The Star Chamber, Volume 2 by W. Harrison Ainsworth

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"Impossible," she answered. "I could not reconcile such a course to my
conscience, or to my reverence for my father's memory."

"There is still another course open to you," he pursued, "if you choose
to adopt it; and that is, to take a stop which shall make the fulfilment
of this promise impossible."

"I understand you," she replied; "but that is equally out of the
question. Often and often have I thought over this matter, and with much
uneasiness; but I cannot relieve myself of the obligation imposed upon
me."

"O Aveline!" cried Sir Jocelyn. "If you allow yourself, by any fancied
scruples, to be forced into a marriage repugnant to your feelings, you
will condemn both yourself and me to misery."

"I know it--I feel it; and yet there is no escape," she cried, "Were I
to act on your suggestions, and fly from this threatened danger, or
remove it altogether by a marriage with you--were I to disobey my
father, I should never know a moment's peace."

There was a brief pause, interrupted only by her sobs. At length Sir
Jocelyn exclaimed quickly,

"Perhaps, we may be unnecessarily alarming ourselves, and this may only
be a trick of Sir Giles Mompesson. He may have heard of the promise you
have made to your father, and may try to frighten you. But whoever is
put forward must substantiate his claim."

As those words were uttered, there was a slight noise in the apartment,
and looking up, they beheld the dusky figure of Clement Lanyere, masked
and cloaked, as was his wont, standing beside them.

"You here?" cried Sir Jocelyn, in astonishment.

"Ay," replied the promoter; "I am come to tell you that this is no idle
fear,--that the claim _will_ be made, and _will_ be substantiated."

"Ah!" exclaimed Aveline, in a tone of anguish.

"You will not seek to evade it, I know, young mistress," replied the
promoter; "and therefore, as you have truly said, there is no escape."

"Only let me know the claimant's name," cried Sir Jocelyn, "and I will
engage he shall never fulfill his design."

"O no; this must not be--you must not resort to violence," said
Aveline. "I will never consent to owe my deliverance to such means."

"You shall have all the information you require after the jousts on
Thursday," said Lanyere; "and let the thought strengthen your arm in the
strife, for if you fail, Aveline Calveley will have no protector in the
hour of need."

With this, he departed as suddenly and mysteriously as he had come.

CHAPTER VIII.

Whitehall.

The Tilt-yard at Whitehall, where the jousting was appointed to take
place, was situated on the westerly side of the large area in front of
the old Banqueting House (destroyed by fire soon after the date of this
history, and replaced by the stately structure planned by Inigo Jones,
still existing), and formed part of a long range of buildings
appertaining to the palace, and running parallel with it in a northerly
direction from Westminster, devoted to purposes of exercise and
recreation, and including the Tennis-court, the Bowling-alley, the
Manage, and the Cock-pit.

A succession of brick walls, of various heights, and surmounted by roofs
of various forms and sizes, marked the position of these buildings, in
reference to Saint James's Park, which they skirted on the side next to
King Street. They were mainly, if not entirely erected, in 1532 by Henry
VIII., when, after his acquisition from Wolsey, by forfeiture, of
Whitehall, he obtained by exchange from the Abbot and Convent of
Westminister all their uninclosed land contiguous to his newly-acquired
palace, and immediately fenced it round, and converted it into a park.

To a monarch so fond of robust sports and manly exercises of all kinds
as our bluff Harry, a tilt-yard was indispensable; and he erected one on
a grand scale, and made it a place of constant resort. Causing a space
of one hundred and fifty yards in length and fifty in width to be
inclosed and encircled by lofty walls, he fixed against the inner side
large scaffolds, containing two tiers of seats, partitioned from each
other like boxes in a theatre, for the accommodation of spectators. At
the southern extremity of the inclosure he reared a magnificent gallery,
which he set apart for his consort and the ladies in attendance upon
her. This was decorated with velvet, and hung with curtains of cloth of
gold. On grand occasions, when all the court was present, the whole of
the seats on the scaffolds, previously described, were filled with
bright-eyed beauties, whose looks and plaudits stimulated to deeds of
high emprise the knights, who styled themselves their "servants," and
besought "favours" from them in the shape of a scarf, a veil, a sleeve,
a bracelet, a ringlet, or a knot of ribands. At such times Henry himself
would enter the lists; and, in his earlier days, and before he became
too unwieldy for active exertion, no ruder antagonist with the lance or
sword could be found than he. Men indeed, existed in his days, very
different in hardihood of frame and personal strength from the silken
sybarites, enervated by constant riot and dissipation, who aped the
deeds of arms of their grandfathers in the time of James the First.

