CHAPTER XIV.
There are some days of life when everything appears to combine to heighten the hues of happiness, when not only the sensations in our own bosoms, and the circumstances of our fate are all bright and cheerful, but when every external object, every feature in Nature's face seems to smile, and every sound to be in harmony with our feelings. But such hours are too precious to be many; blessed is that life which can count two or three of them; and it has been often remarked, that as at some seasons of the year, a peculiarly fine day generally announces the approach of storm and tempest, so do one of these bright intervals in our cloudy existence precede a period of sorrow, trouble, and disaster.
An hour after daybreak, on as sweet a morning as ever dawned, in the midst of the magnificent scenery of the forest, Hugh de Monthermer and Lucy de Ashby stood by the side of their horses, ready to mount and depart. Love gave its sunshine to each heart. Lucy's bosom beat high at her deliverance by her lover. The assurance of her affection--the delight of her presence--the increased hope of obtaining her, rendered his sensations not less joyful. The yellow morning light spread sweetly overhead; the old grey Saxon building rested calm in its ivy robe behind them: every blade of grass was sparkling with a thousand diamonds; every air wafted the breath of the sweet forest flowers; every tree was tuneful with the song of the birds. It was like some happy dream, when imagination, stripping life of its stern realities, revels supreme, and decks the brief moments of sleep with all the boundless treasures of her airy kingdom.
A step nearer to the lodge stood the bold forester; his fine, muscular limbs clear and defined in his tight-fitting garb, and his nut brown hair curling round his thoughtful forehead. A faint smile hung upon his lip as he watched the two lovers, leaving them to proceed as they would, without interrupting them with courtesies. It seemed as if he was reading a pleasant book, of the truth of which he might have some doubt, but which yet interested and amused him; for Robin knew the world too well to suppose that such happiness could last long, but yet his mind was of that firm and hardy nature which clouds not the present with cares and fears of the future, but extracts from every hour its honey, and leaves the rest to fate.
When Hugh de Monthermer had placed Lucy on her horse, he turned to bid their host good bye, frankly holding out his hand.
"Farewell, my lord!" said Robin, taking it. "We shall soon meet again in busier scenes, if I judge right. But where is the guide I promised you? Why, Tangel, Tangel! where are you?" and he raised his voice loud and somewhat sternly. At his last call the dwarf crept forth from behind the house, with a bent head and crouching posture, like an unwilling dog, approaching his master slowly, and eyeing him askance.
"What now--what now?" said Robin Hood. "Did I not give you orders? Where is the horse?"
"I would fain not go," cried the dwarf. "Let me stay with thee, Robin, let me stay with thee. Send Smooth Face, send White Skin, send Harry the page.--If the fool can't take care of himself, and must have a boy to lead him about the world, like a blind beggar, send young Porkflesh with him.--Why should he take me?"
"Nay, my good friend," said Hugh de Monthermer, seeing the bold forester about to speak somewhat angrily, "Let the lad stay with thee! I shall find my way well enough; his only fault is loving thee well."
"Those that love me obey me," replied Robin Hood; "and, my good lord, he must do so, or never see me more. It is not alone to guide you through the forest I send him with you; you must take him to Hereford, and keep him till we meet again. You will find him faithful and true, crafty and active, though he shews himself so unruly at present; and in these dangerous times it may be of great service both to you and me that you should have some one with you who knows every man in my band. I may have to convey intelligence to you and to the good lord, your uncle; for I gain a knowledge of all that takes place throughout the land, which my Lord of Leicester, with all his power, cannot attain. It is needful that you should have some means of knowing which messengers are really mine, and which are not, for these are times full of deceit, and human cunning is more busily at work than the world ever saw, I believe. If anybody comes to you in my name, call for this boy, and make him tell you whether he be one of my people or not. Go, Tangel; and let me hear that you have done your duty."
"Come, my boy--come!" said Hugh de Monthermer, speaking to him kindly; "I will try to make thee as happy as may be; and thou shalt love me, whether thou wilt or not."
"Goodsooth, I love thee well enough," replied the dwarf, "though I have no weakness for men in purfled jerkins. I love thee well enough, though not so well as him; but what must be, must be. Poor Tangel has always been Fate's foot-ball. Well, I will get the horse."
So saying, he stretched out his long arms, put his hands suddenly upon the shoulders of Lucy's two maids, who were standing close together, and vaulting over them with a leap that made them both scream, he bounded round the angle of the building, and soon reappeared, leading a small brown forest horse, furnished with saddle-bags for his journey.
As soon as the whole party were mounted, the Outlaw approached the side of Hugh de Monthermer's horse, and, looking up in his face, said a few words to him in a low tone which seemed to excite some surprise.
"Indeed!" exclaimed the young knight; "but are you certain?"
"As certain," replied Robin Hood, "as of that being a magpie in the tree."
"Then you must have taken some means to delude them," said Hugh de Monthermer.
"Not I," answered Robin Hood, "I always leave fools to delude themselves; they are sure to do it more cleverly than I could. However, it was necessary that you should know the fact, so I tell you. Now, God speed you, sir--we shall meet again soon."
In a moment or two after, the little cavalcade was moving along through the glades of the forest, Tangel riding on before, in somewhat sullen mood, followed at the distance of about twenty yards by Lucy and her lover, with a discreet space between them and the maids who followed. The pace at which they proceeded was not quick, for those were hours which two at least of the party would willingly have spun out slowly--a fine golden thread, which they feared would end only too soon.
