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 ^= (716) 288-5989 -Fax 
 

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 t 
 
 sT^ 
 
 J 
 
The Chevalier of the 
 Splendid Crest 
 
WORKS BY THE SAME AUTHOR. 
 
 T 
 
 mSTORV AND BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 ^""2 vols'* ^'"''' '''' '"'' '*"'"'" ""''• '^' "• ^"'^"- '^^•P- 
 A History ok Dumkhiks and Gam,owav 
 
 Sixty Ykars a Quren. 
 
 Thk Hon. Sir Charles Murray, K.C.B. 
 
 '^"^nfV»f"\r -Vn °'"''' "' Wicfxington: Restoration 
 of the Martial Power of Great Britain, a vols. 
 
 SCIENCE. 
 STUDIIiS IN THE TOPOGRAPHY OF GALLOWAY 
 
 SCOTTISH LAND -Names: The Rhind Lectures in Arch^. 
 ology for 1893. 
 
 F/CTION. 
 
 Passages in the Life of Sir Lucian Elphin. 2 vols. 
 The Art of Love. 3 vols. 
 The Letter of the Law. 
 A Duke of Britain. 
 
 M ISC EL LA NEO US. 
 
 SALMON AND Sea Trout : How to Propagate. Preserve, and 
 
 Catch them in British Waters. 
 Meridiana: xNoontide Essays. 
 Post-Meridiana : Afternoon Essays. 
 Rainy Days in a Library. 
 Memories ok the Months. 
 
IR. 
 
 IITII, M.P. 
 
 ISH INDE- 
 
 Icsloration 
 
 The Chevalier of the 
 Splendid Crest 
 
 by 
 The Right Hon. 
 
 Sir Herbert Maxwell 
 
 Bart., M.P., F.R.S. 
 
 n Archae. 
 
 8 vols. 
 
 Jrve, and 
 
 THE COPP, CLARK CO., LIMITED 
 
 TORONTO 
 
 WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS 
 
 EDINBURGH AND LONDON 
 
 A/i J?i£-/i/s reurved 
 
If 
 
 IHOQ 
 
 i f 
 
 /I 
 
 »^y:;C3u6 
 
DEDICATION. 
 
 MY DEAR CHRISSIE, 
 
 1 have noticed that you share my interest 
 in trying to realise tvhat were the conditions of living 
 in this country before its people had become so busy, 
 so well-off, and, perhaps, so fond of ease as we 
 are now. Therefore will you allow me to offer 
 you the dedication of an attempt to retrace the 
 outlines and heighten the details of existence seven 
 hundred years ago, when for the first time a gener- 
 ation had grozvn up in England under the rule of 
 a thoroughly English king and when the Scottish 
 people had been launched upon the long and costly 
 struggle by which they won and maintained their 
 independence ? 
 
 in so far as the narrative consists of a translation 
 
VI 
 
 Dedication. 
 
 of Sir Maurice de Bulkelefs narrative^ I have been 
 not a little puzzled hoiv to render the spirit of Norman 
 French, He and most of his compeers under the 
 Plantagenets no doubt could express themselves in the 
 speech of the commonalty, hit at that date English 
 was still very far from being the flexible medium 
 which was to win encomium from the German phil- 
 ologer Grimm as '^possessing a veritable pozver of 
 expression, such as perhaps never stood at the com- 
 mand of any other language of man." Geoffrey 
 Chaucer had not yet arisen to do for his speech 
 what Dante did for the Tuscan dialect, conferring 
 upon it high rank u„:nng the literary languages of 
 Europe. To translate the idioms of courtly Norman 
 French into the famzliar phrases of modern English 
 would be to sacrifice too much of its character. I 
 have chosen, therefore, a middle course, and, while 
 preserving to the best of my ability the pictures of 
 character and scenery drawn by Sir Maurice, have 
 endeavoured to render his phrases into such Eng- 
 lish as was spoken when, at last, towards the close 
 of the fifteenth century it became the speech not 
 only of the commonalty, but of the Court and those 
 who follow Court fashion. Even so, some further 
 
/ have been 
 of Norman 
 under the 
 •elves in the 
 'te English 
 'le medium 
 rnian phil- 
 ' power of 
 t the corn- 
 Geoffrey 
 his speech 
 conferring 
 'giiages of 
 ' Norman 
 t English 
 'acter. I 
 nd, while 
 ictures of 
 'ice, have 
 ■ch Eng- 
 the close 
 eech not 
 nd those 
 further 
 
 Dedication. - 
 
 modification seemed expedient, such as the adoption 
 of the plural instead of the singular in the second 
 personal pronoun, and the sr.ppression of the old ter- 
 mination of the verb in the third person singular 
 
 1 shall feel well rezvarded for my pains ]f over- 
 looking the defects of so much of the narrative as 
 I am responsible for, you are able to dertve any 
 interest or amusement in the perusal. 
 
 Your lovin£ 
 
 MONREITH, 
 
 20ih Apil 1900. 
 
 FATHER. 
 
lit 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 I. THE WALTHAM BOAR 
 II. A SQUIRE OF LINCOLN COUNTY 
 
 III. THE LILY OF KENDAL 
 
 IV. THE GREAT SNOW . 
 V. YOUNG LOVE 
 
 VI. THE GOLDEN BASNET 
 Vn. IN MERRY CARLISLE 
 VIII. THE chevalier's FIRST QUEST 
 IX. THE PASSING OF EDWARD . 
 X. THE GLEN OF TROOL 
 XL THE chevalier's RANSOM 
 XII. THE chevalier's SECOND QUEST 
 XIH. A NIGHT IN LINHOPE TOWER 
 XIV. NORHAM CASTLE 
 XV. LORD OF FONTENAYE 
 XVI. TRAPPED 
 
 xvn. Tim icing's champion 
 
 I'AGE 
 
 I 
 
 15 
 30 
 40 
 
 53 
 
 72 
 92 
 
 no 
 
 122 
 
 134 
 149 
 166 
 182 
 203 
 227 
 
 238 
 251 
 
Contents. 
 
 XVni. THE CORONATION . 
 
 XIX. -HE chevalier's LAST QUEST 
 XX. WHAT HAPPENED AT BARBEFLOT 
 
 XXL MARMION's EDEN . 
 XXIL THE EVE OF SAINT JOHN . 
 
 XXIII. THE MEETING OF KINGS 
 
 XXIV. THE HOUR OF ENGLAND'S DARKNESS 
 
 263 
 27S 
 
 303 
 
 310 
 
 334 
 358 
 
 369 
 
 THE 
 
 PLAN 
 
263 
 278 
 
 303 
 
 3IO 
 
 334 
 358 
 
 3^9 
 
 PLANS. 
 
 THE BATTLE OF RANNOCKBURN, 24TH June 1314 
 
 To face p. 352 
 PLAN OF PART OF THE CITY OF WINCHESTER 
 
 At the ejid 
 
The Chevalier of the 
 Splendid Crest. 
 
 3F. 
 
 ©t Hje Juntins ot Hje stent im ot WaUJam ffftace. 
 The first strokes of dawn were stirring tl,e eastward 
 
 yards o L t 'T'"?' "'' """'^-^ =^'-'°"' *« »"''" 
 yards of the king's hunting-lodge at Itchenstoke, where 
 
 voices sounded in the darkness among the s a.teed 
 outbuildings; the deep baying of a hound ame f om 
 the kennels and shrill neighing from the long st bl! 
 note Tf "^ ? V''"' "°'=^ "^^ "^'-"-^d by L clea 
 re"or U, '"^'"' "''"'""« « unison a long 
 
 ne fe a, ^t ''"■ ^° "'"^^ «" --^ in 
 
 .either fte "d 7 '"T" '""'"'^^ """"'«-- "^'" 
 of hrn \ / '^' "" ** *■"""' '^"'=1'. "Of any other 
 
 for inotT f ""' '"■^'' ™^ '° ^^ """"^-^ *"' "ay 
 for ,s not every fair quarry entitled to its proper recheat ? 
 
 A 
 
2 The Chevalier of the Splendid Crest. 
 
 and on this morning the notes pealed the summons to 
 
 pursuit of the fiercest of all our five beasts of venerie 
 
 the wild boar. Fiercer even than the wolf, of which 
 wicked brood not one now remains in the county of 
 Southampton, inasmuch as my lord the king has caused 
 them all to be slain outright, by reason of the mischief 
 they wrought upon the young deer; whereby he has 
 drawn to himself the love of our husbandmen and 
 shepherds, who now may pasture their flocks securely 
 on the downs— yea, even throughout the nignt, which 
 were a thing past belief to men of an older time. 
 
 Yes; the wild boar is most highly esteemed of all 
 
 beasts of the forest for the exercise of high woodcraft 
 
 a right^sangl^ier, to wit, for I speak not of a pig of the 
 sounder, nor yet of a hog, nor even of a hog's steer, 
 seeing that our nobles hold such in no great fame for 
 the chase, but suffer the young boar to grow for three 
 years or four, when it is like he will go singulier or 
 solitary, which is the meaning of our word "sanglier." 
 Then indeed he becomes a quarry to be hunted with 
 hounds of a nobler courage than is needful for any other ; 
 the horse also must be trained to greater steadiness and 
 the hunter's nerves more firmly strung. Moreover you 
 must hunt the sanglier with greater store of hounds, else 
 you will not discourage him one whit ; for he values not 
 the hunter who shall essay to rear him with a weak prok. 
 Furthermore, you must note thaTthe right season for the 
 hunting of the boar beginneth about the Nativity of our 
 Lord, and continueth until the Annunciation of the Blessed 
 Virgin. 
 
 Well, it was midway between these two feasts, on 
 the festival, namely, of Saint Matthias,^ that my lord 
 * 24th February.— Ed. 
 
 air. 
 
1st. 
 
 lUminons to 
 Df venerie — 
 f, of which 
 : county of 
 
 has caused 
 he mischief 
 eby he has 
 ndmen and 
 :ks securely 
 lignt, which 
 ime. 
 
 med of all 
 voodcraft — 
 
 pig of the 
 hog's steer, 
 It fame for 
 w for three 
 singulier or 
 
 *' sanglier." 
 lunted with 
 
 any other ; 
 idiness and 
 ireover you 
 lounds, else 
 ; values not 
 weak prck. 
 son for the 
 ivity of our 
 the Blessed 
 
 feasts, on 
 t my lord 
 
 The Waltham Boar, , 
 
 the king had appointed to hunt a great boar that har- 
 
 When th' 1 T '"'", '"" ''^ '°^^'^ -' ItcUen^toke. 
 When Uk. bugles ceased the courtyard was all astir. The 
 
 stable doors were thrown wide; one by one, horses to 
 
 the number of between thirty and forty were l^d forth -1 
 
 some for d.e forest officers, to wit, the forester and 'the 
 
 vcrderers, the re_garder and the rang.rs-others for the 
 
 pnckers or mounted huntsmen ^others, again, for the 
 
 i-r::t":hLr^^^^^^ 
 
 ., J^' ^Z V'" ''" ^'°°^ °P^"' -hence a broad 
 gare from the blazmg logs on the hearth shot forth into 
 the gloom wuhout and fell on a splendid brown steed 
 which, sm sheeted as a protection from the chill mornTg 
 a.r, stood pawmg the earth and blowing long streams of 
 vapour from his ved nostrils. This was the kt^u 
 te Andalusmn hunter, el Bravo, of a stock which he had 
 brought to England with him when he returned from e 
 Crusade h.ty years before-far too great a favourite to 
 be kept standmg in the cold. 
 
 Hardly had the knights begun to gather at the door 
 when there stood among them a tall, lean-very le"?' 
 
 btd^l^Cr^^^ 
 It was the king. 
 
