Card fine Sacver
 
 
 
 
 EVERY INCH 
 
 
 A KING 
 
 
 
 The Romance of Henry of Mon- 
 mouth, Sometime Prince of Wales 
 
 
 
 By 
 
 Josephine Caroline Sawyer 
 
 
 
 S3l&3S& 
 
 
 
 jljeto gorfe 
 
 Dodd, Mead G? Company 
 1901 
 

 
 Copyright, 1901, 
 By DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY.
 
 TO MY FATHER AND MOTHER 
 
 WITHOUT WHOSE CONSTANT SYMPATHY, ENCOURAGEMENT 
 
 AND KINDLY CRITICISM, THIS BOOK COULD 
 
 NEVER HAVE BEEN WRITTEN.
 
 NOTE 
 
 THIS book was written with the single purpose of 
 proving that the character of Henry V., while 
 Prince of Wales, 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 ; 
 Priests, tapers, temples, swim before my sight." 
 
 POPE. 
 
 IT was the springtime, and France was arrayed 
 in all her glory. The buds were swelling upon the 
 noble trees, the early flowers were peeping from the 
 grass, and the birds were singing their sweetest 
 songs to aid their wooing. Love was the burden of 
 their melody, and as their notes rang out joyously 
 in the early dawn, a young monk standing in the 
 window of a stately castle on the coast of Normandy 
 felt his heart throb in answer to their plea. Was not 
 the whole world singing the same glad song? And 
 why must he stifle it upon his lips and crush the pas- 
 sion which turned his blood to fire? 
 
 He glanced about the great, luxurious chamber, 
 so worthy of a wealthy nobleman. What mad freak 
 was it that had impelled him to sacrifice his birth- 
 right ; to abandon the gay court life which had once 
 been the goal of his ambition; and to inform the 
 abbot that he would give all his wealth to Mother 
 Church and would return to the monastery in which 
 he had been educated, there to end his days in holy
 
 2 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 3 
 
 nobleman found surging in his heart a passionate 
 love which bewildered him. With the long-prac- 
 ticed skill of a courtier he tried to win a blush and a 
 smile from the little maid, but her unconsciousness 
 and ignorance of coquetry defeated him. Spurred 
 on to fresh endeavors, he soon found that the game 
 was turning from jest to earnest; and when the 
 Queen and her court rode onward the next morn, he 
 had laid his heart at her childish feet, and received 
 as his only response a wondering, wide-eyed smile 
 and a deep courtesy. 
 
 Baffled, enraged alike at his failure to make her 
 understand, and at the fate which awaited him, the 
 young nobleman laid aside his rich garments, and 
 with submissive face, but a heart rilled with bitter 
 hate, he presented himself before the abbot, and 
 without passing through the usual novitiate, he be- 
 came a monk. 
 
 The abbot noticed his restless melancholy, and ad- 
 vised some active labor ; so, having already gained a 
 knowledge of the art of illuminating, he commenced 
 to write the Gospel of St. John; but a beautiful, 
 childish face swam ever before his eyes ; and, secret- 
 ing a piece of heavy vellum, he began slowly to paint 
 those dear features which were stamped upon his 
 brain. With exquisite daintiness, and the tender 
 touch of a lover, he worked diligently, and soon the 
 little 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 ever and
 
 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 5 
 
 Long he stood there, desperately striving to find 
 some path to happiness, and the sun's rays had 
 gilded the east with fiery radiance, when, on a sud- 
 den, the sound of many feet approaching startled 
 the young man from his revery. He turned, with a 
 sharp cry of terror ; for, as his door swung wide, he 
 beheld the abbot standing upon the threshold, while 
 behind him clustered a group of monks. 
 
 One glance from the culprit's guilty face to the 
 raiment strewn about the apartment and the gleam- 
 ing sword near by, convicted him ; and the abbot ad- 
 vanced with a stern countenance. "How didst thou 
 dare !" he cried in a voice of thunder. "Dost realize 
 the sin thou hast committed? 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 
 thee, thou who hast robbed the Church of thine own 
 gift to her !" 
 
 The sinful monk sank upon his knees. "Have 
 mercy upon me," he pleaded in quivering tones. 
 The abbot's hard face set in grim triumph. During 
 the long years in which the haughty young noble 
 had been under his charge he had never dared to 
 deal with him sternly ; but now the broad lands were 
 the possession of the monastery and this proud spirit 
 must humbly yield to him. Ah, he would make him 
 suffer ! He would show the monks under his control 
 that even the highest among them should not escape 
 punishment. "Mercy"? he answered fiercely, "for
 
 6 Every Inch a King 
 
 what mercy canst thou hope, thou sinful man? 
 Know that thy guilt is plain; look at these, and 
 then 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 fly, 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 7 
 
 near the opening, and was riding furiously in the 
 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 thyself again, 
 good 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
 
 8 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 tti ?" "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 9 
 
 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 mixture of broken
 
 io 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 utter brokenly the gratitude which filled his heart. 
 Looking into those clear eyes rilled 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 thrusting the 
 picture into his bosom he softly passed from the 
 chamber and gently closed the door.
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 "I do love 
 
 My country's good with a respect more tender, 
 More holy and profound than mine own life." 
 
 CORIOLANUS. 
 
 THE rich verdure of the English country, the de- 
 lightful coolness of the air after a long period of 
 heat, and the 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 might 
 enjoy the pleasures of the chase. 
 
 Only twelve years had passed since Henry, then 
 the handsome, gallant Duke of Hereford, had landed 
 in England to demand his estates of Lancaster, 
 wrongfully kept from him since his father's death by 
 his cousin, Richard the Second. The people had risen 
 suddenly in 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, had 
 passed by the line of Mortimer, descended from the 
 Duke of Clarence's daughter, whose representative, 
 Edmund, 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
 
 1 2 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 
 numbers 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 whose will Henry had ever bowed, 
 and upon whose pleasure depended his retention of 
 the throne, had shown such marked displeasure at
 
 Every Inch a King 1 3 
 
 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 one 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 strengthened could his Majesty sug- 
 gest some means? 
 
 The King suggested coldly that this was not 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 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 be," 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 giveth 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 
 than 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, "ay, ye 
 are as faithful as was Northumberland, and he "
 
 Every Inch a King 17 
 
 The words died on his lips 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 warningly, 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 advised 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 
 state 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 gain 
 them all?" 
 
 "How wouldst thou have us win them, good my 
 lord?"
 
 2O Every Inch a King 
 
 The King laughed in scorn. "Methinks them 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 
 Suffolk. 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 i 
 
 "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, we 
 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
 
 22 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 : 
 
 "Your 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 would 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 result of 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-
 
 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 !" 
 
 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 your Highness than thou now holdest 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
 
 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 as 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, but, my lord, thou wilt be reasonable. Canst 
 thou deny that the young Prince's friends are 
 strangely chosen, 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 counsel to make the Prince 
 do wrong? Is he less earnest o'er affairs of state? 
 Does he neglect his duties at Calais ? Or is he now 
 less wise than was his wont in shaping 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
 
 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 Prince 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 wisely 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 been accomplished." 
 