But why should I pause upon their happiness? Why should I relate what each said to the other? The stream of human pleasure, except when it falls in the fierce cataract of passion, is so calm and smooth that there is little to describe. Let each one bring such a moment home to his own breast; let him fancy himself riding by the side of her whom he loves best through scenes as fair, with hopes as bright, and his own heart will present him a better picture than any which my hand could draw. They soon emerged from the deeper part of the wood, and wound slowly on through the mingled savannahs and copses which occupied a considerable part of the forest ground, till they came upon a high road running from Nottingham to some of the Yorkshire towns, with a finger-post--which is a much older invention than is generally supposed--marking the various paths towards Mansfield, Southwell, and other small places within the meres of the forest.
To say the truth, Hugh de Monthermer, with a true lover's forgetfulness, had never remembered to give their dwarfish guide any orders as to the direction he should take, and the first thing that called the necessity to his mind was the question which that finger-post mutely put to the traveller.
"I fear, dear Lucy," he said, "that Lindwell is not far off, and thither I suppose I must conduct you direct, although it is sad to bring such happy moments as these to an end."
"I fear it must be so," answered Lucy, with a sigh; "my father will be anxious, you know, till he sees me again, and I must think of him before myself, Hugh."
"But if it be on his account you would go to Lindwell," replied her lover, "you will be disappointed, dear Lucy, for he is not there. Judging hastily that you must have been carried off by some emissary of the King's party, in order to detach him from the English cause, he and your brother have, I find, gone on in the direction of Gloucester likewise."
"Oh, then I will not stay at Lindwell all alone," cried Lucy, gaily--"I should be as melancholy as one of the rooks that haunt the old trees round it; and besides," she added, perhaps not ill-pleased at having a good excuse to go on under her lover's protection--"and besides, who can tell what might happen. The foreign party are strong in Nottingham and all the neighbouring places, and I might have to put on armour and defend Lindwell against an army. No, no, Hugh, if you are a good knight and true, you will guide me on to seek my father till we have found him. By my sooth, I would rather have remained with the blithe foresters than be confined to Lindwell, with all the chances of these evil times."
The reader may easily suppose that Hugh de Monthermer was not at all dissatisfied with Lucy's decision, and as he was one whose heart was no way faint, he doubted not that he should be able to guide her safely and well to her father's side, although he could not conceal from himself, and would not conceal from her, that there were difficulties and dangers in the way.
"You put a hard task upon me, Lucy," he said, laughing.
"What mean you, uncourteous knight!" she asked, in the same tone;--"This is the first time that I ever met a gentleman unwilling to guide and protect me whithersoever I went.--A mighty hard task, truly!"
"No, by those bright eyes," replied Hugh, "that is not the task I speak of; but it is to persuade you not to do that which I most wish you would. I mean, dear Lucy, that I must dissuade you from going on, though to ride beside you thus, for two or three days more, were worth a whole year of any other part of life. But I cannot let you choose without telling you that there is many a peril to be encountered between this and Gloucester. Gilbert de Clare, whose faith has long been doubtful it is now ascertained, is ready to take arms against De Montfort. Indeed, he may already have done so; and one thing is certain, that in the forest of Dean, armed men are gathering thick, without any known object, so that the way is dangerous."
"I have no fear, Hugh," replied Lucy, "so that you be beside me; and moreover we can get some men from Lindwell. I would not stay there alone to be Queen of Cyprus, so that my only choice is to go with you, or to put myself at the head of the best troop I can gather, and then, like an errant lady, seek my way without you."
"Nay, then, if such be your will," answered her lover, "there is no choice for either of us, though perhaps your brother may frown, and even your father look cold. There is still, however, a chance that we may overtake my uncle at Torwel, and if we do so, his grave company and stout men at arms will save us from all danger, and all reproaches. At all events, he will leave some four or five archers behind him, trusty soldiers at one's need; and if we can get as many from Lindwell, I would undertake, with care and forethought and good precautions, to guard you uninjured hence to Palestine."
"Oh, how pleasant!" cried Lucy--"Let us go, Hugh--why should we not go? I think every woman should make a pilgrimage to Palestine before she marries."
Hugh de Monthermer, however, thought it would be better to reverse the proceeding, and, marrying first, make the pilgrimage afterwards--if they liked it. So he told Lucy; nor did she say no; and putting their horses into a quicker pace, he directed their dwarfish guide to lead on towards Torwel. Passing by Arnold, and skirting the edges of Thorney Wood, they crossed the Lind not far from Basfort, at which little village they paused for a moment or two, to water their horses, towards nine in the morning. At Torwel, however, they found that the Earl had gone on, leaving six archers behind him to await his nephew's coming. Here a longer repose was necessary, for though Lucy, trained to hardier habits than ladies affect in the present day, was capable of enduring much more fatigue; she was still a woman, and might well feel somewhat weary with a four-hours' ride.
The time they passed at Torwel flew quick away, and they were speedily retreading, in some degree, their steps towards her father's castle. Great were the rejoicings at Lindwell to see her safe returned, and every man would have gladly accompanied her to guard her by the way. The defence of the place itself, however, was not to be neglected, and as Lucy was resolved to proceed that night, six stout men-at-arms were chosen from the rest, and being quickly mounted and accoutred, the party once more set out with four hours clear daylight before them, taking their way towards the frontiers of Derbyshire.