 Ah! how we worshipped him-the Great Plantagenet 
 How the mcsture gathers in „y sightless orbs as I ea i 
 to mmd those beloved features and the kindly brown 
 
 recall that far-off day, and as I ponder upon all the 
 m.sery and shame that has corae upon our land s nee 
 the England that Edward made for us 
 
4 The Chevalier of th. Splendid Crest. 
 
 "A fair nu>i ning to you, gentlemen," said the king, as 
 he stepped into the open air and cast a careful glance 
 jtpon the lightening sky. ' Stand not uncovered, I pray 
 youj ; cover yourselves, gentlemen, for the morning air is 
 raw, as my old bones do surely testify. Well, Hildred ! " 
 his Grace continued, as the forester stood before him 
 and did his reverence, "the day promises well for the 
 sport. What nevvs of the game?" 
 
 "Sire," replied the forester, "a right sanglier hath 
 couched in a thicket on the skirts of Hampnage Forest. 
 I marked his tracts and lesses last night, where he had 
 been routing in the fern field, and I judge him to be 
 very great. I heard him freaniing last night, also, at 
 sundown. I doubt not we shall rear him at that spot 
 this morning, and with this wind we may hunt him at 
 force by Cheriton to Waltham Forest, for that is where he 
 rightly belongs. But we must approach his couch from 
 the north, for there be two large sounders in Hampnage ; 
 if he cross the trail of them the hounds^may divide." 
 
 The king listened attentively. 
 
 " Good ! " he exclaimed, shaking his heavy spear aloft. 
 " By the blessed Saint Hubert ! these are tidings of a sort 
 it does a greybeard good to hear. Take a horn of ale, 
 Hildred— here, varlet ! ale to the forester. And now to 
 horse, gentlemen ! Hildred, unkennel ! " 
 
 The hounds were leamed already in the yard -twenty 
 (,ouples of great, powerful rnches, dusky and tan-coloiire.i 
 for the most part. They streamed forth and cKistcn.d 
 round Hildred, who had mounted an animal of greater 
 bulk than el Bravo, but with breeding enough to enable 
 bin to breast the Hampshire hills. Hildred put the horn 
 t- 'is lins and blew the "strokes to the field"— /o;?, ton, 
 ia-:.%\ - irfi ; .'xvern, ton, ton, tavern. 
 
St 
 
 the king, as 
 roful t^luncc 
 -■red, I pray 
 ^rniug air is 
 Hildrcd 1 " 
 before him 
 'ell for the 
 
 iglier hath 
 age Forest, 
 ere he had 
 him to be 
 ht, also, at 
 t that spot 
 unt him at 
 is where he 
 ouch from 
 lampnage ; 
 vide." 
 
 spear aloft. 
 ?s of a sort 
 lorn of ale, 
 nd now to 
 
 •d- -twenty 
 ,n-coloiired 
 I v.Mstercd 
 of greater 
 to enable 
 it the horn 
 — ion, ton, 
 
 I The Waltham noar. - 
 
 " ^"'■\' '"•'"' "^ I Morrin,,-,,,," |,e cried, Rontly chidi,,.- 
 an old l,ound which, ,.t ,he sound of l" „dlt,o"n 
 note, .hrew hi, „„.„„ ,■„ ,„ „,, „„j ,,,yedt ec " 
 of ane,c,pat,o„. Then ehcy ,„oved oiT in he dusk i I 
 pr.ckers ,„hng on eaeh side of the pack, lest, n th^ 
 unfonccd d™v„land, they should break aw y on c os « 
 ihe scent 01 some night-wandcring animal ^ 
 
 It w„. half daylight when the long cavalcade defiled 
 .rough I,chbour„e shallows, scaring the wild ducks fom 
 
 tZJsTLTl T T'^'' """ ^^-^-K a bract of 
 crirn s Th r 1 ""* ''""^ --"S-^okcs and harsh 
 
 n !!r' I ,7?' ^ ""'" "' ''°"'^^' '° ™mc how" I- 
 iTr Z, ' '"^'"^ '" '"'^ Sallant cou.pany on 
 
 s;ruir""^^^^^°"-^"- ^ >^"' -.'1 i. a: 
 
 You shall apprehend, then, that I have not always been 
 what I was at that time, still less what I am now 'l wo" 
 
 since and far away— on the scorching plains of Acre T. 
 was my oro the king Himself-PrincfE'dward of England 
 _ he then was-that gave me my accolade. It was in 
 
 Z tal t \ "'^'^'^^-^-^"^ 'hat is' no m'^tter ^ 
 ha^ oh /•"'''' ?"»""•="'"'■■. -ter I have told what 
 has to be sa.d tn this boo'c, I may dictate to Brothe 
 Matthms, who clerks for me (for I am blind now 1 
 heads, qu,te blind, and have plenty of leisure- to IjC 
 
The Chevalier of the Splendid Crest 
 
 I 
 
 m recalling old times)— I may dictate, I say, to Brother 
 Matthias the story of my own life, and some of those 
 things which I remember only too clearly. Meanwhile it 
 is only needful to mention that there came upon me some 
 five years later, after we had all returned from the Holy 
 Land, such deep horror for certain deeds in which I had 
 borne a part— nay, the chief part— that I could find no 
 peace for my soul, and I resolved to forswear the world 
 and spend the rest of my days in a cloister. My royal 
 master was ill pleased at this. Hotly he chided me, 
 asking if I thought the throne had so many keen blades 
 and stout hearts round it, that it was a time to desert my 
 post (I was constable of the king's castle of Winchester 
 then). But I was firm— mad, if you like— with unrest, 
 and I kept to my resolve. The king has often been 
 angered with me, both before and since that day ; but his 
 anger has ever passed like a summer cloud, leaving his 
 countenance brighter than before. But it did not pass 
 away so quickly this time. He dismissed me with words 
 which cut me to the heart ; for campaigning, my friends, 
 makes men forget the gulf between king and subject- 
 noble and villein. We loved each other, the king and I 
 (be it spoken with great reverence), like foster-brothers, 
 and it must have been that my leaving him caused him to 
 doubt my great love. 
 
 •' Go, then, Sir Maurice de Bulkeley," he said harshly, 
 " go, sir, if you think that the safety of your soul is in 
 jeopardy through serving a prince such as I. I am learn- 
 ing the lesson to be careful in future upon whose arm 
 I lean." 
 
 I was miserable ; day and night I wandered distraught, 
 yet with no wavering purpose. May none to whom these 
 words come know the gnawing of remorse—" the worm 
 
'TCSt. 
 
 ay, to Brother 
 iome of those 
 
 Meanwhile it 
 jpon me some 
 Vom the Holy 
 n which I had 
 could find no 
 ear the world 
 er. My royal 
 
 chided me, 
 y keen blades 
 
 to desert my 
 •f Winchester 
 -with unrest, 
 s often been 
 day ; but his 
 i, leaving his 
 did not pass 
 e with words 
 :, my friends, 
 id subject — 
 2 king and I 
 5ter-brothers, 
 lused him to 
 
 said harshly, 
 
 r soul is in 
 
 I am learn - 
 
 whose arm 
 
 i distraught, 
 whom these 
 -" the worm 
 
 The Waltham Boar, " ^ 
 
 that dieth not ! » Peace I could only hope to find in 
 the bosom of Holy Church, and I offered myself for the 
 noviciate of the strictest order of Saint Francis of Assisi 
 
 Some hmt of the king's displeasure had leaked out, 
 I suppose, or else the provincial master hesitated to 
 receive on his own responsibility the vows of a knight 
 so famous (for I z,as famous then-they reckoned me 
 the fifth knight in Christendom). So I was summoned 
 before the minister-general, Raymond Gaufredi, in Paris 
 -one who knew right well how to read the secrets of a 
 man s heart. He found that what I took for repentance 
 -the grinding load that never left my brain-was no 
 more than fruitless remorse. He touched the fibres that 
 still tingled with the memory of what had been so sweet 
 He made me own (for I was not one to lie to any man) 
 
 not but'do it '" '^°"' '"'"''^ ^' '^°"' ^^'^"' ^ ^°"^^ 
 
 ';My son," he said, gravely shaking his head, "the 
 cloister IS no place for thee. Who art thou to preach 
 the word to sinners, a sinner thyself- shriven indeed 
 but unrepentant? Nevertheless, thy trouble is sore and 
 must needs be healed. Money will not cover the stain 
 nor penance wipe it out. Keep thy lands, yet will we 
 admit thee to the noviciate. For the higher orders thou 
 hast, at present, no vocation; but if thou standest the 
 searching of a novice, thou may'st prove worthy of the 
 rule of a lay brother. Who can say what service in that 
 grade may work on thy spirit ? Meanwhile be content • 
 go m peace." ' 
 
 Well, I entered on my probation ; after some months 
 I was admitted to tertiary order of penitents in the 
 Mmorite tnars. I took upon me the vow of the third 
 rule, binding me for ever to abstain from bearin- arm^ 
 
I 
 
 8 
 
 The Chevalier of the Splendid Crest. 
 
 save for defence of Church and country, from eating 
 meat on Mondays, Wednesdays, Fridays, and Saturdays, 
 from wearing any ornament or any clothing except what 
 was grey and dark and poor. But besides this, and tiae 
 necessity for setting apart certain hours in each day for 
 devotional exercise, there was nothing to exclude me 
 from the ordinary business and pursuits of a layman. 
 
 I returned to England— to my own castle in the 
 county of Stafford, and devoted my time to prayer and 
 good works, and to acquiring clerkly lore. One day I 
 received my lord the king's summons to attend his Court 
 at York. I obeyed with heavy heart, believing that I 
 had forfeited my old friend's favour for evermore. But 
 never was there spirit so generous as Edward Planta- 
 genet's — never breathed there a knight who could dis- 
 miss so clearly all shadow of grudge. 
 
 "How now, Sir Grey Coat!" quoth be, "so they 
 found you were not of the right fibre for a monk, did 
 they? God's wounds! Maurice, but I love thee still 
 man. I find I cannot get on without thee, old comrade. 
 I am waxing old now, Maurice ; too old to make new 
 friends. You may not fight now, they tell me, but you 
 can write, and you shall serve me as clerk to my 
 Privy Council. Go to ! there will be plenty of time to 
 tell thy beads between whiles." 
 
 From that moment, down to the morning of that hunt- 
 ing of which I have begun to tell— some fourteen years 
 I reckon— I served my lord the king as diligently with 
 the pen as theretofore I had done with sword and lance. 
 From the hour in which my lord committed to me his 
 privy seal in keeping, I was closely in his confidence, 
 nor do I believe that he withheld from me anything that 
 was in his thoughts. But I am childless. My lands 
 
rest. 
 
 from eating 
 nd Saturdays, 
 except what 
 this, and the 
 each day for 
 exclude me 
 a layman, 
 astle in the 
 ) prayer and 
 One day I 
 ad his Court 
 eving that I 
 rmore. But 
 rvard Planta- 
 3 could dis- 
 
 i, " so they 
 L monk, did 
 2 thee still, 
 )ld comrade. 
 ) make new 
 ne, but you 
 lerk to my 
 ' of time to 
 
 f that hunt- 
 jrteen years 
 igenlly with 
 i and lance. 
 
 to me his 
 confidence, 
 lything that 
 
 My lands 
 
 The Waltham Boar. g 
 
 should have passed at my death to a distant and wealthy 
 kmsman ; therefore when another king, Edward of Car- 
 narvon, filled my old master's throne, and the old order 
 changed in a fashion which I sorely misliked, I yielded 
 half of my estates to my legitimate heir, and half to 
 Mother Church, and was at last received into the cloister 
 where I am seated even now. I am no longer Sir 
 Maurice de Bulkeley of Patshull in the county of Stafford 
 but plam Brother Baldwin of the Order of Minorite 
 Friars. 
 
