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The King's Esquires: The Jewel of France, a fiction by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 23. A Royal Welcome |
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_ CHAPTER TWENTY THREE. A ROYAL WELCOME There was plenty of colour and brightness in the group awaiting the coming of Francis and his travel-stained followers. Courtiers stood around with their gay, picturesque garments rendered more striking by the sunset glow, vivified by passing through a stained-glass window which shone down upon the central figure of the group, a big, bluff, rather heavy-faced, typically English yeoman in expression, upon whom Francis fixed his eyes and kept them there as upon the principal picture, all the rest being merely frame. Irrespective of his position, the visitor would have known him at once from the descriptions he had heard from ambassadors to the English Court of what the English King was like; and forgetful of everything else, all courtly custom, his secret mission, and his assumed character, Francis made a slight obeisance and stepped forward eagerly to greet his brother King. On the other hand King Henry gazed curiously at his visitor who bore such worthy credentials, and he put out his hand as he stood drawing himself up proudly, expecting to see the Comte sink upon one knee and press it to his lips; but, to his utter astonishment, Francis came close up, apparently not in the slightest degree dazzled or abashed by his magnificence, to stop short when within easy reach, and, instead of sinking down, exclaimed, "Aha! The brave, soldierly King Hal!" clapped both hands upon his brother monarch's shoulders, let them glide quickly onward till they joined behind the King's neck, and the next moment the embrace tightened as he kissed the plump cheeks that were beginning to flame smartly in turn. "This," he cried, "is a great joy that pays me for my long journey here." The English King drew back in astonishment, and glanced quickly to right and left of his assembled courtiers, as if asking the meaning of this outrage, this strange conduct so completely in opposition to all Court etiquette. He was completely stunned for the moment, and his inclination was to exclaim, "Is this man mad?" But as he looked round it was to see face after face expanded or contracted by the mirthful feeling within his followers' breasts, and then rendered grotesque by their owners' efforts to turn solemn and serious once more. A change came over the King's countenance. It was as a reflection of the smiles upon his courtiers' lips. "He is a Frenchman," he said to himself, "and does not understand our ways, though I should have thought--" he continued to himself, and then broke off, to follow the example set him by his visitor, and clumsily and with ill grace returned the salute, before bidding him welcome in English, which Francis understood fairly well, turning occasionally to Leoni, who stood close behind him, ready to interpret whenever his master was at fault. The interview went off very well, for Henry took at once to the bright, vivacious French monarch, finding in him one ready to talk eagerly about his pursuits, the pair being well in accord as to their tastes; and the meeting was nearly brought to an end by the King telling his visitor that the letter from his brother Francis was sufficient to make one of his favourite nobles quite welcome to the hospitality of the English Court. "Believe me, I am glad to welcome my royal brother's favourite. A suite of apartments will be prepared for you, sir, by my people, and a place on my right hand at my table. Rest assured that your stay shall be made pleasant here." Francis bowed and smiled, and seemed as if about to supplement his embrace; but the King went on speaking. "But what is this I hear about an insult offered to one who occupies the position of an ambassador, and whose person should be sacred? I hear, Comte, that you were attacked by one of my officers and his companions, here, close to my palace gates. Is it true?" Francis shrugged his shoulders nearly to his ears with a half contemptuous smile upon his lips. "Oh, a mere nothing," he said; "a little sword-play." "A mere nothing!" cried Henry fiercely. "An insult to one of my guests a mere nothing!" "Oh, don't speak of it," replied Francis, laughing. "I was not surprised." "You amaze me, sir!" cried the King. "Indeed, Sire? Why, we always knew in France that there is nothing an Englishman loves better than to fight. I came to your gates unannounced, and two or three of your bluff soldiers--officers, you say--exclaimed amongst themselves, 'What does this Frenchman here, trying to enter our master's court?' As your defenders, they drew, to try and drive us away. But we would not be driven. Then your gallant escort arrived. They found out the mistake, and it was all at an end. I congratulate you, my--" Francis coughed, as if to get rid of an impediment in his speech, or as if he were suffering from some forgetfulness of the English words he ought to use--"my noble English sovereign, upon having such brave defenders at your gates." "I thank you, sir," cried Henry. "But this is too much! These soldiery assume more than is their right. I have heard before of this man's brawls. He is a fighter out of employment now, for we are at peace, and I will not have him insult my guests." "But you will pardon him, Sire?" said Francis. "We were not hurt. Next time we meet, your brave officer will doubtless make amends." "He must! He shall!" cried Henry hotly. "And--" "Sire," interrupted Francis, smiling, "I am your visitor. Grant me the first favour that I ask." "Anything," cried the King, smiling in his turn. "Then you will forgive this brave man?" The King bowed. "I wish you to be perfectly welcome at my Court, Comte; and now you would like to retire to your rooms to rid yourselves of your travel-stains. Later on I look to meet you at my board." Francis bowed in turn, and drew back, seeing that the audience was at an end, and half turning saw that Denis had approached. "Yes, boy?" he said. "The horses, Comte," whispered Denis. "Ah, to be sure! They must not be left there." And he turned, to catch the King's eye fixed on him searchingly. "Yes, Comte," he said; "you were about to speak?" "It is nothing, Sire," replied Francis. "My esquire reminded me that our steeds were at the hostelry, and--" "Ah, you love horses!" cried the King. "So do I, and the hunt as well. My stables are at your service, and my Master of the Horse will see that they are well bestowed. Once more, sir, the favourite of my brother Francis is welcome here. I look to see you again to-night." _ |
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