CHAPTER XXXIX.
"THE King has sat down to supper, my good lord," said one of the young Earl's attendants, meeting him at the door of his apartments, "and wondered that you were not there. A seat is kept for you, however."
"Is it near the Prince?" demanded Alured.
"Nay, my lord, the Prince is gone," replied the man; "did you not know it?"
"Gone!" exclaimed the young nobleman. "Gone, whither?"
"To Leicester, my lord," said the servant. "While you and Sir Guy de Margan were conversing here, news came from Leicester of a revolt amongst the peasants there; and the Prince set out at once, with some fifty men--'tis not half an hour since."
"Why, he is to be the judge of the field the day after to-morrow!" cried the Earl, in surprise and evident disappointment.
"I heard film tell the King myself, my lord," replied the man, "that he would be back ere sunset to-morrow."
"This is unfortunate," murmured Alured--"this is most unfortunate; but it can't be helped!" and after making some slight change in his apparel, and giving some orders in a low but earnest voice, he hastened to the hall. Henry, as soon as he appeared, greeted him with light merriment, saying, "You are late for the banquet, noble Earl; but we forgive you, as we doubt not some fair lady held you in chains of dalliance not to be broken."
"Nay, sire," replied the Earl, gravely, "my heart is too full of other things to think of levities. I was with a sick friend, and the time, though it passed heavily, was not noted."
"A sick friend is as good an excuse as a fair lady," said the King, "and one that may be pleaded at all times."
"Nay, sire," replied Mortimer, who was sitting near, "neither fair lady nor sick friend can be a moment's excuse for delay in day of battle, or even, I hold, of tournament."
"A high question of chivalry," replied the King. "Let some of our old knights decide it. What say you, Sir John Hardy?"
"That the matter has been decided often, my liege," said the old soldier, who was placed some way down the table, and who spoke with grave deliberation on the subject which he considered all-important. "No excuse on earth can be received for the man who has touched a challenger's shield, or taken an accuser's glove, or received his leader's command to prepare for battle, if he be more than a quarter of an hour behind the time appointed. That space is given in case of accident, or men's judgment differing as to time. Thus the trumpets may sound thrice, with five minutes between each blast; but if he comes not at the third call, he is held coward and recreant by all civilized men, and can plead nothing, unless it be the commands of his sovereign, as his excuse."
"The honour of a knight," said another old soldier, in an authoritative and somewhat pedantic tone, "should be as bright as his shield, as clear and cutting as his sword, and as pointed and steady as his lance. What he has once asserted, that he should maintain to the death; for whatever cause there may be for retracting, an imputation on his courage will still lie, if he make a moment's delay in meeting an enemy in the field."
Hugh de Monthermer remained calm and pale, but the cheek of Alured de Ashby flushed as if every word he heard was fire. As soon as possible after the banquet, he quitted the hall and sought his apartments, with a hurried and irregular step.
He found the armourers still busy in their task, as he passed through the outer chamber; and, pausing at the bench where they were working, he gazed down upon the weapons under their hands with a thoughtful but abstracted look. Then, with a sudden start, clenching his hand tight, he said, "See that all be firm and strong, Mapleton, yet not too heavy."
"Fear not, my lord--fear not," replied the armourer, "there never was better steel in all the world; and these poylins are a rare invention for the defence of the elbows and knees. I have prepared a garland, too, my lord, for your neck. I know you love it not, but 'tis much safer, if you will but wear it, though it does spoil the look of the hauberk, it must be confessed. But very often I have known the blow of a lance right in the throat kill or disable a knight, though the spear went not through the rings--'tis a trick with the Lord Hugh, too, I hear, to aim at the throat. They say he killed two men so at Evesham, and the Soldan of Egypt's brother, when he was in Paynimrie."
Alured de Ashby had long ceased to listen; but with his brow bent and his eyes fixed upon the arms, he stood thinking of other things, till the armourer ceased and looked up in his face; and then, turning away, he quitted the room without any reply. When in his own chamber, he closed the door, and for nearly two hours his foot might be heard, walking to and fro, sometimes, indeed, pausing for a minute or two, but still resuming its heavy tread.
Who can depict all the stormy passions that agitated him at that moment--the struggle that was taking place in his bosom, so different from that which had torn the heart of Hugh de Monthermer, though as violent in its degree, and proceeding from the same events. To fight in an unrighteous quarrel!--to go, solemnly appealing to Heaven for the justice of his cause, and to feel that that cause was unjust!--deliberately to persist in charging an innocent man with a horrible crime, of which he knew him to be innocent!--It was a fearful contemplation for one in whom conscience had not been smothered under many evil deeds, notwithstanding the faults and follies which sometimes blinded his eyes to right and wrong. But yet, to retract the accusation he had made--to acknowledge that he had erred--to own that he had been rash and weak--to see Hugh de Monthermer triumph--all this was repugnant to the most powerful vices of his character--to jealous pride and irritable vanity.