But the tilt-yard was by no means neglected by Elizabeth. This
lion-hearted queen encouraged a taste for chivalrous displays, and took
almost as much delight in such exhibitions as her stalwart sire. During
her long reign no festivity was thought complete unless jousting was
performed. The name of the gallant Sir Philip Sidney need only be
mentioned, to show that she possessed at least one perfect "mirror of
chivalry" amongst her courtiers; but her chief favourites, Essex and
Leicester, were both distinguished for knightly prowess. Many a lance
was splintered by them in her honour. When the French Embassy arrived in
London to treat of a marriage between Elizabeth and the Duc d'Anjou, and
when a grand temporary banqueting-house, three hundred and thirty feet
long, and covered with canvas, was improvised for the occasion, a
magnificent tournament was given in the tilt-yard in honour of the
distinguished visitors. Old Holinshed tells us, that--"the gallery or
place at the end of the tilt-yard, adjoining to her Majesty's house at
Whitehall, where, as her person should be placed, was called, and not
without cause, the Castle or Fortress of Perfect Beauty, for as much as
her highness should be there included." And he also gives a curious
description of the framework used by the besiegers of the fortress.
"They had provided," he says, "a frame of wood, which was covered with
canvas, and painted outwardly in such excellent order, as if it had been
very natural earth or mould, and carried the name of a rolling-trench,
which went on wheels which way soever the persons within did drive it.
Upon the top thereof were placed two cannons of wood, so passing well
coloured, as they seemed to be, indeed, two fair field pieces of
ordnance; and by them were placed two men for gunners, clothed in
crimson sarcenet, with their baskets of earth for defence of their
bodies by them. And also there stood on the top of the trench an
ensign-bearer, in the same suit with the gunners, displaying his ensign,
and within the said trench was cunningly conveyed divers kinds of most
excellent music against the Castle of Beauty. These things thus all in
readiness, the challengers approached, and came down the stable toward
the tilt-yard." The challengers were the Earl of Arundel, Lord Windsor,
Sir Philip Sidney, and Sir Fulke Greville; and the defenders were very
numerous, and amongst them was the doughty Sir Harry Lee, who, as the
"unknown knight," broke "six staves right valiantly." All the speeches
made by the challengers and defenders are reported by Holinshed, who
thus winds up his description of the first day's triumph:--"These
speeches being ended, both they and the rest marched about the
tilt-yard, and so going back to the nether end thereof, prepared
themselves to run, every one in his turn, each defendant six courses
against the former challengers, who performed their parts so valiantly
on both sides, that their prowess hath demerited perpetual memory, and
worthily won honour, both to themselves and their native country, as
fame hath the same reported." And of the second day he thus
writes:--"Then went they to the tourney, where they did very nobly, as
the shivering of the swords might very well testify; and after that to
the barriers, where they lashed it out lustily, and fought courageously,
as if the Greeks and Trojans had dealt their deadly dole. No party was
spared, no estate excepted, but each knight endeavoured to win the
golden fleece, that expected either fame or the favour of his mistress,
which sport continued all the same day." These pageantries were of
frequent occurrence, and the pages of the picturesque old chronicler
above-cited abound with descriptions of them. Yet, in spite of the
efforts of Elizabeth to maintain its splendour undiminished, the star of
chivalry was rapidly declining, to disappear for ever in the reign of
her successor.

The glitter of burnished steel, the clash of arms, the rude encounter,
and all other circumstances attendant upon the arena of martial sport,
that had given so much delight to his predecessors, afforded little
pleasure to James; as how should they, to a prince whose constitutional
timidity was so great that he shuddered at the sight of a drawn sword,
and abhorred the mimic representations of warfare! Neither were the
rigorous principles of honour on which chivalry was based, nor the
obligations they imposed, better suited to him. Too faithless by nature
to adopt the laws of a Court of Honour, he derided the institution as
obsolete. Nevertheless, as trials of skill and strength in the tilt-yard
were still in fashion, he was compelled, though against his inclination,
to witness them, and in some degree to promote them. The day of his
accession to the throne--the 24th March--was always celebrated by
tilting and running at the ring, and similar displays were invariably
made in honour of any important visitor to the court.

