CHAPTER XX   THE TRAITORS' DOOM

Early on the morning of the first day of August Sir Thomas Carberry, accompanied by his two squires and Oswald, waited upon the King at his lodging in the High Street of Southampton.

Although King Henry had been in residence for nearly twenty days, his indomitable energy had compelled him to take long daily journeys to all parts of the county of Hampshire.

Thus one day he would be at Portsmouth, inspecting the scanty defences of that as yet infant fortress. Then at Winchester, conferring with the city council concerning the raising of a loan, or at Bishop's Waltham, there to attend to some affairs that many would have regarded as too trivial to occupy the Sovereign's precious moments. But it was in things small as well as great that Henry was thorough. He had fully grasped the importance of the fact that attention to details brought its own reward.

Early though it was, the King had already transacted a heavy share of work ere Sir Thomas Carberry alighted before the door of the house that sheltered his youthful Sovereign.

At the moment of his arrival a deputation of the Honourable Guild of Merchants was leaving the royal presence—the senior alderman with his gold chain of office, the seneschal, chaplain, four echevins, and the usher, attended by the customary number of sergeants. Their faces bore testimony to the performance of a serious yet successful business, for the Guild had received the royal assent to an important charter in consideration of the sum of twenty thousand marks—the loyal contribution of a powerful and wealthy community.

It was King Henry's custom to receive deputations and persons of quality in semi-public state. At the termination of each audience properly accredited personages were permitted to enter the hall where the Sovereign held his levée, and there to await their turn according to the order of the Ceremoniarius.

Thus when Sir Thomas had announced his name and style to the herald he and his attendants found themselves in the royal presence, a barrier of cloth of gold separating the waiting audience from the daïs and a broad intervening space, where the greatest of the nobility and clergy of the realm stood about their Sovereign.

Henry V was now in his twenty-eighth year, and in the full vigour of his life. He was slightly above middle stature, with strongly and handsomely formed limbs. His features were oval in shape, clear-skinned, and surmounted by a thick crop of smooth, dark brown hair. His lips were characteristic of firmness, his indented chin denoted stubbornness, while sagacity and prudence showed themselves in a straight nose and clear, brilliant eyes, though a reddish tinge in the latter gave promise of a stern, almost brutal, temper when provoked to anger.

This was the commanding presence that invited Geoffrey's attention. To those surrounding the daïs he gave slight heed, albeit there were Gloucester and Bedford, the King's brothers, Exeter, his uncle, Salisbury and Warwick, His Grace of Canterbury, the Bishops of Winchester, Exeter, Ely, and Norwich, and a host of the most famous knightly warriors of the realm.

At the moment of the Constable of Portchester's entry a young gentleman of quality was being presented to the King, and, to the great surprise of Geoffrey and Oswald, they heard the name of their chance acquaintance at Botley.

"Olandyne of Ripley, in the County of Surrey. Greeting, Master Olandyne, what is thy pleasure?"

"A boon, sire," exclaimed the suppliant, falling on one knee and kissing the extended hand of the monarch.

"Say on, young sir, though many are the boons that we are asked to confer."

"Sire, I have raised at no small cost a troop of twenty men-at-arms. These I respectfully offer for service in the field." Here Olandyne paused, unable to utter another word.

"We see not what is the nature of thy request. To us it savours of a service most loyally rendered," replied the King. "Say on—what boon dost thou ask?"

"That I may be permitted to lead them in battle, sire."

"Thy request is most reasonable, young sir. Since——"

"I crave your Majesty's hearing for a few brief moments," exclaimed the Bishop of Norwich in deep, measured tones. "It hath come to my knowledge that this fellow was formerly a monk of the Charterhouse, and hath broken his vows of charity, obedience, and constancy to the Order."

"What hast thou to say to this accusation, young sir?"

"'Tis indeed true, sire," replied Olandyne brokenly. "Yet the desire for a soldier's life overcame the choice made for me of service within the walls of an abbey. In sooth, sire, I could not keep the vows that were forced upon me. I——"

"Enough, young sir," thundered Henry, his eyes blazing sternly at the trembling form of the ex-monk, while the Duke of Exeter whispered something in the ear of his royal nephew.

"Nay, Uncle Exeter, we are not ashamed to speak our mind, nor are we willing to offend Holy Mother Church. Therefore, Master Olandyne, thy services are not required. Thou canst withdraw from our presence, disgraced, but free from any fear of apprehension and punishment."

Louting low to his Sovereign, Olandyne backed slowly from the daïs, his face ashen with mortification, confusion, and anger. Nor were there few of the assembled company who had compassion for the luckless man whose proffered service had been so curtly declined and whose visions of martial prowess were so rudely dispelled.

"Ah, our trusted and much beloved Sir John Carberry," exclaimed the King heartily as the Constable of Portchester advanced to the daïs, followed by the three squires. "Well, Sir John, how fares it with thee?"

"Sire, I am a soldier and slow of speech. Words come not readily to the tip of my tongue. But, sire, on a matter of deepest importance I would speak with thee."

"Is the matter so important that it cannot be declared in the presence of our trusty and loyal subjects?"