Onward they rode with light, gay hearts; the spirit of adventure and enterprise itself adding something to all the manifold enjoyments which had crowded into that day.
The boy Tangel had by this time dropped into the rear, being no longer necessary as a guide, and to say truth, although Hugh had spoken to him once or twice as they proceeded, absorbed in his own feelings towards Lucy, he had taken but little notice of his absence from the front. When they had left Lindwell, however, some seven miles behind them, the boy urged his horse up at a quick pace, saying, "On your guard--on your guard! there are men coming up fast behind;" and turning round, Hugh de Monthermer perceived some six or seven persons galloping down from a hill at the distance of about half a mile.
Lucy paused to gaze likewise, and as the pursuers came nearer, she exclaimed, with a look, it must be owned, of no great pleasure--"It is my brother, Hugh; I am sure that is Alured on the black horse."
"I think so too," replied Hugh de Monthermer, drawing in his rein; "but even if it be not, we have nothing to fear."
The little party of horsemen who were following, came on at full speed, and certainly not with the most peaceful appearance; but every stretch of the horses showed more and more clearly the form of Alured de Ashby, and at length, after slackening his pace a good deal, as if to examine the group which was now waiting his approach, he rode up, with a countenance expressive of less pleasure than might have been expected at seeing his sister in safety.
"How now!" he exclaimed--"What is all this? Why have you turned your back upon Lindwell, my good lord? and whither are you having the great kindness to conduct my sister?"
"To overtake Lord Ashby, my lord," replied Hugh, "who has gone on towards Gloucester, we find."
"Methinks, sir," answered Alured de Ashby, "that Lindwell castle were the properest place for you to conduct her to, after having so dexterously found her when no one else knew where she was."
"But suppose, Alured," said Lucy, ere Hugh de Monthermer could utter the somewhat sharp rejoinder which was springing to his lips--"suppose, Alured, that your sister did not choose to be so conducted. Suppose, after visiting Lindwell, she thought fit to ask this noble gentleman to guard and protect her by the way, till she overtook her father?"
"Doubtless he was very willing," answered Lord Alured, with a sneer.
"Beyond all question," replied Hugh de Monthermer, in as cool a tone as he could command; "and not more willing to do so than justified in doing it. But you were pleased just now to make use of a word which must be explained. You said, sir, that I had found your sister when no one else knew where she was. Do you mean to imply that I did know?"
"Good faith," replied the hot young nobleman, "it is not for me to say whether you did or not. It is mighty strange, however, that you could discover her in the twinkling of an eye, as soon as her relations were gone."
"Not half so strange," said Lucy, interposing once more in terror for the result, "as that you should show yourself so ungrateful, Alured, for his having found me. Instead of giving him deep thanks, which are his due both from you and me, you seem as angry as if you had wished me to remain and perish in the forest."
"Well, well," said Alured de Ashby, a little ashamed perhaps of his irritable heat--"this is all waste of words!--Where were you? What was the cause of your being taken away? What has happened to you?"
"Three questions in a breath," exclaimed Lucy, "each of which would take an hour to answer fully, even if I could answer them all. As to the first, then, I have been in the forest; as to the last, I reply, a good deal has happened to me, of which I will tell you at leisure. As to the middle one, Why they took me away? my answer must be very short,--I do not know."
"Perhaps you do, sir?" said her brother, turning to Hugh. The young nobleman looked him straightforwardly and somewhat sternly in the face, answering, "I do."
"Then pray explain," said Alured.
"You will excuse me," replied Hugh, "I shall first explain the whole to your father, as he is the person who must act in the business, and as I bear a message to him of which he alone can judge."
"Mighty mysterious, my good lord," cried Alured--"But as I am now present here, and am going with all speed to overtake the Earl of Ashby, my sister will no longer need your kind protection."
"But as we take the same road," said Hugh de Monthermer, "it will be safer for all, if we travel it together."
"Fie! Alured; in common courtesy----" exclaimed Lucy.
But her brother interrupted her petulantly, saying--"These are times that abridge courtesy, Lucy.--I differ, my good lord," he continued--"I judge that it will be safer for us to travel apart. With our two troops united we form a body that cannot escape observation, and which is yet too small to make a good defence. I therefore think that it will be better for us to separate. Thanking you much for the assistance and protection you have given to this lady, and waiting with devout patience for the explanations which you have not thought fit to afford, I will take one way if you will take another."
Hugh de Monthermer bit his lip; but though quick and fiery in his own disposition, he was acting under a restraint which made him bear to the utmost, rather than quarrel with the brother of her whom he loved, resolved that it should be no act of his which placed a barrier between them. Without making any reply to Alured de Ashby then, he wheeled round his horse to Lucy's side, asking in a low voice--"Shall I go?"
"You had better," said Lucy, with a sigh--"you had better:" and then raising her voice, she added--"Farewell, Lord Hugh; I at least am grateful, and so you will find my father, I am sure. Farewell."
Thus speaking she held out her hand to him; and Hugh de Monthermer, pressing his lips upon it, turned his horse, and bade his men follow him, without offering any salutation to the ungracious young nobleman who had brought so happy a day to so unpleasant a close.