Nevertheless, this he might have overcome; for, as we have shown, there was a high sense of honour in his nature, and the voice of conscience was strong enough, when the question was one of such mighty moment, to overpower the busy tongue of passion, and lead him to what was right; but, alas! there was another consideration. He feared the loss of renown! The very suspicion of any dread of his adversary was enough to put every good resolution to flight; and, unhappily, the laws of chivalry opposed a barrier to his pursuing the only course of rectitude, which would have been difficult enough to surmount even had his natural disposition been different from what it was.
Then came back the remembrance of the conversation which had taken place at the banquet. It seemed to him as if the two old knights, who had declared the rules of arms, had been sitting in judgment on the cause pleaded by the disputants in his own bosom. They had pronounced against the voice of conscience--they had given sentence in favour of that fantastic honour which was based more on personal courage than on truth.
Good Heaven! he thought, that the world should suspect he was afraid to meet in arms the man he had accused! That he should fear Hugh de Monthermer--that he should take advantage of any new risen doubt to withdraw a charge which he had solemnly made, and shrink from a combat which he had himself provoked! How would men jeer at his name--how silent would the heralds stand, when he entered the court or the tilt-yard? He pictured to himself a thousand imaginary insults:--he saw knights refusing to break a lance with one who had shrunk from the wager of battle he had demanded; he saw ladies turning away their heads in scorn from the craven knight who had feared to meet an equal in the field. He could not--he would not do it!--and yet conscience still cried aloud; ay, and the voice of Kate Greenly rang in his ears, telling him that conscience was powerful to overthrow as well as to admonish; prophesying to him that he would fall before the lance of the man he knowingly injured, and that shame and defeat, as well as injustice and falsehood, would be his companions on that fatal field.
"Foul befal the girl!" he cried, "for putting such thoughts into my head; they hang upon me like a spell--they will cling to me in the hour of battle. Many a man has fought in an unjust cause--ay, and many a one has fallen. In this ordeal, is the judgment of God shown, or is it not? Is it possible to conceive that we can appeal to Him, and call upon Him to defend the right, and solemnly swear that our cause is just, all the time having a lie upon our lips, and that He will not punish? He were worse than the God of the Moslemah, if he did not. What then shall I gain? For the first time in life, I shall soil my soul with an untruth--I shall take a false oath--I shall be defeated, disgraced, with the judgment of God pronouncing that I am perjured, and die, leaving a stained and blackened name behind.--And yet, to withdraw the charge is impossible!" he continued. "Better disgraced, and hide me from contumely in the grave, than live and meet the scornful looks of every knight in Europe! My only chance is in the Prince--perhaps he may stop it. Would he were here!--I would give him the paper now! Yet I must show no desire to recant the accusation. I remember how his proud lip curled when that braggart, De Poix, slunk from the mêlée at the Northampton tournament, on pretence that his horse was lame. Curses on my own precipitate haste!--but still deeper curses on that traitor, Richard, who urged me on!--Would I could know the truth.--Oh! if I thought that it was so, I would tear his heart from his body, and trample it quivering in the dust.--The foul villain!--And my father so good to him!"
Such were some of the broken and disjointed thoughts which crossed the mind of Alured de Ashby, and from them the reader may form some idea of the agitated state of his feelings during that night. He slept scarcely at all till morning; but he then fell into a deep slumber, which lasted several hours, and from which he rose refreshed and calmer, but, nevertheless, stern and sad. He was restless, too, and the hesitating and undecided state of his mind on the most pressing subject before him, rendered him wavering in all his actions.
In the morning, several of his servants, who had been out all night, according to orders he had given them, came in to make their report, and informed him, that though they had watched steadily at the spot which he had pointed out, no one had come out of the house but a priest and a little boy bearing a torch. He then sent for some of the old retainers of the family, who had been at Lindwell when his father was slain, and on their arrival questioned them minutely on many points; and then he told his people that he was going to the apartments of his sister; but, when he came to the foot of the stairs, he paused, turned back again, and strode up and down the court for half an hour.
His next proceeding was to order his horses instantly, and he set out the road to Leicester. When he was about halfway there, however, he turned his charger's head, and reached the gates of Nottingham just as night was falling. The city warder told him, in answer to his questions, that the Prince had not returned, but that a messenger from him had arrived an hour before, and it was rumoured that Edward would not be back until the following morning.
The Earl shook the bridle of his horse fiercely, and galloped up to the castle. Before he reached it, however, the fit of angry impatience had passed away; and on dismounting, he proceeded direct to the apartments of the Prince, and sent in a page to say he wished to see the Lady Lucy. He was instantly admitted to her chamber, where the sight of her fair face, bearing evident marks of tears, and full of deep and inconsolable sorrow, shook his purposes again, and added to all the bitterness of his feelings.
Alured kissed her tenderly, but he perceived that though she uttered not a word of reproach, she shrunk from him, and that was reproach enough. At his desire she sent away her maids, and then, sitting down beside her, he took her hand in his, saying, "Lucy, I have come to see you--perhaps for the last time!"