 "And wherefore should I wish to hear of it ? My 
 Lord of Warwick, we give you leave, but go not 
 farther than the outer room." 
 
 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," began the Prince; but the 
 King interrupted :
 
 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 3 1 
 
 hand. "Why dost thou trouble me? The thing is 
 done." 
 
 "Not so, my liege; the council are agreed, 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: "I 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 King'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.
 
 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
 
 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 beard 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 
 into thy rest, but I must away at sunrise, and 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 
 bear the title of the Earl of March, placed wine and 
 meat before his royal guest. Two years before, the 
 young prisoner had been placed under the personal
 
 Every Inch a King 35 
 
 charge of the Prince, and, unknown to the King or 
 any of the court, a friendship had sprung up be- 
 tween them, founded on mutual sympathy and re- 
 spect, the depth of which neither of them realized. 
 When the Prince had hurriedly refreshed himself, 
 he bade the earl sit beside him on the couch. "It is 
 three months since I did see thee last. Hast thou 
 been well?" 
 
 "Ay, my lord, but often lonesome for thee. When 
 didst thou come to Windsor ?" 
 
 "Some four hours since. And may I never pass 
 four other hours as miserable as these have been. 
 Edmund, I could wish to die to-night." 
 
 The earl started. Well as he knew the Prince 
 and he had been with him in many moods he never 
 before had heard him speak one word that came not 
 from his overflowing spirits of cheerfulness and 
 warm affection. By the dim light he saw that the 
 Prince was pale, and every line showed an extreme 
 fatigue of mind and body. 
 
 "What is it they have done to thee," he cried, 
 "that hath driven the color from thy gentle cheeks ? 
 By Heaven, my lord, but thou art greatly changed." 
 
 "I have had much to make me suffer, Edmund, 
 but I'll not burden thee with all my troubles. Let it 
 suffice, the King, my father, hates me, and doth be- 
 lieve that I would sin against him. My every 
 smallest action is examined and a base motive 
 judged for each and all. Oh, if he would but put me 
 to the proof ! Enough of this ! Pray tell 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 folly that thou 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 I. But how, if it cannot be? 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 earl started. "What ! Art thou 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. But 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 England'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. "I 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 
 blind 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 form alliance with 
 Duke John, the Fearless. This noble duke possesses 
 a noble daughter, and I do seek to win her for my 
 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 
 my weak heart. Edmund, never speak to me of 
 happiness !" 
 
 The earl, deeply troubled by the suffering in the 
 Prince's face, a suffering intensified by the memory 
 of the King's taunts about his motives for desiring 
 the present union used his utmost endeavors to 
 soothe his troubled guest, and at length the Prince, 
 wearied by the events of the day, and his heart 
 lighter since 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 to 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 earl'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 was a vision all of white and gold.
 
 Every Inch a King 45 
 
 Her 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 not 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 
 thou 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
 
 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- 
 course 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." 
 
 "I' faith, I had forgot to eat. Pour me a glass of 
 wine. Here's to thy health, 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 bride." 
 
 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 shouts and salutations from their mouths, 
 Even in the presence of the crowned king." 
 
 HENRY IV. 
 
 IN the year 1411, King Henry's court appeared, 
 to foreign nations, united in giving full support and 
 allegiance to the monarch. The successive rebel- 
 lions 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 disaffections. 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-
 
 50 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 the 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 court 
 believed him but an ignorant boy. In the year 1407 
 he conducted several successful campaigns in Wales, 
 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 51 
 
 quickly followed by his father's usurpation of the 
 throne. And perhaps the thoughts of the Prince 
 were not entirely happy ones, for Richard had been 
 very kind to the young boy, and although but a 
 child, Harry had felt a deep affection for him, and 
 his sorrow at the unfortunate monarch's death was 
 accompanied by a feeling of resentment against Bol- 
 ingbroke for what, to his mind, seemed injustice 
 and cruelty, and this feeling, unexpressed, came be- 
 tween father and son and kept them apart. 
 
 After his return from this campaign, young 
 Henry made the capital his residence; and with an 
 active love for government, which amazed the 
 court, he took his place in the Royal Council, and 
 accepting the various positions of Warden of the 
 Cinque Ports, Constable of Dover and Captain of 
 Calais, offered him chiefly for the purpose of replen- 
 ishing his exchequer, he proved himself not only 
 nominal but actual governor of these places, visiting 
 them in person and attending to his various neces- 
 sary duties with a consistency and thoroughness 
 which was worthy of the highest praise. 
 
 Shortly after this he had become President of the 
 Royal Council of State, and, owing to the ill-health 
 of his father, actual King of England. A warrior 
 of great personal bravery, wise in command, gener- 
 ous in victory and undaunted by defeat ; 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 listen
 
 52 Every Inch a King 
 
 with a charming deference to the opinions of others ; 
 a man of ready sympathy, perfect trust of all men, 
 and a charming courtesy 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, then, if the English nobles, dis- 
 gusted with their King's misrule, wearied by his ill- 
 ness, and angry at the peevish temper he displayed, 
 determined that they had borne it long enough, and 
 that the ending should not be postponed. The 
 Prince, the actual king, the man who labored morn- 
 ing and night for his country's good, why should 
 he not receive the honors of his place, and be free 
 from the King's unreasoning half-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 palace 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 of 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 
 in 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- 
 ing 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 traitor 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 even 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 
 time 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 words, "Ay, 
 if there be no bloodshed, it were well ; yet I, for one,
 
 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 not 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 ! 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."
 
 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. "Is 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 have 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 the 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 righting. 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 
 Prince 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. 
 
 "Thou 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 
 Sir 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?" 
 
 Suffolk 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 61 
 
 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
 
 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 lord 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.
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 "Women, like princes, find few real friends." 
 
 LORD LYTTLETON. 
 
 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
 
 Every Inch a King 
 
 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' faith, one never knows what 
 men will do." 
 
 "Dost thou not favor the alliance, madam? 
 Methought the daughter of Duke John had beauty, 
 and certain her dowry 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 but 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: 
 "F 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 with 
 crimson, "you cannot think you surely 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
 
 jo 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 us 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 7 1 
 
 "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 since, 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 
 in 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
 
 72 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?" 
 
 "F 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.
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 'What is life, when wanting love?" 
 
 BURNS. 
 
 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: 
 *T 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
 
 7 6 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 not 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."
 
 78 Every Inch a King 
 
 She prayed to know his age. "When I am glad, 
 he is as merry-young as were a boy; and when I 
 need his counsel, he is old. I never asked him what 
 his years might be." So, during all their time to- 
 gether, 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 any 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 captor with such a 
 fond affection, and worshipping a maiden seen in 
 the 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 
 life of perfect bliss love in a prison, comfort from 
 her heart to repay the earl for all that he had suf- 
 fered. Then came a sudden blot. What of her 
 mother? Harry, with eager eyes, discerned her 
 thought. "Lady, give answer, wouldst thou wed 
 Lord Scrope?" 
 