Taking a road which lay somewhat to the north of that which Lucy and her brother were pursuing, he advanced towards Gloucester, keeping nearly upon a line with the other party, and gaining from time to time some information of their movements. Towards the end of the fifth day's march, his little troop approached the city in which he expected to find his uncle; but at the small town of Charlton, he received intimation from his host that if he were going to join the army of the great Earl of Leicester, it would be well for him to take a large circuit, the road between that place and Gloucester being somewhat dangerous.
"Gilbert de Clare," he said, "our good Earl, keeps the forest of Dean with some five thousand men; and we just this morning heard that the young Lord of Ashby, who left last night, has been taken with all his company. His sister was with him, too, pretty lady; but some say the young lord was not unwilling to fall into the Earl's hands. At all events he was well forewarned, for we told him what would happen when he set out."
Hugh bit his lip, mused for a moment or two; and then murmuring--"It is not impossible," mounted his horse and rode away, taking the road which the host had pointed out as the most secure.
CHAPTER XV.
The greatest men that ever lived, if we were to examine accurately all the actions that they have performed at different periods of their existence, and could try them with impartial and perfectly discriminating judgment, would be found to have committed more than one great mistake which in many instances did not lead to the evil consequences that might have been anticipated. And, on the contrary, very often indeed, a trifling fault, a rash word, a thoughtless act, or even an angry look, has produced more important results than one of these capital errors. Sometimes it has been conduct which has retrieved the fault, but history shows us that the moment at which an act is committed more frequently decides whether the consequences shall be great or insignificant than the nature of the act itself. At the period of history of which we now speak, the famous Simon de Montfort, Earl of Leicester--justly celebrated both as a soldier and a politician, one of the few men, with a prophetical spirit, to foresee the path in which society will march, and forestall their age in choosing it--had committed that grand mistake which led to his overthrow and death.
Often, before this period, he had proceeded with inferior forces from one end of the land to the other, and, supported by the strong popular feeling in his favour, had overthrown all his enemies, holding his weak and tyrannical sovereign a mere prisoner in his hands, and keeping even Prince Edward himself, one of the wisest men and best soldiers of the age, in a state of honourable captivity. No evil results had ensued--no great danger even had been incurred. But the times had changed. Many of those who had attached themselves to De Montfort, upon the less virtuous and honourable motives which affect the course of human actions, had been treated by him with cold and most impolitic neglect. Others feared the consequences of his growing power, either for themselves or their country, not taking in the vast range to which his own political vision extended; and others were indignant at his treatment of their king, who, however weak, vicious, and tyrannical, they still looked upon with feudal respect. Many of the lords of the marches of Wales were actually in arms against his power; and the famous Earl of Gloucester, a factious kinsman of the throne, had been for some time assuming loyalty, and displaying a thinly veiled enmity to the party of De Montfort.
At this inauspicious moment, the Earl of Leicester had determined to march from the neighbourhood of London, by whose citizens he had always been vigorously supported, and where his chief strength lay, and to advance to the frontiers of Wales, with the purpose of punishing the malcontents who refused to submit to his authority. By thus removing from the proximity of his best resources, he rendered the power of his adversaries and his own so nearly equal, that it wanted but one of those slight accidents which so frequently overthrow the best laid schemes, to turn the balance against him; and that accident was soon destined to occur.
With the exception of this great mistake, not the slightest error has been pointed out in his conduct, at least in a military point of view. His march was conducted with the circumspection; and, with a force by no means large--keeping the King and the Prince, eager for deliverance and assisted by many friends, at his side, while he advanced in the midst of enemies, equal, if not superior in numbers to himself,--he proceeded, with slow and careful steps, to Gloucester, and there entered into negotiations with Gilbert de Clare, his most formidable opponent, in order to induce him once more to join the party which had so frequently asserted the rights of the people against the encroaching spirit of Henry III.
Deceived; in some degree, by pretended advances on the part of the Earl of Gloucester, he agreed to refer their differences to arbitration, and recommenced his march for Hereford; but still, with the most scrupulous precaution, guarded his royal companions, and frustrated every effort made by the Earl to take him at a disadvantage, and to set them free.
At the same time, perceiving that, in order to attain the great objects he had in view, he must strengthen himself to the utmost of his power, he notified to all his friends the absolute necessity of their combining to give him support and marching to his assistance with all the troops that they could levy. The effect of his messages and exhortations we have seen in the meetings held in Yorkshire, and gradually perceiving that there was no chance of recovering the friendship of Gloucester, he prepared to compel that submission which he could not obtain, by gentler means.
Men were gathering from all parts--arms were being manufactured in every town--the land was agitated from end to end, and every one looked forward to a great and decisive struggle--though there were few, it must be confessed, who did not believe that De Montfort would triumph--for the prestige of victory hung around his banner, and the whole air and tone of the great leader were those of a man marked out by the hand of God for success.
Such was the state of affairs, when Hugh de Monthermer, with his small troop, after having visited the town of Gloucester, and learned that his uncle had proceeded at once to Hereford, arrived in that fair city. It was now filled with soldiers and with noblemen from different parts of the country, so that a lodging would have been difficult to obtain, had not the old Earl of Monthermer secured a portion of the inn called the May which we have once led the reader--for the dwelling of himself and his nephew.
Hugh found but small space, however, allotted to him and to those who accompanied him. A party of his own servants who had gone on with the Earl were already in possession, two having taken up their abode in the small ante-room leading to the chamber which had been assigned to himself; and an adjoining room, not very large, with one somewhat less, at the side, was all that remained for the rest of his retinue, and the five archers who had been left behind by his uncle. The other parts of the inn were completely filled; and for the poor boy, Tangel, no place had, of course, been reserved, as every one had been ignorant of his coming.