Even in this reign something of a revival of the ancient ardour for
knightly pastimes took place during the brief career of Prince Henry,
who, if he had lived to fulfil the promise of his youth, would have
occupied a glorious page in his country's annals, and have saved it, in
all probability, from its subsequent convulsions and intestine strife.
Inuring himself betimes to the weight of armour, this young prince
became exceedingly expert in the use of all weapons--could toss the
pike, couch the lance, and wield the sword, the battle-axe, or the mace,
better than any one of his years. The tilt-yard and the tennis-court
were his constant places of resort, and he was ever engaged in robust
exercises--too much so, indeed, for a somewhat feeble constitution.
Prince Henry indulged the dream of winning back Calais from France, and
would no doubt have attempted the achievement if he had lived.

Of a more reflective cast of mind than his elder brother, and with
tastes less martial, Prince Charles still sedulously cultivated all the
accomplishments, proper to a cavalier. A perfect horseman, and well
skilled in all the practices of the tilt-yard--he was a model of
courtesy and grace; but he had not Prince Henry's feverish and consuming
passion for martial sports, nor did he, like him, make their pursuit the
sole business of life. Still, the pure flame of chivalry burnt within
his breast, and he fully recognised its high and ennobling principles,
and accepted the obligations they imposed. And in this respect, as in
most others, he differed essentially from his august father.

The tilt-yard, and the various buildings adjoining it, already
enumerated, were approached by two fine gates, likewise erected by Henry
VIII., one of which, of extraordinary beauty, denominated the Cock-pit
Gate, was designed by the celebrated painter, Hans Holbein. From an
authority we learn that it was "built of square stone, with small
squares of flint boulder, very neatly set; and that it had also
battlements, and four lofty towers, the whole being enriched with
bustos, roses, and portcullises." The other gate, scarcely less
beautiful, and styled the Westminster Gate, was adorned with statues and
medallions, and the badges of the royal house of Tudor carved in stone.

Viewed from the summit of one of the tall turrets of the Holbein Gate,
the appearance of the palace of Whitehall, at the period of our history,
was exceedingly picturesque and striking--perhaps more so than at any
previous or subsequent epoch, since the various structures of which it
was composed were just old enough to have acquired a time-honoured
character, while they were still in tolerable preservation.

Let us glance at it, then, from this point, and first turn towards the
great Banqueting House, which presents to us a noble and lengthened
facade, and contains within a magnificent and lofty hall, occupying
nearly its full extent, besides several other apartments of regal size
and splendour. In this building, in former days, with a retinue as
princely as that of the King himself, Wolsey so often and so sumptuously
entertained his royal master, that he at last provoked his anger by his
ostentation, and was bereft of his superb abode. Satisfied with our
examination of the Banqueting House, we will suffer our gaze to fall
upon the broad court beyond it, and upon the numerous irregular but
picturesque and beautiful structures by which that court--quadrangle it
cannot be called, for no uniformity is observed in the disposition of
the buildings--is surrounded. Here the eye is attracted by a confused
mass of roofs, some flat, turreted and embattled, some pointed, with
fantastical gables and stacks of tall chimneys--others with cupolas and
tall clock-towers--others with crocketed pinnacles, and almost all with
large gilt vanes. A large palace is a city in miniature; and so is it
with Whitehall. It has two other courts besides the one we are
surveying; equally crowded round with buildings, equally wanting in
uniformity, but equally picturesque. On the east it extends to Scotland
Yard, and on the west to the open space in front of Westminster Hall.
The state apartments face the river, and their large windows look upon
the stream.

Quitting the exalted position we have hitherto assumed, and viewing
Whitehall from some bark on the Thames, we shall find that it has a
stern and sombre look, being castellated, in part, with towers like
those over Traitor's Gate, commanding the stairs that approach it from
the river. The Privy Gardens are beautifully laid out in broad terrace
walks, with dainty parterres, each having a statue in the midst, while
there is a fountain in the centre of the inclosure. In addition to the
gardens, and separated from them by an avenue of tall trees, is a
spacious bowling-green. Again changing our position, we discover, on the
south of the gardens, and connected with the state apartments, a long
ambulatory, called the Stone Gallery. Then returning to our first post
of observation, and taking a bird's-eye view of the whole, after
examining it in detail, as before mentioned, we come to the conclusion,
that, though irregular in the extreme, and with no pretension whatever
to plan in its arrangement, the Palace of Whitehall is eminently
picturesque, and imposing from its vast extent. If taken in connection
with Westminster Hall, the Parliament House, and the ancient Abbey--with
the two towering gateways, on one of which we, ourselves, are
perched--with the various structures appertaining to it, and skirting
Saint James's Park, and with the noble gothic cross at Charing, we are
fain to acknowledge, that it constitutes a very striking picture.

