CHAPTER III.
WHEREIN MASTER NICHOLAS ALWYN VISITS THE COURT, AND THERE LEARNS
MATTER OF WHICH THE ACUTE READER WILL JUDGE FOR HIMSELF.
It was a morning towards the end of May (some little time after
Edward's gracious reception of the London deputies), when Nicholas
Alwyn, accompanied by two servitors armed to the teeth,--for they
carried with them goods of much value, and even in the broad daylight
and amidst the most frequented parts of the city, men still confided
little in the security of the law,--arrived at the Tower, and was
conducted to the presence of the queen.
Elizabeth and her mother were engaged in animated but whispered
conversation when the goldsmith entered; and there was an unusual
gayety in the queen's countenance as she turned to Alwyn and bade him
show her his newest gauds.
While with a curiosity and eagerness that seemed almost childlike
Elizabeth turned over rings, chains, and brooches, scarcely listening
to Alwyn's comments on the lustre of the gems or the quaintness of the
fashion, the duchess disappeared for a moment, and returned with the
Princess Margaret.
This young princess had much of the majestic beauty of her royal
brother; but, instead of the frank, careless expression so fascinating
in Edward, there was, in her full and curved lip and bright large eye,
something at once of haughtiness and passion, which spoke a decision
and vivacity of character beyond her years.
"Choose for thyself, sweetheart and daughter mine," said the duchess,
affectionately placing her hand on Margaret's luxuriant hair, "and let
the noble visitor we await confess that our rose of England outblooms
the world."
The princess coloured with complaisant vanity at these words, and,
drawing near the queen, looked silently at a collar of pearls, which
Elizabeth held.
"If I may adventure so to say," observed Alwyn, "pearls will mightily
beseem her highness's youthful bloom; and lo! here be some adornments
for the bodice or partelet, to sort with the collar; not," added the
goldsmith, bowing low, and looking down,--"not perchance displeasing
to her highness, in that they are wrought in the guise of the fleur de
lis--"
An impatient gesture in the queen, and a sudden cloud over the fair
brow of Margaret, instantly betokened to the shrewd trader that he had
committed some most unwelcome error in this last allusion to the
alliance with King Louis of France, which, according to rumour, the
Earl of Warwick had well-nigh brought to a successful negotiation; and
to convince him yet more of his mistake, the duchess said haughtily,
"Good fellow, be contented to display thy goods, and spare us thy
comments. As for thy hideous fleur de lis, an' thy master had no
better device, he would not long rest the king's jeweller."
"I have no heart for the pearls," said Margaret, abruptly; "they are
at best pale and sicklied. What hast thou of bolder ornament and more
dazzling lustrousness?"
"These emeralds, it is said, were once among the jewels of the great
House of Burgundy," observed Nicholas, slowly, and fixing his keen,
sagacious look on the royal purchasers.
"Of Burgundy!" exclaimed the queen.
"It is true," said the Duchess of Bedford, looking at the ornament
with care, and slightly colouring,--for in fact the jewels had been a
present from Philip the Good to the Duke of Bedford, and the
exigencies of the civil wars had led, some time since, first to their
mortgage, or rather pawn, and then to their sale.
The princess passed her arm affectionately round Jacquetta's neck, and
said, "If you leave me my choice, I will have none but these
emeralds."
The two elder ladies exchanged looks and smiles. "Hast thou
travelled, young man?" asked the duchess.
"Not in foreign parts, gracious lady, but I have lived much with those
who have been great wanderers."
"Ah, and what say they of the ancient friends of mine House, the
princes of Burgundy?"
"Lady, all men agree that a nobler prince and a juster than Duke
Philip never reigned over brave men; and those who have seen the
wisdom of his rule, grieve sorely to think so excellent and mighty a
lord should have trouble brought to his old age by the turbulence of
his son, the Count of Charolois."
Again Margaret's fair brow lowered, and the duchess hastened to
answer, "The disputes between princes, young man, can never be rightly
understood by such as thou and thy friends. The Count of Charolois is
a noble gentleman; and fire in youth will break out. Richard the Lion
Hearted of England was not less puissant a king for the troubles he
occasioned to his sire when prince."
Alwyn bit his lip, to restrain a reply that might not have been well
received; and the queen, putting aside the emeralds and a few other
trinkets, said, smilingly, to the duchess, "Shall the king pay for
these, or have thy learned men yet discovered the great secret?"
"Nay, wicked child," said the duchess, "thou lovest to banter me; and
truth to say, more gold has been melted in the crucible than as yet
promises ever to come out of it; but my new alchemist, Master Warner,
seems to have gone nearer to the result than any I have yet known.
Meanwhile, the king's treasurer must, perforce, supply the gear to the
king's sister."
The queen wrote an order on the officer thus referred to, who was no
other than her own father, Lord Rivers; and Alwyn, putting up his
goods, was about to withdraw, when the duchess said carelessly, "Good
youth, the dealings of our merchants are more with Flanders than with
France, is it not so?"
"Surely," said Alwyn; "the Flemings are good traders and honest folk."
"It is well known, I trust, in the city of London, that this new
alliance with France is the work of their favourite, the Lord
Warwick," said the duchess, scornfully; "but whatever the earl does is
right with ye of the hood and cap, even though he were to leave yon
river without one merchant-mast."
"Whatever be our thoughts, puissant lady," said Alwyn, cautiously, "we
give them not vent to the meddling with state affairs."
"Ay," persisted Jacquetta, "thine answer is loyal and discreet. But
an' the Lord Warwick had sought alliance with the Count of Charolois,
would there have been brighter bonfires than ye will see in
Smithfield, when ye hear that business with the Flemings is
surrendered for fine words from King Louis the Cunning?"