The dwarf, who had seemed to grow more sad at each day's journey from Sherwood, stood in the doorway of the ante-room, as the young lord entered, listening to the arrangements which had been made.
"Where to put the maggot that you have brought, my lord," said the old servant, who was explaining to Hugh the fullness of the rooms and the disposition they had been obliged to adopt, and who did not appear at all well pleased at poor Tangel's addition to the party--"Where to put the maggot you have brought, I cannot tell. The ante-room is scarce big enough for the two yeomen, and----"
"He shall sleep in my chamber," said Hugh, noting the poor dwarf's desolate look; "come hither, Tangel, thou shalt sleep on a bed at my feet. Know him, and take care of him, Walsh; for he is a good and faithful boy, true and affectionate to his master; and if any one does him wrong, he shall answer to me for it."
The boy darted forward, and kissed his hand; and Hugh de Monthermer, after giving some farther directions, to ensure that he was protected against insult as well as injury, proceeded at once, followed by two servants, armed with sword and buckler, to the magnificent castle of Hereford, whither he found that his uncle had gone about an hour before.
It was a gay and bustling scene that the court-yard presented, for as every detail of military life was then complicated in the extreme, and the taste for splendour and expense was at its height, the crowd of followers, in gaudy dresses, who accompanied even the inferior officers of an army hither, caused the head-quarters of the general to appear in a constant state of flutter and pageantry. Forcing his way through the crowd, and, from the scanty number of his attendants, attracting but little attention, Hugh de Monthermer ascended the steps into the great hall of the keep, which he found nearly filled with people, pacing up and down; and as he was not acquainted with the building, he asked a gentleman, who seemed at his ease in the place, to tell him where he could find the Earl of Leicester.
The personage to whom he addressed himself pointed to a flight of steps leading from the farther end of the hall, and replied, "At the top of the stairs you will meet with some one who will tell you where the Earl is: but you will not get speech of him, I think."
"I think I shall!" replied Hugh, "but, at all events, I thank you;" and ascending the stairs, he was stopped by an officer with a partisan, who asked him his business, and in the same breath told him he could not pass that way.
Hugh gave his name, and demanded to see the Earl; upon which a page was sent to knock at the council chamber, and ask if the Earl would see the young Lord of Monthermer. In about three minutes the boy returned, bidding him follow, and Hugh was led along the dark and gloomy corridor, until his guide paused, and again tapped at a low narrow door on the left hand side of the passage.
After a moment's interval, a deep voice replied, "Come in!" and the next instant Hugh entered the room, and found himself standing within a step or two of the chair in which De Montfort was seated.
He was a tall, powerful, square-browed man, with a countenance full of thought, but likewise full of confidence. There was great calmness also in his aspect, and an eye, not stern but grave, not so much shrewd as searching. There were but two other persons in the room, although he was said to be holding council. One of those was the old Earl of Monthermer, and the other a man considerably younger, but yet grey-headed, and well known in the history of the times as the Lord Ralph Basset.
De Montfort looked up, as Hugh de Monthermer entered, with a bland and pleasant smile, holding out his hand at the same time, and saying, "How are you, Hugh? Right glad are we to see such friends as you arrive. Do you bring us any farther tidings from Nottingham?"
"None, my lord," replied Hugh, "except that levies of the yeomen and foresters are going on rapidly."
"They had need be speedy," said De Montfort, "or we shall strike some great blow before they come. Heard you aught else by the way?"
"In truth, my lord, I did, and no good news either!" replied Hugh. "The Earl of Gloucester is daily gathering strength, and he renders the road round his fair city somewhat dangerous to travel. Indeed, the reason why I intruded on you now, was but to tell you that Alured de Ashby, his sister, and some twelve or fourteen archers, had been captured by De Clare, between Gloucester and Charlton. I judge, my lord, that if you took speedy means to set him free, it might fix the house of Ashby somewhat more firmly in the good cause."
Both De Montfort and the Earl of Monthermer heard him with a smile, and Ralph Basset muttered between his teeth--"Fix the sands of the sea!"
"You have been forestalled, my young friend," said De Montfort; "some one else has already liberated Alured de Ashby, together with his sister and his archers."
"Indeed!" exclaimed Hugh de Monthermer; "may I ask who?"
"Gilbert de Clare, Earl of Gloucester," replied De Montfort.
"Ay, and not without cause, be sure of that;" said Ralph Basset; "he is coming hither now, will arrive to-morrow, with a smooth air and a high-carried head, and my Lord of Leicester here will receive him as kindly and frankly as the truest of his friends."
"I want not to multiply my enemies, Ralph," replied De Montfort; "and perhaps we may find some better way of attaching him to what is right, than by treating him as a foe, before we are well sure that he has done aught to deserve the name. What say you, Hugh, will you be the link to bind him to our cause?"
"Right willingly, my lord," answered Hugh de Monthermer; "but I rather fear that I am more likely to separate him from it. He loves me not, that is clear; and though the good Earl, his uncle, is not so hot and fiery in his nature, yet I have those things to say about their near relation, Richard, which may breed ill blood before I have done."
De Montfort mused for a minute or two. "Why, Richard," he said, at length, "is apparently the most zealous in our cause of all the race!"
"But did my uncle----" demanded Hugh.
