The Princess Who Rode on a Mule Page 2

  “Saints preserve us,” said Master Cope. He would not let Hadley leave the coach box, and by the time he had jumped down himself, they were surrounded by a cluster of peasants, not solemn now, but alternately laughing and jesting, and shielding their ears with their hands.

  They made mock of Robin, but offered no violence to him; indeed, he was a head taller than the tallest of the men. Hadley, they did not seem to notice, until she made to climb down from the coach box, whereupon a brawny youth grasped her by the waist and lifted her down.

  By then the mule was so maddened that not even its mistress could quiet it. She would not leave it behind; nor would it step one foot forward. At length, a farmer insisted that it should ride within the coach. This was feasible, as the coach was large and the mule stood not more than twelve hands high. Though Robin protested, several men came forward and swiftly took hold of the beast.

  The mule was soon overpowered and thrust through the coach doors. Once inside, it seemed to grow calmer. It did not kick or cry. But when Robin began to drive the horses forward, it pressed its muzzle against the window and rolled its dark eyes as if distracted. The peasants paid mock homage to their new “Liege,” following the coach with jeers and laughter almost until it reached the gatehouse. Yet when the coach passed through the portcullis, the throng stood back, and none tried to come within the courtyard.

  Robin and Hadley drove to the stables, alighted from the coach, and stayed to watch as the beasts were fed and watered. It pleased them to stand side by side, and if their two hands did touch from time to time, none but they had knowledge of it.

  The mule, now covered with the wool blanket it favored, was quiet and easy and bent a fond eye upon its mistress. It did not bridle even when four black stallions of proud mien and surpassing handsomeness were led past its stall. But Hadley was disquieted, for she knew that the stallions belonged to Lord Vardis. She thought, suddenly, of the parchment the trader had given her, but it was nowhere to be seen.

  ~~~~

  A few days passed. More at Court fell ill, including Princess Joan, who developed a fever and could not leave her chamber for days. Peasants no longer came to the palace gate, and ‘twas believed that they too had sickened. Indeed, ‘twas whispered that mayhap the plague had taken hold and was spreading throughout the populace.

  Lord Vardis and the Baron of Comberlane were oft closeted with the King and his counselors in a private chamber. As he served the men, Robin Cope heeded what they said most carefully, although his large visage betrayed no comprehension.

  “’Tis not rebellion,” said the Baron one day, “For they do no violence and make no threats.”

  “They stop their work and speak of liberty,” said Lord Vardis, smiling gently.

  “He hath the semblance of an angel,” thought Robin. “With his face so young and fine, and his hair so golden. And yet he would have none happy except himself.”

  “Tom Browne shall soon be quelled by sword or other means,” continued his Lordship.

  “He is not to be found,” said the King.

  “I shall summon my knights, and they shall bring him to earth.”

  “Nay!” shouted the King. “Your knights shall find no shelter here!”

  “His Majesty’s soldiers shall defend us well enough,” pronounced the Baron, and the King’s counselors pulled at their beards and nodded.

  “I speak not of defense, but of honor,” said Lord Vardis, fixing his clear blue eyes in turn on the Baron, the King, and every member of the assembly. “In my domain,” he said, “the farmer keeps to his plow, the miller to his grindstone, and the tailor to his needle. And if they do not, they are slain, and their wives and babes too. And so is sloth ended and order restored. I am a faithful servant of his Majesty.”

  “Their wives and babes,” murmured the King, as Robin replenished the wine in his glass.

  “They are as far beneath us as the beasts of the field,” said Lord Vardis. “Is it not so, good Master Cope? Art thou not an ox?”

  “His father was a knight belike,” said his Majesty.

  “Methinks his father was not a knight,” said Lord Vardis. “Methinks good Robin is an ox.”

  Robin’s face reddened, but he said naught. “How weak and old my Liege has grown,” he thought, as he filled Lord Vardis’s glass. “Else he would not brook such contradiction.”

  ~~~~

  Late that night, Hadley was roused from a sound sleep by a rapping at her chamber door. ‘Twas her maid, with a summons from the King.

  She dressed in haste, and not a quarter of an hour later, stood before the King and his advisors in the Great Hall. Her tresses fell down her back, unplaited, and her eyelids drooped with weariness.