"We trust too much to our king's love for the citizens of London to
fear that surrender, please your Highness," answered Alwyn; "our king
himself is the first of our merchants, and he hath given a gracious
answer to the deputation from our city."
"You speak wisely, sir," said the queen; "and your king will yet
defend you from the plots of your enemies. You may retire."
Alwyn, glad to be released from questionings but little to his taste,
hastened to depart. At the gate of the royal lodge, he gave his
caskets to the servitors who attended him, and passing slowly along
the courtyard, thus soliloquized:
"Our neighbours the Scotch say, 'It is good fishing in muddy waters;'
but he who fishes into the secrets of courts must bait with his head.
What mischief doth that crafty queen, the proud duchess, devise? Um!
They are thinking still to match the young princess with the hot Count
of Charolois. Better for trade, it is true, to be hand in hand with
the Flemings; but there are two sides to a loaf. If they play such a
trick on the stout earl, he is not a man to sit down and do nothing.
More food for the ravens, I fear,--more brown bills and bright lances
in the green fields of poor England!--and King Louis is an awful carle
to sow flax in his neighbour's house, when the torches are burning.
Um! Where is fair Marmaduke. He looks brave in his gay super-tunic.
Well, sir and foster-brother, how fare you at court?"
"My dear Nicholas, a merry welcome and hearty to your sharp,
thoughtful face. Ah, man! we shall have a gay time for you venders of
gewgaws. There are to be revels and jousts, revels in the Tower and
jousts in Smithfield. We gentles are already hard at practice in the
tilt-yard."
"Sham battles are better than real ones, Master Nevile! But what is
in the wind?"
"A sail, Nicholas! a sail bound to England! Know that the Count of
Charolois has permitted Sir Anthony Count de la Roche, his bastard
brother, to come over to London, to cross lances with our own Sir
Anthony Lord Scales. It is an old challenge, and right royally will
the encounter be held."
"Um!" muttered Alwyn, "this bastard, then, is the carrier pigeon.--
And," said he, aloud, "is it only to exchange hard blows that Sir
Anthony of Burgundy comes over to confer with Sir Anthony of England?
Is there no court rumour of other matters between them?"
"Nay. What else? Plague on you craftsmen! You cannot even
comprehend the pleasure and pastime two knights take in the storm of
the lists!"
"I humbly avow it, Master Nevile. But it seemeth, indeed, strange to
me that the Count of Charolois should take this very moment to send
envoys of courtesy when so sharp a slight has been put on his pride,
and so dangerous a blow struck at his interests, as the alliance
between the French prince and the Lady Margaret. Bold Charles has
some cunning, I trow, which your kinsman of Warwick is not here to
detect."
"Tush, man! Trade, I see, teaches ye all so to cheat and overreach,
that ye suppose a knight's burgonet is as full of tricks and traps as
a citizen's flat-cap. Would, though, that my kinsman of Warwick were
here," added Marmaduke, in a low whisper, "for the women and the
courtiers are doing their best to belie him."
"Keep thyself clear of them all, Marmaduke," said Alwyn; "for, by the
Lord, I see that the evil days are coming once more, fast and dark,
and men like thee will again have to choose between friend and friend,
kinsman and king. For my part, I say nothing; for I love not
fighting, unless compelled to it. But if ever I do fight, it will not
be by thy side, under Warwick's broad flag."
"Eh, man?" interrupted Nevile.
"Nay, nay," continued Nicholas, shaking his head, "I admire the great
earl, and were I lord or gentle, the great earl should be my chief.
But each to his order; and the trader's tree grows not out of a
baron's walking-staff. King Edward may be a stern ruler, but he is a
friend to the goldsmiths, and has just confirmed our charter. 'Let
every man praise the bridge he goes over,' as the saw saith. Truce to
this talk, Master Nevile. I hear that your young hostess--ehem!--
Mistress Sibyll, is greatly marvelled at among the court gallants, is
it so?"
Marmaduke's frank face grew gloomy. "Alas! dear foster-brother," he
said, dropping the somewhat affected tone in which he had before
spoken, "I must confess to my shame, that I cannot yet get the damsel
out of my thoughts, which is what I consider it a point of manhood and
spirit to achieve."
"How so?"
"Because, when a maiden chooseth steadily to say nay to your wooing,
to follow her heels, and whine and beg, is a dog's duty, not a man's."
"What!" exclaimed Alwyn, in a voice of great eagerness, "mean you to
say that you have wooed Sibyll Warner as your wife?"
"Verily, yes!"
"And failed?"
"And failed."
"Poor Marmaduke!"
"There is no 'poor' in the matter, Nick Alwyn," returned Marmaduke,
sturdily; "if a girl likes me, well; if not, there are too many others
in the wide world for a young fellow to break his heart about one.
Yet," he added, after a short pause, and with a sigh,--"yet, if thou
hast not seen her since she came to the court, thou wilt find her
wondrously changed."
"More's the pity!" said Alwyn, reciprocating his friend's sigh.
"I mean that she seems all the comelier for the court air. And
beshrew me, I think the Lord Hastings, with his dulcet flatteries,
hath made it a sort of frenzy for all the gallants to flock round
her."
"I should like to see Master Warner again," said Alwyn; "where lodges
he?"
"Yonder, by the little postern, on the third flight of the turret that
flanks the corridor, [This description refers to that part of the
Tower called the King's or Queen's Lodge, and long since destroyed.]
next to Friar Bungey, the magician; but it is broad daylight, and
therefore not so dangerous,--not but thou mayest as well patter an ave
in going up stairs."
"Farewell, Master Nevile," said Alwyn, smiling; "I will seek the
mechanician, and if I find there Mistress Sibyll, what shall I say
from thee?"
"That young bachelors in the reign of Edward IV. will never want fair
feres," answered the Nevile, debonairly smoothing his lawn partelet.