CHAPTER IX.

Prince Charles.

There is now great stir within the palace, and its principal court is
full of horsemen, some of them apparelled in steel, and with their
steeds covered with rich trappings, and all attended by pages and yeomen
in resplendent liveries. Besides these, there are trumpeters in crimson
cassocks, mounted on goodly horses, and having their clarions adorned
with silken pennons, on which the royal arms are broidered. Then there
are kettle-drummers and other musicians, likewise richly arrayed and
well mounted, and the various pages, grooms, and officers belonging to
the Prince of Wales, standing around his charger, which is caparisoned
with white and gold.

Distinguishable even amidst this brilliant and knightly throng is Sir
Jocelyn Mounchensey. Mounted upon a fiery Spanish barb, presented to him
by the Conde de Gondomar, he is fully equipped for the jousts. The
trappings of his steed are black and white velvet, edged with silver,
and the plumes upon his helmet are of the same colours, mingled. He is
conversing with the Spanish Ambassador, who, like all the rest, is
superbly attired, though not in armour, and is followed by a crowd of
lacqueys in jerkins and hose of black satin, guarded with silver.

An unusual degree of bustle proclaims the approach of some personage of
extraordinary importance.

This is soon made known to be the Marquis of Buckingham. His arrival is
announced by loud flourishes from the six mounted trumpeters by whom he
is preceded. Their horses are caparisoned with orange-coloured taffeta,
while they themselves are habited in gaberdines of the same stuff. After
the trumpeters come four gentlemen ushers, and four pages, mounted on
his spare horses, and habited in orange-coloured doublets and hose, with
yellow plumes in their caps. To them succeed the grooms in mandilions,
or loose sleeveless jackets, leading the Marquis's charger, which is to
run in the lists--a beautiful dark bay jennet--trapped with green
velvet, sewn with pearls, and pounced with gold. Next comes Buckingham
himself, in a magnificent suit of armour, engraved and damaskeened with
gold, with an aigret of orange feathers nodding on his casque. Thus
apparelled, it is impossible to imagine a nobler or more chivalrous
figure than he presents. Though completely cased in steel, his
magnificent person seems to have lost none of its freedom of movement,
and he bears himself with as much grace and ease as if clad in his
customary habiliments of silk and velvet. For the moment he rides a
sorrel horse, whose spirit is too great to allow him to be safely
depended upon in the lists, but who now serves by his fire and
impetuosity to display to advantage his rider's perfect management.
Buckingham is followed by thirty yeomen, apparelled like the pages, and
twenty gentlemen in short cloaks and Venetian hose. He acknowledges the
presence of his antagonist and the Spanish Ambassador, with a courteous
salutation addressed to each, and then riding forward, takes up a
position beside the Duke of Lennox, who, mounted and fully equipped, and
having his five companions-at-arms with him, is awaiting the coming
forth of Prince Charles.

The Duke of Lennox is very sumptuously arrayed in armour, partly blue,
and partly gilt and graven, and his charger is caparisoned with cloth of
gold, embroidered with pearls. Besides this he has four spare horses,
led by his pages, in housings equally gorgeous and costly. These pages
have cassock coats, and Venetian hose, of cloth of silver, laid with
gold lace, and caps with gold bands and white feathers, and white
buskins. His retinue consists of forty gentlemen and yeomen, and four
trumpeters. His companions-at-arms are all splendidly accoutred, and
mounted on richly-caparisoned chargers. The most noticeable figure
amongst them, however, is that of Sir Giles Mompesson; and he attracts
attention from the circumstance of his armour being entirely sable, his
steed jet black, and his housings, plumes, and all his equipments of the
same sombre hue.

At this juncture, a page, in the Prince's livery of white and gold,
approaches Sir Jocelyn, and informs him that his highness desires to
speak with him before they proceed to the tilt-yard. On receiving the
summons the young knight immediately quits De Gondomar, and, following
the page to the doorway leading to the state apartments, dismounts at
the steps, leaving his steed in charge of his youthful companion.

