Daily Democrat, Volume 1, Number 56, Decatur, Adams County, 16 March 1903 — Page 4

•WHEN KNIGHTHOOD J t WAS IN FLOWER t w Or, The Love Story of Charles Brandon and Mary Tudor, the King’s Sister, and ■ Happening In the Reign of His August Majesty King Henry the Eighth wk Rewritten Bind Rendered Into Modern English From Sir Edwin Ca.skodet\’s Memoir SBy EDWIN CASKODEN [CHARLES MAJOR] < Cupvrioht. IS»S and WOl, hi thr BuWen-MernUCompany tgF

THE CABKODENB. Caskodens take great pride iu our ancestry. Some persons. I know, hold all that to be totally un-Solomonlike aud the height of vanity, but they usually have no ancestors of whom to be proud. The man who does not know who his great-grandfather was naturally enough would not care what he was. The Caskodens have pride of ancestry because they know both who aad what. We have a right to be proud, for there is an unbroken male line from William the Conqueror down to the present time. In this lineal list are fourteen barons—the title lapsed when Charles I. fell—twelve Knights of the Garter and forty-seven Knights of the Bath and other orders. A Caskoden distinguished himself by gallant service under the great Norman and was given rich English lauds aud a fair Faxon bride, albeit an unwilling one, as his reward. With this fair, unwilling Baxon bride and her long plait of yellow hair goes a very pretty, pathetic story, which I may tell you at some future time If you take kindly to this. A Caskoden was seneschal to William Rufus aud sat at the rich, half barbaric banquets in the first great hall. Still another was one of the doughty barons who wrested from John the great charter, England’s declaration of Independence; another was high in the councils of Henry V. I have omitted one whom I should not fall to mention, Adjodlka Caskoden, who was a member of the dunce parliament of Henry IV., so called because there were no lawyers in it. It is true that in the time of Edward IV. a Caskoden did stoop to trade, but It was trade of the most dignified, honorable sort—he was a goldsmith, and his guild, as you know, were the bankers and international clearance house for people, kings and nobles. Now, it has been the custom of the Caskodens for centuries to keep a record of events as they have happened, both private and public. Some are in the form of diaries and journals, like those of Pepvs and Evelyn; others in letters, like the Fastens'; others, aga in. in verse and song, like Chaucer's and the Water Poet's, and still others in the more pretentious form of memoir and chronicle. These records we always hare kept jealously within our family, thinking ft vulgar, like the Pastons to submit our private affairs to public gaze. There can. however, be no reason why those parts treating solely of outside matters should be so carefully guarded. and I have determined to choose for publication such portions as do not divulge family secrets or skeletons, and which really redound to family honor. For this occasion I have selected from the memoir of my worthy ancestor and namesake. Sir Edwin Caskoden, grandson of the goldsmith and master of the dance to Henry V Hl., the story •f Charles Brandon and Mary Tudor, Bister to the king. Thia story is so well known to the gtudent es English history that I fear Us repetition will laek that zest which attends the development of aa unforeseen denouement, but it Is of so great interest and is so full In Its sweet fierce manifestation of the one thing insoluble by time—love—that I will nevertheless rewrite it from old Sir Edwin's memoir. CHAPTER I. I, THE DUEL. JIT sometimes happens, Sir EdR 11 I win says, that when a woman HKT3 wUI sh«‘ won’t and when she won't she will, but usually In fte end the adage bolds good. That aeatonce may not be luminous with meaning, but I will give you an Ulustea tian. I thtnk It was in the spring of 11X10— at any rate, soon after the death of the Modern Solomon, as Queen Catherine called her old father-in-law, the late King Henry Vll.—that hie august majesty Henry VIII., “the vndubltate flower and very Helre of both the sayd Linages," came to the throne of England and tendered me the honorable position of master of the dance at bls sumptuous court. As to “worldly goods," as some of the new religionists call wealth. I was very comfortably off. having Inherited from my father, one of the counselors of Henry VII., a very competent fortune Indeed. How my worthy father contrived to save from the greedy hand es that rich old miner so great a fortune I am sure I cannot tell. He was the only man of my knowledge who did It, for the old king had a reach as long as the kingdom, and, upon one pretest or another, appropriated to himself everything on which he could lay his hands. My father, however, was himself pretty shrewd in money matters, having Inherited along with his fortune a rare knack at keeping It. His father was a goldsmith la the time of King Bdward and enjoyed the marked favor of that puissant prince. Being thus la a position of aflluence. I cared nothing for the tact that little or no eraelument went with the ofllce. It was the honor which delighted me. ißealde% 1 was thereby au Inmate of the king's palace and brought Into latlmatv relailuus with the court, and,