"Ay, he did,". said De Montfort, interrupting him; "and I spoke with Richard about it; but he assures me that the thing was done in ignorance, and that the man himself has since been discharged.--However----"
"He is a foul knave!" replied Hugh de Monthermer; "and at all events I have promised to demand, at the hands of the Earl, some reparation for a gross wrong which he has committed."
"Well, well," said the Earl of Leicester, apparently desirous of changing the subject for the time; "if you must do so, Hugh, let it be done before some friends as witnesses--before myself, perhaps, were better; and do whatever you do gently, for your uncle here has told me of hopes and wishes which you may go far to mar, if you act rashly in the business."
"I will be as calm and gentle as the south-west wind," replied Hugh, "for I would fain give neither Alured nor his father any matter for offence; and if you will send and let me know when they are with you, I will come and speak to them in your presence. And now, my lord," he continued, "if such a thing be permitted, as I suppose it is, I would fain spend a short time with Prince Edward. You know we were sworn friends in youth."
"I know you were," replied De Montfort; "but good sooth, Hugh, to have been his sworn friend is no good motive, in my eyes, for letting you confer with him."
The brow of Hugh de Monthermer grew somewhat dark, but the Earl of Leicester added immediately--"I will tell you what is a motive, however, my young friend--your own honour and high name. We treat the Prince with every courtesy and due respect; we do not look upon him as a prisoner; but it is highly needful for the safety of the state, ay, and for our own lives and fortunes, that he should remain in close attendance upon his father, the King. Now, my good friend, there are men who would fain persuade him it were better for him to be away, consulting, doubtless, with this good Earl of Gloucester, and heading armies to tear the kingdom with fresh strife, while others again would willingly give him the means of carrying such designs into execution. None that we even suspect, therefore, do we permit to visit him; and this very Richard de Ashby, whom we spoke of but now, though he gave good reasons, as I have said, to make us believe him innocent, we have, on your uncle's information, forbidden to hold any farther communication with the Prince, and, moreover, warned him to quit Hereford without delay. It is different, however, with a Monthermer," continued the Earl, with a gracious but stately inclination of the head--"you can be trusted."
"Of this, at least, my lord, you may rest assured," replied Hugh; "that, although I own I wish to see the Prince at liberty, and only bound by solemn vows to take no part against the cause of freedom and right----"
"No wise man trusts to fetters of wind," interrupted the Earl, who had taken up a pen, and was writing at the table.
"At all events," continued Hugh de Monthermer, "I would never basely use a permission you yourself had granted to thwart your dearest wishes."
"I know it," said the Earl; "there is a pass. You will find the Prince in the other court; but make what speed you may, for it is growing dusk, and the castle gates must soon be closed."
"Haste away, Hugh," said his uncle; "in an hour I shall be at the inn."
CHAPTER XVI.
In the old castle of Hereford, which, according to the account of Leland, was one of the largest and finest specimens of the military architecture of feudal times, were numerous courts and various detached buildings, so that the number of persons which it could contain was immense; and even when several hundred men were within the walls, many of the open spaces and passages would be found silent and solitary. Thus, on the evening of Hugh de Monthermer's visit, the chief court, the halls, and the corridors around it, were crowded with not less than seven or eight hundred persons; but as one turned one's steps to other parts of the building, the throng decreased, the passers to and fro became fewer and more few, and at length nothing presented itself but untenanted courts and empty arcades.
In a dark corner of a long passage--which, traversing one side of the keep under open cloisters, passed through a large mass of buildings, receiving no light but that which poured in at either end, and, after being joined by two other arched corridors, led out into the court in which Prince Edward's lodging was situated--in a dark corner of this long passage stood two men engaged in earnest conversation, just about the time that Hugh de Monthermer quitted the Earl of Leicester. They were both covered with large cloaks, and both had their hoods drawn far over their heads, so that it would have been very difficult for any one to recognise them, unless well acquainted with their air and figure. Nevertheless, they did not seem to feel themselves secure; for, the instant that they heard a step coming from the direction of the principal court, they walked on a few paces, and then turned into one of the lateral passages, near the mouth of which they again paused, and resumed their conversation in a low tone.
A moment after, the tall, graceful figure of Hugh de Monthermer passed across, without appearing to excite their attention, so earnest were they in the matter they were discussing. He, however, turned his head, and looked at them steadily, but still walked on without slackening his pace.
"Some means must be found," said one--the shorter and the slighter of the two--"some means must be found, and that right speedily, or our last chance is lost."
"You must have been playing some of your accursed tricks, Richard," replied the other, "or De Montfort never would have taken such a step. The house of Ashby is of too much importance to any cause that its members espouse, for even the lowest branch to be treated with indignity, without some strong occasion."
"Nonsense, Alured, I did nothing!" replied the other. "I tell you, it was solely and simply upon this old Monthermer's charge against me."
"On your life and honour?" demanded his companion.
"On my life, honour, soul, and salvation!" replied the other. "Well, then, I am glad of it," said the taller speaker. "I am glad that it has happened; for, first, I will take care it shall rouse my father's anger against De Montfort, and, secondly, it shall stir him up against these Monthermers, and, I trust, induce him to break with them both. At all events, it will make him forgive my joining Gloucester. So, I repeat, I am glad that it has happened."
