Summary

Portrait of Harold Lamb Harold Lamb The Snow Driver — I.—The Man-at-Arms (1925)

Edward was coughing, flecks of blood showing on his pallid lips. His eyes closed and he lay voiceless a moment on the couch. When he spoke it was in so low a whisper that nobleman and armiger both bent lower to catch the words—Thorne expecting that the king might have some command for him.
“Nay, Dudley. Of what avail to guard the body when life—itself is leaving me?” With an effort he opened his eyes and made shift to smile. “My lungs are in consumption, the priests say. Good youth, we trust we have not wearied you. Edward will never again rise from his bed.”
Source: Wikisource

Portrait of Harold Lamb Harold Lamb The Snow Driver — I.—The Man-at-Arms (1925)

But Edward lay passive on his couch, forgetful of sentinel or nobleman.
Stratford paced the pavilion, hands thrust into his sword-belt, and came to a stop by Thorne. Seeing that Edward was asleep, he said in a whisper:
“When you are relieved, go to your quarters. Abide there without speaking to anybody of what you have seen or heard in this place. A soldier on duty,” he added bruskly, “may not give out what has come under his eye on his post. Can you do that?”
Source: Wikisource

Portrait of Harold Lamb Harold Lamb The Snow Driver — I.—The Man-at-Arms (1925)

Strict orders had been issued by Stratford and those who had the care of the king's person that no one should approach within arrow flight. For this reason the picked guards had been stationed.
BUT Edward's eyes were on the passing ships wistfully. Here were men faring from the known seas into the unknown. Here were ships built and furnished and manned in England, going forth to discover a new route to the Indies, to bring to England some part of the trade with Cathay and the new world that had swelled the power of Spain and Portugal.
Source: Wikisource

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