The Star Chamber, Volume 1 by W. Harrison Ainsworth

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As they approached, Jocelyn recognised one of them as Lord Roos, whom he
had seen play so singular a part at Madame Bonaventure's ordinary. The
other was wholly unknown to him. But that he was a person of the utmost
distinction he felt convinced, as well from his haughty bearing and
sumptuous attire, as from the evident respect paid him by his companion.
In stature he was rather short, being somewhat under the ordinary
standard; but his figure was admirably proportioned, and was displayed
to the greatest advantage by his rich habiliments. His doublet was of
sea-green satin, embroidered with silver and black, with rich open
sleeves, and his Spanish cloak was of velvet of the same colour and
similarly embroidered. His hose were of tawny silk, and the plumes in
his bonnet black, striped with white. He was decorated with the order of
the Golden Fleece, and bore at his side a genuine blade of Toledo, with
a handle of rarest workmanship. Bound his throat he wore a large, triple
ruff, edged with pointed lace. His face was oval in shape, his
complexion of a rich olive hue, his eyes large, dark, and keen, his
features singularly handsome, and his looks penetrating. His hair was
raven-black, cut short, and removed from the forehead.

Lord Roos and his companion passed close to Jocelyn without appearing to
notice him; but they halted before Gillian, regarding her with insolent
admiration. Evidently she was the object that had brought them forth.
The poor damsel was terribly confused by their ardent glances and
libertine scrutiny, and blushed to her very temples. As to Dick
Taverner, he trembled with rage and jealousy, and began to repent having
brought his treasure into such a dangerous neighbourhood.

The person who seemed to be most struck with Gillian's charms was the
wearer of the Spanish mantle.

"En verdad!" he exclaimed, "that is the loveliest piece of rusticity I
have seen since I came to England. I thought mine eyes did not deceive
me, as to her beauty, when I caught sight of her from the Lord
Chamberlain's gallery."

"The Conde de Gondomar hath ever an eagle's eye for a pretty woman,"
Lord Roos replied, laughing.

"The Conde de Gondomar!" mentally ejaculated Jocelyn, who had overheard
what he said. "Why, this is he to whom the ring must be shown. The
opportunity must not be lost."

Accordingly, regardless of the impropriety of the proceeding, he
uncovered his head, and advancing towards the Spaniard said--

"I believe I have the honour of addressing the Conde de Gondomar?"

"What means this intrusion, Sir?" Lord Roos demanded insolently. "What
have you to say to his Excellency?"

"I bring him a token, my lord," the young man replied, exhibiting the
ring, given him by the masked horseman, to the ambassador.

"Ha!" exclaimed De Gondomar, glancing at the ring, and then regarding
Jocelyn steadfastly, "I must speak with this young man, my lord."

"And abandon the damsel?" demanded Lord Roos.

"No--no--you must take care of her," De Gondomar replied in a low tone.
"Can you not induce Lady Exeter to take her into her service?"

"I will try," Lord Roos replied. "And see!" he added, pointing down the
avenue, "the royal party is returning, so I can at once ascertain
whether her ladyship will second your Excellency's designs."

"Do so," said De Gondomar, "and I shall be for ever indebted to you.
This girl has quite taken my fancy, and I must not lose her. And now,
Sir," he added, stepping aside with Jocelyn, "you have brought me the
token from my assured agent, and I understand from it that you are a
person upon whom I may rely."

"In all that beseems a gentleman and a man of honour and loyalty your
Excellency may rely on me," Jocelyn replied.

"I shall require nothing inconsistent with those principles," the
Spanish Ambassador said. "This point disposed of, let me know how I can
serve you, for I presume you have some request to prefer?"

"Your Excellency can very materially serve me," Jocelyn returned. "I am
in danger."

"I thought as much," De Gondomar observed with a smile. "Since you have
placed yourself under my protection, I will do my best to hold you
harmless. But who is your enemy?"

"I have two deadly enemies, Sir Giles Mompesson and Sir Francis
Mitchell," Jocelyn rejoined.

"I know them well--instruments of Buckingham," said De Gondomar. "They
are indeed dangerous enemies."

"I have another yet more dangerous," returned Jocelyn. "I have reason to
fear that, by boldness of speech I have incurred the enmity of the
Marquis of Buckingham himself."

"Ah! this, indeed, is serious," said De Gondomar.

"I am threatened with arrest by the Star-Chamber," pursued Jocelyn; "so
your Excellency will perceive that my position is fraught with extreme
peril. Still I persuade myself, if I could obtain a hearing of the
King, I should be able to set my enemies at defiance and obtain my
right."