"I cannot say as much," rejoined the first speaker. "I never care, for my part, Alured, about an excuse for anything I am about to do. Oh, there is many a convenient point in having a bad reputation! Men do not expect too much of you--you may do what you please, without anybody wondering; and then, when you are in the humour, and perform two or three good actions, Lord! how you are praised! But, to the point--what can be done now? How can we give him intimation of the scheme?"
"On my life! I know not," said the other.
"Could you not bribe some woman?" demanded the taller and more powerful of the speakers; "They would not stop a woman, I suppose."
"Right, right!" cried his companion. "You have put me on the track, and I will not miss my game."
"But can you engage any woman you can trust?" asked the other. "It must not be some common hireling, some minstrel's wench, some follower of city fairs."
"Leave it to me, leave it to me!" cried the shorter man; "if I cannot engage, I can make her, and that ere another hour be over. There is no time to be lost. Farewell, for the present, for I must away from Hereford to-night; and, if you intend, good Alured, to hatch a quarrel with my noble Lord Hugh, let it be speedy; for I do not think that twenty-four hours will be over ere I have repaid him some trifles that I owe him. I have some plans in my head, as well as you. So fare you well, once more." And thus they parted.
In the meanwhile, Hugh de Monthermer sped upon his way, traversed the other court, and approached a door at which stood two or three of De Montfort's officers, guarding closely, though with an appearance of profound respect, the only entrance to the apartments of Prince Edward.
While he showed the pass which he had received, and mounted the long, narrow staircase, we shall take leave to precede him, for a few minutes, to the apartment of the Prince. It consisted of a suite of several rooms, all reached by the same ascent, and was in itself as convenient and comfortable as any abode can be from which free egress is denied us. The principal chamber was a large and lofty one, with two wide windows, situated in deep bays, looking over the fair scene around.
The casement was open; and, seated in a large chair, with his feet resting on a stool, sat the captive Prince, gazing down upon a part of the town of Hereford and the meadows and orchards beyond. The apple-trees were all in blossom, and every shrub in the manifold gardens had put on the blush of vegetable youth, promising rich fruit in the maturity of the year. Beyond the meadows and the orchards came slopes and rising ground, and lines of deep wood, sheltering the intervening space, and then high hills were seen, fading off into the sky. On the left hand the scene was all open, but on the right, an angle of the cathedral, as it then appeared, bounded the view, while the tower of another church, of inferior dimensions, rose up under the eye, and cut the long, straight lines of the houses and other buildings.
Edward leaned his head upon his hand and gazed, while at a little distance from him sat a gentleman, somewhat younger than himself, looking upon him, from time to time, with a glance of deep interest, but keeping silence out of respect for the Prince's musing mood.
The soft air of summer wafted to the window the scent of the blossoms from the fields beyond; and Edward thought it spoke of liberty. Up rose from the streets and houses of Hereford the manifold sounds of busy life, the buzz of talking multitudes, the call, the shout, the merry laugh of idle boyhood; and still, to the captive's ears, they spoke of liberty. The bells from the cathedral joined in, and rang complines; and turning his eyes thither, he thought how often he had heard those sweet tones, at even-close, in the happy days of early youth, returning from the chase or any other or the free sports of the time. His sight wandered on, over tower and spire, round which the crows were winging their airy flight, to the deep woods and blue hills, flooded with glory from the declining sun. Still, still, it all spoke of liberty; and Edward's heart felt oppressed, his very breathing laboured, as he remembered the mighty blessing he had lost.
It was like the sight of a river to a man dying with thirst in the sands of Africa, without the strength to reach it.
He gazed, and perhaps for a moment might forget himself and his hard fate, in a dream of enjoyment; but if he did, it lasted not long--the dark reality soon came between him and the light of fancy, and letting his head droop, he turned away with a deep sigh, and gave up a brief space to bitter meditation.
Then rising from his seat, taller by many an inch than the ordinary race of men, he threw back his magnificent head and his wide shoulders with a sorrowful smile, saying, "I will walk up and down my chamber, De Clare, and fancy I am free!"
"I hope you feel better, my lord, to-night," said young Thomas de Clare, the Earl of Gloucester's brother.
"Yes, good faith," replied the Prince, "I am better. The fever has left me, but nothing will make me truly well but open air and strong exercise. However, I am better, and I thank you much; for I believe you love me, De Clare, although you make yourself a sort of willing gaoler to me."
The young gentleman bent his head without reply, though there was a faint smile upon his lip, which might have puzzled Edward had he seen it; and after a moment or two De Clare said, somewhat abruptly, "Now I could wager your Grace is strong enough to ride some twenty or thirty miles, if you were at liberty to do so."
"A hundred!" answered Edward, quickly; and then added, more slowly--"were I at liberty."
At that moment some one knocked at the door, and on being told to come in, Hugh de Monthermer entered.
The face of the Prince instantly brightened--"Ah, Monthermer!" he cried, "right glad am I to see you, my friend!--yes, my friend--for these factious times shall never make us enemies, though we draw our swords on different sides. This is my state apartment, Hugh, and that staircase by which you came hither the extreme limit of my principality. I wonder that De Montfort suffered you to see me."
"I almost wondered myself, my lord," said Hugh de Monthermer; "for my request was coupled with a remonstrance against your imprisonment."
"And yet," added the Prince, "you will remonstrate, but not aid to free me."
"My lord, I cannot, without treason," replied Hugh de Monthermer.