 
 
 We rode forward through the grey land. The in- 
 creasmg light revealed little in the attire of the cavaliers 
 to betoken some of the proudest nobles in England. 
 Nothing but his great stature distinguished my lord the 
 king from the gentlemen in his train — nothing in the 
 dress of these barons and knights whereby a man might 
 tell them from the prickers and other attendants. Most 
 of them wore close-fitting jackets of Lincoln green 
 trimmed with fur of fox or marten ; albeit some, and 
 among them myself, preferred leathern jerkins, as being 
 a better protection against thorns. No hats or caps 
 were worn ; only fur-lined hoods, which might be thrown 
 back on the shoulders in the heat of the chase. King 
 Edward ever discouraged display of finery by the gentle- 
 men of his Court, being happiest himself when arrayed 
 like a well-to-do citizen. He laughed at niceties of dress 
 except It were a question of military equipment, and then 
 he would discuss keenly by the hour the merits of the 
 latest fashion in helmets or the proper length of a hau- 
 berk. The wind blew bitterly off Southampton Water 
 on this morning, yet the king wore no cloak, not even 
 a courtepy, and none of his suite cared to meet the rough 
 
ro The Chevalier of the Splendid Crest. 
 
 raillery he certainly would have bestowed upon any one 
 who went a-hunting with heavy clothing. 
 
 I have dwelt with some precision on these matters, 
 though perhaps of little moment, because my eyesight 
 failed not before I had witnessed the great change that 
 was wrought in apparel when Edward of Carnarvon came 
 to the throne, and I wish to show you England as it ap- 
 peared when I knew it and loved it best. 
 
 As we skirted the forest the king began to speak 
 earnestly with a young knight who rode beside him— one 
 with a countenance of extraordinary pallor, which you 
 might note the more readily because of his jetty mous- 
 tache and pointed beard. Mounted on a Welsh garron 
 (no mean animal to carry one through a long day in a 
 hilly country) I rode as was my wont and my lord the 
 king's will, somewhat behind his Grace, yet not so far 
 as that, when we passed over soft turf, I could not easily 
 hear what passed between him and the knight. 
 
 "Ah! this is freedom indeed," exclaimed the king, 
 straightening himself in the saddle, and drawing in the 
 chilly air with a sigh of content. « I care not, de Valence, 
 though I should never again see drawn sword or lance 
 in rest. In the few years that are left to me, let me see 
 my people growing happy and rich and contented, and 
 I ask for nothing to stir my blood more fiercely than a 
 day now and then with hawk or hound. As for you, de 
 Valence, you long for the glory of battle, and may 'get 
 impatient with your old master who whines for peace." 
 
 "Now God forbid, sire," replied the knight, "that I 
 should wish to see war again in our own land, which 
 you have pacified so happily. But so long as the Holy 
 Sepulchre is in the Soldan's keeping, there will always be 
 work for Christian knights to do elsewhere." 
 
 I 
 
'est 
 
 pon any one 
 
 ese matters, 
 my eyesight 
 change that 
 narvon came 
 id as it ap- 
 
 m to speak 
 !e him — one 
 
 which you 
 jetty mous- 
 elsh garron 
 ig day in a 
 ny lord the 
 
 not so far 
 d not easily 
 
 the king, 
 nng in the 
 de Valence, 
 "d or lance 
 
 let me see 
 ented, and 
 :ely than a 
 for you, de 
 d may get 
 peace." 
 t, "that I 
 nd, which 
 
 the Holy 
 always be 
 
 The Waltham Boar. 
 
 II 
 
 % 
 
 "Ay," said the king, "Palestine is a fair college for 
 soldiers. But know you this, that in my old age I see 
 clearly that it is not well for a people when their rulers 
 adventure far afield. Let Pope and preacher say vhat 
 they will, if the Paynim hold Jerusalem wrongfully, it is 
 to God they must answer, not to man. I tell thee, de 
 Valence, I am better content that the cross of Saint 
 George flies over all our castles in Scotland, than if it 
 were planted on .he very citadel of Jerusalem itself." 
 
 " Oh, sire ! " expostulated de Valence, " your Grace's 
 rule could never be in real jeopardy in the northern realm. 
 All is at peace there now." 
 
 "Our Grace's rule!" returned the king, more sadly 
 than was his wont. " Our Grace's rule ! And think you, 
 de Valence, that my anxiety has been only for my own 
 kingship, which I shall have to give up to another so soon ? 
 Have I known and loved you from a boy, and failed to 
 persuade you that my labour has been to give to the 
 whole of this island of ours such a king as Alfred was to 
 but a part of it— a king who should set little store by 
 majesty or homage, save as the pledges of unity and 
 strength ? These poor, wildfire Scots, how they hate me, 
 yet from what have I not saved them ? Have I not been 
 the means, under God, of delivering them from being 
 rent asunder between the Brus and the Comyn and the 
 rest of them ? Have I not welded them and our English 
 into one sea-girt nation, of which the power and the 
 riches shall one day be the greatest the world has seen ? 
 And you talk to me of «our Grace ' ! But enough ! sec, 
 Hildred has brought us near our game, and is about to 
 sound the call to discoujile." 
 
 It was broad daylight now. Hildred had halted on a 
 bare space of down, overlooking the dusky expanse of 
 
12 
 
 The Chevalier of the Splendid Crest. 
 
 Ha^..pnage forest On the side of this space furthest 
 from the forest there was a deep combe, fringed along 
 the edge with jun.pers and withered ferns, and filled with 
 a dense thicket of thorns, both white and black, and 
 scrubby oak. It was here that the huntsman had marked 
 the couch of the great boar of Waltham. Now, had we 
 been hunting the hart, we should not have drawn so near 
 the covert where it was thought our quarry lay, and we 
 hould have been careful to approach it against the wind • 
 for the hart wmdeth sharp and far, and quickly discovereth 
 treachery agau.st himself. But a right sanglier is not so 
 I.ghtly dislodged; he will abide in his den, and most 
 commonly standeth his bay, till he be charged home 
 with great store of hounds and shouting of men, with 
 hornsblowing a double recheat; all which has been set 
 forth in plam speech by William Twety, chief huntsman 
 o our present king, Edward of Carnarvon, in his ingenious 
 treatise on veneris, wherefore there is no cause that I 
 dwell at greater space thereon at this time 
 
 Now, while Hildred was disposing his men alon-r the 
 covert, and the knights were taking their places to follow 
 m the burst (for we hunt not the boar on foot, as the 
 baxon English were wont to do, deeming that all knightly 
 sports should be exercised in the saddle), I pushed tip 
 beside my lord the king; for I was ever ill at ease when 
 he went a-hunting the boar, seeing how boldly he would 
 expose himself to the onset of that most savage beast 
 
 "Beseech your Grace," I said, "to have a care of your 
 person this day. Will you not be content to keep the 
 hounds in view, and leave to younger men that which they 
 covet — to go in with the spear ? " 
 
 "Maurice, Maurice!" answered my master, "was that 
 the kind of counsel you were wont to offer when we lay 
 
.rest. 
 
 space furthest 
 fringed along 
 md filled with 
 id black, and 
 n had marked 
 Now, had we 
 :Irawn so near 
 y lay, and we 
 nst the wind ; 
 ly discovereth 
 ier is not so 
 n, and most 
 ^aiged home 
 3f men, with 
 has been set 
 ief huntsman 
 his ingenious 
 :ause that I 
 
 !n along the 
 ;es to follow 
 
 foot, as the 
 : all knightly 
 
 pushed up 
 t ease when 
 lly he would 
 ;e beast, 
 care of your 
 :o keep the 
 : which they 
 
 , "was that 
 hen we lay 
 
 i 
 
 ."lift 
 
 The Walt ham Boar. 13 
 
 in our camp at Acre. By the rood! gossip, thou'rt 
 parlously changed since you took to mumbling aves at 
 odd hours." 
 
 "But, sire " 
 
 " Hark to Ribaut ! " cried the king, as a hound's chal- 
 lenge sounded in the combe. " Va outre, Ribaut ! " he 
 sang out with a true huntsman's cheer; «hau mon valet ! 
 hau lo-lo-lo ! veleci, veleci, allez mon petit ! " 
 
 From the far side of the covert came Hildred's cheer. 
 
 " Hala-ila-la ! tayau, tayau ! hau I'amy apres t veleci' v 
 dit vrai!" ^ 
 
 Then the pack opened in chorus. 
 "Velelau, velelau, veleci! tayau, tayau!" 
 " Sangdieu ! was there ever sweeter music heard ? " ex- 
 claimed the king, as, turning el Bravo's head, he trotted 
 lightly down the slope to the upper end of the combe, so 
 that when the chase began he should be even with 'the 
 hounds. All this time there sounded a great clamour in 
 the dell, the baying of hounds, the shouting of men, and 
 the braying of horns, to cause the boar to break his' bay 
 It came at last. The notes of the hounds suddenly 
 ceased, save for the impatient yelping of the young hounds 
 for they were running their game in view along the bottom' 
 towards where we stood. Then was there great bustle 
 among the prickers and others who had dismounted to 
 enter the thicket, each man seeking his horse and climbing 
 mto the ,• Jdle, eager for a start. 
 
 There came a crashing in the thorns near where we sat 
 my lord the king and I, with Sir Aymer de Valence at his 
 other rein. Then the outmost bushes parted, and within 
 ten paces of our horses' feet a mighty sanglier appeared 
 in the open and dashed away across the short turf 
 Close behind him came the leading hounds; it had 
 
14 The Chevalier of the Splendid Crest, 
 
 seemed impossible to one who had not experience of the 
 speed of a boar that so heavy a beast could gain on these 
 high-bred raches. Yet did he so, and anon we were all 
 thundering after the flying pack, 
 
 "Ha! y fuit la, mes chiens; y fuit la! ha, ha! tayau, 
 tayau ! " 
 
 Ah ! but it was a gracious, a soul-stii ing sight as the 
 chase swept out upon the windy upland of Ga..derdown. 
 We bore along by Cheriton and Kilmeston upon our left, 
 and Beaworth upon our other hand; then, bending to 
 the west and sinking the steep side of Upham Whitehill, 
 we picked our course through the wet meadows lyinij 
 around Bishop's Waltham. 
 
 
'St. 
 
 15 
 
 icnce of the 
 
 ain on these 
 
 we were all 
 
 , ha ! tayau, 
 
 iight as the 
 a.,derdown. 
 >on our left, 
 bending to 
 1 Whitehill, 
 dows lyin^!^ 
 
 m. 
 
 ©f tfie great peril fttto &j]&tc!j mfnti ^tjfonrti mtne; of 
 t&e gallant feat of a squire of ILincoIn countg, anU 
 of tj^e l^eabg tilimgs from tfte Nortfj. 
 
 Two long leagues and more had we galloped before this 
 good boar gave signs of sinking. He had run the 
 hounds out of view in the first burst, compelling them 
 to put their noses to the ground, whereby the pace was 
 somewhat slackened. Yet it remained great — so great 
 that none but the fleetest and stoutest could live with the 
 pack. I have said that my Welsh garron had speed and 
 bottom ; both were well tested on this day. Far across 
 the plain stretched the line of hunters, some dismounted, 
 ruefully gazing on sobbing steeds, ridden to a stand; 
 others labouring on, though with faint hopes of fleshingj 
 spear. De Valence had fallen out; a sharp flint had 
 sprung up and wellnigh severed the near fetlock of his 
 good horse— a cruel sight. I reined up and off'ered him 
 my Welshman, which was still fresh and pulling on my 
 arms. But de Valence's first thought was for his master. 
 " Ride on. Sir Maurice ! " he cried, " heed not for me : 
 ride like Sathanas himself, and look to the king. See he 
 come not in jeopardy." 
 

 i6 The Chevalier of the Splendid Crest. 
 
