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Robert Hugh Benson - The King\'s Achievement

R >> Robert Hugh Benson >> The King\'s Achievement



THE KING'S ACHIEVEMENT

By Robert Hugh Benson

Author of "By What Authority?" "The Light Invisible,"
"A Book of the Love of Jesus," etc.

_Non minus principi turpia sunt multa supplicia, quam medico multa
funera._

(Sen. de clem. 1, 24, 1.)




_I must express my gratitude once more to the Rev. Dom Bede Camm,
O.S.B., as well as to the Very Rev. Mgr. Barnes, who have done me great
service in revising proofs and making suggestions; to the Rev. E.
Conybeare, who very kindly provided the coins for the cover-design of
the book; to my mother and sister, to Eustace Virgo, Esq., to Dr.
Ross-Todd, and to others, who have been extremely kind in various ways
during the writing of this book in the summer and autumn of 1904._

_I must also express my great indebtedness to the Right Rev. Abbot
Gasquet, O.S.B., both on account of his invaluable books, which I have
used freely, and for his personal kindness in answering my questions._

ROBERT HUGH BENSON

_The Catholic Rectory,
Cambridge,
July 14, 1905._





CONTENTS


BOOK I.
THE KING'S WILL.

CHAPTER

I. A DECISION
II. A FORETASTE OF PEACE
III. THE ARRIVAL AT LEWES
IV. A COMMISSION
V. MASTER MORE
VI. RALPH'S INTERCESSION
VII. A MERRY PRISONER
VIII. A HIGHER STEP
IX. LIFE AT LEWES
X. THE ARENA
XI. A CLOSING-IN
XII. A RECOVERY
XIII. PRISONER AND PRINCE
XIV. THE SACRED PURPLE
XV. THE KING'S FRIEND


BOOK II.
THE KING'S TRIUMPH.

PART I.--THE SMALLER HOUSES.

I. AN ACT OF FAITH
II. THE BEGINNING OF THE VISITATION
III. A HOUSE OF LADIES
IV. AN UNEXPECTED MEETING
V. FATHER AND SON
VI. A NUN'S DEFIANCE
VII. ST. PANCRAS PRIORY
VIII. RALPH'S RETURN
IX. RALPH'S WELCOME

PART II--THE FALL OF LEWES.

I. INTERNAL DISSENSION
II. SACERDOS IN AETERNUM
III. THE NORTHERN RISING
IV. THE DESTRUCTION OF THE SEAL
V. THE SINKING SHIP
VI. THE LAST STAND
VII. AXES AND HAMMERS


BOOK III.

THE KING'S GRATITUDE.

I. A SCHEME
II. A DUEL
III. A PEACE-MAKER
IV. THE ELDER SON
V. THE MUMMERS
VI. A CATASTROPHE
VII. A QUESTION OF LOYALTY
VIII. TO CHARING
IX. A RELIEF-PARTY
X. PLACENTIA
XI. THE KING'S HIGHNESS
XII. THE TIDINGS AT THE TOWER
XIII. THE RELEASE




BENEFICO--IGNOTO
HVNC--LIBRVM
D.




THE KING'S ACHIEVEMENT

CHAPTER I

A DECISION


Overfield Court lay basking in warm June sunshine. The western side of
the great house with its new timber and plaster faced the evening sun
across the square lawns and high terrace; and the woods a couple of
hundred yards away cast long shadows over the gardens that lay beyond
the moat. The lawns, in their broad plateaux on the eastern side
descended by steps, in cool shadow to the lake that formed a
quarter-circle below the south-eastern angle of the house; and the
mirrored trees and reeds on the other side were broken, circle after
circle, by the great trout that were rising for their evening meal. The
tall front of the house on the north, formed by the hall in the centre
with the kitchen at its eastern end and the master's chamber on the
western, was faced by a square-towered gatehouse through which the
straight drive leading into the main road approached the house under a
lime-avenue; and on the south side the ground fell away again rapidly
below the chapel and the morning-room, in copse and garden and wild
meadow bright with buttercups and ox-eye daisies, down to the lake again
and the moat that ran out of it round the entire domain.