 "Never," she cried, and turned with a quick shud- 
 der. 
 
 "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 King 
 shall be persuaded; and when the earl woos thee
 
 Every Inch a King 79 
 
 for himself, 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 
 into his eyes and softly 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.
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 "Vengeance is in my heart, 
 Death in my hand. 
 Blood and revenge are hammering in my head." 
 
 Trrus 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 know, 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 hated Harry Monmouth for many 
 moons before he thought of Anne. "What is this 
 man the son of a usurper that we should always 
 humble ourselves before him? By Heaven, but he 
 shall not be made the king!" Should he denounce
 
 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 was 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 
 were absent from the party, but Lady Holland sat 
 her prancing horse, her head 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
 
 Every Inch a King 83 
 
 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 Stafford announced to the fair 
 Queen that she and thou were formally betrothed." 
 
 Appalled at this sudden crisis in affairs, 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
 
 84 Every Inch a King 
 
 chance the anger of the Prince by a plain denuncia- 
 tion of the lady. 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?" 
 
 'T faith, I'll tell her that the thing is false!" 
 
 "And let her judge that Lady Anne's done 
 wrong? What thinkest thou Lady Westmoreland 
 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 softly: "My queen, thou fairest of
 
 86 Every Inch a King 
 
 the fair. 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 murmuring 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 again, 
 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 finally 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 all 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 maidens, felt that 
 the occasion justified her in early leaving 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 her 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 
 dressed 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 offer 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 Lady 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. And 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 
 in 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 know the kindness he hath shown to every 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 and 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 reason had he, mistress? Prithee, tell 
 us." 
 
 Anne's deep eyes gleamed with mischief, as she 
 courtesied. "I trust your Grace will grant to me 
 your pardon. The matter is at present a close secret, 
 but when I have consent to make it known, your 
 Grace 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 hunting party back, and 
 with them Lady Holland and the baron. Anne was 
 amazed to see him by her side, and still more, when 
 Lord Scrope said to the Queen: "Will your Grace 
 deign to wish 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 she will not
 
 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 
 Stafford 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 ca! 1 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 must 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.
 
 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 demand 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 mean?" 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
 
 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 ?" 
 
 "I 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 placed 
 in the Minories." 
 
 "She will not become a nun?" he asked in haste.
 
 98 Every Inch a King 
 
 "Methinks 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, but 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 
 with 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 99 
 
 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.
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 "Defend me from my friends ; 
 I can defend myself from my enemies." 
 
 MARSHAL VILLARS. 
 
 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 friends had resented with such warmth as 
 to bring a rebuke 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 now 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 101 
 
 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."
 
 IO2 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 
 
 noticed 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
 
 IO4 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 King, 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 crowned, all 
 that he promised to his faithful people, and how he's 
 broken these promises on every hand, denied his 
 words, and treated with injustice 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 King 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 that is shameful, and suf- 
 fers without rebuke the insults 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 dignity: "I fail to understand, 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
 
 106 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 
 
 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 have 
 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
 
 io8 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. 
 Didst 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 March 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 Prince 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
 
 iio 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 final ar- 
 rangements are now in progress, and I shall ask 
 mine honored father to let thee join us at 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 grant 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 1 1 1 
 
 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 affection. 
 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 of such an 
 alliance. It was no small thing that he gave up 
 for from his earliest 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
 
 ii2 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 lier 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 any 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, Edmund, I 
 have other plans for thee; if these do fail, thou 
 needst not be anxious. We will not let the 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
 
 ii4 Every Inch a King 
 
 the oaken door. Neither of the young men heeded 
 it. The earl was driving his guest into a corner, 
 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 earl 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 affect 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
 
 116 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 
 refuses 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. 
 
 "If I am 
 
 Traduced by ignorant tongues, which neither know 
 My faculties nor person, yet will be 
 The chronicles of my doing, let me say 
 'Tis but the fate of place, and the rough brake 
 That virtue must go through." 
 
 HENRY VIII. 
 
 THE fifth day of January, in the year of our Lord 
 fourteen hundred and twelve, dawned clear and 
 beautiful. There was a crispness and sparkle in 
 the air 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, winding 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 sunlight. At their head rode the slender, 
 upright figure of their young commander, his 
 handsome face glowing with health and spirits, his 
 brilliant eyes noticing each detail of nature and of 
 man, his ready smile often on his lips in answer to 
 the jests of his 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
 
 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 keen-
 
 Every Inch a King 119 
 
 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 young 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,
 
 120 Every Inch a King 
 
 observed them, but with absolute indifference 
 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 
 "Prince 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 
 lips 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 them. It stood upon the
 
 Every Inch a King 121 
 
 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 
 and homelike effect rarely seen in London residences, 
 which too often suggested fortresses. This man- 
 sion, built by Sir John Poultney, four times Mayor 
 of London, 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
 
 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 once." 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
 
 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 captain 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 very 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 
 think 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 youthful captain had 
 sprung upon him from behind, and 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 officer 
 proceeded, his 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 
 livest, 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 write to 
 him?" 
 
 "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 thoti 
 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: "Measures have 
 already been taken to this effect, and the King 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 prince 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?" 
 
 One instant Harry Monmouth stood silent, 
 horrified; 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 ! 
 Who are my enemies that dare to utter so base a lid 
 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 thine innocence. How couldst thou have sinned 
 so deeply against our father? Ah, Harry, Harry, 
 God forgive thee and keep thee from the blacker 
 sin 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, hd 
 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 !"
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 "To say the truth, so Judas kissed his Master; 
 And cried all hail ! whereas he meant all harm." 
 
 HENRY VI. 
 "Of two evils I have chose the least" 
 
 PRIOR IMITATION OF HORACE. 
 
 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 kept alive by 
 Lady 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 133 
 
 It was. therefore, an easy task to keep the fires of 
 envy and of malice burning fiercely. Scrope did not 
 even let them know of his changed feelings, and de- 
 fended the Prince whenever they spoke against him, 
 yet he invented 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's departure. 
 He also told Joan, with much reluctance, that he had 
 been slighted in presence of a stranger, and gave her 
 most remarkable accounts of Harry's conduct in 
 Lord March's apartments matters which she de- 
 lighted in 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 
 genius. On learning of Bishop Beaufort's plans, he 
 had impressed upon the conspirators the necessity of 
 convincing 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 be- 
 trayed 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. 
 
