CHAPTER XXVIII.
It was on the day following that which saw the visit of Guy de Margan to Richard de Ashby, that the two lovers stood together at the open casement of one of the magnificent rooms in Lindwell Castle, with joy in their hearts, such as they had never before known in life. They had thought, indeed, during the journey from Eltham to Nottingham, that it was hardly possible anything so bright and sweet could last as the dream-like and uncertain delight which they then enjoyed in each other's society, in the sort of toleration which their love received, and in the hopes to which that toleration gave rise. But now Hugh de Monthermer had come with happier tidings still; and, with his arm circling her he loved, her hand clasped in his, and her head leaning on his shoulder, he told her that her father had been with him for an hour that day, previous to his noon visit to the King, and had given his decided consent to their union. He had expressed some doubts, the lover said, as to her brother Alured's view of the matter, but had promised to take upon himself the task of bringing his son's fiery and intractable spirit to reason; and certain it is that when the young nobleman left Nottingham Castle to proceed with his small train to Lindwell, the Earl of Ashby had fully and entirely made up his mind to bestow his daughter's hand upon Hugh de Monthermer with as little delay as possible.
Nor was it merely caprice which had produced so favourable a change of feeling in the present instance, although he was by nature, it must be confessed, somewhat capricious and undecided. He had always liked the young knight, even when the two houses of Ashby and Monthermer were opposed to each other in former days. He had once or twice bestowed a caress upon the boy, when he had met him accidentally at the court of the King, and Hugh had shown a degree of affection for him in return, which had produced one of those impressions in his favour that time strengthens rather than effaces.
Various circumstances had since caused him to vacillate, as we have seen; but when after the battle of Evesham he found that Hugh was in high favour with the gallant Prince, who had just saved his father's throne, when he saw the way open before him to the brightest career at the court of his Sovereign, and remembered at the same time that he must inevitably unite in his own person all the power and fortune of the two great branches of his noble house, he felt, that in a mere worldly point of view, a better alliance could not be found throughout the land.
He was, therefore, but little inclined to throw any obstacle in the way; and during the progress down to Nottingham,--a progress which in those times occupied sixteen or seventeen days--he perceived two facts which fixed his resolution: first, that his daughter whom he loved better than aught else on earth, had staked her happiness on a union with Hugh de Monthermer; and next, that it was the earnest desire of Edward--though the Prince did not make it a positive request, that no obstacle should be thrown in the way of his friend's marriage with her he loved.
Thus, he himself had, during that morning, led the way to a conversation which ended in his promising Lucy's hand to Hugh de Monthermer; and it had been arranged that, as the King, at the end of two days, was to visit Lindwell and be there entertained for a week, the announcement of the approaching marriage should be publicly made on the morning of the Monarch's arrival.
Such were the happy tidings which Hugh himself bore over to Lucy, and they now stood at that window gazing over the fair scene before their eyes, with feelings in their hearts which can never be known but once in life--feelings, the same in their nature and their character in the bosom of each, though modified of course, by sex, by habits, and by disposition. It was all joy and expectation and the looking forward to the long bright days of mutual love; but with Lucy that joy was timid, agitating, overpowering. All her gay and sparkling cheerfulness sunk beneath the weight of happy hopes, as one sometimes sees a bee so overloaded with honey that he can scarce carry his sweet burden home; and she had neither a jest to throw away upon herself or any one else, but, as we have said, stood quiet and subdued by Hugh de Monthermer's side, his arm half supporting her, and her head leaning on his shoulder. He, too, though always tender and kind towards her, seemed softened still more, by the circumstances in which he was placed. Even the eager love within his bosom controlled itself, lest its ardour should alarm and agitate the gentle being, whom he now looked upon as all his own. He soothed her, he calmed her, his caresses were light and tender; and he even strove to win her thoughts away from the more agitating parts of the subject on which they rested, to those which would give her back firmness and tranquillity.
He called her mind back to the day they had spent together in the forest, to the promises they had made, and to the restrictions she had placed upon hers. He acknowledged that it was better she had done so, but he added--"I may now ask you unhesitatingly, dear Lucy, to pledge me here the vow that you will soon make at the altar, and to tell me that you are mine, and will be for ever mine."
"Oh, willingly, willingly, now!" answered Lucy, withdrawing her hand for a moment, and then giving it back again. "Yours I am, Hugh, whatever betide--yours and none but yours,--yours through weal and woe, through life, till death--oh, yes, and after death!" and she hid her eyes for a moment on his bosom, with the sweet tears of happy emotion rising is them till they well-nigh over-ran the dark fringed lid. Then, turning again to the view before their eyes, they both gazed forth in silence, with their hearts full and their minds busy.
Alas, poor lovers! they little knew that their fate was like the changeful autumn day, whose clouds and sunshine were sweeping rapidly over the wide forest scene on which they looked, now sparkling in the full glory of light, and the next moment, ere one could see the storm in its approach, dark and heavy with the raindrops rushing down, and tearing the brown leaves from the fading trees.