 So I rode on. There was nobody near the king but 
 myself and one other, a young squire of Lincoln county, of 
 gentle blood but, as men said, greatly straitened in means, 
 who had lately come to us in the suite of Sir Robert 
 de Clifford, then on a visit to the Court. Hildred, the 
 master huntsman, had led the chase for the first league, 
 but now he was entangled in the plashy meadows about 
 Waltham, and soon there was none other in sight. The 
 hounds never wavered on the line, but carried' a fine 
 head, for the king thouglit no pains too great to obtain a 
 level pack. We thence rode on in silence till we began 
 to sink the hill towards Swanmore. Then, at length, Uie 
 boar showed symptoms of failing strength. We viewed 
 him heading straight for Wakham Chace, which lay like a 
 grey hedge about a league before us. Another mile, and 
 the hounds ran from scent to view, and we saw the end 
 was near. My friends, it came not a moment too soon 
 for me. I know not how my lord the \x.^z felt— he 
 showed no token of distress despite his threescore and 
 eight years; and his Andalusian, though flecked with 
 foam and soiled with mire, still carried his crest erect 
 and brought his hocks well under him at every stride! 
 But my arms were trembling, my temples throbbed like 
 Saracen drums, my throat was like the Syrian desert. 
 My good garron, too, was labouring heavily ; every stride 
 threatened to be his last. Had the boar before us 
 carried hoofs of fine gold and tusks of pearl, I must 
 have drawn rein in sheer mercy to my suffering steed. 
 But I could not leave my lord the king to go alone. I 
 knew too well what would happen when our quarry 
 turned to bay. The king loved his hounds too well to 
 leave them at the mercy of that furious beast. 
 
 The noble sanglier swam the river ; bove Waltham 
 
he king but 
 In county, of 
 d in means, 
 
 Sir Robert 
 EJildred, the 
 first league, 
 dows about 
 sight. The 
 rried a fine 
 to obtain a 
 II we began 
 
 length, the 
 We viewed 
 h lay like a 
 r mile, and 
 iw the end 
 t too soon 
 g felt — he 
 escore and 
 :cked with 
 :rest erect, 
 'ery stride. 
 3bbed like 
 an desert, 
 very stride 
 before us 
 "1, I must 
 ■ing steed. 
 
 alone. I 
 ur quarry 
 30 well to 
 
 Waltham 
 
 A Squire of Lincoln County. 17 
 
 mill; on the south bank wa. a large osier-bed; I saw his 
 tusks gleam as he halted for a mome.it on the skirts of it 
 turmng to view his pursuers. The leading hounds were 
 withm half-bowshot of him; as their deep notes of 
 vengeance struck his ear, he tossed his mighty head 
 wheeled sharp round and plunged into the thicker' 
 Ihen we knew the supreme moment was at hand- the 
 sangher was about to stand his bay. It is the moment 
 of danger, greatly coveted by gentlemen of mettle, foras- 
 much as It is the right of the foremost rider to press 
 forward and deliver his thrust from the saddle. But the 
 ground did not admit of the approach of a horse ; had 
 the huntsmen and prickers been at hand, they and th-^ 
 knights present would have dismounted and entered the 
 thicket on foot, so that they might surround the bay 
 and meet the animal with their speais. For at such 
 times the boar will run vehemently at anything he seeth 
 before him. 
 
 I was nearest the king when the boar entered the osiers 
 yet somewhat far behind him; my nag, as I have said' 
 being at the end of his powers. The squire of Lincoln 
 county, Walter le Marmion, had ridden up the far side of 
 the water at the mill ; a wide and deep channel with miry 
 sides lay between him and us. My eye was on the king • 
 I doubted not that he would halt and allow the hounds to 
 set their bay, till some of the straggling horsemen arrived 
 What was my dismay to behold him galloping towards the 
 osiers, whence came the clamour of the bav ! He pulled 
 up at the end of the hard ground, dismounted, and I saw 
 that he was for entering the thicket. 
 
 " Hold, sire," I cried, in an agony of fear—" hold ! the 
 prickers will be here anon. For God's sake, hold ! " 
 
 But if he heard, which T o-rpntlv ri^„hf fnr - -;-- 
 
1 8 The Chevalier of the Splendid Crest. 
 
 was faint, ho heeded not. I was helpless; it was like an 
 evil dream ; I saw the awful danger, and could not move 
 from my place to avert it. I, too, dismounted, and fol- 
 lowed the king on foot; but though I was younger than 
 he, my limbs were not so supple, and my breath was 
 scant. By Heaven's grace, there was better help at hand 
 Marmion, who had found his error in riding along the 
 north bank, saw the king leave his horse, and knew the 
 I)eril ; for all that he was young, he was a skilful forester. 
 He hesitated not a moment, but sprang to the ground, 
 spear in hand, plunged into the icy water, and swam to 
 the hither bank. Then he ran swiftly across the meadow 
 and disappeared in the osiers, while I hobbled up as best 
 I could. 
 
 I came on the ground in time to witness the end. The 
 hounds were baying furiously, three or four of them lay 
 torn and bleeding, dead or dying, frightfully gashed on 
 flanks and loins. The rest formed a dense ring round 
 the boar, which wheeled in turn as the raches pressed 
 on him. On the far side of the ring from me stood the 
 king; Marmion was some paces on his right, flourishing 
 a kerchief to tempt the boar to charge him. But the 
 brute, as if conscious of where his dearest vengeance was 
 valued him not; and violently tossing aside the hounds 
 before him, rushed with fury on the king, who aptly com- 
 posed his body and ordered his spear to receive him. My 
 master's eye was as true, his nerve'as firm, as of yore, but 
 alas ! envious age had robbed his muscle of some of its 
 strength. The blade struck fair on the vital spot between 
 the eyes; howbeit, so great was the force of the rushing 
 beast that the steel glanced and entered the thick flesh of 
 the neck. By the mercy of the saints, the pain caused 
 the boar to swerve. I myself now saw the white tushes 
 
est. 
 
 t was like an 
 Id not move 
 ted, and fol- 
 Dungor than 
 breath was 
 elp at hand, 
 g fdong the 
 id knew the 
 Iful forester, 
 the grounil, 
 id swam to 
 :he meadow 
 1 up as best 
 
 end. The 
 'f them lay 
 
 gashed on 
 ring round 
 es pressed 
 i Stood the 
 flourishing 
 But the 
 eance was, 
 he hounds 
 aptly com- 
 
 him. My 
 ■ yore, but, 
 ame of its 
 )t between 
 le rushing 
 :k flesh of 
 .in caused 
 te tushes, 
 
 A Sqtiifr of T.iucoht County. 
 
 »9 
 
 like sabres of the infldcl ^'oo^s, within a hair's-breadlh of 
 the king's thigh. He, still gripping the ashen shaft, was 
 tlirown to the ground by the violence of the charge. 'l"he 
 boar turned to wound him. Now the tushes of a boar 
 cannot rip downwards, but upwards only, so the king 
 clapped close to the boggy soil, and escaped unhurt at 
 the first onset. But had help not been at hand, it is like 
 he must have died in the end, unless Saint George had 
 wrought a miracle for his safety, by reason tiuit the na- 
 ture of a right sanglier is cruel and unforgiving. There 
 followed no miracle, but truly a deed of fine woodcraft. 
 Walter le Marmion, seeing the king's peril, met the boar 
 as he turned, and, with true aim, plunged his spear-blade 
 featl;' behind the beast's shoulder, and held on. It was 
 the death-wound, and fearful it was to witness the struggles 
 of the creature— mute, for the boar of the forest suffers 
 without cries— but striving to wound and kill to the last. 
 
 Slowly, and sorely bcmired. King Edward rose to his 
 feet. He was pale, for the fall had shaken him rudely, 
 and bareheaded, his hood being thrown back on his 
 shoulders. It touched me sadly, even at that moment of 
 stress, to mark how time had thinned and blanched the 
 hair I remembered so thick and dark. He stood in 
 silence for a few moments gazing at the dead quany, in 
 which the two spears were still fixed— the first in the 
 shaggy neck, the second in the heart. 
 
 " My poor hounds ! » quoth he sadly, casting his eyes 
 round the mangled pack. « A friend in need," he added, 
 looking first at me and then, kindly, on the young squire.' 
 His voice was faint, and he gasped for breath, as he 
 leaned his shoulder against a pollard stump. But, re- 
 covering himself, he waved me aside as I offered 'him 
 support, and resumed in a stronger tone— 
 
 -k 4 
 
20 
 
 The Chevalier of the Splendid Crest. 
 
 
 Fear not for me, Maurice ; my old carcase has come 
 
 by no cl.a,nagc. But after threescore a man ralHes not 
 
 rom a rude fall as quickly as of yore. A friend need 
 
 I say; Maunce, know you the young man? he a 
 
 gentleman of name and arms?" "^ 's he a 
 
 Le Marmion was standing astride of the carr-,.^ ,, 
 
 :r to'LT tT"" ""^^ ^-^ «-Tyr:'eret 
 
 ca^er to rend it. There was nothing in his dress to marl 
 h..s rank, even rf it had not been drenched and d rk" ed 
 w.th hrs plunge in the river. He might have 1^: ' 
 common packer or one of the humbler attendants of !h! 
 hunt ; yet there was something noble in his bear^g be Ln^ 
 the general run of men. His countenance waf flusS d 
 w.th the c ase; fair curls clustered thickly on h.s bare 
 
 county, lately come to Itchenstoke in T trl f « 
 Robert de Clifford." '"'" °^ ^" 
 
 " Sangdieu . a proper gallant," exclaimed the king " Is 
 he of tne house of Scrivelsby, think you ? " 
 
 "The same, sire, and descended of Fontenaye He is 
 
 Graces hereditary champion." ^ 
 
 " Ha ! Sir Philip-who proclaimed my challencre on 
 Coronation day ? » exclaimed the kinc. « No 60^^.? hi . 
 ;n England, pardie I Right glad am^I it i^so tf n' 7 
 
 one' ?^h V '°J^-^f f~i!^°5 then, and let it be a treble 
 one. I have no breath left to spare, but we must call our 
 company together, if there be any within hearin. " 
 
 Le Marmion, at n,y bidding, put his horn To his lips 
 
A Squire of Lincoln County. 
 
 21 
 
 lias come 
 allies not 
 
 in need. 
 
 Is he a 
 
 ••^e, A'ard- 
 a circle, 
 to mark 
 darkened 
 been a 
 ts of the 
 \ beyond 
 flushed 
 his bare 
 ed a tall 
 
 sire," I 
 
 Lincoln 
 
 of Sir 
 
 g. "Is 
 
 He is 
 ', your 
 
 ige on 
 • blood 
 now I 
 :e this 
 treble 
 ill our 
 
 
 and winded a right mort— /^;?^, ton tavern, ton tavern, ion 
 tavern, tone — repeating it thrice, whereby it was made 
 known as far as the clear notes were carried on the 
 breeze that a sanglier of royal quality was laid low. 
 Then we rested until peradventure some prickers or 
 purlieu -men should arrive to clean the boar. The 
 hounds were quiet now, resting, lapping water, or lick- 
 ing each other's wounds. Ever and again le Marmion 
 winded his horn, adding to the mort the call to the com- 
 pany ; but it was long before any answer came. At last 
 when I was ill at ease lest my lord the king should be 
 struck by a chill, for he was very wet, we heard an 
 answering horn. 
 