De Gondomar smiled somewhat scornfully.

"You will obtain little in that way," he said, "and your enemies will
crush you effectually. But you must explain to me precisely how you are
circumstanced, and I will then consider what can be done for you. And
begin by acquainting me with your name and condition, for as yet I am
entirely ignorant whom I am addressing."

Upon this Jocelyn succinctly related to the Ambassador all such
particulars of his history as have been laid before the reader. De
Gondomar listened to him with attention, and put some questions to him
as he proceeded. At its close his countenance brightened.

"You are in an awkward dilemma, it must be owned, Master Jocelyn
Mounchensey," he said. "But I think I can protect you in spite of them
all--in spite of Buckingham himself. Luckily, he is not at Theobalds at
present--so the coast is clear for action. The first blow is half the
battle. I must present you to the King without delay. And see, his
Majesty approaches. Stand close behind me, and act as I advise you by a
sign."

CHAPTER XX.

King James the First.

Meantime the royal cavalcade came slowly up the avenue. It was very
numerous, and all the more brilliant in appearance, since it comprised
nearly as many high-born dames as nobles. Amongst the distinguished
foreigners who with their attendants swelled the party were the Venetian
lieger-ambassador Giustiniano, and the Marquis de Tremouille, of the
family des Ursins, ambassador from France.

These exalted personages rode close behind the King, and one or the
other of them was constantly engaged in conversation with him.
Giustiniano had one of those dark, grave, handsome countenances
familiarized to us by the portraits of Titian and Tintoretto, and even
the King's jests failed in making him smile. He was apparelled entirely
in black velvet, with a cloak bordered with the costly fur of the black
fox. All his followers were similarly attired. The sombre Venetian
presented a striking contrast to his vivacious companion, the gay and
graceful De Tremouille, who glittered in white satin, embroidered with
leaves of silver, while the same colour and the same ornaments were
adopted by his retinue.

No order of precedence was observed by the court nobles. Each rode as
he listed. Prince Charles was absent, and so was the supreme favourite
Buckingham; but their places were supplied by some of the chief
personages of the realm, including the Earls of Arundel, Pembroke, and
Montgomery, the Marquis of Hamilton, and the Lords Haddington, Fenton,
and Doncaster. Intermingled with the nobles, the courtiers of lesser
rank, and the ambassadors' followers, were the ladies, most of whom
claimed attention from personal charms, rich attire, and the grace and
skill with which they managed their horses.

Perhaps the most beautiful amongst them was the young Countess of
Exeter, whose magnificent black eyes did great execution. The lovely
Countess was mounted on a fiery Spanish barb, given to her by De
Gondomar. Forced into a union with a gouty and decrepit old husband, the
Countess of Exeter might have pleaded this circumstance in extenuation
of some of her follies. It was undoubtedly an argument employed by her
admirers, who, in endeavouring to shake her fidelity to her lord, told
her it was an infamy that she should be sacrificed to such an old dotard
as he. Whether these arguments prevailed in more cases than one we shall
not inquire too nicely; but, if court-scandal may be relied on, they
did--Buckingham and De Gondomar being both reputed to have been her
lovers.

The last, however, in the list, and the one who appeared to be most
passionately enamoured of the beautiful Countess, and to receive the
largest share of her regard, was Lord Roos; and as this culpable
attachment and its consequences connect themselves intimately with our
history we have been obliged to advert to them thus particularly. Lord
Roos was a near relative of the Earl of Exeter; and although the infirm
and gouty old peer had been excessively jealous of his lovely young wife
on former occasions, when she had appeared to trifle with his honour, he
seemed perfectly easy and unsuspicious now, though there was infinitely
more cause for distrust. Possibly he had too much reliance on Lord
Roos's good feelings and principles to suspect him.

Very different was Lady Roos's conduct. This unhappy lady, whom we have
already mentioned as the daughter of Sir Thomas Lake, Secretary of
State, had the misfortune to be sincerely attached to her handsome but
profligate husband, whose neglect and frequent irregularities she had
pardoned, until the utter estrangement, occasioned by his passion for
the Countess of Exeter, filled her with such trouble, that, overpowered
at length by anguish, she complained to her mother Lady Lake,--an
ambitious and imperious woman, whose vanity had prompted her to bring
about this unfortunate match. Expressing the greatest indignation at the
treatment her daughter had experienced, Lady Lake counselled her to
resent it, undertaking herself to open the eyes of the injured Earl of
Exeter to his wife's infidelity; but she was dissuaded from her purpose
by Sir Thomas Lake. Though generally governed by his wife, Sir Thomas
succeeded, in this instance, in over-ruling her design of proceeding at
once to extremities with the guilty pair, recommending that, in the
first instance, Lord Roos should be strongly remonstrated with by Lady
Lake and her daughter, when perhaps his fears might be aroused, if his
sense of duty could not be awakened.