One of those heavy showers had just cleared away, and the rays of the sun were sparkling again over the jewelled ground, when, about an hour after Hugh's arrival, a large and splendid train was seen coming across the green slopes from Nottingham, betokening the return of the Earl. He rode on quickly, and Lucy and her lover advanced into the richly carved stone balcony, to wave the hand and welcome him back with looks that spoke their gratitude and joy; but the Earl did not raise his eyes, and both Hugh and his fair companion perceived, as he approached, that in the train of the Earl were several gentlemen not belonging to his own household.
A moment or two after, steps were heard ascending, and as they were many, Lucy darted away through a small door which led, by another staircase, to her own apartments, believing that her father was bringing some strangers to the castle, and wishing to remove the traces of recent agitation from her countenance before she met them.
Hugh de Monthermer was not long left alone. Lucy was scarcely gone when the voice of the Earl of Ashby was heard speaking to some of those who had accompanied him.
"Stay you here, gentlemen," he said, "he will return with you to the King--be not afraid; I will be his surety.--Let me speak with him first;" and the next instant the Earl entered the hall, with his eyes bent upon the ground and a cloud upon his brow.
Though conscious of perfect innocence, and knowing of no danger that was likely to befal him, the heart of Hugh de Monthermer sunk at the words which he heard the Lord de Ashby utter. They came upon his ear like the announcement of new misfortunes, of new obstacles between Lucy and himself. It is true they might have meant a thousand other things, they might have referred even to some other person, but how often do we see a boy in the midst of a sunshiny holiday take alarm at the shadow of a light cloud, and fancy that a storm is coming on. Hugh de Monthermer was too brightly happy not to tremble lest his happiness should pass away like a dream.
Advancing, then, rapidly towards the Earl, he said, with his usual frank and generous bearing, "What is the matter, my noble lord? You seem sad and downcast, though you were so gay and cheerful this morning."
"Everything has changed since this morning, sir," answered the Earl, "and my mood with the rest. The King forbids your marriage with my daughter; and, as my consent was but conditional----"
Hugh's indignation would not bear restraint. "This is most unjust and tyrannical"--he replied aloud; "but I do believe some one has poisoned the King's mind against me, for until yesterday morning he was all favour and kindness. Prince Edward is now absent, and some villain has taken advantage thereof to abuse the Monarch's ear."
"Of that I know nothing," answered the Earl, coldly, "but at all events he has forbidden the marriage--and consequently I require you to give me back my plighted word that it should take place."
"Never!" exclaimed Hugh de Monthermer, vehemently, "Never!--I will never be accessory to my own bitter and unjust disappointment.--You may, my lord, if you will--but I do not think you will--you may break your promise, you may withdraw your consent, but it shall be your own act and none of mine. I stand before you here, as honest and innocent of all offence as ever man was; and, if there was no cause this morning why you should refuse me your dear daughter's hand, there is none now."
"There is--there is," cried the Earl, sharply,--"the King's express command."
"Given upon some false showing," said Hugh de Monthermer. "I will go to him this moment. I will dare my accusers to bring forward their charge to my face. I will prove their falsehood upon them--first by show of witnesses, and next by arms--and bitterly shall they repent the day that they dared sully my name by a word. I know them,--I know who they are, and their contrivances, right well. I had a warning of their being near, last night.--I do beseech you, my lord, tell me, of what do they accuse me? and fear not that I will soon exculpate myself."
"Nay, I know not, accurately, Hugh," replied the Earl, in a kindlier tone than he had hitherto used. "I have heard, however, that there is a charge against you, a general charge of conspiring with those enemies of the state who have been striving to raise once more the standard of rebellion in the North and in the marches of Wales."
"It is false--it is as false as hell!" cried Hugh; but then, after a moment, growing calmer, he took the old Earl's hand, saying, "Forgive me, my dear lord, if, in the heat of so bitter a disappointment, I have said anything that could pain or offend you. Forgive me, I entreat you--and promise me two things."
"What are they, my good lord?" demanded the Earl. "I will, if they are meet and reasonable."
Hugh de Monthermer lowered his voice from the tone in which he had before been speaking, and replied, "They are meet and reasonable, my lord, or I would not ask them. First, promise me that the moment I am gone you will write a letter to Prince Edward, telling him that his humble friend, Hugh de Monthermer, is accused of crimes which he declares he never dreamt of. Beseech him to return with all speed to see justice done, and send the packet by a trusty messenger to Derby, where the Prince now lies."
"I will--I will," answered the Earl; "it shall be done within an hour. But what more, Hugh--what more?"
"This, my dear lord," replied the young nobleman,--"your messenger will reach Derby to-night; and, if I know Prince Edward rightly, ere to-morrow's sun be an hour declined from high noon, he will be in Nottingham. I will beseech the King to wait till that moment, to hear my full defence. What I ask then is, that you will meet me in the presence, and, if you cannot lay your hand upon your heart and say that you believe me guilty, you will renew your promise of dear Lucy's hand, and urge the King with me to give his consent likewise."