above all. with the finest ladies of the land the best company a man can keep, since it ennobles his mind with better thoughts, purifies his heart with cleaner motives aud makes him gentle without detracting from his strength. It was an office any lord of the kingdom might have been proud to hold. Now. some four or five years after my induction Into this honorable office there came to court news of a terrible duel fought down in Suffolk, out of which only one of the four combatants had come alive—two, rather, but one of them iu a condition worse than death. The first survivor was a son of Sir William Brandon, and the second was a man called Sir Adam Judson. The story went that young Brandon and his elder brother, both just home from the continental wars, had met Judson at an Ipswich inn. where there had been considerable gambling among them. Judson had won from the brothers a large sum of money which they had brought home, for. notwithstanding their youth, the elder being but twen-ty-six and the younger about twentyfour years of age, they bad gained great honor and considerable profit in wars, especially the younger, whose name was Charles. it is a little hard to fight for money and then to lose it by a single spot upon the die. but such is the fate of him who plays, and a philosopher will swallow his ill luck and take to fighting for more. The Brandons could have done this easily enough, especially Charles, who was an offhand philosopher, rather fond of a good humored tight, bad it not been that in the course of play one ' evening the secret of Judson's winning had been disclosed by a discovery that lie cheated. The Brandons waited unI til they were sure, aud then trouble began, which resulted In a duel on the 1 second morning following. This Judson was a Scotch gentleman of whom very little was known except that he was counted the most deadly and most cruel duelist of the time. He was called the "Walking Death,” and it Is said he took pride in the appellation. He lioasted that he had fought eighty-seven duels, in which he had killed seventy-five men, and it was con sidered certain death to meet him. I got the story of the duel afterward from Brandon as I give it here. John was the elder brother and when the challenge came was entitled to fight first, n birthright out of which Charles tried in vain to talk him. The brothers told their father, Sir William Brandon. and at the appointed time father ■ and sons repaired to the place of meet Ing, where they found Judson and his two seconds ready for the fight. Sir William was still a vigorous man, with few equals in sword play, and the sons, especially the younger, were better men and more skillful than their father had ever been, yet they felt that this duel meant certain death, so great was Judson's fame for skill and cruelty. Notwithstanding they were so handicapped with this feeling of impending evil, they met their duty without a tremor, for the motto of their bouse was “Malo Mori Quam Fedrai.” It was a misty morning In March. Brandon has told me since that when his elder brother took his stand It was at once manifest that he was Judson's superior both in strength and skill, but after a few strokes the brother's blade bent double and broke off short at the hilt when it should have gone home. Thereupon Judson, with a malignant smile of triumph, deliberately selected his opponent's heart and pierced it with his sword, giving the blade a twist as he drew it out In order to cut and mutilate the more. In an instant Sir William's doublet was off. and he was In his dead son's tracks, ready to avenge him or to die.

z v y — "Flflht, pou bloodhound/" Again the thrust which should have killed broke tbe sword, and tbe father died ns the sou hati died. After this came young Charles, expecting, but so great was bis strong heart, not one whit fearing, to lie beside hi* dead father and brother. He knew he was the su|>erlor of l>oth In strength and skill, and bls knowledge of men aud the noble art told him they had each been tbe superior of Jutfeon, but the fellow’s baud seemed to be the hand of death. An opening came through Judson'a unskillful play which gave young Brandon an opportunity