This final appeal had not yet been made; but an interview had taken
place between Lady Roos and her husband, at which, with many passionate
entreaties, she had implored him to shake off the thraldom in which he
had bound himself, and to return to her, when all should be forgiven and
forgotten,--but without effect.

Thus matters stood at present.

As we have seen, though the Countess of Exeter formed one of the chief
ornaments of the hawking party, Lord Roos had not joined it; his absence
being occasioned by a summons from the Conde de Gondomar, with some of
whose political intrigues he was secretly mixed up. Whether the Countess
missed him or not, we pretend not to say. All we are able to declare is,
she was in high spirits, and seemed in no mood to check the advances of
other aspirants to her favour. Her beautiful and expressive features
beamed with constant smiles, and her lustrous black eyes seemed to
create a flame wherever their beams alighted.

But we must quit this enchantress and her spells, and proceed with the
description of the royal party. In the rear of those on horseback walked
the falconers, in liveries of green cloth, with bugles hanging from the
shoulder; each man having a hawk upon his fist, completely 'tired in its
hood, bells, varvels, and jesses. At the heels of the falconers, and
accompanied by a throng of varlets, in russet jerkins, carrying staves,
came two packs of hounds,--one used for what was termed, in the language
of falconry, the Flight at the River,--these were all water-spaniels;
and the other, for the Flight at the Field. Nice music they made, in
spite of the efforts of the varlets in russet to keep them quiet.

Hawking, in those days, was what shooting is in the present;
fowling-pieces being scarcely used, if at all. Thus the varieties of the
hawk-tribe were not merely employed in the capture of pheasants,
partridges, grouse, rails, quails, and other game, besides water-fowl,
but in the chase of hares; and in all of these pursuits the falconers
were assisted by dogs. Game, of course, could only be killed at
particular seasons of the year; and wild-geese, wild-ducks, woodcocks,
and snipes in the winter; but spring and summer pastime was afforded by
the crane, the bustard, the heron, the rook, and the kite; while, at
the same periods, some of the smaller description of water-fowl offered
excellent sport on lake or river.

A striking and picturesque sight that cavalcade presented, with its
nodding plumes of many colours, its glittering silks and velvets, its
proud array of horsemen, and its still prouder array of lovely women,
whose personal graces and charms baffle description, while they invite
it. Pleasant were the sounds that accompanied the progress of the train:
the jocund laugh, the musical voices of women, the jingling of bridles,
the snorting and trampling of steeds, the baying of hounds, the shouts
of the varlets, and the winding of horns.

But having, as yet, omitted the principal figure, we must hasten to
describe him by whom the party was headed. The King, then, was mounted
on a superb milk-white steed, with wide-flowing mane and tail, and of
the easiest and gentlest pace. Its colour was set off by its red
chanfrein, its nodding crest of red feathers, its broad poitrinal with
red tassels, and its saddle with red housings. Though devoted to the
chase, as we have shown, James was but an indifferent horseman; and his
safety in the saddle was assured by such high-bolstered bows in front
and at the back, that it seemed next to impossible he could be shaken
out of them. Yet, in spite of all these precautions, accidents had
befallen him. On one occasion, Sir Symonds D'Ewes relates that he was
thrown headlong into a pond; and on another, we learn from a different
source that he was cast over his horse's head into the New River, and
narrowly escaped drowning, his boots alone being visible above the ice
covering the stream. Moreover the monarch's attire was excessively stiff
and cumbrous, and this, while it added to the natural ungainliness of
his person, prevented all freedom of movement, especially on horseback.
His doublet, which on the present occasion was of green velvet,
considerably frayed,--for he was by no means particular about the
newness of his apparel,--was padded and quilted so as to be
dagger-proof; and his hose were stuffed in the same manner, and
preposterously large about the hips. Then his ruff was triple-banded,
and so stiffly starched, that the head was fixed immovably amidst its
plaits.