 It was that of Hildred, the master huntsman, who, 
 havmg worked his way through the meadows of Waltham' 
 followed on our tracks, swearing horribly, I make no 
 doubt, for such was his wont when matters went crossly 
 With him rode Sir Thomas de Clare, the king's Steward 
 of Waltham Chace, much abashed and out 'of counte- 
 nance, seeing that no man loveth to be cast out in pursuit 
 of game, be it hart or boar. Then there gathered to us 
 others by degrees, and the king, who had not spoken a 
 word to le Marmion, which I thought strange, seeing that 
 under God and the saints, he owed his preservation to 
 the esquire— the king, I say, called a silence, and spoke 
 as follows to the company : 
 
 " Messieurs, it is enjoined upon every knight that he 
 use not his dignity solely to his own advantage, but that 
 he shall take note of the actions of those who have not 
 earned their spurs, so that the order may be duly recruited 
 by the addition of those who are worthy of the accolade. 
 This day a signal service has been rendered to ourselves' 
 and through us, to the realm which God hath set under 
 
 ki 
 
22 
 
 The Chevalier of the Splendid Crest 
 
 I I 
 
 (F 
 
 our rule. It is our purpose to reward this service in the 
 very place where it was performed, and thereby to acquit 
 ourselves of a debt of gratitude, which, nevertheless, we 
 shall ever bear in remembrance." 
 
 Now, the circumstances of the king's deliverance 
 from peril had been bruited among the company 
 as they reassembled, and all applauded the gallant 
 words. 
 
 "Walter le Marmion," continued the king, drawing his 
 short huntmg sword as he stood beside the carcase of the 
 boar-and then men perceived what was to be the nature 
 of the guerdon. 
 
 The esquire stood before the king-the boar between 
 them. Fust the young man blushed like a damoysel, and 
 then turned very pale : but he stood erect and motionless 
 as became a well-trained soldier. ' 
 
 "Kneel down, and let that be thy hassock, young sir" 
 quoth the king, pointing to the boar and smiling for 
 the wet ground under the long, reedy grass was deeply 
 trampled with mire and gore. Le Marmion bent his 
 knee on the rough, dark flank of the beast, and the king 
 touchmg him lightly thrice on the shoulder with the 
 naked blade, said : 
 
 "Gautier le Marmion, au nom de Dieu, Saint Michel 
 et Samt George je te fais chevalier. Soyez preux, hardi 
 et loyal ! " 
 
 Then, raising the young man to his feet— 
 "Avancez, chevalier, au nom de Dieu ! " and, embrac 
 ing hun, added-" from our heart we thank you, gallant 
 Sir Walter, for your ready help this day." 
 
 "Oy.., oycz!" we all shouted in acclamation; and 
 truly the tears stood in my old eyes, in part from grati- 
 tude for the safety of my master, and in part from warmth 
 
A Squire of LtJicoln Count}'. 
 
 23 
 
 of feeling to the young gentleman who had so bravely 
 secured it. 
 
 Then, leaving Hildred and his men to clean the boar 
 and give the offal to the hounds which had so well earned 
 their accustomed reward, the king remounted el Bravo 
 and summoned Sir Thomas de Clare, Sir Walter le 
 Marmion and myself to ride home with him. Itchen- 
 stoke lay fully three leagues to the north, but the day 
 was yet young, and we rode leisurely, conversing on the 
 incidents of the chase. The king had recovered mar- 
 vellously from his shaking, and rallied le Marmion on his 
 wet garments. When we were still a league or more 
 distant from our journey's end, we descried a knight and 
 his valet pricking at speed towards us along the downs. 
 
 "Here is one that beareth tidings," quoth the king, 
 " and I mislike his gait, for the bearer of good tidings is 
 ever more prone to tarry than to speed. Please God it 
 be not some fresh unwisdom of my son and his friends ! " ' 
 
 " Methinks I recognise the sorrel palfrey of Sir Robert 
 de Clifford, sire," I observed, " who has ridden forth to 
 see how the chase has fared." 
 
 Now de CHfford, who was the king's lieutenant on 
 the Scottish Marches, had purposed to hunt with us that 
 day, but, inasmuch as messengers from the north had 
 arrived just as we were on the point of starting, he had 
 craved the king's grace to be excused, in order to peruse 
 his despatches. 
 
 "How now, Sir Robert?" cried the king, as de 
 Clifford (for it proved to be he) reined up beside the 
 path. " Man ! but I am vexed for thee. Thou hast 
 missed the gallantest chase that I have seen these ten 
 seasons past. Were the despatches, then, of more 
 moment than the hano-jng of some rascally Scot or the 
 
 I'J 
 
 m 
 
 
1^! • ' 
 
 IH'I 
 
 fi>^ II 
 
 24 T/k Chevalier of the Sflcn<!id Crest. 
 
 complaint of a pillaged prior? See now! thou art 
 
 for I have despo.Ied you of your best squire." 
 The newest, sire," replied de Cliiford, "for he came 
 o me but three weeks since bearing letters of commenda 
 t.on from the good Earl of Lincoln. If he be thrbest 
 why-the best I have is always at your Grace's dispo a, 
 I am gr,eved, sire," he continued with a grave X'' 
 nance, "to be the bearer of evil tidin^s-S' 
 
 "Said I not so, Maurice?" interposed the kine 
 shruggmg h,s s oulders and making a quaint grim.a .'' 
 They are of a nature." resumed de Cliflbfd, "that 
 w-U no. brook delay in your Grace's consideration' 
 
 1 am wet, weary, and hungry, good Sir Robert " 
 answered the king. "I kave it to your dLreSn 
 whether I am to hear these tidings fasting or full " 
 
 Alas, my liege!" quoth de Clifford, "I havL „„ 
 cho,ce but to take your commands at o;ce, for ",h n 
 an hour I must be on my way to the Scottish bo der 
 
 Th Earl oTca "k1"™ ,'.°'^" ""' ^""""^ *e S™ i 
 iheEarlofCarrickhas slam John Comyn with his own 
 
 th.^'Tr';"', '^'''' ''" ^^'"S' - -- accent so strange 
 hat :t startled me; and said no more, riding on fn 
 silence for a space. Then he inquired sharply! 
 iTom whom have you this news?" 
 
 of'n'°T-^l' J°^" d« St John, your Grace's sheriff 
 
 of Dumfries," was the reply; "there is nn 
 
 doubt it." ' "° "0°"^ to 
 
 The king said no other word, but quickened his pace 
 nd we performed what remained of the journey at a 
 hand-gallop, and in silence. ^ 
 
A Squire of Lincoln County. 
 
 25 
 
 Now this silence of the king was to me, who knew his 
 moods so well, a sure sign tliat he was deeply moved. 
 When matters of lighter offence crossed or disappointed 
 him, my master's wrath would flare out in lerrible 
 fashion ; his speech would grow thick, and biting, violent 
 words would crowd to his lips. But such fury cooled 
 quickly, and then — none so anxious as he to atone for 
 any injury he might have done to any man in his anger. 
 Twice or thrice only had I known him to brook affront 
 mutely, and each time his vengeance had been sure and 
 terrible. 
 
 Summons were issued for a Council to assemble early 
 in the afternoon. The king allowed himself no more 
 time than to change his hunting clothes and take a hasty 
 repast. He ate alone and in silence; summoning de 
 Clifford to his closet immediately after, he remained shut 
 up with him until the hour appointed for the Council. 
 Then de Clifford rode off on the London road, and the 
 few privy councillors within summons assembled in the 
 great hall, Sir Aymer de Valence being the chief, as 
 being in rank above all the barons, saving only Henry 
 of Lancaster. 
 
 The king entered the council-chamber leaning heavily 
 on my arm. These tidings from the north, coming 
 suddenly upon him when he was weary with the chase, 
 seemed to have added ten years to his age ; he walked 
 with difficulty, but his speech was grave and clear. 
 
 "Messieurs," he said, "we are summoned to action 
 when most we hoped for repose. Sir Robert de Brus, 
 the Earl of Carrick, upon whom, as ye witnessed in our 
 recent Council at Westminster, we reposed our con- 
 fidence and entrusted with high authority in our realm 
 of Scotland, hath most traitorously and violently broken 
 
ffi 
 
 26 
 
 The Chevalier of the Splendid Crest 
 
 p. 
 
 his faith declared open rebellion against our rule, and 
 foully slan. John Comyn of Badenoch, whom we ately 
 received to our peace. We do not greatly fear that the 
 Scottish people will rise with him; nevertheless we must 
 prepare for war." 
 
 feet. There lay before him, as always when the Council 
 was assembled, the Gospels in a cover of heavy pigskin 
 nchly stamped and clasped with silver curiously wrought' 
 Laying his left hand on the tome, and raising his rL; 
 aloft, my master resumed. 
 
 ''We vow before God and the swans to take no rest- 
 to follow no enterprise-until this foul murder under 
 trust IS avenged; and, when that is accomplished, we 
 swear to bear arms no more against Christian men " 
 
 Again the king's voice ceased as he sat down. When 
 he spoke again, it had regained its usual tone when 
 business was on hand. 
 
 "Our vengeance must be swift and heavy, lest the fire 
 spread. Therefore do we appoint our loved cousin, Sir 
 Aymer de Valence, to be commander of all our forces 
 and supreme commissioner in Scotland, and we lay upon 
 him our commands to proceed with all speed to that 
 country, to take the traitor Robert de Brus, whom we 
 declare hereby forfeited in all his lands and honours 
 and to bring him before us wherever we may be We 
 direct him, further, to take and summarily hang all 
 others his accomplices in this most bloody deed, and to 
 put down by force of arms all gatherings of our Scottish 
 subjects, other than those under our faithful officers 
 Have we your approval, messieurs, in these measures ? " 
 All present signified their assent. 
 "For ourselves," continued the king, -we propose to 
 
A Squire of Lincoln County. 
 
 27 
 
 ride to Westminster with all speed, and thence, after 
 taking counsel with our son, the prince, and with our 
 Parliament, to follow in person to Scotland, should this 
 rebellion most unhappily continue." 
 
 Further measures were then agreed on. Despatches 
 were prepared for Sir Henry de Percy, the king's sheriff 
 in Carrick and Ayr, and these it was resolved to commit 
 to the keeping of the young knight Sir Walter le Mar- 
 mion, for the king had a quick eye for a good horseman 
 and a ready hand. It was his Grace's pleasure, also, 
 
 that I should travel with de Valence and le Marmion 
 
 "for," said he, "I shall burn for tidings— tidings — tidings. 
 Thou canst write, Maurice, and write well. Keep me 
 well informed, and take heed to thy safety." 
 