 The furious King rallied all his strength, and 
 when the nobles appeared before him he answered 
 all their arguments with a firm courage and strength 
 of indignation that amazed them. Lord Scrope was 
 absent, on a plea of sickness, and Bolingbroke did
 
 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 differently ? They supposed 
 that he would be dismissed from the council they 
 never knew that every member of that brilliant 
 court had heard 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 
 within 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 his sufferings and mine, and until I had sub- 
 duced mine 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 
 meaning clear. I grieve to tell your Grace the court 
 doth judge thee as one who seeks to rob the King of 
 life. 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 
 
 would 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 yielded 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
 
 138 Every Inch a King 
 
 there's small chance of success. Thou knowest I 
 must not presume upon his favor since I am thy 
 friend." 
 
 "Thou art right, baron, I had forgot the peril. 
 'Tis best thou shouldst not even speak my name." 
 
 And in his heart the lord of Scrope was think- 
 ing " 'Twill be my care thou dost not see the King. 
 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 
 triumph he must be calm and make each play with 
 care; if he should falter all might yet be lost. 
 Sternly 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 
 ingratitude, 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 he ever prove 
 his innocence ? The stab had been given by his dear- 
 est friends. Who would believe him if he freely 
 said that he had refused consent to Winchester's 
 proposal ? And even if men did believe the fact, he 
 could not make them 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 141 
 
 This what the King supposed to be the truth ! And 
 now what manner of life was left to him ? He had 
 been banished from the Council Chamber. He was 
 to have no part in the government. The thought, 
 startling in its evil meaning, brought him in agony 
 to his feet. No part, no share in anything pertain- 
 ing to this land ? He, the heir apparent, to be kept 
 in 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 in person to these towns? Men who would 
 allow their stewards power to tax the people, and 
 deny them justice? Harry knelt before his couch 
 and buried his 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? 
 Must 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? To 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,
 
 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 swiftly crossed the room 
 and called a merry greeting as he went. The die 
 was cast, and he had chosen this !
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 "Oh, what a goodly outside falsehood hath !" 
 
 MERCHANT OF VENICE. 
 
 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
 
 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, others whispered the Prince had drawn 
 his sword and had only been prevented from his 
 purpose by courtiers who had wrenched the weapon 
 from him! 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 would have been useless 
 and unnatural. Many of his hours were spent in 
 reading eagerly what books he 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 sufferers 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 it, 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- 
 ber. Their natures were too utterly unlike to allow
 
 146 Every Inch a King 
 
 either cordial 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 
 his pride was turned to bitter shame. He longed to 
 send for the Prince, give him a fatherly reproof and 
 urge him to mend his ways before it was too late, 
 but he had been forced to believe that such a pro- 
 ceeding would be in the highest degree dangerous 
 to his person. And now the climax of his sorrows 
 seemed at hand, for Lord Scrope, the treasurer, 
 arose in the Council Chamber and asked with much 
 reluctance whether any one present had received 
 notices 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 147 
 
 The gloom had deepened upon the King's brow 
 as he saw the doubt expressed in many faces. 
 Clarence, flushing with anger, exclaimed in scorn: 
 "I 5 faith, but every tongue is ready to add some 
 shame unto my brother's burden, but I did never 
 think to hear proclaimed a charge so lacking in all 
 likelihood." 
 
 "Your Grace is right," answered the baron 
 promptly, "such rumors are the very height of folly, 
 and for that reason they must cease at once. There 
 be men who gladly seize each chance to poison every 
 mind against the Prince, but for ourselves, who 
 know his Grace, denial is needless." 
 
 "Speak for thyself, lord baron," answered Arch- 
 bishop Arundel, "methinks my knowledge of the 
 Prince is excellent; and to me the thought that he 
 has taken these public moneys comes charged with 
 truth. Is't not a reasonable thing that one who spends 
 his nights and days engaged in drinking and brawl- 
 ing, who even scruples not to seize by force the prop- 
 erty belonging to all those who pass is't not 
 reasonable, I say, that such a man, possessing pub- 
 lic funds, should freely use them for his purposes? 
 Belike thou'lt find this money, Scrope, within the 
 taverns there to pay for sack which Harry Mon- 
 mouth has furnished to his friends." 
 
 "Thy judgment is severe, my lord archbishop," 
 came the calm voice of the Earl of Warwick. "The 
 charges thou dost bring against the Prince are 
 founded only on the London gossip. Because we
 
 148 Every Inch a King 
 
 know he sometimes dines in Eastcheap, accom- 
 panied by Sir John Falstaff, 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, 
 is 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 eye 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 I'm 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 for 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 
 gave 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 !' '
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 "Sound the trumpet ! 
 
 No true knight is a tarrier." 
 
 ROBERT BROWNING. 
 
 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 if 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
 
 154 Every Inch a King 
 
 had returned to that mansion which more than 
 any other he called his home. He was welcomed 
 joyfully by Falstaff 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 
 sat 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 
 wearied 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-
 
 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 has run thus many times. There're 
 certain of the court that look with suspicion upon his 
 feats. They claim that there is witchery 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 
 remaining a member of the council?" 
 
 "Methought it strange, yet he did not accompany 
 thee before the King." 
 
 "Nay, but he's known as Harry Monmouth's 
 friend! Is't not odd the King should honor him? 
 And then that business of my cousin Anne's. Hast 
 heard it?" 
 
 The earl shook his head. "Dost mean the Lady 
 Stafford, Michael? I did never meet her." 
 
 "Ay, she it was. I' faith, I understand but little 
 of the matter. One day, so says my wife (for I was 
 absent), the Countess of Westmoreland announced 
 that Lady Anne would wed the baron. Next 
 morning my cousin comes before the Queen and 
 says that she has changed her mind about the 
 marriage 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 is to be his bride. And when her Grace 
 asked him about Anne Stafford, he swore that he 
 had never sought to win her." 
 
 Arundel looked amazed. "What 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." 
 
 "F 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 Stafford left the court 
 her innocence unproven." 
 
 "And dost thou think Lord Scrope has wronged 
 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?"
 
 160 Every Inch a King 
 
 "Well, dost thou care to tell it him, Arundel?" 
 
 "No, on my word," cried the earl, laughing, "he 
 shall never learn the story from my lips. But thou, 
 Michael? The lady is thy cousin." 
 
 "Ay, and if she were mine only sister, I would 
 not tell the Prince 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 
 in 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 161 
 
 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 Stafford 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 mayst 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: "Wouldst 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 tone, 
 but answered promptly: "Will ye both pledge your 
 honor to keep the matter secret ?" 
 
 They gave a hasty assent, and Harry continued 
 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 has kept me from obtaining Ed-
 
 1 62 Every Inch a King 
 
 mund's liberty, but 'tis only for a time, and until 
 the Lady Anne can know Lord Mortimer and either 
 accept him 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, crying, "I 
 thank thee, noble Prince, for thy goodness toward 
 my cousin. Tell us thy plans, and let us haste 
 away, for it were cruel if we came too late."
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 "Alas ! 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 
 Stafford 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 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, my 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 a 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 had 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 which 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; but, 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, thai 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 
 thine innocence 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
 
 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 will 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 171 
 
 ride away 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, methinks thou wilt have risen to high place." 
 