Though not handsome, James's features were thoughtful and intelligent,
with a gleam of cunning in the eye, and an expression of sarcasm about
the mouth, and they contained the type of the peculiar physiognomy that
distinguished all his unfortunate line. His beard was of a yellowish
brown, and scantily covered his chin, and his thin moustaches were of a
yet lighter hue. His hair was beginning to turn gray, but his complexion
was ruddy and hale, proving that, but for his constant ebriety and
indulgence in the pleasures of the table, he might have attained a good
old age--if, indeed, his life was not unfairly abridged. His large eyes
were for ever rolling about, and his tongue was too big for his mouth,
causing him to splutter in utterance, besides giving him a disagreeable
appearance when eating; while his legs were so weak, that he required
support in walking. Notwithstanding these defects, and his general
coarseness of manner, James was not without dignity, and could, when he
chose, assume a right royal air and deportment. But these occasions were
rare. As is well known, his pedantry and his pretensions to superior
wisdom and discrimination, procured him the title of the "Scottish
Solomon." His general character will be more fully developed as we
proceed; and we shall show the perfidy and dissimulation which he
practised in carrying out his schemes, and tried to soften down under
the plausible appellation of "King-craft."

James was never seen to greater advantage than on occasions like the
present. His hearty enjoyment of the sport he was engaged in; his
familiarity with all around him, even with the meanest varlets by whom
he was attended, and for whom he had generally some droll nickname; his
complete abandonment of all the etiquette which either he or his master
of the ceremonies observed elsewhere; his good-tempered vanity and
boasting about his skill as a woodsman,--all these things created an
impression in his favour, which was not diminished in those who were not
brought much into contact with him in other ways. When hunting or
hawking, James was nothing more than a hearty country gentleman engaged
in the like sports.

The cavalcade came leisurely on, for the King proceeded no faster than
would allow the falconers to keep easily up with those on horseback. He
was in high good humour, and laughed and jested sometimes with one
ambassador, sometimes with the other, and having finished a learned
discussion on the manner of fleeing a hawk at the river and on the
field, as taught by the great French authorities, Martin, Malopin, and
Aime Cassian, with the Marquis de Tremouille, had just begun a similar
conversation with Giustiniano as to the Italian mode of manning,
hooding, and reclaiming a falcon, as practised by Messer Francesco
Sforzino Vicentino, when he caught sight of the Conde de Gondomar,
standing where we left him at the side of the avenue, on which he came
to a sudden halt, and the whole cavalcade stopped at the same time.

"Salud! Conde magnifico!" exclaimed King James, as the Spaniard advanced
to make his obeisance to him; "how is it that we find you standing under
the shade of the tree friendly to the vine,--_amictoe vitibus ulmi_ as
Ovid hath it? Is it that yon blooming Chloe," he continued, leering
significantly at Gillian, "hath more attraction for you than our court
dames? Troth! the quean is not ill-favoured; but ye ha' lost a gude
day's sport, Count, forbye ither losses which we sall na particularize.
We hae had a noble flight at the heron, and anither just as guid after
the bustard. God's santy! the run the lang-leggit loon gave us. Lady
Exeter, on her braw Spanish barb--we ken whose gift it is--was the only
one able to keep with us; and it was her leddyship's ain peregrine
falcon that checked the fleeing carle at last. By our faith the Countess
understands the gentle science weel. She cared not to soil her dainty
gloves by rewarding her hawk with a _soppa_, as his Excellency
Giustiniano would term it, of the bustard's heart, bluid, and brains.
But wha hae ye gotten wi' ye?" he added, for the first time noticing
Jocelyn.

"A young gentleman in whom I am much interested, and whom I would crave
permission to present to your Majesty," replied De Gondomar.

"Saul of our body, Count, the permission is readily granted," replied
James, evidently much pleased with the young man's appearance. "Ye shall
bring him to us in the privy-chamber before we gang to supper, and
moreover ye shall hae full licence to advance what you please in his
behoof. He is a weel-grown, weel-favoured laddie, almost as much sae as
our ain dear dog Steenie; but we wad say to him, in the words of the
Roman bard,

'O formose puer, nimium ne crede colori!'

Gude pairts are better than gude looks; not that the latter are to be
undervalued, but baith should exist in the same person. We shall soon
discover whether the young man hath been weel nurtured, and if all
correspond we shall not refuse him the light of our countenance."

"I tender your Majesty thanks for the favour you have conferred upon
him," replied De Gondomar.

"But ye have not yet tauld us the youth's name, Count?" said the King.