 So it came to pass that about five hours after noon I 
 rode out in the train of Sir Aymer de Valence, with Sir 
 Walter le Marmion. Three knights we were, yet were 
 there but two esquires, those of de Valence, by reason 
 that Marmion had not had time to attach one for his 
 own service, and I, as befitted my vocation, bore no 
 arms saving only a misericorde _or^,.dagger, wherefore I 
 had no need for a squire. Yet we had with us six men- 
 at-arms, with valets, grooms, and other attendants— in all 
 some forty horsemen with sixteen led horses. There 
 lay before us between one hundred and thirty and one 
 hundred and forty leagues of march ; Sir Aymer, let him 
 speed as he might, could not reckon upon accomplishing 
 more than eight long leagues each day; therefore with 
 such a train as we had it would be seventeen or eighteen 
 days before we could enter Scotland, even should all fare 
 well with us. We travelled far into the first night and 
 lay at Farnham, entering London the next day two hours 
 after noon= 
 
 1* \ 
 
 
28 The ChevalUy of the Splendid Crest. 
 
 Of le Marmion I shall have much to tell hereafter, far 
 more than might be deemed likely, seeing that I wa^ 
 nearly forty years his elder— a gulf which separates two 
 men so widely that it hardly brooks friendship between 
 them. Yet this young chevalier had come so suddenly 
 to fame by his quick and sage courage, he had performed 
 such signal service to the whole nation by saving the 
 king's life, that I bestowed more notice upon him than 
 otherwise I should have been disposed to do. He had 
 come to Court, as I have said, in the suite of Sir Robert 
 de Clifford, but of the single man-at-arms, four li-ht 
 horsemen and six bowmen (which made the proper com- 
 plement of his lands of Shakingdor), not one was forth- 
 coming at the last muster, so sorely had tho fortunes of 
 his house dwindled before he became its head. In truth 
 I learned afterwards that there had been some ungenerous 
 merriment among the better-furnished gentry, because of 
 the young man's old-fashioned equipment, and specially 
 by reason of the quaint figure and speech of his solitary 
 attendant— a Fenman from Lincolnshire, whose age can 
 have been nothing under the half hundred. As I looked 
 more closely at them— master and man-there was some- 
 thing that made my old heart warm to them, something 
 that spoke to me of an ancient race which had not fared 
 too fatly among the greedy Gascons, swarming of late 
 more and more thickly in our land. There was that of 
 modesty in le Marmion which goes so well with the flush 
 of youth, yet which is almost the f^rst grace to vanish 
 from comely faces like his when they go forth into the 
 hard world. 
 
 The Court gallants might jape and sneer, as such 
 feather-heads do use, at the young knight's homely and 
 antique equipment, and at the rustic bearing and harsh 
 
 m^ 
 
A Squire of Lincoln County, 
 
 29 
 
 speech of Michael the Fenman, yet not a man of them 
 all could look without delight upon the horses of the 
 strangers. Of these there were but three— Marmion's 
 ^^!lfef ^'"^ Spanish blood, and two quick-stepping, well- 
 nobed hackneys, models of strength and activity, of 
 which the Fenman rode one and led the other as a 
 surnpter- horse. Upon the knight's charger it were 
 difificult to bestow too high praise. From his firm thick 
 crest to his solid, flinty hoofs and well-set pasterns there 
 was not a point upon which the most jealous critic (and 
 what critics be there so jealous as those of horseflesh ?) 
 could have laid the finger of blame. Sloping shoulders 
 gave assurance of ease to the rider ; a broad brisket, wide 
 nostril, and deep ribs warranted endurance and wind; 
 while long powerful thighs and sweetly modelled hocks 
 bespoke high power of speed. Altogether Ligutheart, for 
 so his master had named him, was such a steed as the 
 eye loves to dwell upon, and of the horse's quality none 
 could be in doubt who saw him led forth on that evenin-^, 
 as fresh and full of fire as if the hunting of the great boar 
 in the morning, which had strained the powers of many 
 a costly animal, had been no more than easy exercise for 
 him. 
 
m 
 
 30 
 
 ©f mi^txm €miin be ^000, nnb af fjcr opfn.'ons 
 about matrimony. 
 
 "Till I am married! have I not told you every time 
 you have mentioned that tiresome matter-and the saints 
 alone know how often you have done so-that I have 
 made up my mmd fiever to marry?" 
 
 "Oh yes, madame; you have-lately at least-spoken 
 very decidedly about your decision to remain single 
 But a maiden's future _ always saving your gracious 
 favour-does not rest in her own hands. It lies with 
 our Lady and the saints to fashion it at the appointed 
 tunc. Besides-still craving your patience-it is the 
 manner of maids to forswear matrimony. Many a buxom 
 mother I could point to that I have heard in times past 
 declare that she would as hef hold her hand in the fire 
 as wed with a man. Yet when the right man came 
 the vows-where were they ? For I was not born last 
 year, madame, nor. for that matter, within the k-^t forty 
 years." -^ 
 
 The first speaker gave an impatient push with a very 
 neatly shppered foot to the stool on which it rested. 
 I thmk, Gillian," she said, with just so much dignity 
 
The Lily of KcitdaL ^j 
 
 as is at comi.iand of a (l-ininv>„.i ..f ^i 
 
 continually „,,o„t ,he doings of you. got ' „ . "' 
 respects I am a little different fron.^^ '""-" 
 
 doseribe as • bu.von, .notlte.,' l.d p" h , 'l^rif" 
 ™.ned to earry into elTeet what I say I "ea" I I 
 
 Gdl,an as the knowledge of „et conversational ^L, 
 wn.ch I have smce acquired compels m,- t„ l! i- 
 cannot have been without material or rcjlder veT 
 not capable at the moment of articulate sncerh ' 
 Of sundry hairpins which she he"d t' "h s^ Tu^ 
 whereas it is contmry to the naturp nf fi • ? 
 
 should prevail whcn^wo'':omr;re ""efL'^Guif:" 
 ".stress, rising to her feet as soon asX hv ? 
 
 ;;:cxr' — - "-w^irsit-tdi:^ 
 aXLts^h^:r:,,---7;-'^'-"r 
 
 you Pe.is. in treatin'g me as"in ^ sti V hrLt 
 
 a:M:^r;jrrra""rr*^'''^ 
 
 changed ? " use of a m.nd ,f ,t may not be 
 
 .odl::id^tLr;tT t-h" tr " ^ ^^^•"- 
 
 reply; therefore heJ young mLt'rT^ ::^, 'i^" ^'^ '"''' 
 i nave changed mine lately, as I havr^ ^c.^A 
 
32 
 
 The Clievalicy of the Splendid Crest. 
 
 r 
 
 
 o come to one as a first communion. One gets that 
 habit, you see, from hearing older women talk, and from 
 readmg romances hke 'Sir Bevis de Hampden.' where 
 love comes and n.arriage follows as regularly as seedtime 
 and harvest Jiut at my present age" (it could not ha e 
 
 enou.hT TT " ""' '' """^"^> "^ P^^^^'- clearly 
 enough that am not in the same position as other 
 
 women. In the first place, I have never felt the slightest 
 
 inchnation to be in love • I finrv To.,, "f 
 
 .. . T , H' luve, i Mncy I am so constituted 
 
 that I am not capable of the feelings which other people 
 descnbe But the chief obstacle-that which makes it 
 nnposs.ble that I should ever marry-is that I am so 
 w-ckedly nch. When a man looks softly at me, I cannot 
 but perceive that he is reckoning up my gold, and cal- 
 culating how his power would be increased by wedding 
 the Lady of Kendal Honor. I tell you, Gillian, that I 
 will not listen to any man until I am sure that it is 
 myself, and not my money-bags, that attracts him » 
 
 "Madame has but to look in front of her at this 
 moment " replied Gillian, straightening herself from her 
 task and pointing to a polished steel mirror before her 
 mistress, "to see what brings to her feet the gallante.f 
 kmghts in the Court of King Edward-the saints defend 
 
 In truth the mirror gave back but a dark reflection of 
 the fair face and brilliant fi:rure before it. T^e ladv 
 threw an impatient glance at it, as she stamped her foot 
 and made reply — 
 
 " Gillian ! how can you be so stupid ? Can you not 
 understand that it is as odious to be courted for one's 
 skin and teeth and hair as for one's weahh? Any doll 
 will do for that, and better too, for dolls will last for ever 
 with ordinary care. No ; it is myself that must be loved 
 
The Lily of Koidai 33 
 
 if love it is to be ; not my pi„k cheeks a.id yellow be/ants 
 And It IS because no man ever looks beyond one or other 
 -ever cares to know anything of the being that possesses 
 them--that I am determined no man shall be master of 
 either." 
 
 "Ah, madame," rejoined the elder woman, shaking her 
 head with that indulgent sagacity that comes with years to 
 all good women, " be not ungrateful to the good God for 
 His gift of beauty, nor to Saint Herbert of Derwcntwater 
 for the wealth he has guided into your hands. The hour 
 may come-nay. if I know aught of maclame's nature it 
 must come-when you will be thankful to both for givin^r 
 you so much to bestow." " 
 
 I have been at pains so far to repeat this dialogue 
 exactly as it was reported to me by Gillian the tirewotr 
 at a later day, because this is a convenient way to b. r 
 before those who may read these lines the portraiture oil 
 damoysel about whom much win - ^^ ^e told in the 
 course of this narrative. I h ound it e::pedient in the 
 service of my lord the kin , to converse often and freely 
 with persons even of hu .!,!. degree, gaining f'.erebyan 
 insight into circumstan- , ai,d character which I could 
 never have acquired 1 a I associated only with those of 
 my own rank. The conversation I have repeated took 
 place in the castL .f Kendal, where Sir Aymer de Valence, 
 Sir Walter le Marmion, and I lay on the thirteenth night 
 after leaving Itchenstoke, the rest of our company iindn. 
 lodging in the town. '^ 
 
 Kendal is a fa.r town, the great wool market of the 
 north, lying right on the king's highway, on the southern 
 skirts of that mountainous region which divides England 
 from Scotland. The castle of Kendal, standing upon an 
 
34 The Chevaliey of the Splendid Crest. 
 
 eminence above the town, had come by inheritance to 
 young Mistress Challice de Roos, together with many 
 leagues of hill and dale, mountain and moorland, which 
 spread far around it on every side. The good knight her 
 father. Sir Thomas de Roos, had fallen in my lord of 
 Lancaster s expedition to Gascony in the year 1295. while 
 she was st.Il a child. Her mother, Katherine de Strick- 
 land of the ancient house of Sisergh, survived Sir Thomas 
 but long enough to behold in Challice the promise of 
 beauty beyond the common-even among the de Roos 
 whose beauty hath passed into a proverb -leaving her 
 daughter the sole heiress of the honour of Kendal In 
 such wise Mistress Challice became absolute mistress of a 
 great seigneury, with power of life and death over her 
 vassals, right of frank^se and free^w^i^n upon her 
 ands, and of fishing in the sea which bounded them on 
 the west as far as an archer, riding into it at ebb-tide 
 could shoot an arrow. The estates were so wide, so rich 
 and so well-peopled, that their owner never found diffi- 
 culty in meeting the feudal obligation to send to the 
 kings host, whenever need should arise, twenty-two men- 
 at-arms with attendants and grooms, one hundred and 
 fifty hobelars " or light horsemen, and three hundred 
 bowmen under a captain. The dalesmen of Kendal and 
 I<awcett Forest were reckoned among the readiest, the best 
 equipped, and the stoutest of those which mustered from 
 time to time before the king's lieutenant. The only fee 
 payable for this great domain, besides the military service 
 was one soar hawk rendered annually at Winchester or! 
 the feast of the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin 
 
 Challice de Roos, therefore, as lady of the honour of 
 Kendal-the Lily of Kendal, as her dalesmen loved to 
 call her-received into her small hands all the power and 
 
The Lily ofKe^idal. -- 
 
 dignity which had passed from the bailed grasp of the 
 dead S r . homas; for sttch is our feudal law of inheritance. 
 All the power and d.gnity, it is true, but not quite all 
 the freedom. By the same code it is prescribed, as " 
 well known to all men, that, in the event of a maWen 
 succeedtng to the possession of lands, she becom^ a 
 royal ward, and that the king has absolute disposal of he 
 hand in mamage. Now this, it will be allowed was a 
 very rmportant limitation on the liberty of a dlTysel 
 
 own. There is no lack of instances wherein the prede- 
 ce sors o our king have exercised this right ruthlessly 
 wuh a sole v,ew to the consolidation of military strength 
 or the reward of successful commanders. Not only cou d 
 I record, were that expedient, instances wherein a „« 
 has disposed of his ward to a dull, an aged, a deZch^d 
 or a wtcked baron, but, what is even worse, such marritcs 
 have often been sold to ambitious or avaricious subjects 
 
 IS sold >n th,s way, i. ,s treated purely as a matter of mer- 
 
 cha„d,se wh,ch is surely a thing most contrary to he 
 
 *Church ^ '"'"■"'"'■ '""^ ""Sht to be forbidden by Holy 
 
 Thitherto Mistress Challice had been little concerned 
 abou her own destiny. My lord the king .ad appoimed 
 S.r Blarse de Strickland, her own mother's brother a ter 
 guardmn and steward of her household, and under ce 
 oUhts gentle old knight she had lived, far from the Court 
 a imle queen among her own people. Suitors, of a truth 
 bad not been few, as was but natural, by rea on th t s,; 
 much wealth seldom goes with such dicing autyy^ 
 among them all not one could make vaunt of [,igle 
 favour than a courtly rc-eption and a bright snnle 
 
 'I 
 I-' 
 
 ii 
 
36 
 
 The Chevalier of the Splendid Crest. 
 
