Agincourt Part 52

"Be it so," answered Henry; "that point shall be inquired into. You say you have been a prisoner. How long is it since you were set at liberty?"

"But five days, Sire," replied the knight; "no longer than was needful to journey from Montl'herry hither."

"And did you come alone?" demanded the King.

"No, Sire," said Richard of Woodville; "from the abbey at Arrouaise, I was accompanied by my page, a man who aided in my escape from prison, and two young novices journeying to Montreuil. I sent the two ladies from Fremicourt on to Hesdin, under the escort of the man and the page, and rode on hitherward myself, till my horse would go no farther. The rest of the way I walked on foot."

"But before you reached Arrouaise, were you alone?" inquired the King.

"No, Sire; as far as Triel, I had but the man, the boy, and a clerk of Sir John Grey's with me, who effected my liberation between them; but after that I was accompanied by a small body of Burgundian horse, who were escorting some Canonesses and these two novices on the way."

"Add, and burning monasteries, plundering villages, and cutting off the stragglers of your Sovereign's army, sir knight," rejoined the King, sternly.

Richard of Woodville gazed in his face for an instant in surprise, and then broke into a gay laugh, saying,

"'I avow to G.o.d, quoth Harry, I shall not lefe behynde, May I mete with Bernard Or Bayard the blynde.'

Now I understand your Grace, for I have come upon the track of these men, and somewhat wondered to hear in the mouth of hinds and peasants, the name of Woodville, or Vodeville as they called it, coupled with curses. Nay, more, my Liege, I saw in the good town of Peronne, through which I pa.s.sed, a man in my own armour, at the head of a large troop of men-at-arms."

"I saw him, too, d.i.c.kon;" cried the voice of old Sir Philip Beauchamp, "as he followed our rear at Pont St. Remie; and would have sworn that it was thyself, had I not known thy true heart from a boy."

"A strange tale, sir knight," said the King, without relaxing his grave frown; "and the more strange, when coupled with the facts of your having never received my commands to return, sent long ago, and my messenger having brought me word, as if from your mouth, that you could not obey, as you had taken service with the Duke of Burgundy for two years and a day."

"He is a false knave, my Liege," replied the knight; "and, as to my ever having forgotten your Grace's commands even for a day, not to engage myself for long, that I can prove, for thank G.o.d my contract with the good Duke John I have always kept about me. Here it is; and if you look, royal Sir, you will see I have not been unmindful of my duty."

Henry took the paper, which Woodville produced, from the young knight's hand, and read it over attentively, pausing at one clause and p.r.o.nouncing the words aloud, "And it is, moreover, agreed between the said high and mighty Prince Philip, Count of Charolois, and the said knight, that should the King of England, Henry the Fifth of that name, require the aid and service of the said Sir Richard of Woodville, he shall be at liberty to retire at any time without let or hindrance from the forces of the said Count of Charolois or of his father and redoubted Lord, the Duke of Burgundy, together with all such men as have accompanied the said knight from England; and, moreover, that he shall receive all the pa.s.ses, safe-conducts, and letters of protection which may be needful for him to return to his own land in safety, and that, without delay or hesitation, but even at a moment's notice."

The King when he had read these words gave a momentary glance around; but then, turning to the young knight again, after examining the date of the paper and the signature, "You were at this time a.s.suredly in your devoir," he said; "and this was but a month before my messenger set out; but we have heard from Sir Philip de Morgan some strange tales of adventures in the town of Ghent, which may have changed your purposes."

"My Lord, I do beseech your Grace," answered Woodville, gravely, "to give ear to no strange tales till they be fully proved. I have already suffered from such stories, and have disproved them to one here present much interested to know the truth;" and he turned his eyes towards Sir John Grey, who stood beside the Earl of Warwick. "For one so long a prisoner, not knowing where to find a single person who was with him at a remote period, it is not easy in a moment to show the real state of every fact alleged; but if your royal time may serve, I am ready to tell the simple tale of the last two years; and if I afterwards prove not to your own clear conviction, that every word I speak is truth, send my head to the block when you will."

"You shall have full time, sir knight," replied the King; "at present, it is late; and though we must sleep but little, yet some repose every man must have. Your tale cannot be heard to-night. However, you now know that you are charged first with refusing to serve your King in arms against his enemies, which may, perhaps, be false. This paper affords some presumption against the accusation--Secondly, you are charged with following our royal host with men of Burgundy, and in arms levying war against your Sovereign. You have, we are told, been seen by many, so traitorously employed, and your name, you yourself allow, is in the mouths of all the peasantry."

Henry paused a moment, as if expecting a.s.sent; but Woodville only replied by a question, "May I ask, Sire," he said, "if a certain Sir Simeon of Roydon is in your host?"

"Ha!" cried the King, his face lighting up, "what would you say on that score?"

"Simply that I have suspicions, mighty Prince," replied the young knight; "but _I_ will charge no man without proof. These two charges are false, and I will make it manifest they are so; first by testimony; then by my arm. Is there aught else against me?"

"Alas, there is," answered the King; "and the most grave of all. Have you brought that letter which I sent for, my lord?"

"Yes, Sire," replied the Earl of Arundel, stepping forward and placing a paper in the King's hands. "That is the one your Grace meant, I believe."