 She ceased, and kissed her, well assured that 
 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 in 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 ear, 
 When they reached the hall door and the charger stood near ; 
 So light to the croupe the fair lady he swung, 
 So light to the saddle before her he sprung ! 
 She is won ! we are gone, over bank, bush, and scaur ; 
 'They'll have fleet steeds 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 institution as the Minories, the admission 
 of a new sister into the holy bond was an event of 
 the utmost importance. The nuns were 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- 
 born maiden. 
 
 Since every lady was obliged to choose between 
 marriage and the Church, both careers offering an 
 almost equal opportunity for exalted positron 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 proud 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 novitiate, 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
 
 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 fateP' 
 
 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
 
 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 assemble 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 
 abbess 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
 
 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 admhation 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 thunder, or of metal ringing 
 upon metal, but every eye was fixed upon the
 
 Every Inch a King 177 
 
 group before the altar, and every ear listened 
 eagerly for the abbess's answer. 
 
 "I will receive her," she said, "and with my might 
 will I guard and protect her from all harm or dis- 
 honor." 
 
 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 stepped to where Anne Stafford 
 stood, trembling and terrified, and whispered in 
 her ear, "Fear not, fair lady, wilt thou go with 
 me?" 
 
 She started at the voice, and uttered a glad cry 
 of assent. Quick as lightning he pulled off 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. 
 "Ye 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 
 shrieking and wringing their 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 
 w r atched them, breathless, and in amazement saw 
 them ride 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 St. Paul's rang out into the evening air to call 
 together the townfolk to the sheriff's aid. They 
 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.
 
 180 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 from the Minories. It was 
 against the law of nature and of man that she 
 should be made a nun. You need have no fear for 
 her, she is in the safe care of 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 my Lord of Suffolk."
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 "I loved you ere I knew you; know you now, 
 And, having known you, love you better still." 
 
 OWEN MEREDITH. 
 
 "FEAR not!" Those words sounding in Anne's 
 ears, 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 
 Prince bore her down the chapel, between the rows 
 of trembling nuns, and on through the 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 her, 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. At 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.
 
 1 82 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 
 the litter, where she found robes and cloaks for her 
 comfort, and then the men mounted their 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 the 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 the torchlight fell upon his 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 city." 
 
 "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 from the authorities at Aldgate 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 toward 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 the 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 happiness, fair maiden, and I be- 
 lieve thy future will be happy." 
 
 Harry turned and motioned to a companion, who 
 promptly drew rein beside him. "Thou hast not for- 
 got thy cousin Michael, lady?" asked a cheery voice. 
 
 Anne started and leaned out to peer into the dark- 
 ness. "Is it truly thou?" she cried.
 
 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 ! To take thee to the nunnery again ?" 
 
 "Nay, Heaven forbid ! 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 lady'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 young 
 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 Inch a King 185 
 
 He bent low on his horse and kissed her hand, ex- 
 claiming with the knightly grace which became him 
 well, "While Arundel lives, his sword lies at the 
 service of Lady Anne Stafford." 
 
 She flushed and answered shyly, "I am much 
 blessed in having such good friends." 
 
 "Thy friends are indeed many, fair mistress," 
 smiled Arundel, "and they are powerful, likewise; 
 for few at court would our bold Prince undertake 
 such a venture." 
 
 While they chatted, Ludgate came into view, 
 and the Prince rode on ahead and hailed the war- 
 der: 
 
 "Ho! Dougale, art within?" 
 
 A tall, powerfully built man appeared in the door- 
 way, and came promptly forward. 
 
 "Dost know my voice, Dougale?" 
 
 "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 with 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, "neither 
 threats nor torture shall force my tongue to speak 
 of this event." 
 
 The Prince drew off his gauntlet and extended his 
 hand. The man kissed it fervently, murmuring,
 
 1 86 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 rejoined 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 night 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,
 
 1 88 Every Inch a King 
 
 she who is wife unto the Lord of Devon, and there, 
 he vows, thou shalt remain in peace. But for myself 
 he bids me wait in patience, tells me that when I'm 
 a free man once more and have my rank and title at 
 the court, I shall have leave to woo thee at my 
 leisure ; but now I must not speak a word of love." 
 
 She turned upon him and asked with haughtiness. 
 "And dost thou let the Prince control thy speech? 
 Methought all Englishmen could use their tongues." 
 
 "But," he protested, delighted at her spirit, 
 "surely the Prince is wise. What right have I to 
 whisper words of hope and love to thee when I can 
 offer thee but this alone ?" 
 
 "My lord, a woman's heart asks for naught else." 
 
 He seized her little white hand in his own, and 
 kissed it once and twice, and yet again. She drew 
 it from him in pretended anger. "Alas, my lord, is 
 this thy chivalry? Wilt thou thus attack a helpless 
 woman ?" 
 
 "Ay, sweetheart, a thousand times would I ! Ah, 
 if I might but have thee in my arms and ride with 
 thee alone across the world !" 
 
 "Methinks I should be wearied," she replied with 
 a soft laugh. 
 
 "Wouldst thou, fairest maiden? Wouldst thou 
 indeed?" 
 
 "What, across the world? Upon mine honor, 
 'twould be a lengthy journey. And when thou didst 
 reach the end of it wouldst thou bear me off into 
 unfathomed space?"
 
 Every Inch a King 189 
 
 "Ay," he answered softly; "thou vvouldst 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?"
 
 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 
 thine absence secret longer than to-night. The royal 
 guards would not obey my word did they discover 
 thou wert not within. Whilst I myself was travel- 
 ling afar the news would ring through England, and 
 the King, 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 
 grant that we may meet again erelong." 
 
 They crossed the drawbridge and rode into the 
 courtyard. The horses were led away, 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 for 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, permit 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 my mother's sanction ; yet if she deny 
 me, I still would wear his ring in token of my prom- 
 ise to wed Lord March, or else to die a maid."
 
 192 Every Inch a King 
 
 "And I, my lord," cried Mortimer, "will wed the 
 Lady Anne, or die without a wife." 
 
 "God bless ye both," said the Prince tenderly, and 
 joining their hands together, he himself made the 
 exchange of rings. For one brief instant the earl 
 took his loved one in his arms, and placed upon her 
 sweet lips the first kiss; then the Prince spoke, and 
 reluctant, yet obedient, they separated and went 
 their different ways.
 
 CHAPTER XXL 
 
 "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 was 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 future 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
 
 194 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 
 bending over an illuminated manuscript of one of 
 Chaucer's poems, so engrossed that she did not 
 hear 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 195 
 
 her sweet voice and love of poetry, and boastful 
 of her many virtues and her skilful management 
 of his scores of servants; but he knew that 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 enjoying 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 her 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 sing, 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 is 
 exceeding handsome, and learned also, gentle and 
 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." Every 
 trace of embarrassment had left her now, and her 
 face was lighted with an eager, happy smile, that 
 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 !"
 