She cast down her eyes, and made no reply, and he went on--"It is not fit, Lucy, that you and I should part with one cold feeling between us; and I come to ask forgiveness for any pain that I have caused you throughout life."
"Oh, Alured!" exclaimed Lucy, "the last and most dreadful pain may yet be avoided; but I know your stern and unchangeable heart too well to hope. You cannot but feel how horrible it is to see my brother and my promised husband armed against each other's life--meeting in lists, from which one or the other must be borne a corpse. You cannot but know, Alured, that to me the misery is the same, whichever is the victor--that I have nothing to hope--that I have nothing to look for. If Hugh de Monthermer is vanquished, my brother is the murderer of him I love.--Ay, murderer, Alured!" she added, solemnly; "for you are well aware, that in your heart you believe him innocent. If you fall before Hugh de Monthermer's lance, the man I love becomes the butcher of my brother, and I can never see his face again."
"Stay, Lucy, stay," said the Earl; "it is on this account that I have come to you. I have had much and bitter thought, Lucy. Hugh de Monthermer may be innocent--God only knows the heart of man, and he will decide; but if I die in the lists to-morrow, and he you love is proved to be innocent of my father's death, let my blood rest upon my own head; hold him guiltless of my fate, and wed him as if Alured de Ashby had not been."
"Oh, Alured!" cried Lucy, touched to the heart, casting her arms around him, at the same time, and weeping on his bosom. "No--no! that can never be."
"Yes, but it must, and shall be!" replied her brother. "I will not do you wrong, Lucy, in my dying hour. Here I have put down in a few brief words my resolution and my wishes. Read, Lucy.--What! your eyes are dim with tears!--Well, I will read it. Mark!--'I, Alured de Ashby, about to do battle with the Lord Hugh de Monthermer, to whom the hand of my sister Lucy was promised by my father before his decease--having lately had some cause to doubt the truth of the charge which I have brought against the said lord, of having compassed the death of my father--do hereby give my consent to the marriage of my sister with the said Hugh de Monthermer, if at any time he can prove fully, and clearly, that he is innocent of the deed; and I do beseech my sister--entreat, and require her, in that case, to give her hand to Hugh de Monthermer, whatever may have taken place between him and myself.'--There, girl--keep that paper, and use it when thou wilt.--Now, art thou contented?"
"Contented, Alured!" cried Lucy, looking reproachfully in his face--"contented! Do you think I can be contented, to know that either he or you must die? What you take from one scale you cast into the other. If my heart can be lightened respecting him by this generous act, how much more heavy the grief and terror that I feel for you. Oh! Alured, you say, that you now doubt his guilt. Why not boldly, and at once, express that doubt?--Why not----"
"My honour, child--my honour, and renown!" cried Alured de Ashby. "But you will unman me, Lucy. Here, give this sealed packet to the Prince whenever he returns."
"Perhaps he has returned," said Lucy--"the Princess told me he would be back ere nightfall."
"He has changed his purpose," replied her brother, "and will not be in Nottingham till to-morrow."
"Alas! alas!" exclaimed Lucy, "that is unfortunate."
"It cannot be helped!" answered the young Earl--"but give it to the Prince whenever he comes. Tell him, that therein are contained the proofs which have lately made me doubt the justice of my charge against Monthermer.--He must act as he thinks fit regarding them. But, remember, Lucy, that if I fall, and you become Monthermer's wife, he takes the retribution of blood upon him, and must pursue the murderers of our father till he approve their guilt upon them, and give them up to death.--And now, girl, fare thee well!"
"Nay, Alured!" she cried, clinging to him. "Listen to me yet one word. If you be so doubtful, can you swear----"
"Hush--hush!" he answered. "My mind is now made up beyond all alteration. I will do everything to clear me before God, and make my conscience easy; but I must never shrink from battle--I must never sully my renown--I must never bear the name of coward, or know that one man suspects I am such.--Farewell, Lucy, farewell--not one word more!" and kissing her tenderly, he unclasped the clinging arms that would have held him, and left her chamber.
For a moment, Lucy covered her eyes and wept, but the next instant, clasping her hands together, she cried, "I will go to Hugh, and will beseech him! He is more tender; he has more trust in his own great renown. The victor at Damietta, the conqueror of the lists at Sidon, need fear no injurious suspicion. I will go to him. I will entreat him on my knees.--But first to the Princess, with this packet. She must give it to her husband.--What does it contain, I wonder?"
Lacy gazed at it for a moment, and then at the other paper which her brother had given her. Suddenly a light like that of joy broke upon her face, and she exclaimed, "He will! he will!--Why should I fear? why should I doubt? He told me himself that in seven days he could prove his innocence.--He will, he will!---and with this before me, I need fear no shame. But now to the Princess." And with a quick step she hurried to the apartments of Eleanor, whom, for once, she found alone.
She was too deeply agitated for courtly ceremony; and gliding in, she approached the Princess as she sat reading, and knelt on the cushion at her feet.
"What is it, my poor Lucy?" said the Princess, bending down her head, and kissing her fair forehead, with a look of tender compassion; "there seems some happiness mingled with the sorrow of your look."
