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Read books online » Fiction » Peveril of the Peak by Walter Scott (sci fi books to read .txt) 📖

Book online «Peveril of the Peak by Walter Scott (sci fi books to read .txt) 📖». Author Walter Scott



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a charge how they were to deport themselves, when they should assume the concealed arms—and—for I will do the Duke no wrong—I understood their orders were precise, not only to spare the person of the King, but also those of the courtiers, and to protect all who might be in the presence against an irruption of the fanatics. In other respects, they had charge to disarm the Gentlemen-pensioners in the guard-room, and, in fine, to obtain the command of the Court.”

The King looked disconcerted and thoughtful at this communication, and bade Lord Arlington see that Selby quietly made search into the contents of the other cases which had been brought as containing musical instruments. He then signed to the dwarf to proceed in his story, asking him again and again, and very solemnly, whether he was sure that he heard the Duke’s name mentioned, as commanding or approving this action.

The dwarf answered in the affirmative.

“This,” said the King, “is carrying the frolic somewhat far.”

The dwarf proceeded to state, that he was carried after his metamorphosis into the chapel, where he heard the preacher seemingly about the close of his harangue, the tenor of which he also mentioned. Words, he said, could not express the agony which he felt when he found that his bearer, in placing the instrument in a corner, was about to invert its position, in which case, he said, human frailty might have proved too great for love, for loyalty, for true obedience, nay, for the fear of death, which was like to ensue on discovery; and he concluded, that he greatly doubted he could not have stood on his head for many minutes without screaming aloud.

“I could not have blamed you,” said the King; “placed in such a posture in the royal oak, I must needs have roared myself.—Is this all you have to tell us of this strange conspiracy?” Sir Geoffrey Hudson replied in the affirmative, and the King presently subjoined—“Go, my little friend, your services shall not be forgotten. Since thou hast crept into the bowels of a fiddle for our service, we are bound, in duty and conscience, to find you a more roomy dwelling in future.”

“It was a violoncello, if your Majesty is pleased to remember,” said the little jealous man, “not a common fiddle; though, for your Majesty’s service, I would have crept even into a kit.”

“Whatever of that nature could have been performed by any subject of ours, thou wouldst have enacted in our behalf—of that we hold ourselves certain. Withdraw for a little; and hark ye, for the present, beware what you say about this matter. Let your appearance be considered—do you mark me—as a frolic of the Duke of Buckingham; and not a word of conspiracy.”

“Were it not better to put him under some restraint, sire?” said the Duke of Ormond, when Hudson had left the room.

“It is unnecessary,” said the King. “I remember the little wretch of old. Fortune, to make him the model of absurdity, has closed a most lofty soul within that little miserable carcass. For wielding his sword and keeping his word, he is a perfect Don Quixote in decimo-octavo. He shall be taken care of.—But, oddsfish, my lords, is not this freak of Buckingham too villainous and ungrateful?”

“He had not had the means of being so, had your Majesty,” said the Duke of Ormond, “been less lenient on other occasions.”

“My lord, my lord,” said Charles hastily—“your lordship is Buckingham’s known enemy—we will take other and more impartial counsel—Arlington, what think you of all this?”

“May it please your Majesty,” said Arlington, “I think the thing is absolutely impossible, unless the Duke has had some quarrel with your Majesty, of which we know nothing. His Grace is very flighty, doubtless, but this seems actual insanity.”

“Why, faith,” said the King, “some words passed betwixt us this morning—his Duchess it seems is dead—and to lose no time, his Grace had cast his eyes about for means of repairing the loss, and had the assurance to ask our consent to woo my niece Lady Anne.”

“Which your Majesty of course rejected?” said the statesman.

“And not without rebuking his assurance,” added the King.

“In private, sire, or before any witnesses?” said the Duke of Ormond.

“Before no one,” said the King,—“excepting, indeed, little Chiffinch; and he, you know, is no one.”

“Hinc illæ lachrymæ,” said Ormond. “I know his Grace well. While the rebuke of his aspiring petulance was a matter betwixt your Majesty and him, he might have let it pass by; but a check before a fellow from whom it was likely enough to travel through the Court, was a matter to be revenged.”

Here Selby came hastily from the other room, to say, that his Grace of Buckingham had just entered the presence-chamber.

The King rose. “Let a boat be in readiness, with a party of the yeomen,” said he. “It may be necessary to attach him of treason, and send him to the Tower.”

“Should not a Secretary of State’s warrant be prepared?” said Ormond.

“No, my Lord Duke,” said the King sharply. “I still hope that the necessity may be avoided.”





CHAPTER XLVII High-reaching Buckingham grows circumspect. —RICHARD III.

Before giving the reader an account of the meeting betwixt Buckingham and his injured Sovereign, we may mention a trifling circumstance or two which took place betwixt his Grace and Chiffinch, in the short drive betwixt York Place and Whitehall.

In the outset, the Duke endeavoured to learn from the courtier the special cause of his being summoned so hastily to the Court. Chiffinch answered, cautiously, that he believed there were some gambols going forward, at which the King desired the Duke’s presence.

This did not quite satisfy Buckingham, for, conscious of his own rash purpose, he could not but apprehend discovery. After a moment’s silence, “Chiffinch,” he said abruptly, “did you mention to any one what the King said to me this morning touching the Lady Anne?”

“My Lord Duke,” said Chiffinch, hesitantly, “surely my duty to the King—my respect to your Grace——”

“You mentioned it to no one, then?” said the Duke sternly.

“To no one,” replied Chiffinch faintly, for he was intimidated by the Duke’s increasing severity of manner.

“Ye lie, like a scoundrel!” said the Duke—“You told Christian!”

“Your Grace,” said Chiffinch—“your Grace—your Grace ought to remember that I told you Christian’s secret; that the Countess of Derby was come up.”

“And you think the one point of treachery may balance for the other? But no. I must have a better atonement. Be assured I will blow your

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