The cobbled courtyard in the centre of the house, where the tall leaded
pump stood, was full of movement. Half a dozen trunks lay there that
had just been carried in from the luggage-horses that were now being led
away with patient hanging heads towards the stables that stood outside
the gatehouse on the right, and three or four dusty men in livery were
talking to the house-servants who had come out of their quarters on the
left. From the kitchen corner came a clamour of tongues and dishes, and
smoke was rising steadily from the huge outside chimney that rose beyond
the roofs.

Presently there came clear and distinct from the direction of the
village the throb of hoofs on the hard road; and the men shouldered the
trunks, and disappeared, staggering, under the low archway on the right,
beside which the lamp extinguisher hung, grimy with smoke and grease.
The yard dog came out at the sound of the hoofs, dragging his chain
after him, from his kennel beneath the little cloister outside the
chapel, barked solemnly once or twice, and having done his duty lay down
on the cool stones, head on paws, watching with bright eyes the door
that led from the hall into the Court. A moment later the little door
from the masters chamber opened; and Sir James Torridon came out and,
giving a glance at the disappearing servants, said a word or two to the
others, and turned again through the hall to meet his sons.

The coach was coming up the drive round toward the gatehouse, as he came
out on the wide paved terrace; and he stood watching the glitter of
brasswork through the dust, the four plumed cantering horses in front,
and the bobbing heads of the men that rode behind; and there was a grave
pleased expectancy on his bearded face and in his bright grey eyes as he
looked. His two sons had met at Begham, and were coming home, Ralph from
town sites a six months' absence, and Christopher from Canterbury,
where he had been spending a week or two in company with Mr. Carleton,
the chaplain of the Court. He was the more pleased as the house had been
rather lonely in their absence, since the two daughters were both from
home, Mary with her husband, Sir Nicholas Maxwell, over at Great Keynes,
and Margaret at her convent education at Rusper: and he himself had had
for company his wife alone.

She came out presently as the carriage rolled through the archway, a
tall dignified figure of a woman, finely dressed in purple and black,
and stood by him, silently, a yard or two away, watching the carriage
out of steady black eyes. A moment later the carriage drew up at the
steps, and a couple of servants ran down to open the door.

Ralph stepped out first, a tall man like both his parents, with a face
and slow gait extraordinarily like his mother's, and dressed in the same
kind of rich splendour, with a short silver-clasped travelling cloak,
crimson hose, and plumed felt cap; and his face with its pointed black
beard had something of the same steady impassivity in it; he was
flicking the dust from his shoulder as he came up the steps on to the
terrace.

Christopher followed him, not quite so tall as the other, and a good ten
years younger, with the grey eyes of his father, and a little brown
beard beginning to sprout on his cheeks and chin.

Ralph turned at the top of the steps

"The bag," he said shortly; and then turned again to kiss his parents'
hands; as Christopher went back to the carriage, from which the priest
was just stepping out. Sir James asked his son about the journey.

"Oh, yes," he said; and then added, "Christopher was late at Begham."

"And you are well, my son?" asked his mother, as they turned to walk up
to the house.

"Oh, yes!" he said again.

Sir James waited for Christopher and Mr. Carleton, and the three
followed the others a few yards behind.

"You saw her?" said his father.

Christopher nodded.

"Yes," he said, "I must speak to you, sir, before I tell the others."

"Come to me when you are dressed, then. Supper will be in an hour from
now;" and he looked at his son with a kind of sharp expectancy.

The courtyard was empty as they passed through, but half a dozen
servants stood crowded in the little flagged passage that led from it
into the kitchen, and watched Ralph and his mother with an awed interest
as they came out from the hall. Mr. Ralph had come down from the heart
of life, as they knew; had been present at the crowning of Anne Boleyn a
week before, had mixed with great folks; and what secrets of State might
there not be in that little strapped bag that his brother carried behind
him?