for a thrust to kill, but bls blade, Ilka his father’s and hi* brother's, bent double without penetrating Unlike the others, however, It did not break, and the thrust revealed the fact that Judson's skill as a duelist lay In a shirt of mail which it was useless to try to pierce. Aware of this, Brandon knew that victory was his and that soon he would have avenged the murders that had gone before. He saw that his adversary was strong neither In wind nor arm and had not the skill to penetrate his guard in a week s trying. so he determined to fight on the defensive until Judson's strength should wane, and then kill him when and how he chose. After a time Judson began to breathe bard and his thrusts to lack force. "Boy, I would spare you," he said. “I have killed enough of yonr tribe. Put up your sword and call it quits.” Young Brandon replied: “Stand your ground, you coward. You will be a dead man as soon as you grow a little weaker. If you try to run, I will thrust you through the neck as I would a cur. Listen how you snort. • I shall soon have you. You are almost gone. You would spare me, would you? I could preach a sermon or dance a hornpipe while I am killing you. I wIH not break my sword against your coat of mail, but will wait until you fall from weakness, and then—you bloodhound!" stffc Judson was pale from exba’jrilHfc. and bis breath was coming in gaafggs be tried to keep the merciless WVd from his throat. At last, by a dexterous twist of his blade, Brandon sent Judson's sword flying thirty feet away. The fellow started to run. but turned and fell upon his knees to bag for life. Brandon’s reply was a flashing circle of steel, and his sword point cut lengthwise through Judson’s eyes and the bridge of his nose, leaving him sightless and hideous fur life—a revenge compared to which death would have been merciful. The duel created a sensation throughout the kingdom, for, although little was known as to who Judson was. his fame as a duelist was a* broad as the land. He had been at court upon several occasions, and at one time, upon the king's birthday, had fought la the royal lists. So the matter came In for its share of consideration by king and courtiers, and young Brandon became a person of interest. He became still more so when some gentlemen who bsd served with him ia the continental wars told the court of bls daring and bravery and related stories of deeds at arms worthy of the best knight in Christendom. He had an uncle at the court, Sir Thomas Brandon, the king's master of horse, who thought It a good opportunity to put his nephew forward and let him take his chance at winning royal favor. The uncle broached the subject to the king, wltfi favorable Issue, and Charles Brandon, led by the hand of fate, came to London court, where that same fate bad In keeping for him events such as seldom fall to the lot of man.

CHAPTER 11. HOW BRAXDOX CAME TO COfBT. fx A r)HEN we learned that Brandon I VV I Wli9 coming to court, every o,ie believed he would soon gam the king's favor. How much that would amount to none could tell, as the king's favorites were of many sorts and taken from all conditions of men. There was Master Wolsey. a butcher's son, whom he had first made almoner, then chief counselor and bishop of Lincoln, soon to be bishop of York and cardinal of th* holy Roman church. From tbe other extreme of life came youag Thomas. Lord Howard, heir to the Warl of Surrey, and my Lord of Buckingham, premier peer of the realm Thea sometimes would the king take a yeomau of tbe guard and make him his companion tn jousts and tournaments solely because es bls brawn and bone. There were other* whom be kept close by Lum In the palace because of their wit and tbe entertainment they furnished, of which class was I, aud, 1 flatter myself, uv mean member. To begin with, being in no way dependent on tbe king for money, I never drew a farthing from tbe royal treasury. This, you may be snre, did me no harm, for, although the king sometimes delighted to give, he always hated to pay. There were other good .easona, too. why I ahould be a favorite with the king. My appointment as master of th* dance. I am aure. was owing entirely to luy manner. My brother, tbe baron, who stood high with the king, was not friendly toward tc because my father had seen fit to bequeath me so good a competency In place of giving it all to the firstborn and leaving me dependent upon the tender mercies of an elder brother. So I had no help from blm ner from any one else. I waa quite small of atature and tberefhre unable to compete with lanee and mae* with bulkier men. but I would bet with any man, of any size, on any game, at any place and time, tn any amount, and, if I do say it, who perhaps should not, I baskM in the light of many a fair smile which larger men had sighed for in vain. I did not know when Brandon first came to Ixtndon. We had all remained at Greenwich while the king went up to Westminster to waste bl* time with matters of state and quarrel with the parliament, then sitting, over tbe amount of certain subsidies. Mary, the king’* sister, then aorne eighteen or nineteen years of age, a perfect bud, just blossoming Into a perfect flower, had gone over to Windsor on a visit to her elder sioter. Margaret of Scotland, and the palace waa dull enough. Brandon, It eeema. had been presented to Henry durlug thia time at Weslmiuater aud had, to aume extant at [oast, Genuine a favorite before I uertlUm. The first tfeel aaw waa at a jquat given by tbe king at Weafr