"'Tis that I have hope!" replied Lucy; and with rapid but with low words she related all that had passed between her brother and herself. She then put the packet into Eleanor's hands, saying, "It will prove his innocence, I am sure; but the Prince is absent, and I am afraid you will not open it."
"Nay," answered Eleanor, "I must not venture on such an act as that. I am only bold where it is to show my love for him, but not to meddle in matters of which he alone can judge. Neither is there occasion here, my Lucy; he will be back ere long."
"But Alured thought not," replied her fair companion. "He had heard that the Prince's journey from Leicester was put off till to-morrow morning!"
"Not so, not so!" cried the Princess; "'twas but delayed for an hour or two, and he sent lest I should fear the rebels had detained him. I expect him each minute, Lucy. But in the meantime, tell me more clearly what caused that look of joy just now?"
Lucy hesitated. "'Twas that a hope has crossed my mind," she said--"a hope that I might yet save them both; and surely, lady," she continued, raising her soft, dark eyes to Eleanor's face--"and surely to save both the life of a brother and a lover; to spare them deeds that can never be atoned; to shield Alured, not only from Monthermer's lance, but from the more terrible fate of going to his God with a false charge upon his lips--a charge which he knows to be false,--a woman may well put on a boldness she would otherwise shrink from--ay, and do things which maiden modesty would forbid, were not the cause so great and overpowering."
"Certainly," rejoined Eleanor, "so long as virtue and religion say not nay."
"God forbid that I should sin against either!" replied Lucy, eagerly. "That could never be, lady--But there be small forms, and prudent cautions, reserves, and cold proprieties, which, in the ordinary intercourse of life, are near akin to virtues, though separate. These surely may be laid aside, when the matter is to rescue from crime, from death, or from disgrace, beings so much beloved as these?"
"Assuredly!" exclaimed Eleanor, "who can doubt it? To save my Edward, what should stand in my way? Nothing but that honour which I know he values more than all earthly things, or even life itself."
"Thanks, lady, thanks!" cried Lucy; "you confirm me in my purpose."
"But what is your purpose, my sweet cousin?" asked the Princess. "I do not yet comprehend you."
"Will you promise me," said Lucy, "that if I tell, you will let me have my will; that you will put no bar or hindrance in my way, nor inform any one of my scheme, but with my leave."
Eleanor smiled. "I may well promise that," she answered, "for if you please, you may conceal your scheme, and then I am powerless. No bar or hindrance will I place, dear Lucy, but kind remonstrances, if I think you wrong. What is this plan of yours?"
"This, this!" cried Lucy. "Here on this paper has my brother written down that he doubts Hugh de Monthermer's guilt; that he so much doubts the truth of the charge which he himself has made, as to require his sister to overlook the shedding of his blood, and unite her fate with the man who slays him, if he should fall in those fatal lists.--Nay, lady, look you here; he puts no condition, but that Hugh de Monthermer should prove his innocence."
"Well," said Eleanor, "I see he is kind and generous, and evidently believes the charge was rashly made, and is not just."
"Yet nought will keep him," replied Lucy, "from sustaining that charge to-morrow at the lance's point, although he knows it to be false. Tears, prayers, entreaties, appeals to conscience and to honour, are all in vain with him: he will die, but yield no jot of what he thinks his fame requires. He would not withdraw the accusation if an angel told him it were untrue. But Hugh is not so stern and cruel, lady; he will listen to reason and to right. He told me himself that he would have laid down his battle hand, would but the King have named a few days later; for he is as sure as of his own life, to prove the guilt upon another man. Oh, lady! in that long, sad interview, he was as much shaken as I, a poor weak girl. Yet what could I say, what could I do, so long as my brother maintained the charge in all its virulence? Now, however, now I will hie to him--ay, lady," she continued, "even to his chamber! I will beseech him, for mercy's sake, for my sake, for our love's sake, to avoid this unholy encounter; for the peace, for the comfort throughout life of the lady that he loves, to quit this place ere morning's dawn to-morrow."
"He will not do it," answered Eleanor, sadly; "you will but wring his heart, and break your own.--He will not do it."
"I will soften him with my tears!" said Lucy vehemently, "I will kneel to him on the ground; I will cover his hand with my kisses and water it with my eyes--"
Eleanor shook her head.
"I will offer to go with him!" said Lucy, in a low and thrilling tone, fixing her eyes, with a look of doubt and inquiry, on the Princess's face.
"Ha!" cried Eleanor, starting, while, for a moment, the colour mounted into her cheek. But the next instant she cast her arms round Lucy, and bent her head towards her with a smile, saying--"And thou wilt conquer!--Dear, devoted girl, I dare not altogether approve and sanction what you do; yet, I will add, hard were the heart, and discourteous were the lip, to blame thee. The object is a mighty one; no common means will reach it; and, surely, if thou dost succeed in saving thy brother both from a great crime and a great danger, and proving thy lover innocent, without risking his renown, thou shalt deserve high praise and honour, and no censure, even in this foul-tongued world in which we live. But stay yet awhile, Edward will soon be here, and perchance this letter itself may render the trial needless. You say that it contains proofs of your lover's innocence?"