The old Lord hesitated, but at length answered, "Well!"
"Then now farewell, my lord," said Hugh de Monthermer. "I must not stay till your dear daughter comes. After the happy hour we passed but now together, 'twould well-nigh break my heart to see her under other circumstances."
Thus saying, he wrung the old man's hand, and strode towards the door, but turning for an instant before he quitted the chamber, he saw that the Earl stood fixed in the midst of the hall, with a hesitating air; and he added, aloud, "You will not fail, my lord!"
"No, no," replied the Earl, "I will meet you at the hour you named.--Fear not, I will not fail."
There was a wide landing-place between the top of the stairs and the door of the hall; and Hugh de Monthermer found it crowded with gentlemen belonging to Henry's court. The moment he appeared, Sir Guy de Margan advanced towards him, saying, "Lord Hugh de Monthermer, I am commanded by the King----"
But Hugh interrupted his address, frowning upon him sternly, "To summon me to his majesty's presence!" he said. "I go thither, at once, sir, and that is enough!--Take care, Sir Guy de Margan!" he added, seeing him still approaching him; "remember, I am not fond of your close presence!"--and he brought the hilt of his long sword nearer to his right hand, striding onward to the top of the staircase, as he did so; while the gentlemen who occupied the landing, not exactly liking the expression of his countenance, made way for him on either side, and Guy de Margan bit his lip with an angry frown, not daring to approach too closely.
The young nobleman's horse, and the attendants who had accompanied him, were ready in the court; and springing into the saddle, without giving the slightest attention to those who followed, he shook his bridle rein, and galloped on towards Nottingham. The others came after at full speed: and both parties entered the city, and passed the gates of the castle almost at the same moment. Dismounting from his horse, Hugh proceeded at once towards the royal apartments, leaving several of the pages and attendants behind him, unquestioned, on his way. In the ante-room of the audience chamber he met William de Valence, for the time one of the prime favourites of the Monarch; and stopping him, he asked, "Can I speak with his Majesty, my Lord of Pembroke? I find I have been accused wrongfully, and must clear myself."
"His Grace expects your lordship," answered the Earl, with an icy look; "but he expects to see you in custody."
"There was no need, sir," replied Hugh; "I fear not to meet my King, and never need force to make me face my foes. Will you bring me to the presence--that is all I require."
"Follow me, then," said the Earl; and opening the door, he announced the arrival of the young knight to Henry, who immediately ordered him to be brought in.
The Monarch was seated near a table, with the Lord Mortimer standing by him. They were apparently jesting upon some subject, for both were smiling when Hugh de Monthermer entered; but the moment the weak and tyrannical Sovereign's eyes fell upon him, an angry scowl came upon his countenance, which brought King John strongly back to the minds of those who remembered that feeble and cold-blooded Prince.
"So, sir," said Henry, "you have come of your accord, to meet the reward of your high merits!"
"I come, your Grace," replied Hugh, bowing low, "to meet my accusers in your royal presence, and to give them the lie in their teeth, if they dare to charge me with any act contrary to my allegiance or my duty."
"What!" said the King--"was consorting with De Montfort, was fighting at Evesham, not contrary to your allegiance?"
"Oh! my lord," answered Hugh, "if the charge goes as far back as that, I must plead both your Grace's special pardon, and your general amnesty to all who laid down their arms, made submission, and offended not again!"
"But you have offended again," exclaimed the King; "that is the chief charge against you."
"And whoever does make it," replied Hugh de Monthermer, "is a false and perjured traitor, and I will prove it upon him, either by investigation before your Majesty, or by wager of battle--my body against his, with God for the judge."
"Nay--nay, sir," said Henry, "we know your strength and skill in arms right well; and this is not a case where we will trust plain justice to be turned from its course by a strong arm and a bold but perverse heart. We ourselves will be your accuser, with whom there can be no wager of battle; and those we call to prove your crime shall be but witnesses."
"My lord, that cannot be," replied Hugh, boldly. "My King will never be judge and accuser, both in one."
"Then you shall have other judges," cried the Monarch; "your peers shall judge you. But, if you be truly innocent, you will not scruple now to answer at once the charges made against you."
"It is for that, I come," replied the young knight. "Unprepared, not knowing what these charges are, I come to meet them as I may. I pray you, let me hear them."
While he and the King had been speaking, a number of new faces had appeared in the audience chamber, comprising all those who had followed the young nobleman from Lindwell; and Henry, running his eye over them, exclaimed--"Stand forth, Guy de Margan--and you, Hugh Fitzhugh--and you, Sir William Geary, come near also, and say of what you accuse Lord Hugh de Monthermer."
