William of Champeaux

“ I have an original letter of Richard Cromwell to his brother in Ireland after his father's death, which gives a singular picture of the moment. It must be allowed that, while he had power, short as the moment was, he did set more things forward than all the Kings who reigned during the century, King William included. England was never so much respected abroad; while at home, though Cromwell could not settle the Government, talents of every kind began to show themselves, which were immediately crushed or put to sleep at the Restoration. ”

“ Had Douglas, had Henry, had Ginger, had any of those boys who sat next him at school and joined in the feeble relaxations provided by the authorities out of school, ever done this—ever sat at a real table outside a real public-house drinking lemonade and talking to a man with no ears who'd fought in the war and who looked as if he might have done anything?
Jumble, meanwhile, sat and snapped at flies, frankly bored.
"Did you"—said William in a sibilant whisper—"did you ever kill anyone?"
Mr. Blank laughed a laugh that made William's blood curdle.
"Me kill anyone? Me kill anyone? 'Ondreds!" ”

“ The window was open, the breeze fluttered the cotton curtains, a spicy breeze, laden with essence of the fern which covers our fields, and smells like bay-leaves crushed in one's palm.
The peace of Sabbath brooded over all, a cow-bell tinkled from the pasture, birds chirped. Sir William rose to stand by the window, and his gaze softened towards the sunlit meadows where buttercups swayed with daisies, and blue flower-de-luce quivered in the wind.
"God!" he muttered, under his breath. "That this sweet peace on earth should be assailed by men!" ”

“ Then he told me how the Boston people had been taxed without their consent, but I could not see why they should not cheerfully give their all to their King, and I said so. 119
"Very well," replied Sir William, gravely. "Let us approach the matter from your personal view. Here are you, young, vigorous, of good lineage, and sure to succeed to your uncle's title and estate some day. You are, at sixteen, an officer of his Majesty's border cavalry; you have every prospect of promotion; the King remembers your father, Governor Tryon is your friend. ”

“ The setting sun had turned the sky to gold. There was a soft haze over all the countryside. The clear bird songs filled all the air, and the hedgerows were bursting into summer. And through it all marched William, with a slight swagger, his bow under one arm, his arrows under the other, while at his heels trotted Jumble, eager, playful, adoring—a mongrel unashamed—all sorts of a dog. And at William’s heart was a proud, radiant happiness. ”

“ The music from the robins in the orchard filled my ears; soft winds stirred the lace on Sir William's cuffs and collarette.
Presently he roused, shaking the dream from his eyes; and, watching him, it seemed to me I could see the very tide of life swelling flesh and muscle into new vigour. The colour came back into his face and hands; the light grew in his eyes.
"Come!" he said, in a voice that had lost its tremour. "Life has but one meaning—to go on, ever on, lad! 'Tis a long doze awaits us at the journey's end." ”

“ Nicer.”
“Touché,” said the artist. “Well, bring him along in his Charles I’s costume and I’ll pay him half a crown an hour.”
The remuneration seemed princely to William.
“A’ right,” he said, impressed. “A’ right. I’ll bring him along. An’ if you find out you want any other sort of man he’ll be that, too. He can do anythin’.”
With that he departed and joined the Outlaws who were still waiting for him in the road.
“Well, you have been a time,” said Ginger.
“Gottim a job,” swaggered William.
“What as?”
“Bein’ drawed. He’s got to have special clothes. Any of you gotta Charles I dress? ”

“ William had assembled his caste and assigned them their parts. Little Molly Carter was to be the heroine, Ginger the hero, Henry the hero's friend, Douglas a crowd of outlaws, William himself was to be the villain, stage-manager and prompter. ”

“ He avoided Henry, Douglas and Ginger. Henry, Douglas and Ginger had sworn to be at the church door to watch William descend from the carriage in the glory of his white satin apparel, and William felt that friendship could not stand the strain.
He sat with Dorita on the cold and perilous perch of the garden wall and discussed Cousin Sybil and the wedding. Dorita’s language delighted and fascinated William.
“She’s a soppy old luny,” she would remark sweetly, shaking her dark curls. “The soppiest old luny you’d see in any old place on this old earth, you betcher life! She’s made of sop. ”