"Treason to whom?" demanded Edward, somewhat sharply. "Treason to the land, my lord," answered Hugh de Monthermer, "and to those rights which I know, when you are king, you will yourself willingly respect. I do beseech you, my dear lord, press me not harshly on a matter where I can make but one reply. You are here by the will of four-and-twenty noble gentlemen, appointed lawfully----"
"And by the mise of Lewes," added the Prince, bitterly--"but say no more, Monthermer; I do believe that if your voice might prevail, I should soon be at liberty."
"Upon my life, you would," replied the young nobleman; "indeed, you never should have been otherwise, for I would have taken your word--your plighted word--to maintain the rights of Englishmen, and to aid in no act against them, and would have set you free at once."
"Well, it matters not," answered the Prince; "perhaps it is better as it is. I know not what I might have promised to buy my liberty, if men had asked me; but now, though fettered in body, I am at large in mind, and events may yet come to open stronger doors than that.--How fares it with your good uncle?" he continued. "He has been somewhat harsh and sudden with his king, but still he is a noble gentleman, and one of whom England may well be proud."
Hugh de Monthermer answered in general terms; and the conversation, having then taken a turn away from painful subjects of discussion, reverted pleasantly to brighter themes. Their boyish hours rose up before their eyes--the sports, the pastimes--the gay thoughts and heedless jests of youth were recollected--Edward's countenance unbent, his eyes sparkled, his lips smiled, the prison and its cares were forgotten; and for the time he seemed to live once more in the sweet early days of which they spoke.
The conversation proceeded almost entirely between the Prince and Hugh de Monthermer, for though Thomas de Clare added a word or two now and then, they were but few, and only served to break through one of those momentary pauses which would have given thought time to return from the pleasant past to the sad present.
The sun was, as I have said, going down when Hugh de Monthermer entered the Prince's chamber, and ere he had been there half an hour, the bright orb had sunk beneath the horizon; but in these northern climes, Heaven has vouchsafed to us a blessing which brighter lands do not possess--the long, soft twilight of the summer evening--and the sky was still full of light, so that one might have read with ease in the high chamber of the Prince, nearly half an hour after the star of day had disappeared. It was just at that moment that Hugh, who was sitting with his face towards the door, saw it open slowly, and a beautiful girl, dressed in somewhat gay and sparkling attire, even for those gaudy times, entered with a noiseless step, bearing a small basket in her hands.
An expression of some surprise on the young lord's countenance made Edward himself turn round, and the sight suddenly produced signs of greater amazement in his face than even in Hugh de Monthermer's. He rose instantly, however, saying--"What would you, my fair lady?"
"Nothing, royal sir," replied the girl, "but to bring your Grace this small basket of early strawberries. You will find the flavour good," she added, "especially at the bottom, where they have not been heated by the sun."
As she spoke she put down the basket on the table, and was retreating quickly, but Edward exclaimed--"Stay--stay; pretty one! tell me who you are, that I may remember in my prayers one who has thought upon her captive Prince, and striven to solace him in his imprisonment."
"It matters not," replied the girl, courtesying low and speaking evidently with a country accent--"it matters not. I promised not to stay a moment, but to give the strawberries and to come away. God send your Grace a happy even, and a happy morning to boot!" and thus saying, she retired, closing the door carefully behind her.
"This is strange," said the Prince, taking up the basket, and turning towards Hugh de Monthermer.
But the young lord was buried in deep meditation.
"You seem surprised, Monthermer," said the Prince, "and, faith, so am I, too. I never saw the girl in all my days. Did you, De Clare?"
"Never!" replied the young noble.
"Methinks, I have," observed Hugh de Monthermer, gravely, "and that, many a mile hence. But I will now leave you, my lord; the gates will soon be shut."
"Nay, stay, and take some of this sweet food," said Edward, "which has been brought me, not by ravens but by doves."
"Not so, sir," replied Hugh, staying the Prince's hand, as he was about to empty the basket on the table. "May the fruit prove propitious to your Grace and to England!--Adieu, my lord!" and thus saying, he quitted the room abruptly.
"He is right, he is right!" cried Thomas de Clare; "there is more than fruit in that basket, or I am much mistaken."
Edward laid his hand upon it firmly, and fixed a keen and searching glance upon the young nobleman, saying, "Whatever there be in it, is mine, and for my eye alone, Thomas de Clare."
But his companion passed round the table, bent one knee before him, and, kissing his hand respectfully, said, "My noble lord and future King, you have mistaken me; but it is now time to tell you that I am no gaoler. If I be not very wrong, there are in that basket tidings which shall soon set you free as the wind. I have already gained from stern De Montfort permission for you to ride forth, accompanied by six gentlemen of his choosing, and followed by a train of spears. I said, that it was the only means of restoring you to health.--I might have added had I pleased, and to liberty. Now, my lord, see what that basket does contain; and believe me, if it cost me my head to keep your secret, I would not reveal it."
"Thanks, De Clare, thanks," replied Edward. "We often suspect the honest of being guilty; but, this time, suspicion has taken a different course, and I have long suspected thee of being honest.--Now suppose all your hopes are false?" and he overturned the basket on the table.
Nothing fell from it except the fruit; but, fastened to the bottom by a piece of wax, appeared, on closer inspection, a small billet, folded so as to take the form of the basket.
It was speedily drawn forth and opened, as the reader may suppose; but the first words which met the eye of the Prince puzzled him not a little. The note was to the following effect:--