 198 Every Inch a King 
 
 He smiled his pleasure, and then answered sim- 
 ply, "I'll tell thee the entire story, madam, if thou 
 wilt promise to keep it a close secret." 
 
 She promised eagerly, and Tie 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 Prince 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 to this act, wilt thou consent to guard 
 her for thy brother?" 
 
 "Thou meanest thou wouldst take her from the 
 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! 1 
 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
 
 Every Inch a King 199 
 
 word, her eagerness to see 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 
 crimson, her eyes sparkled and her hand trembled 
 violently as she read the missive. 
 
 "For the Lady Eleanor, Wife to My Lord Cour- 
 tenay of Devon, these: 
 
 "Thou hast not forgotten thy promise, I am as- 
 sured. I come to claim 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 
 thee? 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 
 he listened, then asked in some surprise: "Why 
 should the Lady Anne Stafford journey hither? 
 And for what reason dost thou receive her, madam?" 
 
 She answered quickly, "Lord March, my
 
 2oo 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
 
 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
 
 2O2 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 at 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 freely, 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 
 by thy favor we can live and hope. 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 
 Make 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 long 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 scarcely 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 to London in July had been a brief but 
 merry one, and 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-
 
 2o8 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 would
 
 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 law. 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
 
 2io Every Inch a King 
 
 it ; but Gascoigne heard 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,
 
 Every Inch a King 211 
 
 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 crime 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 
 ruffled 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 lord, 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 was 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,"
 
 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 pardoned and placed 
 at liberty." 
 
 A slight color came to the justice's cheeks, and a 
 swift glance around made him realize how 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 King 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; and 
 under thine protection crime has so increased that 
 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."
 
 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 in token of his submis- 
 sion; then, without a glance at friends or guards- 
 men, he turned promptly to the 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 midst were riding rapidly 
 to London. 
 
 The heir to England's throne the future king 
 had yielded to the majesty of law.
 
 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 alliance and ceased 
 to talk of the latest victories. When they gathered 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 prophecy 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
 
 218 Every Inch a King 
 
 the increase of order 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
 
 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 
 guiltless. To-day my trust in him hath been truly 
 proven." 
 
 "Thou art right, Richard, and although my 
 doubts still cloud my mind, yet for the obedience 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 that if the Prince of Wales 
 request 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
 
 22O 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 upon 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 there 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
 
 222 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 guard 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 utmost 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
 
 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 food 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 in 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
 
 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.
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 "For who, alas ! has lived, 
 Nor in the watches of the night recalled 
 Words he has wished unsaid and deeds undone?" 
 
 ROGERS. 
 
 "Mv 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 chambers 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- 
 coigne, 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 dismissal from their 
 midst, many of the King's advisers Tiad 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 was 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 plaee 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
 
 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
 
 Every Inch a King 231 
 
 him, and continued impressively: "What is the 
 highest duty of Parliament? 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 my 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 :
 
 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 banishment. 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, "Harry 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
 
 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 ? If 
 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 say 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
 
 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 messenger 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
 
 236 Every Inch a King 
 
 opened the letters. Every eye was on him; every 
 man leaned forward and waited 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 forget 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 I4th 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 Falstaff? 
 
 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 Inch 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'st 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, which nestles at its base, and 
 commanding extensive and picturesque views of the 
 beautiful country, was 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 upon 
 the towering rock, its extensive fortifications, its
 
 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 London 
 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 thought 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 which 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 train, and the news
 
 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 guest. 
 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 would 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 kno'wledge 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 have
 
 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 comfort these friends offered him; 
 denied him all share in government or warfare ; held 
 their peace when they saw him doing wrong; then, 
 suddenly, without 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?
 
 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 Falstaff 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 now 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 he would not have been released from King's 
 Bench 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 effort 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 instant 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. 
 
 Early 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.
 
 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." 
 
 OTHELLO. 
 
 ELTHAM PALACE, situated only nine miles south 
 of London, was associated with many of the King's 
 happiest days. Here he had wedded Joan of Na- 
 varre in 1402, and here he had kept the Christmas 
 season three years before with feasting and much 
 merriment. The beautiful old palace, one of the 
 chief royal residences since Henry the Third's time, 
 two centuries before, had witnessed many a festive 
 scene, and many a gallant party of noblemen and 
 ladies had ridden forth from its gray walls to hunt 
 the deer with which its three great parks were rilled. 
 The King had come here frequently with his court, 
 and now that he believed his death was fast ap- 
 proaching he had journeyed thither to spend the 
 Yuletide. 
 
 He was unable to sit his horse, and had been com- 
 pelled to make the short journey in his royal car- 
 riage, 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 of 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, Scrope, and his Queen, to send gracious 
 messages to his brother, Bishop Winchester 
 (Thomas Beaufort, already pardoned, was fighting 
 in France), and also to Lord Suffolk 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 these 
 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 smiling 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- 
 thinks thou hast a-plenty of traitors at thy board 
 without desiring the leader of them all," and Bol- 
 ingbroke sighed and did not refer to him again. 
 
 But this silence did not prevent him from many 
 earnest thoughts. Gloomily, he relived the years 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. 
 Upon Henry's usurpation of the throne, the Prince 
 had for a time remained in London, maintaining 
 a separate household ; but after the battle of Shrews- 
 bury, in which, although only sixteen, he played so 
 gallant a part, receiving there his first severe wound, 
 yet refusing 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 London. 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, his 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 readily 
 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 sins? 
 
 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-
 
 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, where 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 behind them. 
 
 The King raised himself on one elbow, but ere he 
 could speak 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
 
 260 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 believed 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-
 
 262 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 Falstaff 
 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. "Pis 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 
 was 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 
 in 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
 
 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 !" 
 
 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
 
 266 Every Inch a King 
 
 bitterly, "Mayhap he will admit thee to his cham- 
 ber, but thou needest 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 earl'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 aimlessly 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 to 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
 
 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 and 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, and too 
 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 Falstaff 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 Boling- 
 broke's death, and in their place would reign 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 removed 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?" 
 
 They came forward, weeping, and Henry feebly 
 placed his hand upon their heads and faintly blessed 
 them. Then his eyes passed from face to face, as if
 
 272 Every Inch a King 
 
 to bestow upon each mighty lord his farewell 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 ?" 
 
 "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 into 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 
 with 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, and was 
 alone at last and free to indulge the grief which 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 ! 
 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 !" 
 
 HENRY 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 ?" 
 
 Winchester colored, and replied angrily, "Thou 
 dost misjudge my nephew! Never will he submit 
 our nation to such indignity." 
 
 But the chief 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
 
 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 reverence. 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 amazement and alarm rose from the 
 noblemen, but Henry raised his hand for silence. 
 
 "Thou hast dealt severely with me, Gascoigne," he 
 said sternly. "Thou didst 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?" 
 
