The Star-Chamber, Volume 1 by William Harrison Ainsworth (to read list TXT) 📖

your joint claims against Madame Bonaventure. I have done it, Sir Giles; and here it is. And I have taken care to grant a renewal of her licence from the date of your notice; so that no penalties or fines can attach to her for neglect. Take it, Madame Bonaventure" he continued, handing her the paper. "It is your full acquittance."

"And think you, my lord, that this shallow artifice--to give it no harsher term--will avail you any thing?" Sir Giles cried scornfully. "I set it aside at once."

"Your pardon, Sir Giles; you will do no such thing."

"And who will hinder me?--You, my lord?"

"Even I, Sir Giles. Proceed at your peril."

The young nobleman's assurance staggered his opponent.

"He must have some one to uphold him, or he would not be thus confident," he thought. "Whose was the voice I heard? It sounded like--No matter! 'Tis needful to be cautious."

"You do not, then, hold yourself bound by the acts of your partner, Sir Giles?" Lord Roos said.

"I deny this to be his act," the knight replied.

"Better question him at once on the subject," Lord Roos said. "Set him free, Cyprien."

The Gascon did as he was bidden, and with the aid of his fellow drawers, helped Sir Francis from the table. To the surprise of the company, the knight then managed to stagger forward unassisted, and would have embraced Sir Giles, if the latter had not thrust him off in disgust, with some violence.

"What folly is this, Sir Francis?" Sir Giles cried angrily. "You have forgotten yourself strangely, you have taken leave of your senses, methinks!"

"Not a whit of it, Sir Giles--not a whit. I never was more my own master than I am at present, as I will prove to you."

"Prove it, then, by explaining how you came to sign that paper. You could not mean to run counter to me?"

"But I did," Sir Francis rejoined, highly offended. "I meant to run counter to you in signing it, and I mean it now."

"'Sdeath! you besotted fool, you are playing into their hands!"

"Besotted fool in your teeth, Sir Giles. I am as sober as yourself. My hand has been put to that paper, and what it contains I stand by."

"You design, then, to acquit Madame Bonaventure? Consider what you say?"

"No need for consideration; I have always designed it."

"Ten thousand thanks, Sir Francis!" the hostess cried. "I knew I had an excellent friend in you."

The enamoured knight seized the hand she extended towards him, but in the attempt to kiss it fell to the ground, amid the laughter of the company.

"Are you satisfied now, Sir Giles?" asked Lord Roos.

"I am satisfied that Sir Francis has been duped," he replied, "and that when his brain is free from the fumes of wine, he will bitterly regret his folly. But even his discharge will be insufficient. Though it may bind me, it will not bind the Crown, which will yet enforce its claims."

"That, Sir Giles, I leave competent authority to decide," Lord Roos replied, retiring.

And as he withdrew, the curtains before the upper table were entirely withdrawn, disclosing the whole of the brilliant assemblage, and at the head of them one person far more brilliant and distinguished than the rest.

"Buckingham!" Sir Giles exclaimed. "I thought I knew the voice."

It was, indeed, the King's omnipotent favourite. Magnificently attired, the Marquis of Buckingham as far outshone his companions in splendour of habiliments as he did in stateliness of carriage and beauty of person. Rising from the table, and donning his plumed hat, looped with diamonds, with a gesture worthy of a monarch, while all the rest remained uncovered, as if in recognition of his superior dignity, he descended to where Sir Giles Mompesson was standing. It need scarcely be said that Jocelyn Mounchensey had never seen the superb favourite before; but he did not require to be told whom he beheld, so perfectly did Buckingham realize the descriptions given of him. A little above the ordinary height, with a figure of the most perfect symmetry, and features as aristocratic and haughty as handsome, it was impossible to conceive a prouder or a nobler-looking personage than the marquis. His costume was splendid, consisting of a doublet of white cut velvet, roped with pearls, which fitted him to admiration. Over his shoulders he wore a mantle of watchet-coloured velvet; his neck was encircled by a falling band; and silken hose of the same colour as the doublet completed his costume. His deportment was singularly dignified; but his manner might have conciliated more if it had been less imperious and disdainful.

Sir Giles made a profound obeisance as Buckingham advanced towards him. His salutation was haughtily returned.

"I have heard something of your mode of proceeding with the keepers of taverns and hostels, Sir Giles," the proud marquis said; "but this is the first occasion on which I have seen it put in practice,--and I am free to confess that you deal not over gently with them, if the present may be considered a specimen of your ordinary conduct. Those letters-patent were not confided to you by his Majesty to distress his subjects, for your own particular advantage and profit, but to benefit the community by keeping such places of entertainment in better order than heretofore. I fear you have somewhat abused your warrant, Sir Giles."

"If to devote myself, heart and soul, to his Majesty's service, and to enrich his Majesty's exchequer be to abuse my warrant, I have done so, my lord Marquis,--but not otherwise. I have ever vindicated the dignity and authority of the Crown. You have just heard that, though my own just claims have been defeated by the inadvertence of my co-patentee, I have advanced those of the King."

