Then happy low, lie down; Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.
SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IV.
Forty men at arms, carrying alternately naked swords and blazing torches, served as the escort, or rather the guard, of King Louis, from the town hall of Peronne to the Castle; and as he entered within its darksome and gloomy strength, it seemed as if a voice screamed in his ear that warning which the Florentine has inscribed over the portal of the infernal regions, "Leave all hope behind."
(The Florentine (1265-1321): Dante Alighieri, the greatest of Italian poets. The Divine Comedy, his chief work, describes his passage through Hell, Purgatory, and Heaven; the inscription here referred to Dante places at the entrance of Hell.)
At that moment, perhaps, some feeling of remorse might have crossed the King's mind, had he thought on the hundreds, nay, thousands whom, without cause, or on light suspicion, he had committed to the abysses of his dungeons, deprived of all hope of liberty, and loathing even the life to which they clung by animal instinct.
The broad glare of the torches outfacing the pale moon, which was more obscured on this than on the former night, and the red smoky light which they dispersed around the ancient buildings, gave a darker shade to that huge donjon, called the Earl Herbert's Tower. It was the same that Louis had viewed with misgiving presentiment on the preceding evening, and of which he was now doomed to become an inhabitant, under the terror of what violence soever the wrathful temper of his overgrown vassal might tempt him to exercise in those secret recesses of despotism.
To aggravate the King's painful feelings, he saw, as he crossed the courtyard, one or two bodies, over each of which had been hastily flung a military cloak. He was not long in discerning that they were corpses of slain Archers of the Scottish Guard, who having disputed, as the Count Crevecoeur informed him, the command given them to quit the post near the King's apartments, a brawl had ensued between them and the Duke's Walloon bodyguards, and before it could be composed by the officers on either side, several lives had been lost.
"My trusty Scots!" said the King as he looked upon this melancholy spectacle; "had they brought only man to man, all Flanders, ay, and Burgundy to boot, had not furnished champions to mate you."
"Yes, an it please your Majesty," said Balafre, who attended close behind the King, "Maistery mows the meadow (maist, a Scotch form of most. That is, there is strength in numbers) -- few men can fight more than two at once. -- I myself never care to meet three, unless it be in the way of special duty, when one must not stand to count heads."
"Art thou there, old acquaintance," said the King, looking behind him; "then I have one true subject with me yet."
"And a faithful minister, whether in your councils, or in his offices about your royal person," whispered Oliver le Dain.
"We are all faithful," said Tristan l'Hermite gruffly; "for should they put to death your Majesty, there is not one of us whom they would suffer to survive you, even if we would."
"Now, that is what I call good corporal bail for fidelity," said Le Glorieux, who, as already mentioned, with the restlessness proper to an infirm brain, had thrust himself into their company.
Meanwhile the Seneschal, hastily summoned, was turning with laborious effort the ponderous key which opened the reluctant gate of the huge Gothic Keep, and was at last fain to call for the assistance of one of Crevecoeur's attendants. When they had succeeded, six men entered with torches, and showed the way through a narrow and winding passage, commanded at different points by shot holes from vaults and casements constructed behind, and in the thickness of the massive walls. At the end of this passage arose a stair of corresponding rudeness, consisting of huge blocks of stone, roughly dressed with the hammer, and of unequal height. Having mounted this ascent, a strong iron clenched door admitted them to what had been the great hall of the donjon, lighted but very faintly even during the daytime (for the apertures, diminished, in appearance by the excessive thickness of the walls, resembled slits rather than windows), and now but for the blaze of the torches, almost perfectly dark. Two or three bats, and other birds of evil presage, roused by the unusual glare, flew against the lights, and threatened to extinguish them; while the Seneschal formally apologized to the King that the State Hall had not been put in order, such was the hurry of the notice sent to him, adding that, in truth, the apartment had not been in use for twenty years, and rarely before that time, so far as ever he had heard, since the time of King Charles the Simple.
"King Charles the Simple!" echoed Louis; "I know the history of the Tower now. -- He was here murdered by his treacherous vassal, Herbert, Earl of Vermandois. -- So say our annals. I knew there was something concerning the Castle of Peronne which dwelt on my mind, though I could not recall the circumstance. -- Here, then, my predecessor was slain!"
"Not here, not exactly here, and please your Majesty," said the old Seneschal, stepping with the eager haste of a cicerone who shows the curiosities of such a place.
"Not here, but in the side chamber a little onward, which opens from your Majesty's bedchamber."
He hastily opened a wicket at the upper end of the hall, which led into a bedchamber, small, as is usual in those old buildings; but, even for that reason, rather more comfortable than the waste hall through which they had passed. Some hasty preparations had been here made for the King's accommodation. Arras had been tacked up, a fire lighted in the rusty grate, which had been long unused, and a pallet laid down for those gentlemen who were to pass the night in his chamber, as was then usual.