“ I did not know that totem, and said so, whereupon he fell a-laughing and pinched my cheek, saying, "Are there no people in the world but the Six Nations of the Long House?"
I answered cautiously: "Oe-yen-de-hit Sar-a-ta-ke," meaning, "there are favourable signs (of people) where the tracks of (their) heels may be seen. I have not travelled; there may be other tracks in the world."
"Ten-ca-re Ne-go-ni," replied Sir William, gravely. "He scatters His people everywhere, Michael. The world lies outside of the Long House!" ”

“ William’s mother and sister worked there all the morning. A tent had been erected, and inside the tent were a few select stalls of flowers and vegetables. Outside on the grass were the other stalls. The opening ceremony was to be performed by a real live duke.
William absented himself for the greater part of the morning, returning in time for lunch, and meekly offering himself to be cleaned and dressed afterwards like the proverbial lamb for the slaughter.
“William,” said Mrs. Brown to her husband, “is being almost too good to be true. It’s such a comfort.” ”

“ Then William pointed out its obvious disadvantage.
“Yes, but most of the people round here,” he said simply, “know us, an’ so it wun’t be much use.”
“There’s someone new come to The Limes,” said Henry, “I heard my mother talkin’ about them.”
“So did I mine,” said Douglas, “he’s an artist.”
“Oh, yes,” said William, “so did I mine. An’ he’s got a daughter what’s the most beautiful girl what Robert’s ever seen.”
“Well, let’s try him,” said Ginger, “he oughter want someone to look after his clothes or drive his car or nurse him when he’s queer in the head or something. Who’ll try him? ”

“ Robert [Pg 59] happened to say, carrying a deck-chair into the garden.
"An' I'm not, either," said William, as he seized another chair. The would-be light finality of his tone did not deceive even himself.
"You must go, dear," said his mother placidly. "You know you always do."
"Yes, but why me an' not him?" demanded William, pale with outrage. "Why him not go an' me go?"
Robert calmly stated his position.
"If William's not going to church, I'm going, and if William's going to church, I'm not. All I want is peace." ”

“ William sadly extricated himself from the char-à-banc, thinking bitterly of the vanished twopence, and liquorice, and the excellent meal to be obtained from the village inn. He regarded himself at that moment as a martyr whose innocence and unjust persecution equalled that of any in the pages of the Church History book.
An elderly lady in pince-nez looked at him pityingly.
"What's the matter, little boy?" she said. "You look unhappy."
William merely smiled bitterly.
"Is your mother with you?" she went on.
"Nope," said William, thrusting his hands into his pockets and scowling still more. ”

“ Accordingly, Schomberg called the attention of the new government to the grant of King William to his father and to his English heirs, and how the affectionate and grateful intentions of the illustrious monarch were in danger of miscarrying, owing to unintentional inaccuracy in writing. A bill was therefore introduced into Parliament to enable King George to revoke the Letters Patent of William III., and to substitute a new grant by which a female heir might inherit ”

“ They had each other and a dog. Boyhood could not wish for more. The whole world lay before them.
“Let’s go trespassin’,” said William the lawless.
“Where?” enquired Douglas.
“Hall woods—and take Jumble.”
“That ole keeper said he’d tell our fathers if he caught us in again,” said Ginger.
“Lettim!” said William, with a dare-devil air, slashing at the hedge with a stick. He was gradually recovering his self-respect. The nightmare memories of yesterday were growing faint. He flung a stone for the eager Jumble and uttered his shrill unharmonious war whoop. They entered the woods, William leading. ”

“ William's father, who knew William, was smiling sardonically.
William's mother was smiling proudly.
"You're always running down William," she said to the world in general, "but look at him now. He's got a very important part, and he said nothing about it at home. I call it very nice and modest of him. And what a dear little girl."
Bettine, standing on the platform with William's hand holding hers and the Maypole dancers dancing round her, was radiant with pride and happiness.
And Evangeline Fish in the wood-shed was just beginning the last currant cake. ”