  “As all here do know,” said the King, addressing those assembled. “The Queen, our most excellent Consort, hath denied us that for which we yearn most—a son. This crown is of rare splendor, and yet ‘tis a heavy thing. How this gold band doth press against the brow, causing great pain and sowing confusion amongst our thoughts so that they skirmish one against the other. Had we an heir, we should have relinquished our scepter ere now….And yet we shall be patient.”

  He stopped speaking suddenly, and stared straight ahead, as if no more was to be said. The large chamber was silent.

  At length, the Baron of Comberlane coughed and said, “My Liege, you were speaking of an heir.”

  “Ah, yes,” said the King, turning his head toward Hadley. “Daughter, methinks you shall wed and bear a son.”

  Hadley started, and nearly stumbled.

  “Nay, look up, girl! Lord Vardis and the Baron of Comberlane would each have thee for wife. What say you? Whom do you love best?”

  “Lord Vardis is wicked,” thought Hadley. “But if I say ‘the Baron,’ mayhap Father shall choose his Lordship because I dared to speak.”

  She cast her eyes about fearfully. The Queen was not present, nor were any ladies. Twenty men stood or sat in the vast Hall, but only Robin Cope, who rose like an elm amidst a thicket of boxwood, returned her glance. He smiled at Hadley, then moved forward to stand beside the King’s great chair.

  “Sire,” he said, bending down so that his lips were close to the King’s ear. “Methinks her Highness is not of an age to wed.”

  The King stared at the Princess doubtfully.

  “She is but thirteen, my Liege,” murmured Robin.

  “Thy words are false, Master Cope,” said Lord Vardis, smiling. “The fair Princess hath seen seventeen summers. If thou wert not an ox, I would counsel his Majesty to have thee hanged as a lying dog.”

  Robin stepped back, but not before the King had raised his iron scepter and dealt a blow. The Steward flinched and grasped one arm, but did not cry out.

  His Majesty turned to Hadley. “By my troth, thou hast years enow! Say whom thou wouldst have!”

  Hadley dropped her eyes and said naught.

  “Foh! Then I shall speak for thee,” said the King. He gazed in turn at the two contenders, slowly taking the measure of each. Lord Vardis’s handsome face showed no emotion, but the Baron leaned forward with a look that was both avid and filled with dread.