On entering the vestibule he finds a large party assembled, comprising
some of the fairest dames of court, and several noble gallants, who
intend taking no other part than that of spectators in the approaching
tilting-match. Most of them are known to Sir Jocelyn, and they eagerly
crowd round him, fearing something may have occurred to interfere with
the proceedings of the day. The young knight allays their apprehensions,
and after experiencing the kindling influence always produced by the
smiles of the fair, begins to ascend the great staircase, and has nearly
reached the door at its head, communicating with the Stone Gallery, when
it is thrown open by an usher, and Prince Charles comes forth.

The noble countenance of Prince Charles is stamped with the same
gravity, and slightly touched with the same melancholy, which
distinguished his features through life, but which naturally deepened as
misfortune fell upon him. But as those dark days cannot now be
discerned, and, as all seems brilliant around him, and full of brightest
promise, this prophetic melancholy is thought to lend interest to his
handsome features. He is attired in a suit of black armour of exquisite
workmanship, lacking only the helmet, which is carried by a page--as are
the _volante piece_, the _mentonniere_, and the _grande-garde_, intended
to be worn in the field. On seeing Sir Jocelyn, he pauses, and signs to
his attendants to stand back.

"I have sent for you, Sir Jocelyn," he said, "to ascertain whether it is
true that Sir Giles Mompesson is amongst the Duke of Lennox's party."

"It is perfectly true, your highness," replied Sir Jocelyn; "he is now
in the court-yard."

A shade of displeasure crossed the Prince's noble countenance, and his
brow darkened.

"I am sorry to hear it; and but that I should grievously offend the
King, my father, I would forbid him to take part in the jousts," he
cried. "Sir Giles deserves to be degraded from knighthood, rather than
enjoy any of its honourable privileges."

"Entertaining these sentiments, if your highness will make them known to
the King, he will doubtless order Sir Giles's immediate withdrawal from
the lists," said Sir Jocelyn. "Most assuredly he is unworthy to enter
them."

"Not so," rejoined the Prince. "I have already represented the matter
to his Majesty, and trusted my remonstrances would be attended to. But I
find they have proved ineffectual. Buckingham, it appears, has more
weight than I have. Yet this notorious extortioner's insolence and
presumption ought not to pass unpunished."

"They shall not, your highness," replied Sir Jocelyn. "I will so deal
with him that I will warrant he will never dare show himself within the
precincts of the palace again."

"Do nothing rashly," said the Prince. "You must not disguise from
yourself that you may displease the King, and provoke Buckingham's
animosity."

"I cannot help it," returned Sir Jocelyn. "I will insult him, if he
crosses my path."

"I cannot blame you," said the Prince. "In your position I should do the
same; and I am only restrained by the injunctions laid upon me by the
King, from commanding his instant departure. But I must proceed towards
the tilt-yard. We shall meet again anon."

With this he descended the staircase; and as soon as his train of
gentlemen-ushers and pages had passed on, Sir Jocelyn followed, and
making his way through the still-crowded vestibule, gained the door, and
vaulted on the back of his steed.

CHAPTER X.

The old Palace-Yard of Westminster.

The throng outside the gates of Whitehall felt their breasts dilate, and
their pulses dance, as they listened to the flourishes of the trumpets
and cornets, the thundering bruit of the kettle-drums, and other martial
music that proclaimed the setting forth of the steel-clad champions who
were presently to figure in the lists.

It was, in sooth, a goodly sight to see the long and brilliant
procession formed by the fourteen knights, each so gallantly mounted, so
splendidly accoutred, and accompanied by such a host of gentlemen
ushers, pages, yeomen, and grooms, some on horseback, and some on foot;
and the eye of the looker-on was never wearied of noticing the diversity
of their habiliments,--some of the knights having cuirasses and helmets,
polished as silver, and reflecting the sun's rays as from a
mirror,--some, russet-coloured armour,--some, blue harness,--some,
fluted,--some, corslets damaskeened with gold, and richly
ornamented,--others, black and lacquered breastplates, as was the case
with the harness of Prince Charles,--and one, a dead black coat of mail,
in the instance of Sir Giles Mompesson. The arms of each were slightly
varied, either in make or ornament. A few wore sashes across their
breastplates, and several had knots of ribands tied above the coronals
of their lances, which were borne by their esquires.

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