BOLINGBROKE          [to Northumberland] Noble lord,

Go to the rude ribs of that ancient castle,

Through brazen trumpet send the breath of parley

Into his ruined ears, and thus deliver:

Henry Bolingbroke,

On both his knees doth kiss King Richard’s hand

And sends allegiance and true faith of heart

To his most royal person, hither come

Even at his feet to lay my arms and power,

Provided that my banishment repealed

And lands restored again be freely granted.          (3.3.30-40)

So Northumberland gets a job, a high-profile one: he’s to act as Bolingbroke’s go-between and herald. Echoing Richard, Bolingbroke imagines the castle as a body: it has rude ribs, massive, rugged walls (the walls of the real Flint Castle are seven metres thick at their base) and ruined ears, which some editors suggest are its crumbling crenellations, or its loopholes. But the castle is also Richard himself, its exposed ribs not strong but vulnerable, its ears ruined because Richard himself is ruined. Whatever the particularities, something that was once mighty has fallen into disrepair, and the breath of parley, the call to negotiation from the brazen trumpets (brass but also raucous, harsh) might well blow it down altogether.

There’s more than simply a trumpet call, however: Northumberland is to deliver a message, as formal and as calculating as we have come to expect of Bolingbroke. (By not going himself, he’s asserting his power and control even more: I have people to do this for me, people I can command, here one of the greatest nobles in the land.) But even as these words are spoken, they’re ironised and undercut: Bolingbroke’s here with an army, with forces which clearly and vastly outnumber Richard’s. He can afford to be polite, and to go through the motions, to protest that on both his knees he doth kiss King Richard’s hand, that he sends allegiance and true faith of heart to his most royal person. Bolingbroke’s a loyal subject, making dutiful supplication to his lord. He will lay his arms and power—this considerable force—yes, really—at the King’s feet, with just one proviso: that my banishment be repealed and lands restored again be freely granted. A seamless switch from the third person to the first, my arms and power, my banishment repealed; this is personal, and I have the numbers. But I just want back what’s mine. Freely, without any conditions. That’s all. Words are cheap when there’s an army at your back.