"So my brother told me!" replied Lucy--"proofs that have shaken even his stern spirit; but, lady, you must not betray my secret to the Prince, for he will stop our departure."
"If I tell him," answered Eleanor, "my promise shall bind both; but, doubtless, the King, if there be any clear proofs here, in these papers, will order the wager of battle to be delayed. But go--get thee ready for thy task, dear Lucy; when Edward comes, I will send for thee again."
CHAPTER XL.
About an hour before the return of the young Earl of Ashby from his ride towards Leicester, his cousin Richard had presented himself in his ante-chamber, expecting to find him within. He was no favourite of the servants of the house, and a feeling of doubt and distrust towards him had become general amongst them. A cold look from the armourers, and a saucy reply from a page--importing that the Earl was absent, and that no one could tell when he would come back--was all the satisfaction which Richard de Ashby could obtain; and, returning into the court, he paced slowly across towards the gate where he had left his horses.
Sir William Geary passed him just at that moment, but did not stop, merely saying, with his cold, supercilious look, "Ha, Dickon! thou art in the way to make a great man of thyself, it seems!"
"Stay, Geary, stay!" cried Sir Richard, not very well pleased either with his tone or his look.
But Sir William walked on, replying, "I can't at present, Dickon. For once in my life, I am busy."
"They all look cold upon me," muttered Richard de Ashby, as he walked slowly on; "can anything have been discovered?" His heart sunk at the thought, and the idea of flying crossed his mind for a moment. But he was, as we have shown, not without a dogged sort of courage, and he murmured, "No, I will die at the stake sooner. I must find out, however, what has taken place, that I may be prepared."
He somewhat quickened his pace, and had already put his foot in the stirrup, to mount his horse, when he heard a voice calling him by name, and turning round with a sudden start, he beheld Guy de Margan coming after him with rapid steps.
"I saw you from my window," said the courtier, hastening up, "and have much matter for your ear. But let us go down by the back way into the town, and let your horses follow."
In a moment, Richard de Ashby had banished from his countenance the look of anxiety and thought which it had just borne, not choosing that one, who was already somewhat more in his confidence than he liked, should see those traces of painful care, which might, perhaps, lead him, joined with the knowledge he already possessed, to a suspicion of those darker deeds which had not been communicated to him.
"Well, Guy!" he said, as they walked on, "how flies the crow now? I find my noble cousin, the Earl, has gone out to take an afternoon ride--not the way, methinks, that men usually spend the last few hours before a mortal encounter. But he does it for bravado; and, if he do not mind, his life and his renown will end together in to-morrow's field."
"Perhaps 'twere better they did," answered Guy de Margan, shortly; and then--replying to a look of affected wonder which Richard de Ashby turned upon him, he continued, "I know not your plans or secrets, Dickon; but I fear you will find your cousin Alured less easy to deal with than even Hugh de Monthermer. He doubts the truth of the charge he has brought!"
"Then he should not have brought it!" said Richard de Ashby. "What have I to do with that?"
"Nothing, perhaps," replied Guy de Margan, "but he loves not any of those whose reports induced him to make it. I found that, myself, while I was sitting with him last night. He was strangely uncivil to me; but you are foremost on the list, Dickon!"
"Pooh!" cried the other. "Let him but conquer in to-morrow's lists, and the pride of having done so will make him love us all dearly again. I know Alured well, De Margan, and there is no harm done, if that be all!"
"But it is not all!" said Guy de Margan. "While I was sitting with him, an old woman--a withered old woman, the servants told me after--came up to call him to your house, bearing a message, as if from you."
"'Twas false! I was far away--Did he go?" exclaimed Richard de Ashby, now moved indeed.
"That did he immediately," answered his companion. "I walked down with him, and saw him in."
"Why, in the name of hell, did you not stop him?" cried Richard de Ashby. "Old woman! I have no old woman there!"
"Perhaps he went to see the young one you have there," said Guy de Margan, in a careless tone.
"Curse her! if she have--" exclaimed Richard de Ashby; and then suddenly stopped himself, without finishing his sentence.
"Yes!" proceeded Guy de Margan, with the same affected indifference of tone; "yes, he did go down, and went in, and stayed for more than an hour, for I was at the King's banquet, and saw him come back; and I spoke with his henchman, Peter, afterwards, who told me that he was mightily affected all that night, and brought with him, from your house, a paper, which he sealed carefully up. Look to it, Dickon--look to it!"
They had now come to a flight of steps which led them down over one of the rocky descents which were then somewhat more steep than they are now in the good town of Nottingham, and Richard de Ashby, pausing at the top, ordered the horses to go round, while he with Guy de Margan took the shorter way. He said nothing till he reached the bottom; but there, between two houses, neither of which had any windows on that side, he stopped suddenly, and grasping his companion's arm, regarded him face to face with a bent brow and searching eye.