When the two first had disappeared, the servants broke into talk, and
went back to the kitchen.

* * * * *

Lady Torridon, with her elder son and the chaplain, had to wait a few
minutes on the dais in the hall an hour later, before the door under the
musicians' gallery opened, and the other two came in from the master's
chamber. Sir James looked a little anxious as he came across the clean
strewed rushes, past the table at the lower end where the household sat,
but Christopher's face was bright with excitement. After a word or two
of apology they moved to their places. Mr. Carleton said grace, and as
they sat down the door behind from the kitchen opened, and the servants
came through with the pewter dishes.

Ralph was very silent at first; his mother sat by him almost as silent
as himself; the servants sprang about noiseless and eager to wait on
him; and Sir James and the chaplain did most of the conversation,
pleasant harmless talk about the estate and the tenants; but as supper
went on, and the weariness of the hot journey faded, and the talk from
the lower tables grew louder, Ralph began to talk a little more freely.

"Yes," he said, "the crowning went well enough. The people were quiet
enough. She looked very pretty in her robes; she was in purple velvet,
and her gentlemen in scarlet. We shall have news of her soon."

Sir James looked up sharply at his son. They were all listening
intently; and even a servant behind Ralph's chair paused with a silver
jug.

"Yes," said Ralph again with a tranquil air, setting down his Venetian
glass; "God has blessed the union already."

"And the King?" asked his father, from his black velvet chair in the
centre.

There fell a deeper silence yet as that name was mentioned. Henry
dominated the imagination of his subjects to an extraordinary degree, no
less in his heavy middle-age than in the magnificent strength and
capacity of his youth.

But Ralph answered carelessly enough. He had seen the King too often.

"The King looked pleased enough; he was in his throne. He is stouter
than when I saw him last. My Lord of Canterbury did the crowning; Te
Deum was sung after, and then solemn mass. There was a dozen abbots, I
should think, and my Lords of York and London and Winchester with two or
three more. My Lord of Suffolk bore the crown."

"And the procession?" asked his father again.

"That, too, was well enough. There came four chariots after the Queen,
full of ancient old ladies, at which some of the folks laughed. And then
the rest of them."

They talked a few minutes about the coronation, Sir James asking most of
the questions and Ralph answering shortly; and presently Christopher
broke in--

"And the Lady Katharine--" he began.

"Hush, my son," said his father, glancing at Ralph, who sat perfectly
still a moment before answering.

"Chris is always eager about the wrong thing," he said evenly; "he is
late at Begham, and then asks me about the Princess Dowager. She is
still alive, if you mean that."

Lady Torridon looked from one to the other.

"And Master Cromwell?" she asked.

"Master Cromwell is well enough. He asked me to give you both his
respects. I left him at Hackney."

* * * * *

The tall southern windows of the hall, above the pargetted plaster, had
faded through glowing ruby and blue to dusk before they rose from the
table and went down and through the passage into the little parlour next
the master's chamber, where they usually took their dessert. This part
of the house had been lately re-built, but the old woodwork had been
re-used, and the pale oak panels, each crowned by an elaborate foliated
head, gave back the pleasant flicker of the fire that burned between the
polished sheets of Flemish tiles on either side of the hearth. A great
globe stood in the corner furthest from the door, with a map of England
hanging above it. A piece of tapestry hung over the mantelpiece,
representing Diana bending over Endymion, and two tall candles in brass
stands burned beneath. The floor was covered with rushes.

Mr. Carleton, who had come with them as far as the door, according to
custom, was on the point of saying-good-night, when Sir James called him
back.

"Come in, father," he said, "we want you to-night. Chris has something
to tell us."

The priest came in and sat down with the others, his face in shadow, at
the corner of the hearth.

Sir James looked across at his younger son and nodded; and Chris, his
chin on his hand, and sitting very upright on the long-backed settle
beside the chaplain, began rather nervously and abruptly.