  “Thou shalt have Comberlane, my girl,” said his Majesty at last. “Thou shalt have Comberlane…that his great age may stand in balance to thy youth. And when thou hast borne thy first son, thy husband shall be appointed Regent of this land, and he shall reign until such time as my grandson comes of age.…And I…I shall go with my Queen to Basingham Manor and live in a style most plain and yet befitting a King.”

  ~~~~

  Though he had placed his seal on the marriage contract, and though the wedding was to be held in less than one month’s time, the Baron neither spoke to his prospective bride nor sought out her company. Princess Joan hoped that he would treat Hadley kindly after they were wed; Ingrid thought his passion for gold would keep him from troubling her at all; and Queen Maud prayed that once the Baron had attained the throne, Hadley might be permitted to come to her family at Basingham.<
br />
  “For she is too young, too young,” mourned the poor Queen.

  Hadley herself thought little about the Baron. It seemed to her that she had naught to gain or lose by such a marriage and, in any case, it could not be helped. ‘Twas mid-February and still cold, yet many a day dawned golden, and as she walked or rode her mule, the Princess was beguiled by snowdrops, crocuses, and the promise of new-grown grass. She fell into a kind of dreaming, and to all appearances was as calm and untroubled as she had ever been.

  Only Master Cope saw a change in her, for she did not seem to like him as well as she had before, and always turned aside when he came near. At last he decided that he must speak with her, and found an opportunity early one morn, when she went for a walk in the garden.

  “Princess, I would serve thee,” he said, stepping in front of her to block her path.

  “I know not how.”

  “There is an Abbey,” said Robin slowly. ‘Tis known as Wilgefortis, and it lies but a stone’s throw from the North border.”

  “’Tis far.”

  “‘Twould be a journey of seven nights, but I can arrange for thy conveyance thither. And should the King’s men come nigh, thou couldst flee to Dunclyden, for Queen Mary is called merciful, and methinks would grant thee refuge.”

  “Nay,” said Hadley.

  “This Baron is ambitious.”

  “Aye.”

  “He cannot be trusted.”

  “Aye.”

  “Thou wouldst stay, it seems, but I know not why.”

  “Why dost thou stay, Robin? Thy face is marked from Father’s blows.”

  “Where would I go?”

  “A man may go where he likes. Why seek thee not thy kinfolk?”

  “I have no kin,” said Master Cope, shaking his large head. “My sire and dam were taken by the plague when I was a young lad.”

  “I had heard that thy father was killed in battle. But howe’er it was, surely thou couldst claim the estate that is rightfully thine. Queen Mary is said to be just.”

  “I am Glerny born, and my father a humble tradesman, though not unlettered.”

  “’Tis hard to credit,” Hadley said, her brown eyes wide with surprise.

  “By my troth, ‘tis so. I was reared not far from Wilgefortis Abbey. None has heard my tale ere now, but thou shalt hear it, if thou wilt.”

  “Aye,” said Hadley.

  “Upon my father’s death,” said Robin, “I apprenticed to a mason. He was as hard and cruel a man as I have ever known. One day I fled from him and followed a band of soldiers into battle. By good chance, I was not slain, but managed to hide until ‘twas nearly sunset and all had left the field. Then I crept out and found a corpse, and stripped it. ‘Twas base thievery, but my clothes were all in tatters and the soles of my boots worn through. I left the corpse his doublet and his ring, that he might be known, and took shelter behind a hillock, where I fell into slumber.

  “The next morn, I awoke to find myself held captive by two of the King’s own knights. My garb bespoke Dunclyden, and I did not give my name, lest I be returned to my master. ‘Twould be better, I thought, to die at the hands of good men, than to live and serve the devil. But I was not slain, and my good Liege hath kept me at Court these many years.”

  “There are some who call my father wicked.”

  “Aye,” said Robin, pulling a bit of parchment from his doublet. “Many oppose his rule, and belike they shall oppose the Baron also—”

  “—That paper! ‘Tis like the one I lost!”

  “There are many such. ‘Twas printed in vast quantities.”

  “I would see it.”

  “‘Tis seditious,” said Robin, unrolling the parchment. “Only hear. ‘His Majesty hath imposed hardship and suffering upon his people, through heavy taxation and unjust laws.’”

  “What more is said?”

  “Much more, but the marrow is thus: ‘In the eyes of God, no man or woman is higher than another. The King must abdicate!’”

  “How then shall Glerny be governed?”

  Robin handed Hadley the parchment, and she began to read it to herself.

  “It says the people must choose their own ruler,” she said at last.

  “’Twas authored by a man known as Tom Browne. He hath long been sowing discontent throughout this land.”

  “I have met him! He himself gave me the paper that I had!”

  “’Tis a marvel that thou hast seen his face, for he is slippery as an eel. None can lay hands upon him. Else would he have been slain or jailed ere now.”

  “He seemed a quick and able kind of man. And there is much sense in what is written here.”

  “Aye,” said Robin, looking off into the distance. “His words are deft and sure, though they be treasonous. Would that I myself knew how to act. Trouble is brewing, and I know not from whence it may come. Lord Vardis desirest much the crown, and many knights do serve him. If they should come to Court, it may go hard with us.”

  “Father hath a strong and vigorous army.”

  “The Abbey walls are a better shield.”

  “If I fled from here, I know not what would become of my mother or my sisters. Methinks Joan would be compelled to wed the Baron, and that would much grieve her, for she hath pledged to marry James.”

  “I see that thou art resolved,” said Robin, retrieving the parchment. “I shall put this in the fire….And if Tom Browne should cross thy path again, do not parlay with him, lest he bid thee join his band of rebels.”

  “Thou art an obstinate maid,” he added under his breath, as he turned away.

  ~~~~

  Three days later, the Baron died. He was found at dawn, lying stiff and cold in his bed. Mayhap he had contracted the catarrh suffered by many at Court, and it had proven fatal to him. Or perchance he had perished of gout, a weakening of the heart, or some other such malady, for he was far from young. However it was, the King desired Princess Hadley’s presence, and she was soon summoned to the Great Hall.

