside her mother ; her slender, grace-
ful figure arrayed in a rich gown, over which fell a
long mantle of ermine, the front being a broad strip
of ermine embroidered with magnificent jewels,
while her head, held erect with charming dignity,
was crowned by the arched coronet worn by the chil-
dren of the King of France.

As the English nobles saw her beauty, murmurs
of admiration and satisfaction rose among them;
but Henry, looking full into her face, started vio-
lently and uttered a sharp cry. Was he mad ? Had
his eyes, longing for the sight of certain features,

Every Inch a King 349

played him false? I^Ie gazed, stupefied, upon that
delicate, oval-shaped face, that fair complexion, that
exquisitely cut mouth, those dark and lustrous
eyes, — a thousand times more beautiful than even
his imagination had painted her, and yet the living,
breathing image of his thoughts t

Catherine's cheeks grew crimson under his fixed,
abstracted gaze; the Queen watched him in evident
amazement, and Burgundy made an impatient move-
ment. The Duke of Clarence stepped forward and
touched his brother upon the arm. Henry, recalled
with a start to his surroundings, turned hastily \o
Isabella, took her by the hand and led her to a tlirone
covered with cloth of gold. He then took a seat
opposite, listened to Burgundy's greetings, and re-
sponded very graciously. This duty over, however,
he paid no further heed to the proceedings, and
while Earl Warwick and other Englishmen ad-
dressed the Queen and replied to the compliments of
the French nobility, King Henry, who had never
been known to lose for an instant either his dignity
or his self-control, sat perfectly motionless in his
place, his eyes fixed with an eager, intense gaze upon
the Princess Catherine, completely oblivious to what
was happening around him.

When the conference was at last ended, he parted
from her so reluctantly and with such a depth of
emotion in his look and tone, that her heart throbbed
wildly and she could scarcely meet his eyes.

There never lived a woman who did not desire to

?) '

350 Every Inch a King

be wooed, and Catherine of Valois, after a restless
night, paced her apartment with impatient steps.
"Is it not hard, Joan," she cried in French to her
favorite lady, "that because I am a princess I must
stand by in silence while my royal suitor asks the
King, my father, for my hand? Oh, I would that
I were a beggar maid and he a peasant, that he
might woo me freely with sweet words! By
Heaven, methinks he would be eloquent !"

The words had scarcely left her lips when one of
her maidens entered in great excitement. "Madam,"
she stammered, "King Henry himself standeth be-
low and craveth speech with your Grace."

Catherine seized her by the arm. "Hast lost thy
wits, girl ?" she cried. "What doth he here? Is he
attended by his noble train? Cometh he not to see
mine honored mother?"

"Nay, madam," answered the lady, "he rode
hither with scarce a dozen men-at-arms, and dis-
mounting at the door, entered the hall alone and
asked for you."

The Princess sprang to her dressing-table.
"Quick, Margery, fetch me my flowered satin
trimmed with rubies, and thou, Joan, I prithee un-
bind my hair. Blanche, hie thee to the King with
speed, and tell him that I will be with him anon."

In spite of her desire to appear as charming as
possible, the Princess made a very hasty toilet, but to
the impatient monarch it seemed an age ere she at
last descended, accompanied by the ladies Joan and

f :

IV:- )i

Every Inch a King 351

Margery. He came forward to meet her, his eyes
brilliant with joy. She faltered a little, and blushed
most charmingly as she asked in her pretty, broken
English, "Monseigneur, you come to spik to— ma
mere. Ees it not so ?"

"Upon mine honor, no !" cried the King. "I come
to speak with thee, thou fairest of all maidens. Wilt
thou give me leave to tell thee what is in my heart ?"

"II n'est pas le coutume de France, — " began the
Princess hesitatingly, but Henry cried out, — "What !
Wilt thou submit thee to the decree of custom?
Now, by my faith, I have no patience with it ! Must
I so curb my heart that when we meet in state my
greeting shall be only with mine eyes? Nay, as I
live, thou shalt know my love for the by other
method than thy mother's lips. Sweetheart, my
heart has been within thy keeping for many years."

Catherine glanced at him, half shyly, half mis-
chievously, "Ees yesterday many years?" she de-
manded.

"Nay, I speak truth," he answered earnestly.
"I loved thee long, long ere I did see thee. The
thought of thee has been my strength and my en-
couragement throughout the busy years which I
have lived, and yet I did not know thou wert the
princess ! Wouldst thou hear the story of my love ?"

Catherine hesitated, looked into his eager face,
and yielded to her curiosity. "I vill listen," she
said, and dropped her eyes before the passion which
shot out of his. He took her hand, and in the hap-

352 Every Inch a King

piness of that moment forgot even the two ladies
who stood bdiind her, watching his handsome face
with eager eyes. "Fair Cadierine," said Henry
gently, "when thou wert but a child, a Frenchman
more noble in birth than strong in character, loved
thee and left his monastery to see thy beauteous
face. He painted a miniature of thee, and, dying at
Calais, gave it unto me. 'Twas while I was but
Prince of Wales, my sweet, yet I did love thee
then as I love thee now ! What sayest thou to my
constancy ?"

The Princess's cheeks were rose-color. She
understood the meaning of this simple story, and her
heart bounded at the thought of such great love. "I
would see rat picture," she said shyly.

Henry shook his head sadly. "The night before
I saw thee, Catherine, I did destroy it that I might
offer to my future bride my undivided heart. Ah, if
thou didst but know the cruel battle I fought to con-
quer my love for thee ! And now, thou fairest, I can
love thee without thought of wrong, for thou shalt
be the bride of Harry of England."

She met his eyes for a brief moment. "If it sail
please le roi mon pere," she answered shyly.

"Nay, doubt not but it will please him well,"
answered the King confidently ; "for I will make thee
Queen over the united kingdoms of England and of
France! But, sweetheart, I desire somewhat more
than a fair queen," he continued earnestly. "I love
thee, Catherine, with all my heart. What sayest

f.i ■ <

■.': !

^iM

Every Inch a King 353

thou ? Canst thou bestow upon me the love a tender
wife owes to her husband ?"

"I do not know," she murmured.

"Nay, fairest, let me look into thine eyes. Oh!
they are glorious; and those enchanting lips tempt
me to madness! How I have hungered for this
blessed day. Canst thou not give me one precious
word to treasure? Wilt thou not love me, Cath-
erine ?"

She trembled a little, then looked again at him,
noted his grace, his beauty, the passionate fire of
love within his ey6s; and as she looked there came
to his lips that radiant smile which no one could re-
sist, and the Princess, her heart bounding with hap-
piness, smiled back at him and held out her little
hand.

With a cry, the King sprang forward. "Dost
thou love me ?" he demanded, trembling in his eager-
ness. An instant she hesitated, then raised her head
and allowed her eyes to answer. He searched them
with an intense gaze, and with his great joy throb-
bing in his voice, pleaded, "Tell it me, my sweet.
Say to me, Harry, I love thee." Her bosom heaved,
her eyes were downcast, but his voice rang in her
ears, and at length she gathered courage and bravely
said, "Mon roi, I — love — " she could go no farther,
for the King, with a deep and tender joy, took her in
his arms and placed upon her lips the kiss which
sealed the union of their lives.

And Henry of Monmouth, looking into Cath-

Hfeiiliillta

-#■

354 Every Inch a King

erine's eyes, knew that God had granted to him
above all men the perfect love which makes this
earth a heaven.

THE END.

> him
;s this