"I--I have told Ralph," he said, "on the way here and you, sir; but I
will tell you again. You know I was questioning whether I had a vocation
to the religious life; and I went, with that in my mind, to see the Holy
Maid. We saw her, Mr. Carleton and I; and--and I have made up my mind I
must go."

He stopped, hesitating a little, Ralph and his mother sat perfectly
still, without a word or sign of either sympathy or disapproval. His
father leaned forward a little, and smiled encouragingly.

"Go on, my son."

Chris drew a breath and leaned back more easily.

"Well, we went to St. Sepulchre's; and she could not see us for a day or
two. There were several others staying with us at the monastery; there
was a Carthusian from Sheen--I forget his name."

"Henry Man," put in the chaplain.

"--And some others," went on Chris, "all waiting to see her. Dr. Bocking
promised to tell us when we could see her; and he came to us one morning
after mass, and told us that she was in ecstasy, and that we were to
come at once. So we all went to the nuns' chapel, and there she was on
her knees, with her arms across her breast."

He stopped again. Ralph cleared his throat, crossed his legs, and drank
a little wine.

"Yes?" said the knight questioningly.

"Well--she said a great deal," went on Chris hurriedly.

"About the King?" put in his mother who was looking at the fire.

"A little about the King," said Chris, "and about holy things as well.
She spoke about heaven; it was wonderful to hear her; with her eyes
burning, and such a voice; and then she spoke low and deep and told us
about hell, and the devil and his torments; and I could hardly bear to
listen; and she told us about shrift, and what it did for the soul; and
the blessed sacrament. The Carthusian put a question or two to her, and
she answered them: and all the while she was speaking her voice seemed
to come from her body, and not from her mouth; and it was terrible to
see her when she spoke of hell; her tongue lay out on her cheek, and her
eyes grew little and afraid."

"Her tongue in her cheek, did you say?" asked Ralph politely, without
moving.

Chris flushed, and sat back silent. His father glanced quickly from one
to the other.

"Tell us more, Chris," he said. "What did she say to you?"

The young man leaned forward again.

"I wish, Ralph--" he began.

"I was asking--" began the other.

"There, there," said Sir James. "Go on, Chris."

"Well, after a while Dr. Bocking brought me forward; and told her to
look at me; and her eyes seemed to see something beyond me; and I was
afraid. But he told me to ask her, and I did. She said nothing for a
while; and then she began to speak of a great church, as if she saw it;
and she saw there was a tower in the middle, and chapels on either side,
and tombs beside the high altar; and an image, and then she stopped, and
cried out aloud 'Saint Pancras pray for us'--and then I knew."

Chris was trembling violently with excitement as he turned to the priest
for corroboration. Mr. Carleton nodded once or twice without speaking.

"Then I knew," went on Chris. "You know it was what I had in my mind;
and I had not spoken a word of Lewes, or of my thought of going there."

"Had you told any?" asked his father.

"Only Dr. Bocking. Then I asked her, was I to go there; but she said
nothing for a while; and her eyes wandered about; and she began to speak
of black monks going this way and that; and she spoke of a prior, and of
his ring; it was of gold, she said, with figures engraved on it. You
know the ring the Prior wears?" he added, looking eagerly at his father.

Sir James nodded.

"I know it," he said. "Well?"

"Well, I asked her again, was I to go there; and then she looked at me
up and down; I was in my travelling suit; but she said she saw my cowl
and its hanging sleeves, and an antiphoner in my hands; and then her
face grew dreadful and afraid again, and she cried out and fell forward;
and Dr. Bocking led us out from the chapel."

There was a long silence as Chris ended and leaned back again, taking
up a bunch of raisins. Ralph sighed once as if wearied out, and his
mother put her hand on his sleeve. Then at last Sir James spoke.

"You have heard the story," he said, and then paused; but there was no
answer. At last the chaplain spoke from his place.

"It is all as Chris said," he began, "I was there and heard it. If the
woman is not from God, she is one of Satan's own; and it is hard to
think that Satan would tell us of the sacraments and bid us use them
greedily, and if she is from God--" he stopped again.