"'Faith, sire," replied Sir William Geary, with his usual sarcastic grin, "I accuse the noble knight of nothing. I was at the pass of arms at Northampton, my lord, when he unhorsed the four best lances in the field. Now, I never was particularly strong in the knees, and, moreover, am getting somewhat rusty with years; so God forbid that I should accuse any man who talks of the wager of battle. When I heard it, I trembled almost as much as Sir Guy de Margan here."
"It is false! I trembled not!" exclaimed Sir Guy.
"True--true," answered the other, "you only shook, and looked sickly."
"Sir William Geary," cried the King, "this is no jesting matter! Speak what it was you told me that you saw."
"I saw a fat monk," replied Sir William Geary, whose inclination for a joke could hardly be restrained--"a jolly monk as ever my eyes rested upon, and this fat monk, sire," he continued, more seriously, seeing that the King was becoming angry, "stopped, and asked his way to the apartments of the noble lord. He jested as wittily with Sir Harry Grey as a court fool does with a thick-headed country lad; but when he had gone on his way, Sir Guy de Margan here, a very serious and reputable youth, as your Majesty knows, told me, in mysterious secrecy, that the friar was a very treacherous piece of fat indeed--a traitor's messenger--a go-between of rebels--a personage whom he had himself known with Sir William Lemwood and the rest, in the marches of Wales. So, inviting him sweetly into my chamber, we two watched together for the monk's going forth from this noble lord's apartments which was not for more than an hour. In the meanwhile, pious Sir Guy entertained me with his shrewd suspicions, of how the monk and the valiant knight were hatching treason together, which, as you know, sire, is a cockatrice's egg, laid by male fowls, and hatched by dragons looking at it. A very pretty allegory of a conspiracy, if we did but read fools for fowls--that by the way; but to return to my tale:--the monk at length appeared in the courtyard again, and shortly after the Lord Hugh de Monthermer, him following. Thereupon; one of those irresistible inclinations which set the legs in motion, whether man will or not, seized upon me and good Sir Guy; and drawn as if by that rock of adamant on which the Earl is fixed, we pursued, without power of resistance, the path of knight and friar. Just at the gate of the city we found our ascetic friend mounted on a mule, and holding a horse for his knightly acquaintance, on which we saw the gallant Lord spring, and after that they rode away together. This is all I have to say, sire, and what I have said is true; but far be it from me to take any accusation against a knight who can squeeze a horse to death between his two knees, or stop a charger in full course by catching hold of an iron ring, and grasping the beast with his two legs."
"What have you to answer, sir?" demanded the King, turning to Hugh.
"Simply that I saw a monk yesterday, sire," replied the young nobleman, "and that he stayed with me nearly an hour, talking much of venison, and somewhat of hunting. He may, from his language, have committed the crime of taking a fat buck when he had no right to do so; but, by my faith, that is the only treason I should suspect him of, and not one word did he utter in my presence, either about risings, rebellions, or aught else that could move your royal displeasure."
"Ha! what say you to this, Sir Guy de Margan?" asked the King. "Tell us, who is this friar? Is he a rebel, or is he not?"
"Notoriously so, my lord," replied Guy de Margan. "I found him with Lemwood and the other traitors, to whom you, sire, sent me for the purpose of negotiation; and it would seem that he had come to comfort them with promises of assistance from the North."
"But yet that does not prove," said Mortimer, "that the Lord Hugh held any treasonable converse with him. His business with that good lord might have been of a very simple kind."
Malevolent injustice becomes most dangerous when it assumes the garb of equity; and Mortimer, who knew the whole that was to come, only assumed the style of an impartial judge, that his after persecution of the young nobleman might seem dictated by a sense of justice.
"It might have been so, indeed," replied Guy de Margan, "had it but been a visit from the friar to my Lord of Monthermer; but their setting forth together would seem strange; and the secrecy observed in the monk quitting the castle first, and the knight following at a little distance, renders it more strange still. Perhaps Lord Hugh will condescend to explain why he went, and where."
"Methinks," answered Hugh, "that the honourable spies who crept after my footsteps from the castle to the town gate, might have carried their inquiries a little farther, when they would have saved the necessity of such questions here."
"In regard to one point," said Hugh Fitzhugh, a large, burly Norman gentleman--"in regard to one point, I, at least, can give some explanation. What he went for I can but divine, but where he went I know right well. He rode out with all speed to the forest, for I saw him there with this same monk they mention. The truth is, I had somewhat missed my way; and coming through some of the by-paths of the wood, I suddenly chanced upon a party of five persons in deep and earnest conversation. Three of them had vizards on their faces, too, and the two that were unmasked were Hugh de Monthermer and the friar we have heard of. Now, my lord the King, unless he explain that, we have no explanation at all. But your wisdom will judge."
"Let him explain, if he will," said the King, "or rather, if he can. I doubt it much; but I am willing to hear."
"My lord," replied Hugh de Monthermer, "for once in their lives these noble gentlemen have told the truth: I did go out after the priest; I did accompany him into the forest; I did meet three men there--but with no evil purpose; nor did one word transpire which any man could call treason."