  Pale light streamed through the lozenge-shaped casements lining the outer wall of the Hall, gilding the fair locks of Lord Vardis as he knelt before the King. Two of his Lordship’s henchmen, dressed in scarlet tunics and black breeches, stood behind their master and held up the hem of his dark velvet cloak so that it did not touch the floor. The King bade Lord Vardis to rise, and gestured to Hadley to come closer.

  Hadley scarcely heard her father’s proclamation. Nor did she see the distressed faces of her mother and sisters. Nor did she seem to heed his Lordship’s touch, as he raised her small hand to his lips.

  She stood as still as stone, her face showing naught of what she felt, nor even any semblance of comprehension. “Were I to seek a bride through all Glerny,” Lord Vardis thought. “I ne’er should find one stupider than she!”

  “What shall I do?” was all that she could think, for it seemed to her that every way was barred.

  Lord Vardis’s gaze was fixed upon her face, and his mouth was formed into a smile. He kept her hand in his, and spoke words of love in a resounding voice. She could do naught but drop her eyes and watch the ray of sun that crossed his boots and turned their tips blood red.

  Then came a sudden sound that jolted Hadley and stemmed the tide of his Lordship’s eloquence. All eyes turned to Master Cope, who had entered the Great Hall with unusual force and energy, grasping the arm of a small man in a sable doublet and urging him toward the King.

  “Prithee speak!” exhorted Robin. “His Majesty shall hear all!”

  The man made a low bow. Hadley knew his face, but not his name.

  “Who stands before us, good Robin?” asked the King, with unexpected mildness.

  “Comberlane’s valet, Sire. He hath come to tell of the Baron’s last hours.”

  “We shall hear him,” said King Valentine, smiling.

  “Your gracious Majesty,” said the valet, bowing again. “My lord, the Baron, was a hearty man, with a vigor that belied his years. Yestermorn, he awoke quite well and r
emained so all the day. But soon after supper, he became afflicted with such grievous pains and vertigo that he bade me assist him to his chamber. He dropped onto his bed like one entranced, and fell into a slumber so profound that he did not awaken e’en when I pulled off his boots, though ‘twas an irksome business, for there was swelling in the feet. He ne’er did wake again.”

  “Thou hast served thy Master loyally, and here is a purse for thee,” said the King, proffering a handful of silver.

  “Your Majesty!” cried Robin, as the valet accepted the coins with a grateful bow, and stepped aside. “This tale has another import. The Baron was well until he supped. Belike he was poisoned! Mayhap his Lordship did the foul deed, for they were seated side by side at table!”

  “Nay!” said the King, lifting one hand to forestall Lord Vardis from speaking. “’Tis a rank accusation, and we opine ‘tis false! We know not what thou canst mean by it, Robin Cope.”

  “Sire, many of your knights and soldiers are abroad, sent forth at his Lordship’s instigation—“

  “—To quench the sedition that springs forth in every quarter of our dominion—”

  “—But now we are ill-defended! Mayhap his Lordship means to seize the throne by unlawful means!”

  The King looked doubtfully at Lord Vardis, and a shadow of fear passed across his face.

  Lord Vardis smiled and made a sweeping bow. “Thou hast my allegiance, your Majesty. But yon great ox would have my bride and all the realm, it seems,” he said. “Come hither, Ox, and speak no more lies against me. For I can prove thou art both lecherous and full of treachery. Thou wouldst repay our Sovereign’s many favors by debasing his daughter and consorting with a band of ruffians who mean to thrust a sword into his noble heart.”

  Robin neither spoke nor moved, but kept his gaze fixed on Lord Vardis’s face. At a sign from his Lordship, the two men in red quickly stepped forward and seized the Steward, pinning his arms behind his back.

  “What shall be done with traitors, my Liege?” asked his Lordship, stepping toward Robin.

  Master Cope did not see the dagger that Lord Vardis stealthily removed from the sheath at his side, but mayhap he saw some alteration in his Lordship’s mien, for at the instant that Lord Vardis raised his slim white hand to strike, Robin wrested his own right arm free and dealt his Lordship such a powerful blow that he dropped onto the stone floor and lay still. The dagger fell beside him with a clatter.