"What is it you mean, Guy de Margan?" he asked. "You either know or suspect something more than you say."
"I know nothing," replied Guy de Margan, "and I wish to know nothing, my good friend. So tell me nothing. I am the least curious man in all the world. What I suspect is another affair. But now listen to me. The death of Hugh de Monthermer, sweet gentleman though he be, would not be unpleasant to me; the death of the Earl, though you would have to wear mourning for your Earldom, would not, I have reason to believe, be very inconvenient or unpleasant to you. Now mark me, Dickon; if these two men meet to-morrow, your cousin Alured, doubting the justice of his cause, and shaken by foolish scruples, will fall before the lance of Hugh de Monthermer as sure as I live. Every one of the court sees it, and knows it. That would suit your purpose well, you think? But you might be mistaken even there. Nothing but dire necessity will drive Monthermer to take the Earl's life. The Prince is to be judge of the field, and he will drop his warder on the very slightest excuse. Thus you may be frustrated, and both you and I see our hopes marred in a minute.--But there is something more to be said: I do not choose that your purpose should be served, and not my own."
"Why, Guy de Margan," exclaimed his companion, in a bitter tone; "you do not think that I am tenderly anxious for Monthermer's life?"
"No, nor I for Alured de Ashby's," answered de Margan; "but either both shall die or both shall live, Richard de Ashby. Your cousin's mind is now in that state, that but three words from me, turning his suspicions in another channel, will make him retract his charge, and offer amends to him he has calumniated.--Ay, and worse may come of it than that. Now I will speak these words, Richard de Ashby, in plain terms--I will prevent this conflict, unless you assure me that both shall fall."
"But how can I do that?" demanded Richard de Ashby, gazing upon him with evident alarm. "How is it possible for me to insure an event which is in the hand of fate alone?"
"In the hand of fate!" cried Guy de Margan, with a scoff. "To hear thee speak, one would think that thou art as innocent as Noe's dove. Art thou not thy cousin's godfather in the list to-morrow?"
"Ay, so he said," replied Richard de Ashby.
"Then instruct him how to slay his adversary," rejoined Guy de Margan. "Tell him not to aim at shield or helmet, but at any spot; his shoulder--his arm--his throat--his hip, where he can see the bare hauberk."
"Alured knows better," said Richard. "He will drive straight upon him with his lance; and then the toughest wood--the firmest seat--the steadiest hand--the keenest eye, will give the victory."
"Nay, but tell him," answered Guy de Margan, in a lower tone, "that you know what is passing in his mind, the doubts, the hesitation, and that the conflict on foot is that wherein alone he can hope to win the day. Ask him if he ever saw Hugh de Monthermer unhorsed by a straight-forward stroke of a lance whoever was his opponent? But show him that, by striking him at the side, and turning him in the saddle, he may be brought to the ground without a doubt."
"But still what is this to me?" asked Richard, impatiently; "the one or the other must win the day."
"No--no!" cried Guy de Margan. "I will show you a means by which, if you can ensure that Alured de Ashby's lance dips but its point in Hugh de Monthermer's blood, it shall carry with it as certain a death as if it went through and through his heart; a scratch--a simple scratch--will do it.--When I was in the land of the old Romans--now filled with priests and sluggards, who have nought on earth to do but to sit and debauch the peasant girls, and hatch means of ridding themselves of enemies--a good honest man, who took care that none should be long his foe, and was possessed of many excellent secrets, gave me, for weighty considerations, a powder of so balmy a quality, that either dropped into a cup or rubbed on a fresh wound, though the quantity be not bigger than will lie on a pin's-head, it will cure the most miserable man of all his sorrows, or within half an hour will take out the pain of the most terrible injury--for ever!"
"I understand--I understand," said Richard de Ashby. "Give me the powder; would I had had it long ago. But how can one fix it to the lance's point, so that in the shock of combat it is not brushed off?"
"Mix it with some gentle unguent," answered Guy de Margan; "'twill have the same effect."
"I will, I will," replied his companion; "then with a thick glove I will feel the lance's point, to make sure that all is right, like a good cautious godfather in arms, first carefully trying the wood upon my knee, with every other seeming caution which the experienced in such matters use. No fear but Alured, one way or other, will draw his blood. Oh yes! and both shall go on the same road.--Half an hour, say you?--Will he have strength to end the combat?
"Fully," replied Guy de Margan; "for within two minutes of his death he will seem as strong as ever. I tried it on a hound--just scratched his hanging lip, then took him to the field, and on he went after the game, eager and strong and loud tongued; but in full cry down dropped he in a moment, quivering and panting, and after beating the air for some two minutes with his struggling paws, lay dead."
"Give it me--give it me!" cried Richard de Ashby, and then burst into a fit of laughter, as if it were the merriest joke that ever had been told.
Guy de Margan put his hand into the small embroidered pouch he wore under his arm, and took forth an ivory box, not bigger than a large piece of money.
"What, is this all?" exclaimed Richard de Ashby, taking the little case. "Is this enough?"