"We will get beds in the hall for the rest of your attendants," said the garrulous old man; "but we have had such brief notice, if it please your Majesty. -- And if it please your Majesty to look upon this little wicket behind the arras, it opens into the little old cabinet in the thickness of the wall where Charles was slain; and there is a secret passage from below, which admitted the men who were to deal with him. And your Majesty, whose eyesight I hope is better than mine, may see the blood still on the oak floor, though the thing was done five hundred years ago."
While he thus spoke, he kept fumbling to open the postern of which he spoke, until the King said, "Forbear, old man -- forbear but a little while, when thou mayst have a newer tale to tell, and fresher blood to show. -- My Lord of Crevecoeur, what say you?"
"I can but answer, Sire, that these two interior apartments are as much at your Majesty's disposal as those in your own Castle at Plessis, and that Crevecoeur, a name never blackened by treachery or assassination, has the guard of the exterior defences of it."
"But the private passage into that closet, of which the old man speaks?" This King Louis said in a low and anxious tone, holding Crevecoeur's arm fast with one hand, and pointing to the wicket door with the other.
"It must be some dream of Mornay's," said Crevecoeur, "or some old and absurd tradition of the place; but we will examine."
He was about to open the closet door, when Louis answered, "No, Crevecoeur, no. -- Your honour is sufficient warrant. -- But what will your Duke do with me, Crevecoeur? He cannot hope to keep me long a prisoner; and -- in short, give me your opinion, Crevecoeur."
"My Lord, and Sire," said the Count, "how the Duke of Burgundy must resent this horrible cruelty on the person of his near relative and ally, is for your Majesty to judge; and what right he may have to consider it as instigated by your Majesty's emissaries, you only can know. But my master is noble in his disposition, and made incapable, even by the very strength of his passions, of any underhand practices. Whatever he does, will be done in the face of day, and of the two nations. And I can but add, that it will be the wish of every counsellor around him -- excepting perhaps one -- that he should behave in this matter with mildness and generosity, as well as justice."
"Ah! Crevecoeur," said Louis, taking his hand as if affected by some painful recollections, "how happy is the Prince who has counsellors near him, who can guard him against the effects of his own angry passions! Their names will be read in golden letters, when the history of his reign is perused. -- Noble Crevecoeur, had it been my lot to have such as thou art about my person!"
"It had in that case been your Majesty's study to have got rid of them as fast as you could," said Le Glorieux.
"Aha! Sir Wisdom, art thou there?" said Louis, turning round, and instantly changing the pathetic tone in which he had addressed Crevecoeur, and adopting with facility one which had a turn of gaiety in it. -- "Hast thou followed us hither?"
"Ay, Sir," answered Le Glorieux, "Wisdom must follow, in motley, where Folly leads the way in purple."
"How shall I construe that, Sir Solomon?" answered Louis. "Wouldst thou change conditions with me?"
"Not I, by my halidome," quoth Le Glorieux, "if you would give me fifty crowns to boot."
"Why, wherefore so? -- Methinks I could be well enough contented, as princes go, to have thee for my king."
"Ay, Sire," replied Le Glorieux, "but the question is, whether, judging of your Majesty's wit from its having lodged you here, I should not have cause to be ashamed of having so dull a fool."
"Peace, sirrah!" said the Count of Crevecoeur, "your tongue runs too fast."
"Let it take its course," said the King, "I know of no such fair subject of raillery as the follies of those who should know better. -- Here, my sagacious friend, take this purse of gold, and with it the advice never to be so great a fool as to deem yourself wiser than other people. Prithee, do me so much favour as to inquire after my astrologer, Martius Galeotti, and send him hither to me presently."
"I will, without fail, my Liege," answered the jester; "and I wot well I shall find him at Jan Dopplethur's, for philosophers, as well as fools, know where the best wine is sold."
"Let me pray for free entrance for this learned person through your guards, Seignior de Crevecoeur," said Louis.
"For his entrance, unquestionably," answered the Count; "but it grieves me to add that my instructions do not authorize me to permit any one to quit your Majesty's apartments. -- I wish your Majesty a goodnight," he subjoined, "and will presently make such arrangements in the outer hall, as may put the gentlemen who are to inhabit it more at their ease."
"Give yourself no trouble for them, Sir Count," replied the King, "they are men accustomed to set hardships at defiance; and, to speak truth, excepting that I wish to see Galeotti, I would desire as little farther communication from without this night as may be consistent with your instructions."
"These are, to leave your Majesty," replied Crevecoeur, "undisputed possession of your own apartments. Such are my master's orders."
"Your Master, Count," answered Louis, "whom I may also term mine, is a right gracious master. -- My dominions," he added, "are somewhat shrunk in compass, now that they have dwindled to an old hall and a bedchamber, but they are still wide enough for all the subjects which I can at present boast of."
The Count of Crevecoeur took his leave, and shortly after, they could hear the noise of the sentinels moving to their posts, accompanied with the word of command from the officers, and the hasty tread of the guards who were relieved. At length all became still, and the only sound which filled the air was the sluggish murmur of the river Somme, as it glided, deep and muddy, under the walls of the castle.