"Who were the men you went to see?" demanded the King.
"Nay, sire," replied Hugh, "you must forgive me, if I give not their names. My accusers, if they charge me with crime, must show that I have been guilty of it. Now no such thing is even attempted to be proved. All that they assert is, that I spoke with a friar, rode out with a friar, and was seen conversing with three unknown persons in Sherwood. If this be held as treason, God defend the innocent!"
"But, my good lord," said Mortimer, to whom the King turned his eyes, "it is shown that this friar, who took you forth to speak with three other men, is himself a notorious traitor, and you must show that the others were not so also, or the imputation will lie against you of consorting with, and concealing the counsel of, the King's enemies."
"Which is a high crime, my lord," added Henry, sternly.
Hugh de Monthermer gazed down thoughtfully on the ground for a moment, for he found that he was placed in a situation of much greater difficulty and danger than he imagined; but looking up at length, he answered, "My lord the King, I am here in this presence without friends or counsellors to aid or to assist me. I have come without forethought or preparation, as fast as my horse would hear me, to answer a charge, cunningly contrived beforehand by my enemies. I do beseech you, give me but four-and-twenty hours to consider well how I ought to act. If I may have any one to advise with me, I shall esteem it as a grace; but if not, at all events let me have time for thought myself. I know that I can prove my innocence, beyond all doubt, if I have time to do it."
"You shall have time and counsel too," replied the King, "but it shall be under custody. My Lord of Mortimer, attach him in our name. Let him be conveyed to his chamber; set a strong guard upon the door; and give access to any one of his servants, but not more, that he may have free leave to send for what counsellor he will; let that counsellor visit him; and as he asks for four-and-twenty hours, bring him before us again at this same time to-morrow."
The Earl of Mortimer took a few steps forward, as if to attach the young nobleman for high treason, but Hugh de Monthermer bowed his head, saying, "I surrender myself willingly, my lord, and fixing my full reliance on the King's justice, await the event of to-morrow without fear."
He then left the presence under the custody of Mortimer, and was conducted to the chamber which he had occupied since his arrival at Nottingham, and which comprised, as was usually the case with those assigned to noblemen of high rank, a bed-room for himself, and an ante-room, across the entrance of which one or two of his attendants usually slept, barring all dangerous access to their lord during the night.
Having beckoned some of the King's guard as they passed along, Mortimer stationed two soldiers at the door of the ante-room, and took measures for their regular relief on the rounds. He then entered with his prisoner, and finding stout Tom Blawket in the ante-room, he asked whether the young nobleman would choose him as the attendant who was to be permitted to wait upon him, or would send for any other.
"I should have asked for him, my lord, had I not found him here," replied Hugh. "I thank you for your courtesy, however, and trust that the time may come when, having proved my innocence, I may repay it."
"I hope to see you soon at liberty," rejoined Mortimer, with a dark smile; and retiring from the chamber, he ordered another guard to be stationed at the foot of the staircase.
No sooner was he gone, than Hugh called the stout yeoman into the inner room, and bade him shut the door.
"Nay, look not downcast, Blawket," he said, as the man entered with a sad and apprehensive look, "this storm will soon pass away. Indeed, it would have been dissipated already, but that I was embarrassed by a matter which will be joyful tidings to you."
"I know what you would say, my lord," replied the good yeoman, "for, since we have been here, I have heard of the noble Earl. That urchin boy who served you some time at Hereford, sprang up behind me one day when I was crossing the forest, and told me all about it."
"Well, then, Blawket," continued Hugh, "no time is to be lost; get to your horse's back with all speed, and ride along upon the east side of Sherwood, taking the Southwell road till you come to the Mere mark--a tall post painted with red stripes--There turn into the wood for some five hundred yards, and sound three mots upon your horn, whoever comes to you, will lead you to my uncle. Tell him I have been watched; that the man who passed while we were speaking together yesterday recognised me; and combining that fact with others, has given a face of truth to an accusation of treason against me. Show him that I dare not say who it was I met, lest the forest should be searched and his retreat discovered. When twenty-four hours are over, however, I must speak, if I would save my head from the axe, for I see that there is a dark conspiracy against me, and I am without support. Beseech him to put as many miles as may be between himself and Nottingham, ere this hour to-morrow, for the King's wrath burns as fiercely against him as ever. Away, good Blawket--away!--Should any one stop you, and ask you where you are going, say for Master Roger More, a clerk well skilled in the laws, and lose no time."
"I will not spare the spur, my lord," replied Blawket, and withdrew, leaving Hugh de Monthermer in meditations, which were sad and gloomy, notwithstanding all his efforts to convince himself that no real danger hung over him.
CHAPTER XXIX.