The knight nodded at him.

"And you, sweetheart?" he said to his wife.

She turned to him slowly.

"You know what I think," she said. "If Chris believes it, he must go, I
suppose."

"And you, Ralph?"

Ralph raised himself in his chair.

"Do you wish me to say what I think?" he asked deliberately, "or what
Chris wishes me to say? I will do either."

Chris made a quick movement of his head; but his father answered for
him.

"We wish you to say what you think," he said quietly.

"Well, then," said Ralph, "it is this. I cannot agree with the father. I
think the woman is neither of God nor Satan; but that she speaks of her
own heart, and of Dr. Bocking's. I believe they are a couple of
knaves--clever knaves, I will grant, though perhaps the woman is
something of a fool too; for she deceives persons as wise even as Mr.
Carleton here by speaking of shrift and the like; and so she does the
priests' will, and hopes to get gain for them and herself. I am not
alone in thinking this--there are many in town who think with me, and
holy persons too."

"Is Master Cromwell one of them?" put in Chris bitterly.

Ralph raised his eyebrows a little.

"There is no use in sneering," he said, "but Master Cromwell is one of
them. I suppose I ought not to speak of this; but I know you will not
speak of it again; and I can tell you of my own knowledge that the Holy
Maid will not be at St. Sepulchre's much longer."

His father leaned forward.

"Do you mean--" he began.

"I mean that His Grace is weary of her prophesyings. It was all very
well till she began to meddle with matters of State; but His Grace will
have none of that. I can tell you no more. On the other hand if Chris
thinks he must be a monk, well and good; I do not think so myself; but
that is not my affair; but I hope he will not be a monk only because a
knavish woman has put out her tongue at him, and repeated what a knavish
priest has put into her mouth. But I suppose he had made up his mind
before he asked me."

"He has made up his mind," said his father, "and will hold to it unless
reason is shown to the contrary; and for myself I think he is right."

"Very well, then," said Ralph; and leaned back once more.

The minutes passed away in silence for a while; and then Ralph asked a
question or two about his sisters.

"Mary is coming over to hunt to-morrow with her husband," said Sir
James. "I have told Forrest to be here by nine o'clock. Shall you come
with us?"

Ralph yawned, and sipped his Bordeaux.

"I do not know," he said, "I suppose so."

"And Margaret is at Rusper still," went on the other. "She will not be
here until August."

"She, too, is thinking of Religion," put in Lady Torridon impassively.

Ralph looked up lazily.

"Indeed," he said, "then Mary and I will be the only worldlings."

"She is very happy with the nuns," said his father, smiling, "and a
worldling can be no more than that; and perhaps not always as much."

Ralph smiled with one corner of his mouth.

"You are quite right, sir," he said.

The bell for evening prayers sounded out presently from the turret in
the chapel-corner, and the chaplain rose and went out.

"Will you forgive me, sir," said Ralph, "if I do not come this evening?
I am worn out with travelling. The stay at Begham was very troublesome."

"Good-night, then, my son. I will send Morris to you immediately."

"Oh, after prayers," said Ralph. "I need not deprive God of his prayers
too."

* * * * *

Lady Torridon had gone out silently after the chaplain, and Sir James
and Chris walked across the Court together. Overhead the summer night
sky was clear and luminous with stars, and the air still and fragrant.
There were a few lights here and there round the Court, and the tall
chapel windows shone dimly above the little cloister. A link flared
steadily on its iron bracket by the door into the hall, and threw waves
of flickering ruddy light across the cobble-stones, and the shadow of
the tall pump wavered on the further side.

Sir James put his hand tenderly on Chris' shoulder.

"You must not be angry at Ralph, my son," he said. "Remember he does not
understand."

"He should not speak like that," said Chris fiercely. "How dare he do
so?"

"Of course he should not; but he does not know that. He thinks he is
advising you well. You must let him alone, Chris. You must remember he
is almost mad with business. Master Cromwell works him hard."

