The Caged Lion [92]
and found tenderness in his love and protection in his fearlessness; so that few royal brethren ever loved better than Henry and John of Lancaster.
'It was well and kindly done, John,' said Henry; 'and thou hast come at a good time; for, thanks be to God, the pain hath left me; and if it were not for this burthen of heaviness and weariness, I should be more at ease than I have been for many weeks.'
But as he spoke, there was that both in his face and voice that chilled with a dread certainty the hearts of those who hung over him.
'Is my wife come? I could see her now,' he wistfully asked.
Alas! no. Sir Lewis Robsart, the knight attached to her service, faltered, with a certain shame and difficulty, that the Queen would come when her orisons at Notre Dame were performed.
It was his last disappointment; but still he bore it cheerily.
'Best,' he said. 'My fair one was not made for sights like this; and were she here'--his lip trembled--'I might bear me less as a Christian man should. My sweet Catherine! Take care of her, John; she will be the most desolate being in the world.'
John promised with all his heart; though pity for cold-hearted Catherine was not the predominant feeling there.
'I would I had seen my child's face, and blessed him,' continued Henry. 'Poor boy! I would have him Warwick's charge.'
'Warwick is waiting admission,' said Bedford. 'He and Salisbury and Exeter rode with me.'
The King's face lighted up with joy as he heard this. 'It is good for a man to have his friends about him,' he said; and as they entered he held out his hand to them and thanked them.
Then took place the well-known scene, when, looking back on his career, he pronounced it to have been his endeavour to serve God and his people, and declared himself ready to face death fearlessly, since such was the will of his Maker: grieving only for the infancy of his son, but placing his hope and comfort in his brother John, and commending the babe to the fatherly charge of Warwick. 'You cannot love him for his own sake as yet; but if you think you owe me aught, repay it to him.' And as he thought over the fate of other infant kings, he spoke of some having hated the father and loved the child, others who had loved the father and hated the child.
To Humfrey of Gloucester he sent stringent warnings against giving way to his hot and fiery nature, offending Burgundy, or rushing into a doubtful wedlock with Jaqueline of Hainault; speaking of him with an elder brother's fatherly affection, but turning ever to John of Bedford with full trust and reliance, as one like-minded, and able to carry out all his intentions. For the French prisoners, they might not be released, 'lest more fire be kindled in one day than can be quenched in three.'
'And for you, Jamie,' he said, affectionately holding out his hand, 'my friend, my brother-in-arms, I must say the same as ever. Pardon me, Jamie; but I have not kept you out of malice, such as man must needs renounce on his death-bed. I trust to John, and to the rest, for giving you freedom at such time as you can safely return to be such a king indeed as we have ever hoped to be. Do you pardon me, James, for this, as for any harshness or rudeness you may have suffered from me?'
James, with full heart, murmured out his ardent love, his sense that no captive had ever been so generously treated as he.
'And you, my young lord,' said Henry, looking towards Malcolm, whose light touch and tender hands had made him a welcome attendant in the illness, 'I have many a kind service to thank you for. And I believe I mightily angered you once; but, boy, remember--ay, and you too, Ralf Percy--that he is your friend who turns you back from things sore to remember in a case like mine!'
After these, and other calm collected farewells, Henry required to know from his physicians how long his time might yet be. There was hesitation in answering, plainly as they saw that mortification had set in.
'What,' he said, 'do ye think I have faced death so many times to fear it now?'
'It was well and kindly done, John,' said Henry; 'and thou hast come at a good time; for, thanks be to God, the pain hath left me; and if it were not for this burthen of heaviness and weariness, I should be more at ease than I have been for many weeks.'
But as he spoke, there was that both in his face and voice that chilled with a dread certainty the hearts of those who hung over him.
'Is my wife come? I could see her now,' he wistfully asked.
Alas! no. Sir Lewis Robsart, the knight attached to her service, faltered, with a certain shame and difficulty, that the Queen would come when her orisons at Notre Dame were performed.
It was his last disappointment; but still he bore it cheerily.
'Best,' he said. 'My fair one was not made for sights like this; and were she here'--his lip trembled--'I might bear me less as a Christian man should. My sweet Catherine! Take care of her, John; she will be the most desolate being in the world.'
John promised with all his heart; though pity for cold-hearted Catherine was not the predominant feeling there.
'I would I had seen my child's face, and blessed him,' continued Henry. 'Poor boy! I would have him Warwick's charge.'
'Warwick is waiting admission,' said Bedford. 'He and Salisbury and Exeter rode with me.'
The King's face lighted up with joy as he heard this. 'It is good for a man to have his friends about him,' he said; and as they entered he held out his hand to them and thanked them.
Then took place the well-known scene, when, looking back on his career, he pronounced it to have been his endeavour to serve God and his people, and declared himself ready to face death fearlessly, since such was the will of his Maker: grieving only for the infancy of his son, but placing his hope and comfort in his brother John, and commending the babe to the fatherly charge of Warwick. 'You cannot love him for his own sake as yet; but if you think you owe me aught, repay it to him.' And as he thought over the fate of other infant kings, he spoke of some having hated the father and loved the child, others who had loved the father and hated the child.
To Humfrey of Gloucester he sent stringent warnings against giving way to his hot and fiery nature, offending Burgundy, or rushing into a doubtful wedlock with Jaqueline of Hainault; speaking of him with an elder brother's fatherly affection, but turning ever to John of Bedford with full trust and reliance, as one like-minded, and able to carry out all his intentions. For the French prisoners, they might not be released, 'lest more fire be kindled in one day than can be quenched in three.'
'And for you, Jamie,' he said, affectionately holding out his hand, 'my friend, my brother-in-arms, I must say the same as ever. Pardon me, Jamie; but I have not kept you out of malice, such as man must needs renounce on his death-bed. I trust to John, and to the rest, for giving you freedom at such time as you can safely return to be such a king indeed as we have ever hoped to be. Do you pardon me, James, for this, as for any harshness or rudeness you may have suffered from me?'
James, with full heart, murmured out his ardent love, his sense that no captive had ever been so generously treated as he.
'And you, my young lord,' said Henry, looking towards Malcolm, whose light touch and tender hands had made him a welcome attendant in the illness, 'I have many a kind service to thank you for. And I believe I mightily angered you once; but, boy, remember--ay, and you too, Ralf Percy--that he is your friend who turns you back from things sore to remember in a case like mine!'
After these, and other calm collected farewells, Henry required to know from his physicians how long his time might yet be. There was hesitation in answering, plainly as they saw that mortification had set in.
'What,' he said, 'do ye think I have faced death so many times to fear it now?'