"That is for thee to decide, sire. But if so be that thou wilt desire the Earls of Gloucester and York, the Earl Marshal, and His Grace of Canterbury to attend thee in private, I bid so bold as to say that my communication is no ordinary one."

"Be it so, then," replied Henry, rising from his oaken chair. "Fair sirs, we would your presence in private."

"Now, Sir John," continued the King as the doors of the ante-room were closed, "'tis no personal matter of thine, on that I'll stake my crown."

"Sire, saving thy presence, my Sovereign's safety is mine honour, and mine honour I deem a personal matter."

"Thou hast a shrewd argument, Sir John, in spite of thy slowness of speech. Thou hast hinted at danger to our person. Say on."

Briefly, yet concisely, the Constable of Portchester related the treasonable meeting of Lord Scrope of Masham and Sir Thomas Grey under the oak tree, while Geoffrey and Oswald felt their hearts beat rapidly and their cheeks flush as their part in the discovery of the fell plot was unfolded to the royal ears.

"This is no light matter," remarked King Harry at the conclusion of the knight's story. "Justice must be worked upon these traitors. Where are Cambridge, Scrope, and Grey?"

"Lord Scrope is in audience, your Majesty," replied the marshal. "Sir Thomas Grey was at his lodging hard by the Bar Gate but an hour agone. As for His Grace of Cambridge, according to this list I find that he is still at Winchester."

"Get thee hence, Sir Marshal," said the King. "Set a guard of archers to watch my Lord Scrope, without giving him cause for alarm. Send also to the caitiff Grey, and require his presence instantly. Should he refuse, then arrest him, otherwise let him come unsuspectingly. As for the Earl, send a party of mounted men-at-arms to Winchester and secure his person."

When the marshal had departed on his errand the King turned to Sir John Carberry.

"By my halidome, thy squire and the squire of our absent Sir Oliver Lysle have borne themselves with credit. Harry of Monmouth is slow to reward, yet none the less sure. Let them prove themselves by some deed of arms in the field, and in due course the gilded spurs of knighthood shall be theirs."

"Now, my lords," he continued, "let us return to the council chamber. Not a word nor a look must be given to show that aught is amiss till Grey is confronted with his partners in their most abhorrent guilt."

On returning to the larger hall the King resumed his reception, devoting his attention to every suitor who sought a hearing, though at intervals his glance was directed at the throng behind the barriers, where the traitor Scrope was a conspicuous figure.

At length Sir Thomas Grey, who had evidently arrayed himself with haste, entered the room in company with the marshal.

"Ah, we do perceive our right worthy Grey," exclaimed the King. "Forward, fair sir, we have need of thy services on some small matter."

Unsuspectingly Sir Thomas Grey advanced to the daïs, where he stood awaiting his Sovereign's pleasure.

"We believe, Sir Thomas, that thou wert sent as envoy to our cousin of France?"

"Yea, sire."

"Let me think, who were thy fellow-envoys?"

"Sir George Pakenham and Lord Scrope of Masham, sire."

"Is Sir George present?"

The voice of the herald in waiting was heard calling for the absent Pakenham, whom the King knew to be on duty at the Tower of London.

"Then, my Lord Scrope—is he, too, absent on affairs of State?"

"I am here, sire," exclaimed the recreant earl edging his way towards the King's presence.

If either of the two conspirators had had an inkling of what was in the mind of their Sovereign, neither showed it. Grave and imperturbably dignified they stood side by side before the daïs.

King Harry kept silence for a few moments, then with a dangerous flash in his eyes he exclaimed:

"Uncle Exeter, thou knowest thy duty."

"Henry, Lord Scrope of Masham, I arrest thee for high treason. Thomas Grey, knight of Northumberland, I arrest thee also for high treason."

A tense silence fell upon the assembly, broken at length by movement of the King's body-guard of archers as they advanced to seize the two traitors. As for Lord Scrope, he sullenly submitted to be bound, but Grey's hand flew to his sword-hilt. The weapon flashed dully in the subdued light, but a soldier's hand grasped the knight's wrist in a vice-like grip; the steel clanked upon the oaken floor, and in a twinkling the second traitor was secured.

The fate that befel the three conspirators is a matter of history. Cambridge, Scrope, and Grey were brought to a hasty trial, and condemned on the 2nd day of August, 1415. The same day Grey was led on foot from the Watergate to the North Gate, and there beheaded. On the 5th of the same month the Earl of Cambridge walked the same route, while his meaner partner in crime, Lord Scrope, was drawn to the North Gate on a hurdle, where both paid the death penalty.

The earl's body was buried in God's House, in the town of Southampton, while the heads of Scrope and Grey were sent to York and Newcastle respectively, where they were exhibited as a stern warning to those who sought to plot against their lawful Sovereign.

On the same evening of the earl's trial Geoffrey and Oswald were walking by the shore near the Watergate, when their attention was drawn to a young man vehemently bargaining with the master of a fishing-boat.

"For forty marks I'll set thee ashore on French soil, young sir," exclaimed the seaman decisively. "Not a groat less."

"Then do so, for before heaven I have forsworn the land of my birth."

Instinctively Geoffrey gripped his comrade's arm. The voice was that of the ex-monk Olandyne.