The wind was from the south, sighing softly through the trees--the sun had gone down about half an hour--the moon was rising, though not yet visible to the eye, except to the watchers on castle towers, or the lonely shepherd on the mountain. The night was as warm as midsummer, though the year had now waned far; and in the sky there were none but light and fleecy clouds, which scarcely dimmed the far twinkling stars as they shone out in the absence of the two great rulers of the night and day. It was one of those sweet evenings which we would choose to wander through some fair scene with the lady that we love, looking for the moon's rising from behind the old ivy-clad ruin, and re-peopling the shady recesses of wood and dale with the fairy beings of old superstition, though they have long given place to the harsher realities of a state of society which has become, to use Rosalind's term, "a working-day world indeed."
Such was the night when, under the brown boughs of the wood, with yellow leaves overhead and long fern around, sat a party of some seven or eight stout men, dressed in the green garb which we have already described in another place. Their bows rested against the trees close by, their swords hung in the baldrics by their side, some horses were heard snorting and champing at no great distance, and a large wallet lay in the midst, from which the long-armed dwarf, Tangel, was drawing forth sundry articles of cold provision, together with two capacious leathern bottles and a drinking cup of horn. There were two persons there whom the reader already knows--the bold leader of the forest outlaws, and the old Earl of Monthermer--now, alas! an outlaw likewise. Though his wounds had been severe, and he had suffered much both in body and in mind, the old knight's spirit seemed still unquenched. On the contrary, indeed, with no weighty matters pressing on his mind, with the fate and fortune of others, nay, of his country itself, no longer hanging on his advice, it seemed as if a load had been removed from his bosom; and as he half sat, half lay, upon the turf, he could jest with the men around him more lightly than in his stately hours of power and influence.
"Poor hunting, Robin! poor hunting!" he said. "Now I would not have this day's sport recorded against us, as true foresters, for very shame."
"'Tis no want of craft, my good lord," replied Robin, "'tis the nearness of the court which drives all honest beasts away. We might have had bucks enough, but that they are rank just now."
"Like the age, Robin--like the age!" answered the Earl. "However, we must e'en make the best of our fate, and put in the bag what fortune chooses to send. There are hares enow, and a fine doe, though you were as tender of them as if they had been children."
"I never love to wing an arrow at a doe," said Robin Hood. "I know not why, they always look to me like women, and often do I lie in the spring time and see them trip along with their dainty steps, their graceful heads moving to and fro, and their bright black eyes looking as conscious as a pretty maid's at a May-day festival; and I think there must be some truth in the old story of men's souls sometimes taking possession of a beast's body."
"Not so often, Robin," rejoined the Earl, "as a beast's soul taking possession of a man's body. I could pick you out as goodly a herd from the court of England as ever trooped through the shades of Sherwood, or were driven out by the piping swineherd to eat acorns in the lanes by Southwell."
"Doubtless, doubtless, my lord," replied Robin; "men will make beasts of themselves in all places, while the honester four-legged things of the forest seem as if they wanted to gem up, manward. Why, down by that very place, Southwell, there is a fallow doe who knows me as well as if she were one of my band; she comes when I call her, if she be within hearing, and lets me rub her long hairy ears by the half-hour. Then what long talks will we have together! I ask her all sorts of questions; and she contrives to answer one way or another, till, if I be too saucy with her about her antlered loves, she butts at me with her round hornless head, and stamps her tiny foot upon the ground. You would say 'twas a very woman, if you saw her."
"'Tis a wonder that she has escaped without an arrow in her side," replied the Earl.
"Nay," cried Robin; "there is not a man in Sherwood or twenty miles round, who would pierce a hole in her brown bodice for all that he is worth. Every one knows Robin Hood's doe; and foul befal him that hurts her. But come, Tangel, what hast thou got there? 'Tis so dark, I cannot see."
"A huge hare pie," said Tangel, "and bottles of stuff to baste it with; but the crust's as hard as the sole of a shoe, and unless thine anelace be somewhat sharper than thy wit, thou wilt go without thy supper, and be obliged to take the testament of the Scotch tinker."
"And what is that?" asked Robin.
"Drink for all," replied the dwarf; "but I will light a torch, Robin, lest thou shouldst cut thine invaluable thumb, and spoil thy shooting for the next month."
A torch was soon lighted; and, seated round the great hare pasty, Robin Hood and his friends began their evening meal. But the horn cup had only gone once round when the outlaw held up his hand, crying, "Silence!" and interrupting a burst of merriment which one of Tangel's hard jests upon a forester opposite had just produced. All was silent in a moment amongst the little party; but no other sound reached their ears, and Robin Hood was again resuming the conversation, saying, "I thought I heard a horn," when the notes were repeated, but it was still far in the distance.
"It is Yockley, from the second mere," said the outlaw, starting up. "It must be your nephew, my lord, who sounded first. I expect no one from such a quarter to-night; but I must answer; and Yockley will bring him hither."
Thus saying, he put his horn to his lips and blew a long blast upon it, very different from that which they had just heard, but well understood by all the foresters as indicating where their leader was to be found.