“ His life seemed to stretch before him—youth, manhood, and old age—dreary and desolate, filled only with humiliation and shame. His prestige and reputation would be blasted for ever. He would no longer be William—the Red Indian, the pirate, the daredevil. He would simply be the Boy Who Went to a Wedding Dressed in White Satin. Evidently there would be a surging crowd of small boys at the church door. Every boy for miles round who knew William even by sight had volunteered the information that he would be there. William was to ride with Dorita and Michael in the bride’s carriage. ”

“ William slowly and painfully (for the aperture was so small that occasionally it grazed his back and head) travelled along what was little more than a fissure in the rock. The spirit of adventure was high in him. He was longing to come upon a cave full of swarthy men with coloured handkerchiefs tied round their heads and gold ear-rings, quaffing goblets of smuggled rum or unloading bales of smuggled silk. Occasionally he stopped and listened for the sound of deep-throated oaths or whispers or smugglers’ songs. ”

“ William broke out into a sudden, deep passion.
"Is this the Prince of Orange"—he cried, striking his breast—"who was something in Europe? Is this he, the sport of such as Harley, and insulted by those who loved him once?"
"My lord must be out of his wits," replied Sunderland. "I could have struck him."
"This is too much—this is indeed the end," said the King. "He leaves the Court. By God, I was Nassau once, if I am only King of England now!"
"He must still love Your Majesty——" urged the Lord Chamberlain.
"Love!" echoed William. "Doth love inspire such cruelty?" ”

“ William arose with a distinct sense that something important had happened. Then he thought of the reformation. He saw himself leading a quiet and blameless life, walking sedately to school, working at high pressure in school, doing his homework conscientiously in the evening, being exquisitely polite to his family, his instructors, and the various foolish people who visited his home for the sole purpose (apparently) of making inane remarks to him. ”

“ Robert voiced the general sentiment.
"Good Lord!" he said, "fancy anyone wanting to see William!"
"When they're dying, too," said Ethel in equal horror. "One would think they'd like to die in peace, anyway."
"It hardly seems fair," went on Robert, "to show William to anyone who's not strong."
William glared balefully from one to the other.
"Children! Children!" murmured Mrs. Brown.
"How," said Mr. Brown, "are you going to get William over to Ireland?"
"I suppose," said Mrs. Brown, "that someone must take him." ”

“ William wandered round the house and looked in several of the windows; he had a lively encounter with a gardener, and finally, on peeping into the kitchen regions with a scornful laugh, was chased off the premises by the infuriated footman. Saddened, but not defeated, he returned across the fields to the barn and flung open the door. Ginger, panting and perspiring, was dragging the Lady Barbara in the packing-case round and round the barn by a piece of rope.
He turned a frowning face to William. A life of crime was proving less exciting than he had expected. ”

“ With what pride and sang-froid had Robert announced his uninvited guest! William determined to try it, at any rate. He advanced boldly into the drawing-room.
"This is Mr. Blank, mother," he announced jauntily. "He hasn't got no ears."
Mr. Blank stood in the background, awaiting developments. Flight was now impossible.
The announcement fell flat. There was nothing but horror upon the five silent faces that confronted William. He made a last desperate effort.
"He's bin in the war," he pleaded. "He's—killed folks."
Then the unexpected happened.
Mrs. de Vere Carter rose with a smile of welcome. ”

“ Ginger, who had decidedly had the worst of the battle, was removing dust and twigs from his mouth. He gave a non-committal grunt.
“Well, you know the Sale of Work next week?” went on William. They groaned. It was a ceremony to which each of the company would be led, brushed and [Pg 133] combed and dressed in gala clothes, in a proud parent’s wake.
“Well,” went on William. “You jus’ listen carefully. I got an idea.”
They leant forward eagerly. They had a touching faith in William’s ideas that no amount of bitter experiences seemed able to destroy. ”