"To slay more men than fell at Evesham," replied Guy de Margan; "but be careful how you mix it. Remember, the slightest scratch upon your own hand sends you to the place appointed for you, if but a grain of that finds entrance."
"I will take care--I will take care," said Richard de Ashby; "and now look upon the deed as done. Ere this time to-morrow, you will have had your revenge--and I shall be Earl of Ashby."
"Ha! ha!" cried Guy de Margan, "is the truth out at length? Well, good Richard, fare thee well; we shall meet to-morrow in deep grief for the events of this sad field. In the meantime I will go to your cousin, the short-lived Earl, and nerve him for this battle. I will inform him with mysterious looks that there is a plot afoot to delay the combat, and to make him believe his adversary innocent. You harp on the same string, when you see him; and I will tell him, too, that he shall have proof sufficient early to-morrow of Monthermer's guilt. If we but get him to the field, the matter's done--he will not retract."
"Farewell, De Margan--farewell!" said Richard de Ashby, "I will go home and make inquiries there;" and as he turned away, he murmured--"If this powder be so potent, there may be enough for you also, my good friend--but I shall have another to deal with first. Kate Greenly, my pretty lady, you have a secret too much to carry far; if you have not betrayed me already, I will take care that you shall not do so now."
A few minutes brought him to the house he had hired in Nottingham, and knocking hard, the door was almost instantly opened by a young lad whom he had left behind with his unhappy paramour.
"Where is the lady?" was the first question that the youth's master put to him. "In her own chamber?"
"No, noble sir," replied the servant; "she went forth some time ago."
"Gone forth!" exclaimed his master--"gone forth, when I forbade her to cross the threshold!"
"I could not stay her, sir," rejoined the youth, who had been brought up in no bad school for learning impudence, as well as other vices. "Women will gad, sir, and who can stop them?"
"Hold thy saucy prate, knave!" cried the knight, "and answer me truly. Who has been here since I went?"
"Nobody, sir," replied the boy--"nobody but the old priest."
"What old priest?" demanded his master, with a bent and angry brow.
"The old priest who was here before, noble sir," said the boy, in a more timid tone, for his lord's look frightened him. "He who was here the night you went to Lindwell."
"Ha!" cried Richard de Ashby; "a priest here that night? 'tis well for him I caught him not!--When was he here again?"
"Twice, sir," replied the youth; "once in the morning; and last night she sent me for him again."
"And no one else?" asked Richard de Ashby.
"No one," answered the boy, firmly; and then added, in a more doubtful tone--"no one that I remember."
"Boy, 'tis a lie!" replied his master. "I see it on thy face: thou know'st thou liest!"--and as he spoke, he caught him by the breast, giving him a shake that made his breath come short. "Who has been here? If thou speak'st not at a word, thou shalt have a taste of this!" and he laid his hand upon his dagger.
"No one, indeed--no one that I know of," said the boy. "I may suspect----"
"And who do you suspect?" asked Richard de Ashby.
"Why, noble sir, last night," replied the boy, "as I was going up the street to seek the priest, I saw two gentlemen come near the house; and one of them, who was the noble Earl, your cousin, I am sure, went up as if to the door, and, I think, was let in; the other turned away."
"Did my cousin go in?" demanded Richard. "Say me but yea or nay.--Did he go in, I say?"
"I think so, sir," replied the youth--"I think so, but cannot be sure; there came a sudden light across the road as if the door opened, but by that time I was too far up the street to see."
"'Tis as De Margan said," thought the knight; and striding up at once to the chamber where the corpse was laid, he found the door wide open, and the body fairly laid out and decked, as it was called. A crucifix and some sprigs of holly were on the breast; a small cup of holy water stood near; a lamp was burning, although the sun was not yet down, and everything gave plain indication that the man had not died without the succour of the church, and that the corpse had been watched by other eyes besides those of poor Kate Greenly.
"I have been betrayed!" said Richard de Ashby to himself.--"I have been betrayed! Yet if it be but the priest, there is no great harm done. The secret of confession, at all events, is safe. But where is the girl herself, and what has been her communication with Alured? That must be known ere many hours be over--perhaps I shall know it soon enough.--And yet what can she tell, but that a wounded man died in my house, brought in by people who had once visited me, and that, too, while I was absent?--'Tis my own conscience makes me fear. If Ellerby would but betake himself to Wales or France, or anywhere but here, all would be safe enough; but he keeps hovering about, like a moth round a candle. Where are this man's clothes, I wonder?"--and taking up the lamp, for it was now rapidly growing dark, he sought carefully about the room; but neither clothes, nor sword, nor dagger were to be found.
"There is a plot against me," he continued; "'tis evident enough now. She may have gained more information than I think; she may have overheard something. A paper!--What paper could she give to Alured! Perhaps the covenant that I foolishly gave to these men! He might have had it about him. Ellerby may have forgotten it. That were damnation, indeed! Perhaps 'twere better to fly, while there is yet time!--Fly? no, never!--to be a wandering outcast upon the face of the earth, seeking my daily sustenance at the sword's point, or else by art and cunning, when the earldom of Ashby is almost within my grasp! No, never! I will go face it at once, and woe to him that crosses me!--If I could but find that girl--Hark, there is a noise below!" and with a nervous start he turned to listen, and soon heard that the sounds proceeded from the servants, whom he had sent round with his horses, talking with the lad in the hall.