"Is it not dangerous, Robin?" said the Earl. "I expect not my nephew here, and we are but six."
"We could soon call more," replied Robin; "and our horses are near. But if there be any danger in the party, Yockley will not bring them hither. Now, take some more food, my lord, and send round the cup again. It must be the Lord Hugh, escaped from the revel of the castle, to take a ride in Sherwood by the moon's light."
No more was said in regard to the sounding of the horn; and the merry jest again went on, around the green table where their viands were spread. The torch, stuck in a hole in the ground, shed its light upon the various faces in the circle and upon the sylvan repast; and a song from one of the foresters cheered the minutes, till, at length, again the horn hastened much nearer, and Robin again gave his accustomed reply. In about three minutes more the forms of a man on horseback and another on foot by his side, were seen coming through the trees, while the eyes of the whole party round the torch were turned towards them.
"Why, who is this?" exclaimed the Earl; "my good yeoman, Tom Blawket, as I live! He has found his old lord out, even in Sherwood."
The eyes of Blawket had not been idle as he came up; and though the Earl was no longer habited as the high noble of a splendid and ostentatious age, the faithful servant singled him out instantly. Springing from his horse, he kissed his master's hand with affectionate reverence, while a tear stood in his eye; but he could utter nothing except, "Oh, my lord!"
"Well, Blawket," replied the Earl, laying his hand on the yeoman's shoulder, "I am glad to see thee, my good friend, though thy coming may be somewhat dangerous."
"I come not without cause, my lord," said Blawket, "and sad cause too, and I must give my message hastily, for there is no time to lose. Your nephew, sir, has been arrested on suspicion of treason, being seen conversing with three masked men in the forest. He dared not say that one of them was yourself, my lord, because a price has been set upon your head; and the first word of your being near would send half the nobles of the court hunting you through Sherwood."
"Let them come!" said Robin Hood, calmly; "we would entertain them well."
"He refused to answer their questions," continued Blawket, "and has gained some four and twenty hours--that is, till to-morrow at the hour of two or three, when they will be put to him again, he, in the meantime, remaining a close prisoner. He therefore prays you, my lord, to provide for your own safety with all speed, leaving this part of the forest, and betaking yourself to a distance from Nottingham."
"Where is the Prince?" demanded the old Earl.
"He is gone to Derby, as I hear," replied the yeoman, "to put down some rough-handed clowns amongst the mountains there, who will not believe that the great Earl of Leicester is dead."
"These are bad tidings, indeed," said Robin Hood; "we cannot storm Nottingham Castle, I fear, and set him free."
"Bad tidings, indeed," repeated the Earl; "and I know not well whether to go at once to the King's court and justify poor Hugh, or----"
"Nay, nay, my lord," cried Robin Hood, "that will not do. I have always found it best when one of sound discretion, whom we love, beseeches us for his sake to do this or that, not to aim at more than he requires, thinking that we can better his advice, but simply to perform his bidding if we can. Otherwise, not knowing all the secret causes of his desire, we often break his purpose while we seek to mend it. He asks you to go, my lord; 'twere better to do so far. I will remain: nay, go nearer still to Nottingham, this very night; and the castle walls will be thicker and stronger than they ever have been yet, if I hear not all that takes place within them. Nay, more--should danger threaten the good young lord, we will find means to give him help. Although, as the old song goes, 'The castle walls are strong and high,' yet there are means of leaping over them, if one have but a good will.--Fear not, my lord--fear not! All that your nephew asks is to be enabled, by your absence in some place of safety, to acknowledge whom it was he met in the forest here, without danger to yourself. Was it not so, Tom?"
"Exactly so," replied the yeoman, "and he seemed no way cast down. But the King's people are eager enough after him, that is clear, for I found that they dogged me nearly to Lambley Haggard, which made me so long, otherwise I should have been down two hours ago, for I was forced to ride on, and then come back again. I found one of them still waiting near the Mere; but, as he was teasing a pretty boy who seemed to have lost his way, I picked a quarrel with the vermin, and so belaboured him that he will dog no honest man again for some weeks to come, even if he can contrive to drag his bones back to Nottingham to-night."
"Well done, yeoman--well done, Tom!" cried several voices; and the old Earl, who had been buried in thought while his servant spoke, now turned to his forest companion, saying, "Send a quick messenger to the Prince, Robin. It is with him that Hugh's safety rests. It seems that I ought to go hence, and therefore I will do so at once; but, Blawket--you speed back to Lord Hugh, and tell him, that if need be, I am willing, at a moment's notice, to surrender myself into the Prince's hand--ay, or the King's, though that, I know, were death--for the few days of my old life are worth nought compared with the long high course before him. Speed you back, Blawket, at once, while I will mount and away! Robin, let me have one of your men with me. Come, Morton of the Moor, you shall show me the way."
A few words more passed between Robin and the Earl, ere the old nobleman departed; but, as soon as he was gone, the bold forester turned to Blawket, who was already on his horse's back, exclaiming, "Stay, Tom, a moment! Who was this boy you spoke of?--Where have you left him?"