"Your Majesty, I trust, will not think I make a mystery where none is
needed, if I say that my protege claims your gracious permission to
preserve, for the moment, his incognito," De Gondomar replied. "When I
present him of course his name will be declared."

"Be it as you will, Count," James replied. "We ken fu' weel ye hae gude
reason for a' ye do. Fail not in your attendance on us at the time
appointed."

As De Gondomar with a profound obeisance drew back, the King put his
steed in motion. General attention having been thus called to Jocelyn,
all eyes were turned towards him, his appearance and attire were
criticised, and much speculation ensued as to what could be the Spanish
Ambassador's motive for undertaking the presentation.

Meanwhile, Lord Roos had taken advantage of the brief halt of the
hunting party to approach the Countess of Exeter, and pointing out
Gillian to her, inquired in a low tone, and in a few words, to which,
however, his looks imparted significance, whether she would take the
pretty damsel into her service as tire-woman or handmaiden. The Countess
seemed surprised at the request, and, after glancing at the Beauty of
Tottenham, was about to refuse it, when Lord Roos urged in a whisper,
"'T is for De Gondomar I ask the favour."

"In that case I readily assent," the Countess replied. "I will go speak
to the damsel at once, if you desire it. How pretty she is! No wonder
his inflammable Excellency should be smitten by her." And detaching her
barb, as she spoke, from the cavalcade, she moved towards Gillian,
accompanied by Lord Roos. The pretty damsel was covered with fresh
confusion at the great lady's approach; and was, indeed, so greatly
alarmed, that she might have taken to her heels, if she had been on the
ground, and not on the pillion behind her grandsire.

"Be not abashed, my pretty maiden," the Countess said, in a kind and
encouraging tone; "there is nothing to be afraid of. Aware that I am in
want of a damsel like yourself, to tire my hair and attend upon me, Lord
Roos has drawn my attention to you; and if I may trust to
appearances--as I think I may," she added, with a very flattering and
persuasive smile, "in your case--you are the very person to suit me,
provided you are willing to enter my service. I am the Countess of
Exeter."

"A Countess!" exclaimed Gillian. "Do you hear that, grandsire? The
beautiful lady is a countess. What an honour it would be to serve her!"

"It might be," the old man replied, with hesitation, and in a whisper;
"yet I do not exactly like the manner of it."

"Don't accept the offer, Gillian. Don't go," said Dick Taverner, whose
breast was full of uneasiness.

"Your answer, my pretty maiden?" the Countess said, with a winning
smile.

"I am much beholden to you, my lady," Gillian replied, "and it will
delight me to serve you as you propose--that is, if I have my
grandsire's consent to it."

"And the good man, I am sure, has your welfare too much at heart to
withhold it," the Countess replied. "But follow me to the palace, and we
will confer further upon the matter. Inquire for the Countess of
Exeter's apartments." And with another gracious smile, she rejoined the
cavalcade, leaving Lord Roos behind. He thanked her with a look for her
complaisance.

"O Gillian, I am sure ill will come of this," Dick Taverner exclaimed.

"Wherefore should it?" she rejoined, almost beside herself with delight
at the brilliant prospect suddenly opened before her. "My fortune is
made."

"You are right, my pretty damsel, it is," Lord Roos remarked. "Fail not
to do as the Countess has directed you, and I will answer for the rest."

"You hear what the kind young nobleman says, grandsire?" Gillian
whispered in his ear. "You cannot doubt his assurance?"

"I hear it all," old Greenford replied; "but I know not what to think. I
suppose we must go to the palace."

"To be sure we must," Gillian cried; "I will go there alone, if you will
not go with me."

Satisfied with what he had heard, Lord Roos moved away, nodding approval
at Gillian.

The cavalcade, as we have said, was once more in motion, but before it
had proceeded far, it was again, most unexpectedly, brought to a halt.

Suddenly stepping from behind a large tree which had concealed him from
view, a man in military habiliments, with grizzled hair and beard, and
an exceedingly resolute and stern cast of countenance, planted himself
directly in the monarch's path, and extending his hand towards him,
exclaimed, in a loud voice,

"Stand! O King!"

"Who art thou, fellow? and what wouldst thou?" demanded James, who had
checked his horse with such suddenness as almost to throw himself out
of his high-holstered saddle.

"I have a message to deliver to thee from Heaven," replied Hugh
Calveley.

"Aha!" exclaimed James, recovering in some degree, for he thought he had
a madman to deal with. "What may thy message be?"

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