"The King relinquishes all claims in the present case," Buckingham replied. "His gracious Majesty gave me full discretion in the matter, and I act as I know he himself would have acted."

And waving his hand to signify that he would listen to no remonstrances, the Marquis turned to Madame Bonaventure, who instantly prostrated herself before him, as she would have done before royalty itself, warmly thanking him for his protection.

"You must thank my Lord Roos, and not me, Madame," Buckingham graciously replied, raising her as he spoke. "It was at his lordship's instance I came here. He takes a warm interest in you, Madame."

"I shall ever be beholden to his lordship, I am sure," Madame Bonaventure said, casting down her eyes and blushing, or feigning to blush, "as well as to you, Monseigneur."

"My Lord Roos avouched," pursued Buckingham, "that at the Three Cranes I should find the prettiest hostess and the best wine in London; and on my faith as a gentleman! I must say he was wrong in neither particular. Brighter eyes I have never beheld--rarer claret I have never drunk."

"Oh, Monseigneur! you quite overwhelm me. My poor house can scarcely hope to be honoured a second time with such a presence; but should it so chance"--

"You will give me as good welcome as you have done to-day. No lack of inducement to repeat the visit. Sir Giles Mompesson!"

"My lord Marquis."

"I lay my commands upon you, good Sir Giles, that no further molestation be offered to Madame Bonaventure, but that you give a good report of her house. Withdraw your followers without delay."

"Your commands shall be obeyed, my lord Marquis," Sir Giles rejoined; "but before I go I have an arrest to make. That young man," pointing to Jocelyn, "has been talking treason."

"It is false, my lord Marquis," Jocelyn replied. "His Majesty hath not a more loyal subject than myself. I would cut out my tongue rather than speak against him. I have said the King is ill served in such officers as Giles Mompesson and Sir Francis Mitchell, and I abide by my words. They can reflect no dishonour on his Majesty."

"Save that they seem to imply a belief on your part that his Majesty has chosen his officers badly," Buckingham said, regarding the young man fixedly.

"Not so, my lord Marquis, These men may have been favourably represented to his Majesty, who no doubt has been kept in ignorance of their iniquitous proceedings."

"What are you driving at, Sir?" Buckingham cried, almost fiercely.

"I mean, my lord Marquis, that these persons may be the creatures of some powerful noble, whose interest it is to throw a cloak over their malpractices."

"'Fore heaven! some covert insult would seem to be intended," exclaimed Buckingham. "Who is this young man, Sir Giles?"

"He is named Jocelyn Mounchensey, my lord Marquis; and is the son of an old Norfolk knight baronet, who, you may remember, was arraigned before the Court of Star-Chamber, heavily fined, and imprisoned."

"I do remember the case, and the share you and Sir Francis had in it, Sir Giles," Buckingham rejoined.

"I am right glad to hear that, my lord," said Jocelyn. "You will not then wonder that I avow myself their mortal enemy."

"We laugh to scorn these idle vapourings," said Sir Giles; "and were it permitted," he added, touching his sword, "I myself would find an easy way to silence them. But the froward youth, whose brains seem crazed with his fancied wrongs, is not content with railing against us, but must needs lift up his voice against all constituted authority. He hath spoken contemptuously of the Star-Chamber,--and that, my lord Marquis, as you well know, is an offence, which cannot be passed over."

"I am sorry for it," Buckingham rejoined; "but if he will retract what he has said, and express compunction, with promise of amendment in future, I will exert my influence to have him held harmless."

"I will never retract what I have said against that iniquitous tribunal," Jocelyn rejoined firmly. "I will rather die a martyr, as my father did, in the cause of truth."

"Your kindness is altogether thrown away upon him, my lord," Sir Giles said, with secret satisfaction.

"So I perceive," Buckingham rejoined. "Our business is over," he added, to the nobles and gallants around him; "so we may to our barges. You, my lord," he added to Lord Roos, "will doubtless tarry to receive the thanks of our pretty hostess."

And graciously saluting Madame Bonaventure, he quitted the tavern accompanied by a large train, and entering his barge amid the acclamations of the spectators, was rowed towards Whitehall.


CHAPTER X.

The 'prentices and their leader.


While the Marquis of Buckingham and his suite were moving towards the wharf, amid the acclamations of the crowd (for in the early part of his brilliant career the haughty favourite was extremely popular with the multitude, probably owing to the princely largesses he was in the habit of distributing among them), a very different reception awaited those who succeeded him. The hurrahs and other vociferations of delight and enthusiasm were changed into groans, hootings, and discordant yells, when Sir Francis Mitchell came in sight, supported between two stout myrmidons, and scarcely able to maintain his perpendicular as he was borne by them towards the wherry in waiting for him near the stairs. Though the knight was escorted by Captain Bludder and his Alsatian bullies, several of the crowd did not seem disposed to confine themselves to jeers and derisive shouts, but menaced him with some rough usage. Planting themselves in his path, they shook their fists in his face, with other gestures of defiance and indignity, and could only be removed by force.