"I know not, the boy," answered Blawket, "and I left him with one of your people, upon assurance of safety and of freedom to come and go, for he was weary and seemed terrified."
"He is with Harry of Mansfield," joined in Yockley, who had accompanied the yeoman thither, "and we both promised that we would let him go when he liked, for it was of being kept he seemed most afraid. But he asked for you, Robin, and so Harry is bringing him along down the vert course and by the roe lane."
"We must on, and meet them," said Robin Hood. "Go you back, good Blawket, speedily, and should anything new happen, come again to the second mere. You, Yockley, go on to the lodge as fast as your legs can carry you, and bring up the people there to the Royal-hart Pond. Lead on the horses,--I will afoot."
Thus saying, he walked on, with his arms folded on his broad chest and his eyes bent upon the ground. His countenance was seldom, if ever, gloomy, for serenity was one of its peculiar characteristics. Sometimes it was grave indeed, and very often thoughtful, but the wrinkled frown had no place there, and even when the quick burst of anger crossed it, it showed itself only in the lightning of the eye and the expansion of the nostril. His face was now anxious, however, and as he walked along, his lips, as was very frequent with him, gave unwitting utterance to that which was passing in his heart.
"We must not let him perish," he said. "I doubt this King--he is too weak to be honest. 'Tis strange how near the fool and the rogue are akin. Wisdom and goodness,--ay, wisdom and goodness,--they are brother and sister; the one somewhat gentler than the other, but of the same blood."
The pace of a thoughtful man is generally slow, but it was not so with Robin Hood upon the present occasion; for while he thus meditated, and murmured broken sentences to himself, he strode on at a rapid rate, till, at the distance of about a mile from the spot where he had been seated with the Earl, the sound of voices speaking met his ear, and pausing, he turned to one of those behind him, saying, "You must ride to Derby, Dickon; seek out the Prince, say you bring him a message from the Lord Hugh de Monthermer, and, when you see him, add that if he would save a friend's life, he must to Nottingham with all speed. Take one of the horses as far as Beeston--it will carry you well so far; but you must use speed. So, knock up the merry miller, and bid him, for love of Robin Hood, to lend you his black mare to Derby. Away, with you, good Dickon, and when in Derby, tell good Margery Green, of the Setting Sun, to send me what tidings she has had out of Cumberland,--Here, bring forward the torch!--Now, boy, what do you want with me?"
These last words were addressed to a slight youth, dressed in a page's habit, but not such as we represent--upon the stage or in pictures--as the garb of a page of the middle ages. The upper garment which he wore was one of the loose cassocks then very generally is use, of a rich purple cloth, descending considerably below the knee, and somewhat longer indeed than the ordinary petticoat of the English peasant girl of the time. From underneath this, appeared a small foot, covered with long-toed riding boots; and a green hood with a trimming of grey squirrel fur, clasped round the neck with a gilt fermail or buckle, was brought far over the forehead, concealing the greater part of the face. Over the right shoulder was slung a belt, holding a long dagger, underneath which appeared a wallet or pouch of velvet trimmed with fur. To judge from his size and general appearance, the boy might be some fourteen years of age, and apparently not of a very strong and hardy make. Ere he answered, he shaded his eyes with his hand, somewhat dazzled it seemed by the light of the torch, and Robin had to ask him again, "What want you with me, my good lad?"
"I would speak with you alone," said the boy--"I would speak with you alone, and immediately; for the matter is of life and death."
Robin Hood took the torch from the man that held it, and bade the rest stand back. Then, fixing his eyes with a calm, searching gaze upon the part of the youth's countenance which was visible under the hood, he waited in silence to hear what the boy had to say. The page hesitated for a moment, and then murmured, "The Lord Hugh de Monthermer----"
"Oh, we know about him!" cried Robin Hood. "Stale news, young gentleman, if that be all!"
The boy, who had seemed at first abashed and uncertain, now lifted his head with an angry toss, as if offended, replying boldly, "You are rash and hasty. Hear before you answer, Sir Forester. The news is not stale, though you think yourself so wise. You know that the Lord Hugh is in prison, for you have had his man with you; but you know not that he is condemned to death, and that his head will be struck off in the castle-yard, to-morrow, at daybreak. Do you know that?"
"No, by the Blessed Virgin!" replied Robin Hood, "I do not know it; and I say that it shall not be, if I have power to help it!"
"Ay, there is the question," cried the boy. "Have you the power?"
"Of that anon," replied Robin Hood; "first show me that the tidings are true."
"There," said the page, "read that, if thou canst read. If not, I will for thee;" and he held out an open letter to the Outlaw, who took it eagerly from his hand, and gazed at it by the light of the torch.
The writing consisted of two parts, traced by different hands, the latter being evidently an answer to the former, scrawled down in haste at the bottom of the paper. The first was to the following effect:--