"Go into the hall, my mates," said Louis to his train; "but do not lie down to sleep. Hold yourselves in readiness, for there is still something to be done tonight, and that of moment."
Oliver and Tristan retired to the hall, accordingly, in which Le Balafre and the two officers had remained, when the others entered the bedchamber. They found that those without had thrown fagots enough upon the fire to serve the purpose of light and heat at the same time, and, wrapping themselves in their cloaks, had sat down on the floor, in postures which variously expressed the discomposure and dejection of their minds. Oliver and Tristan saw nothing better to be done than to follow their example and, never very good friends in the days of their court prosperity, they were both equally reluctant to repose confidence in each other upon this strange and sudden reverse of fortune. So the whole party sat in silent dejection.
Meanwhile their master underwent, in the retirement of his secret chamber, agonies that might have atoned for some of those which had been imposed by his command. He paced the room with short and unequal steps, often stood still and clasped his hands together, and gave loose, in short, to agitation, which in public he had found himself able to suppress so successfully. At length, pausing and wringing his hands, he planted himself opposite to the wicket door, which had been pointed out by old Mornay as leading to the scene of the murder of one of his predecessors, and gradually gave voice to his feelings in a broken soliloquy.
"Charles the Simple -- Charles the Simple! -- what will posterity call the Eleventh Louis, whose blood will probably soon refresh the stains of thine! Louis the Fool -- Louis the Driveller -- Louis the Infatuated -- are all terms too slight to mark the extremity of my idiocy! To think these hot headed Liegeois, to whom rebellion is as natural as their food, would remain quiet -- to dream that the Wild Beast of Ardennes would for a moment be interrupted in his career of force and bloodthirsty brutality -- to suppose that I could use reason and arguments to any good purpose with Charles of Burgundy, until I had tried the force of such exhortations with success upon a wild bull. Fool, and double idiot that I was! But the villain Martius shall not escape. -- He has been at the bottom of this, he and the vile priest, the detestable Balue. If I ever get out of this danger, I will tear from his head the Cardinal's cap, though I pull the scalp along with it! But the other traitor is in my hands -- I am yet King enough -- have yet an empire roomy enough -- for the punishment of the quack salving, word mongering, star gazing, lie coining impostor, who has at once made a prisoner and a dupe of me! -- The conjunction of the constellations -- ay, the conjunction. -- He must talk nonsense which would scarce gull a thrice sodden sheep's head, and I must be idiot enough to think I understand him! But we shall see presently what the conjunction hath really boded. But first let me to my devotions."
(Louis kept his promise of vengeance against Cardinal La Balue, whom he always blamed as having betrayed him to Burgundy. After he had returned to his own kingdom, he caused his late favourite to be immured in one of the iron cages at Loches. These were constructed with horrible ingenuity, so that a person of ordinary size could neither stand up at his full height, nor lie lengthwise in them. Some ascribe this horrid device to Balue himself. At any rate, he was confined in one of these dens for eleven years, nor did Louis permit him to be liberated till his last illness. S.)
Above the little door, in memory perhaps of the deed which had been done within, was a rude niche, containing a crucifix cut in stone. Upon this emblem the King fixed his eyes, as if about to kneel, but stopped short, as if he applied to the blessed image the principles of worldly policy, and deemed it rash to approach its presence without having secured the private intercession of some supposed favourite. He therefore turned from the crucifix as unworthy to look upon it, and selecting from the images with which, as often mentioned, his hat was completely garnished, a representation of the Lady of Clery, knelt down before it, and made the following extraordinary prayer; in which, it is to be observed, the grossness of his superstition induced him, in some degree, to consider the Virgin of Clery as a different person from the Madonna of Embrun, a favourite idol, to whom he often paid his vows.
"Sweet Lady of Clery," he exclaimed, clasping his hands and beating his breast while he spoke, "blessed Mother of Mercy! thou who art omnipotent with Omnipotence, have compassion with me, a sinner! It is true, that I have something neglected thee for thy blessed sister of Embrun; but I am a King, my power is great, my wealth boundless; and, were it otherwise, I would double the gabelle on my subjects, rather than not pay my debts to you both. Undo these iron doors -- fill up these tremendous moats -- lead me, as a mother leads a child, out of this present and pressing danger! If I have given thy sister the county of Boulogne, to be held of her for ever, have I no means of showing devotion to thee also? Thou shalt have the broad and rich province of Champagne, and its vineyards shall pour their abundance into thy convent. I had promised the province to my brother Charles; but he, thou knowest, is dead -- poisoned by that wicked Abbe of Saint John d'Angely, whom, if I live, I will punish! -- I promised this once before, but this time I will keep my word. -- If I had any knowledge of the crime, believe, dearest patroness, it was because I knew no better method of quieting the discontents of my kingdom. Oh, do not reckon that old debt to my account today; but be, as thou hast ever been, kind, benignant, and easy to be entreated! Sweetest Lady, work with thy child, that he will pardon all past sins, and one -- one little dee............