Runnymede and Lincoln Fair: A Story of the Great Charter Read online

  CHAPTER V

  THE TOWER OF LONDON

  Associated in the minds of Englishmen with traditions of the Romanconquest of Britain, and with the history of the Norman conquest ofEngland, the Tower of London frowned gloomily, and almost menacingly, onthe capital which it had been reared to protect against possibleinvaders. Indeed, by the Londoners the Tower was regarded with asuspicious eye as a stronghold which might, when occasion served, beused by the rulers of England against their subjects, and especiallyagainst the city, which was in the habit of assuming the airs of a freerepublic in the very face of a monarchy, too proud even to submit,without manifest impatience, to the feudal and ecclesiastical trammelsin which it had been involved since the Conquest. But never had thefeeling of jealousy been stronger, or more likely to find expression inwords, and lead to consequences dangerous to the throne, than at theperiod when King John kept his Christmas in the Tower, and when Hugh deMoreville, accompanied by Oliver Icingla, presented himself at the greatgate to the west of the building, and demanded to be admitted.

  It was at this moment that De Moreville, turning on his saddle, andlooking Oliver full in the face, took occasion to refer to the subjectwhich, on the previous evening, had kindled the Saxon’s ire, and broughtthe conversation to a sudden close, and on which they had not oncetouched, even distantly, during their journey.

  “Young man,” said the Norman baron grimly, and with frowning brow, “Iwould fain have so instructed you to act your part within these wallsthat your residence at the king’s court might have proved to your ownadvantage, and for the welfare of others; but my friendly intent hasbeen baffled by your heat and unreasonable pride. One question, however,on the subject ere we part. You have rejected my counsel. May I ask if,under the influence of temptation or threats, you are capable ofbetraying it?”

  “My lord, may God and the saints forbid!” answered Oliver hastily.“Whatever was spoken on the subject was spoken in confidence, and thebrave man does not betray the guest seated at his board, and under therose on his own roof-tree. I pledge my word--I swear to you. But itneeds not. You have the honour of an Icingla on which to rely, and thehonour of an Icingla is of more worth, in such a case, than assurancesor oaths. I have said.”

  “It is well,” said De Moreville, who, in spite of his efforts to appearcalmly indifferent, could not conceal the relief which he experienced ashe listened. “But deem not,” added he, “that I fear aught for myself, orthat any breach of confidence on your part could pass unpunished.Breathe within these walls but one word of what I spake with yourwelfare in view, and, by St. Moden, your doom is fixed!”

  As De Moreville spoke the massive gates were thrown open, and the baronand the squire rode into the courtyard, and, dismounting, surrenderedtheir steeds to the attendants.

  “Follow me,” said De Moreville, somewhat contemptuously, “and I willconduct you to the king’s presence. I trust,” added he, with a smile ofpeculiar significance, “that you will find his company more to yourtaste than mine. Nay, blanch not. Arthur of Brittany found him a kinduncle, and Arthur’s sister, Eleanor the Fair, who pines as a captive inBristol Castle, has reason to bless his name.”

  Oliver shuddered at De Moreville’s tone and manner; and, as the baron’swords sank instantly and deeply into his heart, visions of the dungeonand the gallows rose before his imagination. Not more gloomy could havebeen his presentiments had some magician, supposed capable offoretelling the future, whispered in his ear the warning inscribed bythe Florentine poet over the portals of the infernal regions, “Leave allhope behind.”

  But he had now gone too far either to draw back or hesitate; and with aheart as sad as if he had been entering the fabled hall of Eblis, hefollowed his Norman kinsman till he found himself within the walls whichwere subsequently so richly adorned by the artists who flourished underthe patronage of Henry of Winchester and Eleanor of Provence with thestory of Antiochus, but which, in the days of John, were less tastefullydecorated.

  It was near the hour of dinner, and the king and his courtiers wereabout to feast in a way worthy of the season and the day; and the greathall of the Tower was crowded with lords of high rank and ladies ofrare beauty. Rich and splendid were the dresses which they wore. Indeed,accustomed as Oliver had been for a brief period to the court ofCastile, the scene now presented would, under ordinary circumstances,have dazzled his eye and raised his wonder. Courtiers with long hairartificially curled and bound with ribbons, and wearing jewelled glovesand gay mantles, and full flowing robes, girded at the waist withrichly-ornamented belts, talked affectedly to ladies not less gaily, butmore gracefully, dressed than the other sex, and wearing round the waistgirdles sparkling with gold and gems.

  But all this display made little impression on Oliver as De Morevilleled him to the upper end of the hall; for there, occupying an elevatedchair of oak, carved and ornamented, sat a person who eclipsed allpresent in the magnificence of his attire, and awed all present by anair of superiority which long years of power and authority had made partof himself. He was about fifty years of age, and his hair was grey,almost white; and his countenance was that of a man who had sufferedmuch from care and regret--perhaps something also from remorse. But hewas still vigorous, and his form, which, though not tall, was strong andcompact, appeared still capable of enduring fatigue in case ofnecessity. His raiment was gorgeous, and literally glistened and shonewith precious stones. He wore a red satin mantle embroidered withsapphires and pearls, a tunic of white damask, with a girdle set withgarnets and sapphires; while the baldric, that crossed from the leftshoulder to sustain his sword, was set with diamonds and emeralds, andhis white gloves were ornamented, one with a ruby, the other with asapphire. Such were the aspect and dress of him who, surrounded bycourtiers and jesters, lorded it over the gay and somewhat gaudy companywhich kept the Christmas of 1214 in the Tower of London.

  As Hugh de Moreville and Oliver Icingla, guided by a gentleman attachedto the royal household, walked up the hall and approached the elevationof the daïs, this personage, whose array was so magnificent, and whoseair was so imperious, turned round and directed, first at one and thenat the other, a glance which indicated so clearly that his sentimentstowards them were the very reverse of favourable, that Oliver halted inalarm, and for a moment or two stood staring wildly before him with hishand on the hilt of his sword. Before him, and regarding him with ascowl which would have made even nobler and more refined featuresunpleasant to look upon, and with an eye that glared on him as the tigerglares when about to spring on its victim, was the prince for the sakeof whose crown he had scorned the friendship of Fitzarnulph and defiedthe enmity of De Moreville. It was the man to whose tender mercies hewas now to be intrusted. It was King John.