 As for Gillian, the Lily's chief waiting-woman, surely 
 never was there more perfect understanding between 
 mistress and maid, albeit they were of different, and once 
 hostile, races. Challice de Roos was of our pure Norman 
 blood, while Gillian was but the daughter of a mere Saxon 
 dalesman. They even spoke to each other in different 
 languages; seeing that Challice talked in the sweet 
 French tongue, as our gentles do mostly use, which 
 Gillian, although she understood it, could not frame her 
 lips to sound, but uttered the harsh and grating speech of 
 her fathers. 
 
 Howbeit the difference between these women in station 
 and age, in appearance and language, only brought out 
 more strongly the fulness of their affection for each other 
 Gillian had been the Lady Challice's first and only nurse 
 which enabled her to speak before her mistress with that 
 tone of mingled tyranny and worship— the prerogative of 
 an old servant. 
 
 Outside the castle, the people on the lands of Kendal 
 were still Saxon in blood and speech; but time had 
 softened the bitterness of conquest, and the dalesmen 
 mustered as readily under the scarlet and yellow pennon 
 of the de Roos, and paid their rent with as reasonable a 
 degree of reluctance, as if the Lily had been one of their 
 own race. 
 
 Now Mistress Challice had spoken her mind about 
 marriage with so much decision that a man might deem 
 tliere was no more to be said thereanent. Yet is this 
 matter one wherein women find endless store for parley 
 wherefore the Lily resumed her discourse whileas Gillhn 
 added the last touches to her attire. "" " '~ 
 
 "You see, Gillian," quoth she, "of all the men who 
 
The Lily of Kendal. 37 
 
 l^ave paid me the compliment of sighing and looking 
 foohsh m my presence, there is not one whom I could 
 think Without a shudder of marrying. Many a one makes 
 a fair show on horseback, with a coif de mailles about his 
 ears and chin, a steel plate over his face, a scutcheon on 
 his arm, and an esquire carrying his pennon ; but strip 
 h.m of his shell-take him out of his shell-put him in 
 bi!?lLS_and hosen, and lo, you ! what an empty pate he 
 carries There is Sir Giles de Argentine, for instance, 
 reputed the third knight in all Christendom. I felt that I 
 had shown him some rudeness, by reason that people had 
 put It abroad that we were betrothed. Therefore bein- 
 of a mind to make him some small amend, I went' up to 
 him at the k;.:g's revels at Westminster, and bade him 
 lead me to the d- :e. He is well-favoured, as you know 
 and his pourpc A scarlet velvet passemented with gold 
 became him i merveWe ; but his countenance darkened • 
 he shifted uneasily from one leg to the other; «I do not 
 dance,' was all he could And to say. « What then is your 
 busmess ? ' I asked, laughing outright. ' War,' quoth he 
 scowling like any Saracen. ' What ! at a revel ? ' I cried! 
 'Oh, sir! this is a time of peace; assuredly both you and 
 your harness should have been oiled and hung in the 
 wardrobe till you were wanted once more, lest you should 
 turn even more rusty than you are ! ' " 
 
 "Ah, madame ! " said Gillian, "you should think shame 
 to flout so noble a chevalier. Was it not he that saved 
 our King Edward's life at Falkirk, when no arm less 
 puissant could have scattered the vermin Scots? By 
 Samt Herbert ! I have seen Sir Giles but once, and never 
 did I behold a more proper knight— always saving your 
 own father of blessed memory." 
 
 "That is all true as you say, Gillian : perchance I was 
 
 ifei 
 
 'm 
 ',«i 
 
 'I 
 
38 
 
 The Chevalier of the Splendid Crest. 
 
 too quick upon him ; yet he vexed me with his solemn 
 face and uncouth speech." 
 
 "After all, madame," observed Gillian, "there is a 
 saying in your ow.) language that noblesse oblige. Such 
 as I may wed where we will; but for you it ^might be 
 better to show favour to such a knight as Sir Giles— one 
 to whom the king could refuse no favour— than to wed in 
 the end with any husband whom the king may choose for 
 the Lily of Kendal." 
 
 " The king ! God bless him, then, for a gentle knight " 
 exclauned Challice, who, her toilette completed, stood at 
 her full height in the; feeble light of the rush candles 
 "Do you see that, you foolish Gillian?" she continued 
 holding up her little finger, "and do you not know ihat 
 I can turn King Edward round that as easily as a skein 
 of silk? You should have seen how his kindly old face 
 shone upon me when he took my hand, and, raising me 
 from my obeisance, said gaily— 'Where shall I find a 
 lord for my fair ward of Kendal ? ' My knees knocked 
 together, I promise you, but I found the boldness to 
 answer, 'Will you not let your ward find one in her own 
 tmie, sire ? ' ' Well said ! ' he cried, ' well said ! By our 
 lady! but you shall, sweet Challice, and dD not l.-ar that 
 a battered old soldier like your king will interfere to spoil 
 fair sport.' Then he drew me aside so that others might 
 not hear, and he spoke kindly about my father, and how 
 faithful a knight he had been. Next, stroking my hand 
 tenderly, he added, 'Fear not, sweet lass, that I shall ever 
 force a husband on ihee. Think you that I have forgotten 
 the love of my Eleanor? The remembrance of it ever 
 softens my heart to all gentle dames. No; you shall 
 choose your own mate, my pretty bird, subject always to my 
 approval of him as one worthy of the daughter of my old 
 
.,.. The Lily of Kendal. 39 
 
 ggssia Thomas de Roos.' So you see I have the word 
 of a Plantagenet, Gilhan, and what can be surer than 
 that ? 
 
 With these words she swept a mocking curtsey and left 
 the room, descended the winding stairs to receive in the 
 great hall some guests of distinction who had ridden up 
 to claim the hospitality of a night. 
 
 "A bonny sight it was for my old eyes," said Gillian 
 as she described to me afterwards what had passed 
 between her and her mistress, "to see her finely busked 
 in silver and white and blue. I was half laughing 'and 
 half weeping, for I have seen sorrows come to highborn 
 dames in their marriage, of a kind that yeomen and frank- 
 hns have not to fear." 
 
• «s 
 
 40 
 
 IF. 
 
 ©f th Quat 0nol0 tijat fell after ^anblemas. 
 
 I HAVE said that we rode into Kendal on the evening 
 of the thirteenth day after leaving the king's hunting-lodge 
 at Itchenstoke. Lancaster, winch lieth seven leagues 
 short of Kendal, is reckoned ten days from London for 
 a kings messenger, and we had ridden from a point 
 eighty m,les south of London; de Valence, with all his 
 tram, trave led as swiftly as any light-armed post. He 
 devoured the way; if a sumpter-horse broke down he 
 spared no money to buy a fresh one. I speak with some 
 carnal pnde-the saints forgive me-of this journey 
 seemg that ,t is not every man of threescore and five 
 years who could ride in harness for eleven winter days 
 on end at the rate of eight leagues a-day. 
 
 It had not been without sore misgivmg that I parted 
 ^^ h my lord the kmg. The evil tidings from Scotland, 
 followmg so quickly upon the shock he sustained in 
 huntmg, had naughtily affected his health, and brought 
 on symptoms of that fell disease which he had contracted 
 many years before in Palestine. He retired early to rest 
 and, before leaving, I attended him in his bedchamber. 
 1 pressed an earnest request that he would permit me to 
 
The Great Snow. 
 
 41 
 
 remain behind and ride with him to London, whither it 
 was his purpose to go on the following day, but he would 
 not consent. 
 
 "No, Maurice," said he, when I urged him to depute 
 another clerk to go with Sir Aymer, " no. There may be 
 others who clerk it as featly as you, though not many, but 
 there is none upon whom I can rely to send me such full 
 and true accounts of matters in the north. Thou art a 
 knight and a soldier, man, despite thy clerkly habit, and 
 have not forgotten how to reckon forces in the field • 
 whereas these monkish writers can count nothing surely 
 but their beads and the rents of their abbots. This is a 
 matter, I tell thee, of no common moment. I cannot 
 travel swiftly myself; be thou my eyes and ears, while de 
 valence is my arms." 
 
 His speech, always somewhat thick and haltinrr was 
 more so than its woiU; he seemed to speak with 'diffi- 
 culty and great weakness ; but his will was strong that I 
 should go, and I dared not tarry. 
 
 The weather grew wintry as we travelled north The 
 season had been mild thus far, but as February drew to a 
 close the cold increased, and when we passed through my 
 own county of Stafford snow was falling thickly After 
 Preston (for we took the western route as the easiest in 
 winter) the roads were heavily drifted and our progress 
 was very slow. We lay at Lancaster on the twelfth night 
 mtending to pass next day as far as the priory of Shap 
 and to touch the Scottish march on the sixteenth day 
 howbeit the saints willed it otherwise, as will be shown. ' 
 When we rode out of Lancaster a furious north wind 
 blew in our faces, blinding us with small snow, piling the 
 drifts yet deeper. Men said we were ill advised to 
 attempt the hill passes in such wicked weather, and told 
 
 I 
 
 i 
 
42 The Chevalier of the Splendid Crest. 
 
 us dreadful tales of travellers who had perished on the 
 moorland of Shap; but ours was no common errand and 
 de Valence valued his own safety no whit, so that the 
 kmg's service might be performed. Yet can neither men 
 nor horses accomplish the impossible. We had been 
 seven hours on the road, and had ridden no more than 
 SIX leagues, when we reached a small hillside hamlet 
 called Oxenholme. Far below us in the valley on our 
 left hand I could discern dimly through the drift the 
 roofs of Kendal town, with here and there a light spark 
 Img m the growing dusk. Beyond this point the track 
 leads past Grayrig, into the heart of desolate mountains 
 I knew this waste, having ridden through it six years 
 before, when my lord the king laid siege to Caerlaverock 
 Castle; but it was summertide then, and the moorland 
 was bravely green. Now it was sheeted with deep snow 
 only here and there the black crags and watercourses 
 showed the landmarks, and when Sir Aymer, after half 
 an hour to bait, ordered the advance, I felt that we were 
 ndmg to our death. I cared not greatly, for I have noted 
 that m tune of snow men's thoughts are numb, as it were • 
 furthermore, I was 50 weary with travel that it had been 
 no hardship to lie down by the wayside and seek the 
 sleep that knows no waking. I could not, aged as I was 
 have followed so far, but for the dispensation which 
 permitted me to eat meat. Lent though it were, on every 
 day m the week what time I was on the active service of 
 my lord the king. 
 