 "Were they falsehoods, my lord?" asked Gas- 
 coigne proudly. "Was not this friend, whose par-
 
 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 from 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, 7 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's reign. And further, be 
 thou near our person at the 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 amazement 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, while 
 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 performed 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 
 Suffolk 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 respectfully. 
 "Will ye aid us in our government, my lords?" 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
 
 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 bright 
 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
 
 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 Henry'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 offered 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."
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 "The people's prayer the glad diviner's theme ! 
 The young men's vision, and the old men's dream !" 
 
 DRYDEN. 
 
 OH, how England rang with the news on that 
 March day ! All fear and doubt were banished from 
 the 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 those 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 lives 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 
 wrought 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. And 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" against 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
 
 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 ! 
 
 Harry Monmouth, however, knew nothing of his 
 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, al- 
 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 
 him? 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 gossip. 
 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 
 
 grace and banishment. The Prince doth keep his 
 chamber and no man hath seen his face. We trem- 
 ble when we think upon our future." 
 
 A few hours later, Clarence, travelling with the 
 utmost speed, arrived in London. As he rode through 
 the crowded streets he was cheered heartily, but to 
 his amazement it was as the brother of the King! 
 Harry's name was on every lip, and the bursts of 
 applause which greeted every mention of him were 
 well-nigh deafening. "The King's brother the 
 King's brother," would be the cry; and then, "The 
 King God bless him !" and the shouts would swell 
 and swell, until it seemed as though every man in 
 England must be present to add his voice to the great 
 chorus of cheers. "So," thought the duke, much 
 puzzled, "Harry is worshipped by such men as these. 
 Would they applaud the downfall of the nobles? 
 Would they accept Falstaff as chancellor?" He rode 
 hurriedly out to Westminster, and sent an officer to 
 inform the King of his arrival, then entering the 
 hall, he glanced around it curiously. It was crowded 
 by noblemen the highest of the land, and of 
 every party. Winchester and Archbishop Arun- 
 del formed the centre of a little circle who were 
 engaged in earnest but quiet conversation. Gas- 
 coigne and Lord Suffolk stood beside Chancellor 
 Courtenay, and near them were Earl Arundel and 
 Lord Warwick laughing over a story which Sir 
 John Stanley was in the act of telling them. 
 Clarence fairly gasped. Men who had hated each
 
 29 2 Every Inch a King 
 
 other bitterly were standing 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, 
 nor Poins nor Bardolph were present! What had 
 come to pass? 
 
 The archbishop, suddenly glancing up, saw the 
 young Prince 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 more," 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 
 England, Prince; her King is noblest of all noble 
 men." 
 
 "Ye did misjudge him, then !" cried Clarence 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 back with a low 
 bow, leaving the young duke standing alone. A
 
 Every Inch 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 gracious- 
 ness. Was he altered ? His face was paler than of 
 old, and a certain sadness lingered in his eyes, as if 
 he had suffered during these long months. 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 
 brother, 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, the 
 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 while 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
 
 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 VENICE. 
 
 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 
 although 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 become. 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
 
 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 happy 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. Nay, my Lord Mortimer, do not 
 think 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 in 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 pride that he had 
 been remembered at such a time, yet he asked hesi- 
 tatingly : "Why, then, has he delayed my 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 offended 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- 
 laden eyes with deep anxiety. 'Twas that which 
 roused mine anger, not thy words."
 
 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
 
 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 impulsively. "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 Lord 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 effect 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
 
 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 Stafford reached out and seized 
 one of the countess's hands, pressingupon 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 
 
 ft
 
 306 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 ?" 
 
 Eleanor 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 within the castle 
 had shared in the pleasant labor. 
 
 The countess had, from the first, perceived that 
 since the Lady Stafford must remain in hiding until 
 Mortimer was enabled to marry her, she would be 
 obliged to choose between the alternatives of wait- 
 ing 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, Eleanor, 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 
 be suitably prepared for the great event of her life. 
 The earl's consent was easily obtained his only liv- 
 ing 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 delightedly 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 
 freedom? And would he still desire the maiden
 
 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 happy 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
 
 Every Inch a King 309 
 
 ceremony," answered the countess. "'Twill be in 
 eight days more upon the Qth of April." 
 
 "Dost thou not think thy brother will be freed 
 before that day?" asked Anne wistfully. 
 
 ""Pis possible, yet he will not leave London until 
 that event be accomplished." 
 
 "Dost thou expect that he will come for me him- 
 self?" cried the maiden, her cheeks aflame. 
 
 Lady Devon laughed mischievously. "We shall 
 soon learn," she answered; "in a fortnight more 
 methinks 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 little 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 coun- 
 tess sprang upon a bench, and peered through a high 
 window. "Oh," she exclaimed, "a great body of 
 horse, and the men in fine array. I' faith, I do be- 
 lieve they are of the King's guard. Run, maiden," 
 she cried to Anne, who stood below, fairly trembling 
 with excitement, "run and don thy choicest gar- 
 ments, then come to the great hall. Away make 
 haste!"
 
 310 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 arrayed, 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 against 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
 
 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 answered happily. Mor- 
 timer turned and gave her a searching glance. She 
 was not beautiful, as he had hoped. 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 kiss upon her hand as he 
 answered, "Madam, I have much for which to 
 thank thee, and words cannot convey my gratitude. 
 Prithee, how doth the Lady Anne of Stafford ?" 
 
 Eleanor's face was brightened by so brilliant a
 
 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 thou 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 her arms and 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 ? AK, my dear lord, I am ready to go anywhere,
 
 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 
 lips. "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 
 lands are all restored, and Lady March shall never 
 lack for honor. Wilt thou be happy, dearest ?" 
 
 "F faith, my lord, methinks my cup is full to over- 
 flowing. Will there be no blot upon my joy ?"
 
 316 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. Thou alone dost make it into 
 Heaven."
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 "The road shall blossom, the road shall bloom, 
 So fair 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.
 
 3 1 8 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 Pole for her 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, 
 and 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- 
 fused scene. He greeted the Earl 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 Lady Anne ad- 
 vanced, 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 
 Stafford, 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
 
 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. 
 
 The earl met her gaze fairly and frankly. 
 "Madam," he said, marvelling in his own mind that 
 his voice was so clear and steady, "I 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 
 and gave her mother one swift, appealing glance, 
 then 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 unusual 
 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." 
 
 ******* 
 
 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 Qth of April, 1413, 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 323 
 
 Henry was undaunted by the elements. He arose 
 early and confessed himself, then proceeded to the 
 chapel, where three masses were celebrated. Mean- 
 while the Abbey had been crowded by nobles and 
 their ladies, and there were also present certain of 
 the most important gentry. Presently the great 
 procession entered the sacred building, the bishops 
 and priests leading, followed by the King, whose 
 sombre garments were in striking contrast to the 
 scarlet robes, mantles and hoods of ermine, and 
 golden coronets worn by the great nobles in his 
 train. 
 