"The same," answered Henry, gazing upon it with a countenance both stern and sad. "Come forward, Sir Richard of Woodville. Is this your hand-writing?"

Woodville looked at it, and recognised at once the letter which he had written to Sir John Grey whilst in prison. "It is, my Liege," he replied boldly, looking in the King's face with surprise. "I wrote that letter; but I know not how it can affect me."

"That will be proved hereafter, sir," answered the King, in a stern tone; "but remember, I have doomed my own blood to death for the acts which this letter prompted; and, by my honour and my life, I will not spare the man that wrote it. According to the right of every Englishman, you shall be tried and judged by your peers; but when the axe struck the neck of Cambridge, it crushed out the name of mercy from my heart. In me you find no grace."

"My Lord, I need none," replied Richard of Woodville, in a tone firm, yet respectful, "for I have done no wrong. I never yet did hear that there was any crime in a captive writing to a friend for ransom. This letter prompted nothing; and I am in much surprise to hear your royal words announce therein a matter of complaint against me."

"The man to whom it was written, sir," said the King, "proved himself a traitor, and took the gold of France to sell his sovereign's life, and his country's welfare to the enemy."

Richard of Woodville gazed in surprise and bewilderment from the King to Sir John Grey, and from Sir John Grey to the King, while the father of her he loved looked not less astonished than himself. But Henry after a short pause added aloud, "Remove him, Sir William Porter. If G.o.d give us good success in the coming fight, he shall have fair trial and due judgment. If the will of heaven fight against us, though perchance he may escape to live, I do believe, from what I have known of him in former days, that he will find bitter punishment in his own heart for this dark deed;" and he struck his fingers sharply upon the paper, which he still held in his hand.

"Some way--I know not what--you are deceived, my Liege," said Richard of Woodville, with perfect calmness. "However, I have but one favour to ask, and that is, that you will not let a false and lying accusation so weigh against me as to deprive me of my right and glory--that of fighting for my King, I would say; and I pledge you my honour and my soul that, if the day be lost, which G.o.d forfend, I will not survive the battle; if it be won, I will bring my head to your Grace's feet, to do with as seems meet to you; for I am no traitor, so help me heaven! and on that score I fear neither the judgment of man nor that of G.o.d."

"I know that you are brave right well, Sir Richard," answered the King; "but we will have no traitors fight upon our side."

The young knight cast his eyes bitterly towards the ground; and Henry could see the fingers of his hand clenched tight into the palm; but Sir Henry Dacre stepped forward, and said, "I will be his bail, my Liege."

"And I too, royal sir," cried old Sir Philip Beauchamp; "I will plight land and liberty, life and honour, that he is as true as my good sword. Have I not known him from a babe?"

"You are his uncle, sir," answered the King; "and, in this case, cannot judge."

"I am in no way akin to him, my gracious Sovereign," said Sir John Grey, advancing from the side of the Earl of Warwick; "but I fear not also to be his bail. My life for his, if he be not true."

Richard of Woodville crossed his arms upon his chest; and, raising his head as his friends spoke, looked proudly round, saying, "There is something to live for, after all."

At the same moment, Henry turned to the Duke of York, and spoke a word or two with him and the Duke of Clarence.

"Your request cannot be granted," he said, in a milder tone; "but yet, we will deal with you in all lenity, Sir Richard; and, therefore, we will commit you to the ward of Sir John Grey, with strict orders, however, that he hold you as a close prisoner till after your trial.

And now, I can hear no more; for the night is well spent, and we must march at dawn. Take him, Sir John; you have a guard, and answer to me for him with your life."

"I will, my Liege," replied Sir John Grey, advancing, and taking the young knight's arm. "Come, Richard, you shall be my guest. I have no doubts;" and, bowing to the King, he retired from the presence.

Sir Philip Beauchamp and Sir Harry Dacre followed quickly, and overtook them on the stairs; and the old knight shook his nephew playfully by the shoulders, exclaiming, "We will confound the knaves yet, d.i.c.kon. But what is this letter?'

"Merely one I wrote to Sir John Grey," replied Richard of Woodville; "beseeching him to communicate with the bearer touching my ransom."

"I never received it," replied Sir John Grey. "It did not reach my hands; but, please G.o.d, I will see it ere I sleep."

"I must fight at this battle," said Richard of Woodville, thoughtfully; "I must fight at this battle, my n.o.ble friends."

Sir John Grey replied not, but shook his head gravely, and led the way to the house where he was lodged.

CHAPTER XLIII.

THE FOX IN THE SNARE.

Spread out in a long line over the face of the country, the English army occupied a number of villages, keeping a good watch lest the enemy, large bodies of whom had been apparent during the morning, should take them by surprise and overwhelm them by numbers. Small parties of the freshest men were lodged in tents between the different villages, so that a constant communication might be kept up, and support be ready for any point attacked; and, throughout the whole host, reigned that stern and resolute spirit, the peculiar characteristic of the English soldiery, and which has a.s.sured them the victory in so many fields, against more impetuous, but less determined, adversaries. Yet none, however resolute and brave in Henry's army, could help feeling that a great and perilous day was before them, when it was known, that at least a hundred and twenty-five thousand men, comprising the most renowned chivalry of Europe, were collected to oppose a force of less than twenty-five thousand, worn with a long and difficult march, and weakened by sickness and want of provisions.