minster In celebration of the fact that he had coaxed a good round subsidy out of parliament The queen and her ladies had been invited over, and it was known that Ma ry would be down from Windsor and come home with the king and the court to Greenwich when we should return. So we all went over to Westminster the night before the jousts and were up bright and early next morning to see all that was to be seen. [Here the editor sees fit to substitute a description of this tournament taken from the quaint old chronicler Flail.J The morow beyng after dynner, at tyme ronuenenlent, the Quene with her Ladye* repaired to see the lustes, the trompettes brew vp. and in cam* many a noble man and Gentlem* rychely appearelled tskynge vp thir horses, after whome folowed certayne lordes apparelled, they and thtr horses, in cloth of Golde and russet and tynsell; Knyghtes in cloth of Golde, and russet Veluet. And a greate nomber of Gentlemen on fote, in russet satyn and yealow, and yomen in russet Damaske and yealow. all the nether parte of euery mans hosen Skarlet, and yealow cappes Then came the kynge vnder a Paullion of golde. and purpul Veluet embroudered. the compass of the Pauillon about, and valenced with a flat, gold beaten In wyre. with an Imperiall creuno'in the top. of fyne Golde. his bases and trapper of cloth of Golde, fretted with Damask Golde, the trapper pedant to the tail. A crane and chafroa of stele, in the front of the chafro was a goodly plume set full of musers or tri mb! Ing spangle* of golde. After folowed his three aydes. euery of them vnder a Pauillon of Crymosyn Damaske & purple The nomber of Gentlemen and yomen a fote. apparelled in russet and yealow was cixvlli. Then next these Pauillons came xll chyldren of honor, sitting euery one of them on a greate courser, rychely trapped, and embroudered In seuerall deuises and faclons. where lacked neither brouderie nor goldsmythes work, so that euery chyld and horse in deuice and fa sewn was contrary to the other, which was goodly to beholde. Then on the counter parte, entered a Straunger. fyrst on horseback* in a long robe of Russet satyne. like a recluse or a religious, and his horse trapped In the same sewte. without dromme or noyse of mynstrelsye, puttinge a hyll of peticlon to the Qusce, the effect whereof was. that if it would please her to license hym to runne in her presence, he would do It gladly, and if not. then h* would depart* as he came. After his request was graunted, then he put off hya sayd habyta and was armed at all peces with ryeha bases 4 horse, also rychely trapped, and so did runne hi* horse to th* tylte end. where dleurs men on fote apparelled in Rusaet satyn awaited on him. Thereupon th* Heraulds cryed an Oyex! and the grow nd shoke with the tromp* of rushynge stedes. Wonder it were to write of the dedes of Armes which that day toke place, where a man might haue seen many a horse raysea on hlghe with galop, turns and etoppe, raaruaylous to beheld C.xlv staves were broke and the kyng* being lusty, he and the straunger toke the prices. When the queen had given the stranger permission to run. and as bo moved away, there was a great clapping of hands and waving of trophies among the ladies, sor 7 he was of such noble mien aud comely face as to attract the gaze of every one away from even the glittering person of his majesty the king. His hair, worn iu its natural length, fell in brown curls baek from his forehead almost to the shoulder, a style just then new. even in France. His eyes were a deep blue, aud his complexion, though browned by exposure, held a tinge of beauty which the sun could not mar and a girl might envy. He wore neither mustachlo nor beard, a* men now disfigure their faces—since Francis I. took a scar on his chin —and his clear cut profile, dilating nostrils and mobile though firm set mouth gave pleasing assurance of tenderness, gentleness, daring and strength. I was standing near the queen, who called to me, “Who is the handsome stranger that so gracefully asked our license to run?" “I cannot inform youx m»je«ty. I never saw hiix, until now. He 1* the geodlleet knight I have ever beheld." ‘That he is," replied the queen, "and we should like very much to know him. Should we not, ladies?” There was a chorus of assent from a dozen voice*, and I promised, after the running, to learn all about him aud report. It was at this point the herald* cried their “Oyez!” aad our conversation waa at an end for the time. As to height, the stranger was full six feet, with ample evidence of mu*cle, though no great bulk. He was gruae Itself, and the king afterward Mid he had never seen such strength of arm and skill In the use of the lance -« sure harbinger of favor, If npt of fortune, for the possessor. After the jousting the Prince** Mary ashed me if I could yet give her an account of the stranger, and as I could not she went to the king. I beard her inquire: “Who was your companion, brother?" That is a aacrei, sbier. You will fiad out toon enough and will be falling «u ,vVr- with him, no doubt. I Lave always looked upon you aa full of trouble for me In that respect You will not so much a* glance at any one I choose for you, but I suppose, would be ready enough with your smiles for some one I should not want.” “I* the stranger one whom you would not want?” aaked Mary, with a dimpling smile end a flash of her brown eyes. "He most certainly is," returned th* king. “Then I will fall In love with him at once. In fact, 1 don't know but I have already.” "Oh, I have no doubt of that If I wanted him, he might be Apollo him self, aud you would have none of him." King Henry bad been compelled to refuse several very advastageoua alliances because this fair, coaxing, seif willed sister would not consent to be a Ijart of the moving consideration. “But can you not tell me who be is and what his degree?” want oa Mary In a bantering tone. "He bat no degree. He Is a plain, untitled soldier, not even a knight that la, not an English knight I think he ba* a German or fipauisb order of some sort,” [TO U CORTUrVID.}

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