 The solemn rite of consecration was administered 
 by Archbishop Arundel, and then Henry, as head of 
 the English Church, was vested in a bishop's robes, 
 and finally the crown of St. Edward the Confessor 
 was placed upon his head. These ceremonies being 
 concluded, the young King addressed those who were 
 gathered to witness his coronation in a speech so 
 dignified and noble in purpose, that all who listened 
 were filled with wonder and delight. Those prin- 
 ciples which had so amazed and rejoiced his cour- 
 tiers he now declared to the world, and the prom- 
 ises which he there made to his people were faithfully 
 fulfilled. 
 
 The great nobles left the Abbey, and went to the 
 dining-hall of the palace where a most elaborate 
 banquet was spread discussing with earnestness 
 and enthusiasm the appearance and speech of the 
 young King; and never was a monarch's health
 
 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 his 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 
 
 ent love for Lord March. The account of the 
 Prince's wooing fully explained what had once 
 looked so strange, and not only was Lady Anne 
 completely vindicated, but all the members of the 
 court, including the widowed Queen herself, felt 
 impelled to show their sorrow for their past injustice 
 by bestowing upon the fair young bride every pos- 
 sible honor and attention. Therefore, the famous 
 church was crowded with the noblest of the land, 
 one and all arrayed in their richest and most splen- 
 did raiment. 
 
 Never had the Lady of Stafford looked more 
 beautiful than in her white robes, her hair falling 
 loose about her shoulders, and her features hidden by 
 the long silken veil upon which she had labored for 
 so many happy hours. At the church door the bridal 
 party were met by the bishop, and there the beautiful 
 betrothal service took place, the King himself giv- 
 ing the bride away. Then they advanced to the altar 
 and the bishop solemnly declared them man and 
 wife. 
 
 After the ceremony Henry led the Lady March 
 to the great marriage feast, prepared with a truly 
 royal splendor, and when all were in their places he 
 raised his goblet and cried out, "Drink, lords and 
 ladies, to our cousin and dear friend, the Earl of 
 March, and to his beautiful and noble bride!" And 
 amid cheers which made the stately palace tremble, 
 the guests placed the red wine to their lips and drank 
 the toast.
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 "Nay, but the man that was his bedfellow, 
 Whom he hath dull'd and cloy'd with gracious favors 
 That he should, for a foreign purse, so sell 
 His sovereign's life to death and treachery !" 
 
 HENRY 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 King'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 
 France 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 most 
 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
 
 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 to 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 
 semed 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 northern 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 man 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 lately 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
 
 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! 
 
 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 
 cousin Richard. I will create him Earl of Cam- 
 bridge before ye do depart. Is not the knight a 
 friend 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 world 
 knows little. Doubtless they executed their mission
 
 Every Inch a King 331 
 
 acceptably, since Henry kept them there. However, 
 they did not avert a war; for in July, 1415, the Eng- 
 lish forces, led by the greatest nobles of the land, 
 assembled at Southampton to embark for France. 
 Scrope had been more successful in his plans than he 
 had dared to hope. Both Cambridge and Grey were 
 determined to put Mortimer upon the throne; and 
 the baron had contrived to make them believe that 
 the conspiracy was theirs, and that he himself had 
 only, after great reluctance, consented to join them. 
 He was still daring to hope that should they fail he 
 could escape punishment. Traitor that he was, 
 Scrope skilfully obtained assistance from the 
 French. It was his quiet influence which secured 
 from certain officials the offers of large sums of 
 money as a reward for delivering the English King 
 into their hands. Cambridge and Grey entered into 
 the plan 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 a 
 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 
 bring over a Scottish army, "To revenge upon the 
 King the death of your father and your own dis-
 
 332 Every Inch a King 
 
 grace." But the Earl of Northumberland returned 
 a spirited answer. The King had restored him in 
 blood and granted him his titles and estates, and 
 was even then arranging with the Scottish Govern- 
 ment that he should be exchanged for that royal 
 prince, Murdoch Stuart, son of the Duke of Albany. 
 Therefore he would be loyal to the King and serve 
 him faithfully ! 
 
 Percy had not been informed of the conspiracy, 
 which was fortunate for Scrope, since upon the 
 young Earl's final arrival in England he at once as- 
 sembled all the liegemen of his house, and, marching 
 with them to Southampton, threw himself at 
 Henry's feet and declared that he and his followers 
 were prepared to fight to the death for the King, 
 either against the French, "or any persons whatso- 
 ever who are your Highness's enemies." 
 
 Henry received him most graciously, and 
 throughout his campaigns Percy was one of his 
 ablest generals. 
 
 The English army was to sail upon the 226. of 
 July. The 2ist arrived, and at last the conspirators 
 could no longer delay making their plans known to 
 the Earl of March, whom they had decided to carry 
 hastily to the frontier of Wales, and there to pro- 
 claim him King in the hope that the discontented 
 Welsh would rally to his support. 
 
 The baron would not risk being himself present 
 at the interview with March, but he warned Cam- 
 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
 
 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 received his statement doubt- 
 fully ; but as, in answer to his questions, Cambridge 
 described the young earl's manner, even he appeared 
 to be satisfied. 
 
 Mortimer, having left Cambridge's apartments, 
 went to his own chamber and briefly told his wife 
 what had occurred. Anne received the information 
 with breathless wonder. "They would make thee 
 King?" she cried, trembling. "Edmund, hast thou 
 given thy consent?" "I have as yet made no re- 
 sponse," he answered; "but to-night they have ap- 
 pointed a meeting at which I have promised to give 
 my decision." "And then?" she asked, clinging 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 arresl them for high treason." "Thank 
 God!" she cried. "Ah, my Edmund, how could I 
 have doubted thee even for a moment." "Thou dost 
 not desire 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 335 
 
 fort, and the Earl of Nottingham were summoned 
 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 noblemen 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 companion of my youth, the man to 
 whom I have 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 with his 
 companions. Yet think not that I do condemn
 
 336 Every Inch a King 
 
 them without 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 the 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 conspiracy. 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 surely 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 ! 
 
 Love is like a dizziness ; 
 It winna' let a poor body 
 Gang about his business." 
 
 HOGG. 
 
 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 Parliament 
 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, John, 
 Duke of Burgundy, had joined with the French
 
 34 Every Inch a King 
 
 Queen in offering most advantageous terms 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 Earl 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.
 
 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,
 
 34 2 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,
 
 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 her," faltered Mor- 
 timer. 
 
 "Dost think that I could fail to recognize the face 
 I love?"
 
 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, Edmund?" 
 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 do 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 so!" 
 
 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 !" 
 
 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
 
 346 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 !" 
 
 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." 
 
 BYRON. 
 
 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
 
 348 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 Isabelle, 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? He 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 ! 
 
 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 to 
 Isabelle, took her by the hand and led her to a throne 
 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
 
 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 thee 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-
 
 35 2 Every Inch a King 
 
 piness of that moment forgot even the two ladies 
 who stood behind her, watching his handsome face 
 with eager eyes. "Fair Catherine," 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 zat 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
 
 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 eyes; 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-
 
 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.