"I will go face it at once," he repeated to himself--"I will wait for him at his lodging, and soon find out what he knows: doubtless he has kept it to his own breast. Alured is not one to cast a stain upon his race. No, no; he will not accuse one of the name of Ashby!"
Thus saying, he descended the stairs; and bidding his servants keep good watch in the house till he returned, he took his way back to the castle on foot. On reaching the apartments of his cousin, he found a number of attendants in the outer room, apparently not long returned from a journey. Some time had since passed, however, for they were eating and drinking merrily, and little did they seem disposed to interrupt their meal for their lord's poor kinsman.
"My lord is out, Sir Richard," said one, "he is gone to the Prince's lodging."
"Nonsense, Ned!" cried another--"he's come back again; but he told Peter that he did not wish to be disturbed by any one."
"Of course, he did not thereby mean me," replied Richard de Ashby, sternly. "Go in, Ned, and tell him I am here."
The man obeyed, sullenly enough, and the moment after, the knight heard his cousin's voice, saying, in a hasty tone--"I want not to see him. Tell him I am engaged--going out on matters, of moment. Yet, stay, send him in."
Richard de Ashby's eyes were fixed sternly upon the ground as he heard the bitter confirmation of his fears, and he muttered to himself--"Aye, he has heard more than he should have known."
When the servant returned, however, and bade him follow to his lord's presence, he cleared his brow, and went in with as satisfied an air as he could well assume. The table was laid for supper, and his cousin was standing at the end, in the act of setting down from his hand a drinking cup of jewelled agate, the contents of which he had half-drained.
"I would not have disturbed you, Alured," said the knight, "but as I am to go with you to the field, it is necessary that we should talk over our arrangements."
"I have no arrangements to make," cried the young Earl, looking at him askance, like a fiery horse half inclined to kick at the person who approaches. "I am going to fight--that is all. I have had a lance in my hand before now, and know how to use it."
"Yes," replied Richard de Ashby, "and you will use it right well, and to the destruction of your adversary. I am aware of that, Alured; but still there may be many things to be said between us. When one knows one's opponent in the lists, consideration and skill may be employed to baffle his particular mode of fighting his art--his trick, call it what you will. Now I have often seen Hugh de Monthermer run a course--you, I think, never have but once?"
"I met him hand to hand at Evesham," replied his cousin impatiently; "that is, enough for me. I want neither advice nor assistance, cousin mine; and more, as we are now upon the subject, you go not to the field with me--I will choose another godfather.--Nay, no attitudes or flashing eyes. I tell thee, Dickon, things have come to my knowledge which may touch your life, so make the most of the hint. The time is short, for as soon as the Prince returns, he shall be made acquainted with all the facts."
"But, Alured, explain!" exclaimed Richard de Ashby.
"No need of explanation," replied his cousin; "you will hear enough of it ere long, if you wait. Let your conscience be your guide to stay or fly. At any rate, remain not here. I go for a moment to, shake hands with Hugh de Monthermer, ere I meet him to-morrow at the lance's point, and to tell him that I bear him no ill will, though honour compels me to appear in arms against him. I would not find you here when I return; and let me not see your face at to-morrow's lists, for it would bring down a curse upon me."
Thus saying, he strode out of the room without waiting for a reply, and Richard de Ashby, in the passion of the moment, writhed his fingers in his own hair, and tore it out by the roots.
"A curse upon him!" he cried, "a curse upon him! Well, let it fall! Tell the Prince? Blast his own blood? Stain the name of Ashby for ever? Bring me to the block? But I know better," he continued, suddenly recovering himself--"he shall never do that;" and looking anxiously round the room, he drew from his pouch the small box that Guy de Margan had given him, approached the door, which his cousin had left partly open, pushed it gently to, and then, returning to the table, he poured a small portion of the white, powder it contained into the drinking cup of Alured de Ashby. A triumphant smile lighted up his countenance as he saw the powder disappear in the wine which still remained in the cup.
"He will drink again when he comes back," said the villain. "I know him, Ha! ha! ha!--and he must tell his story soon to Prince Edward's ear, or his tongue may fail him, by chance.--On my life, I think he is a coward, and afraid to face this Monthermer. But doubt and hesitation are past with me. Kate Greenly, 'tis your turn now. She is with the priest, doubtless--she is with the priest.--Her tongue once silenced, and I Earl of Ashby, who will dare to accuse me then?--Or if they do, why let them! I will unfurl my banner on my castle walls, call around me the scattered party of De Montfort, and set Edward at defiance, till, by a soft capitulation, I ensure the past from all inquiries. But now for the girl--she must see no more suns rise!"
And thus saying, he quitted the room and castle with a hasty step.