Fair Margaret | Page 6

or must I tell you
who I am?"
"We know you, Marquis," said the leader in a cowed voice. "Sheath
your swords, comrades; after all, it is no affair of ours."
The men obeyed somewhat unwillingly; but at this moment arrived the
ambassador de Ayala, very angry, for he had heard of the death of his
servant, demanding, in a loud voice, that the man who had killed him
should be given up.

"We will not give him up to a Spanish priest," shouted the mob. "Come
and take him if you want him," and once more the tumult grew, while
Peter and his companions made ready to fight.
Fighting there would have been also, notwithstanding all that d'Aguilar
could do to prevent it; but of a sudden the noise began to die away, and
a hush fell upon the place. Then between the uplifted weapons walked a
short, richly clad man, who turned suddenly and faced the mob. It was
King Henry himself.
"Who dare to draw swords in my streets, before my very palace doors?"
he asked in a cold voice.
A dozen hands pointed at Peter.
"Speak," said the king to him.
"Margaret, come here," cried Peter; and the girl was thrust forward to
him.
"Sire," he said, "that man," and he pointed to the corpse of Andrew,
"tried to do wrong to this maiden, John Castell's child. I, her cousin,
threw him down. He drew his sword and came at me, and I killed him
with my staff. See, it lies there. Then the Spaniards--his
comrades--would have cut me down, and I called for English help. Sire,
that is all."
The king looked him up and down.
"A merchant by your dress," he said; "but a soldier by your mien. How
are you named?"
"Peter Brome, Sire."
"Ah! There was a certain Sir Peter Brome who fell at Bosworth
Field--not fighting for me," and he smiled. "Did you know him
perchance?"
"He was my father, Sire, and I saw him slain--aye, and slew the slayer."

"Well can I believe it," answered Henry, considering him. "But how
comes it that Peter Brome's son, who wears that battle scar across his
face, is clad in merchant's woollen?"
"Sire," said Peter coolly, "my father sold his lands, lent his all to the
Crown, and I have never rendered the account. Therefore I must live as
I can."
The king laughed outright as he replied:
"I like you, Peter Brome, though doubtless you hate me."
"Not so, Sire. While Richard lived I fought for Richard. Richard is
gone; and, if need be, I would fight for Henry, who am an Englishman,
and serve England's king."
"Well said, and I may have need of you yet, nor do I bear you any
grudge. But, I forgot, is it thus that you would fight for me, by causing
riot in my streets, and bringing me into trouble with my good friends
the Spaniards?"
"Sire, you know the story."
"I know your story, but who bears witness to it? Do you, maiden,
Castell the merchant's daughter?"
"Aye, Sire. The man whom my cousin killed maltreated me, whose
only wrong was that I waited to see your Grace pass by. Look on my
torn cloak."
"Little wonder that he killed him for the sake of those eyes of yours,
maiden. But this witness may be tainted." And again he smiled, adding,
"Is there no other?"
Betty advanced to speak, but d'Aguilar, stepping forward, lifted his
bonnet from his head, bowed and said in English:
"Your Grace, there is; I saw it all. This gallant gentleman had no blame.
It was the servants of my countryman de Ayala who were to blame, at

any rate at first, and afterwards came the trouble."
Now the ambassador de Ayala broke in, claiming satisfaction for the
killing of his man, for he was still very angry, and saying that if it were
not given, he would report the matter to their Majesties of Spain, and
let them know how their servants were treated in London.
At these words Henry grew grave, who, above all things, wished to
give no offence to Ferdinand and Isabella.
"You have done an ill day's work, Peter Brome," he said, "and one of
which my attorney must consider. Meanwhile, you will be best in safe
keeping," and he turned as though to order his arrest.
"Sire," exclaimed Peter, "I live at Master Castell's house in Holborn,
nor shall I run away."
"Who will answer for that," asked the king, "or that you will not make
more riots on your road thither?"
"I will answer, your Grace," said d'Aguilar quietly, "if this lady will
permit that I escort her and her cousin home. Also," he added in a low
voice, "it seems to me that to hale