* * * * *

The chapel was but dimly lighted as Chris made his way up to the high
gallery at the west where he usually knelt. The altar glimmered in the
dusk at the further end, and only a couple of candles burned on the
priest's kneeling stool on the south side. The rest was dark, for the
house hold knew compline by heart; and even before Chris reached his
seat he heard the blessing asked for a quiet night and a perfect end. It
was very soothing to him as he leaned over the oak rail and looked down
on the dim figures of his parents in their seat at the front, and the
heads of the servants below, and listened to the quiet pulsation of
those waves of prayer going to and fro in the dusk, beating, as a summer
tide at the foot of a cliff against those white steps that rose up to
the altar where a single spark winked against the leaded window beneath
the silk-shrouded pyx. He had come home full of excitement and joy at
his first sight of an ecstatic, and at the message that she had seemed
to have for him, and across these heightened perceptions had jarred the
impatience of his brother in the inn at Begham and in the carriage on
their way home, and above all his sharp criticism and aloofness in the
parlour just now. But he became quieter as he knelt now; the bitterness
seamed to sink beneath him and to leave him alone in a world of
peaceful glory--the world of mystic life to which his face was now set,
illuminated by the words of the nun. He had seen one who could see
further than he himself; he had looked upon eyes that were fixed on
mysteries and realms in which he indeed passionately believed, but which
were apt to be faint and formless sometimes to the weary eyes of faith
alone; and as a proof that these were more than fancies she had told him
too of what he could verify--of the priory at Lewes which she had never
visited, and even the details of the ring on the Prior's finger which he
alone of the two had seen. And then lastly she had encouraged him in his
desires, had seen him with those same wide eyes in the habit that he
longed to wear, going about the psalmody--the great _Opus Dei_--to which
he longed to consecrate his life. If such were not a message from God to
him for what further revelation could he hope?

And as for Ralph's news and interests, of what value were they? Of what
importance was it to ask who sat on the Consort's throne, or whether she
wore purple velvet or red? These were little matters compared with those
high affairs of the soul and the Eternal God, of which he was already
beginning to catch glimpses, and even the whispers that ran about the
country places and of which Ralph no doubt could tell him much if he
chose, of the danger that threatened the religious houses, and of
Henry's intentions towards them--even these were but impotent cries of
the people raging round the throne of the Anointed.

So he knelt here now, pacified and content again, and thought with
something of pity of his brother dozing now no doubt before the parlour
fire, cramped by his poor ideals and dismally happy in his limitations.

His father, too, was content down below in the chapel. He himself had
at one time before his marriage looked towards the religious life; and
now that it had turned out otherwise had desired nothing more than that
he should be represented in that inner world of God's favourites by at
least one of his children. His daughter Margaret had written a week
earlier to say that her mind was turning that way, and now Christopher's
decision had filled up the cup of his desires. To have a priest for a
son, and above all one who was a monk as well was more than he had dared
to hope, though not to pray for; if he could not be one himself, at
least he had begotten one--one who would represent him before God, bring
a blessing on the house, and pray and offer sacrifice for his soul until
his time should be run out and he see God face to face. And Ralph would
represent him before men and carry on the line, and hand on the house to
a third generation--Ralph, at whom he had felt so sorely puzzled of
late, for he seemed full of objects and ambitions for which the father
had very little sympathy, and to have lost almost entirely that delicate
relation with home that was at once so indefinable and so real. But he
comforted himself by the thought that his elder son was not wholly
wasting time as so many of the country squires were doing round about,
absorbed in work that a brainless yeoman could do with better success.
Ralph at least was occupied with grave matters, in Cromwell's service
and the King's, and entrusted with high secrets the issue of which both
temporal and eternal it was hard to predict. And, no doubt, the knight
thought, in time he would come back and pick up the strands he had
dropped; for when a man had wife and children of his own to care for,
other businesses must seem secondary; and questions that could be
ignored before must be faced then.

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