 Well, we pressed on for a mile or so from Oxenholme 
 till we came to a field of snow whicli wholly hid the track' 
 Sir Aymer plunged foremost to mid-girth in the drift • in 
 vain he spurred forward again and again. Not man nor 
 l»orse could pass that way and live. 7'he gale howled 
 
llie Great Snow. 4- 
 
 above; the drift had drowned the dusk; night was upon 
 us, and the bitter cold st uck through the thickest woollen 
 shirt; the steel of our harness seemed to burn the hand 
 that touched it. 
 
 Sir Aymer swore deeply. I crossed myself and prayed 
 hathis words might not be accounted sin, but, so watch- 
 ful IS Sathanas for our undoing, that I felt that a good 
 round soldier's oath or two would have been a comfort 
 even to mine own soul. 
 
 "Trumpeter sound the retreat ! " cried our commander. 
 Gentlemen all, I call you to witness that the kind's 
 service cannot go farther this day. We will to Kendal 
 
 Roos ' "" "^^^ '^'"''' '''°'" ^^'"''^'^ ^^^^'"^^ de 
 
 And so back to Oxenholme, whence we descended 
 the valley wherein the town of Kendal stands on the fair 
 nver Kent. An hour later and all of us, men and 
 horses, were comfortal)ly housed, the squires and men- 
 at-arms in the hostelries. the hobelars and servants 
 b.l eted m the town, while we knights were cordially 
 welcomed to the guest-chamber in Kendal Castle It is 
 a strong i,ouse, built on a bold height two bowshots on 
 the east of the town, garrisoned in times of peace with 
 five men-at-arms, ten cross-bowmen, ten archers, and 
 111 teen horsemen of the dales. 
 
 Even at this day there rises within my blind eyes a 
 bright picture of the scene, as we-de Valence, le Mar- 
 m.on, and myself-sat round the great fire in the castle 
 hall while the servants prepared supper. Thirteen days 
 of nicessant travel in wintry weather had disposed even 
 the youngest and blithest of us to enjoy the warmth and 
 shelter, with the prospect of a good meal-tide and a lone 
 night of repose. It is true that we were not without 
 
 
44 The Chevalier of the Splendid Cnst, 
 
 j?rave thoughts concerning this unforeseen delay in the 
 king's mission, and wliat migiit be the consequences • y.t 
 had we done what men might do; the rest lay with Him 
 who giveth snow like wool, and scattereth hoa.-frost like 
 ashes The hollow roaring of the wind sounded down 
 the wide vent, reminding us of what might-nay what 
 assuredly would-have been our fate had we struggled a 
 httle farther mto the wilderness. 
 
 Sir Blaise dc Strickland moved about on the flagged 
 hearth, old, small, nervous in manner, but courteously 
 anxious to make us at our ease. He was able to add 
 ittle to what we had heard already about affairs in Scot- 
 land, for the storm had stopped all communication by 
 closing the roads. 
 
 "Had you any tidings," inquired de Valence, "of the 
 movements of the Earl of Carrick-nay, earl no longer 
 —of that forsworn traitor Robert de Brus ? " 
 
 "None, so please you," replied Sir Blaise, "save that 
 he had eluded the watch set by Sir John de St John 
 and men do say that he has gone far to the north' 
 Great is the pity of it - Sure I ever reckoned him one 
 of the gallantest of our young nobles-one whom my 
 lord the king held in high honour." 
 
 " Ay, by my faith ! 'tis a pity of it," said de Valence : 
 
 and there will be more pity before this wrong is 
 
 nghted. De Brus, de Brus ! I loved him well, albeit 
 
 I distrusted him at one time. Yet I believed tha^ he 
 
 had left the faults and follies of his youth behind " 
 
 " It is a strange thing," I observed, " how some men 
 lay their conscience about a broken oath, by holding all 
 vows void, save one which each man must hold sacred 
 It IS a doctrine for which there is no warrant in Holy 
 Writ, nor yet in the practice of the Church, yet I have 
 
The Great Snow, 
 
 45 
 
 heard good knights aver that, unless they have sworn by 
 their proper oath, they must be held blameless of perjury. 
 Now my lord of Carrick " 
 
 "Call no man lord whom the king hath dishonoured!" 
 cried de Valence roughly. 
 
 I paused a space, for I love not harsh speech among 
 friends, especially from one so much younger than myself 
 than de Valence, who was not more than six-and-twenty. 
 Yet I bethought me I was under governance of this 
 knight for the nonce, and that it would not beseem me 
 to take offence. 
 
 " De Brus," I resumed, «' swore his fealty on the Holy 
 Evangels, on the Cross of St Neot, and on the Black 
 Rood of Scotland. I heard him do so in the New 
 Temple of London no longer ago than the feast of the 
 Exaltation of the Holy Rood,i and verily he was a belted 
 earl then. Had the Council known what several form 
 of oath de Brus held his own, then— my credit on it !— 
 he would not be fleeing from the king's wrath now." 
 
 "Had we but known," said Sir Blaise, glancing un- 
 easily at de Valence, who, with his chin in his bosom 
 glared m silence at the fire— «' had we but known whal 
 was m his black heart when he passed a night with us 
 but five weeks since, it had been easy to forestall h s evil 
 purpose." 
 
 At this moment the curtain at the stairs was drawn 
 aside, and she whom men called the Lily of Kendal 
 entered the hall, her hand resting on the shoulder of a 
 pretty page. We all rose to our feet, and she greeted us 
 with perfert grace. 
 
 "You are welcome, gentlemen," she said, "to our 
 poor castle of Kendal. Sir Aymer, I greatly grieve to 
 ' 14th September.— Ed. 
 
46 The CJuvalier of the Splendid Crest 
 
 understand that this storm has hindered your journey 
 on the king's most pressing service. I beg that you will 
 make this house your ou :> until the roads be o,)en 
 agam, ' 
 
 De Valence bowed and expressed his gratitude ; then 
 at the < ommand of Mistress Challice, he presented us to 
 her. Dead though I believed myself to all pertaining to 
 this world, save the service of my king and country, yet 
 enough of the old spirit lingered to make me long to 
 exchange places with le Marmion. On me, indeed, the 
 lady s glance rested kindly enough for a moment, though 
 It IS not likely that her eyes could find much pleasure 
 m beholding my grey beard and sunken cheeks. But 
 I noted that, when she turned to receive le Marmion's 
 salutation, the smile faded from her lip, and her coun- 
 tenance assumed a grave, almost a cold expression 
 
 "Sir Walter le Marmion, madame," explained Sir 
 Aymer, "a gentleman of Lincoln county and the latest 
 addition to our roll of knights, although the king's 
 business has been hitherto of too pressing a kind to 
 suffer him to keep his night of vigil, save in the saddle " 
 How well I knew— now when such knowledge was of 
 no avail to me— and how little Marmion suspected, what 
 that change in the damoysel's demeanour meant. It was 
 the m^oXuv^X^x^ garde-a-voHs ! warning a maiden's instinct 
 of the approach of the very danger which it unconsciously 
 courts-the chill of the morning, which melts so swiftly 
 away when life is still young. 
 
 The young knight, on his part, responded according 
 to use and wont. Not a word passed his lips, but he 
 ilushed deep over face and brow as his eyes looked boldly 
 into those of the beautiful creature before him. 
 
 She was, indeed, passing fair as she stood in the light 
 
Tlie Great Snnn. 
 
 47 
 
 udal h,gh u, the neck and ,igl,t in the sleeves, .rimmed 
 >vuh s.lver nee, and over it a delicate surcmaync of white 
 can,bray, hke a floa.i,,; cloud on a ::±t-Ay. Her 
 hair was not hidden by any of those fantastic devices 
 >vh.ch costumiers have invented to mar the glory of our 
 women such as coifs, wimples, and horned head-dresses; 
 .e was dressed h.gh and simply, with , „„,, of sky-blue 
 s.lk and a stnng of fine pearls utertv....ed among the 
 dark tresses. I wished that a . unning I. „ner of Italy 
 nnght have portrayed her as she stood-., bright figure 
 aga-ns. the drnk arras, with the p,. y page dressed „ 
 hs mtstress's hvertes of scarlet and gold, .ith rilAons 
 of apncot and rose, her chosen col, urs. U. a man te 
 careful than myself to keep record of small matte 
 m,ght scarce have noted these details, having eyes only 
 
 truth, the most beauteous I ever beheld-save one • ah 
 me 1 save one. -ftere was a wonderful glory in the 'soft 
 dark eyes and arch of pencilled brows, in the sweet lips 
 parting so readdy into smiles; bu, the rarest grace of all 
 was the marvellous delicacy of complexion, such as the 
 motst. cool air of our northern land sometimes bestows 
 
 Enghsh beauty endure so long; in no other land where 
 I have come do women part with youth so slowly as in 
 ours, fadtng as the heather fades, still beautiful, even 
 when death is drawing near. 
 
 There entered the hall behind .Uistress Challice a person 
 whom we had not yet seen, whom 1 must mention^ how 
 ever as he bore no small part in certain events which will 
 fa o be recorded m their order. He was a pries.-an 
 elderly man-who had lived as chaplain in the l>n,„e- 
 
48 
 
 The Chevalier of the Splendid Crest. 
 
 hold of the deceased Sir Thomas, and had continued to 
 do so during the childhood of his daughter. Father 
 Aihvyn was not of such a figure as would satisfy the ideas 
 of some persons as being most convenient for the sacred 
 office. His was no ascetic form or meek demeanour, for 
 he was hearty and loud-voiced, debonair, and one of 
 the most powerfully framed men I ever beheld, so that 
 the mild and nervous Sir Blaise seemed to shrink to 
 insignificance beside him. Indeed, had the knight ex- 
 changed his scarlet jug^n lined with sendal for the 
 priest's black robe, the parts might have seemed to be 
 more fitly assigned. Yet, as I Uved to know, Father 
 Ailwyn was not one of those priests of whom the satirist 
 Alanus hath drawn the portrait with crayon only too faith- 
 ful— /^/'^^■j' dediti gida quam glosscB ; potius coUigunt Libras 
 quam legiint libros ; libentiiis intuentur Martham quam 
 Marciim ; malutit hgere in Salmone quam in Solomone}- 
 With the frame of a man - at - arms and not despising 
 yiv£r§ and good liquor. Father Ailwyn was learned withal, 
 and bore a warm heart under his ample cassock, as many 
 a poor soul could testify in the wild Westmorland dales. 
 
 One other person made up the party of eight for whom 
 covers had been laid at the upper table — a lady some- 
 what advanced in years, named Mistress Alison, who, 
 having been Mistress Challice's governess in childhood, 
 remained with her as lady companion after she had 
 grown up. 
 
 Pretty it was to behold the Lily d: pensing such cere- 
 mony as befitted the household of a great landowner. 
 
 ^ " More inclined to gluttony than to interpreting the Word ; in- 
 clined to collect lucre rather than to read books ; ogling P^artha more 
 willingly than they coutep-nlate Mark ; preferring to study Salmone 
 ralher than Solomon." — Ed. 
 
The Great Snoiv. 
 
 49 
 
 She spoke and moved with the unconscious simplicity of 
 a girl; which was well-pleasing to me, who have noted 
 that those who live far from Court are often prone to 
 consider their own possessions the most important thing 
 in God's universe, and watch eagerly for symptoms of awe 
 or admiration in those who visit their houses. 
 
 " We are famous," they will tell a guest, " for our ale, 
 or our beef, or our conserves," or what not, and they 
 press him to partake, not so greatly out of concern ior 
 his comfort (though they may be careful for that also) as 
 to wring from him a confession that the fare is the finest 
 that ever was set before him. Even so have I seen a 
 small sloop, when laid alongside the jetty of some sea- 
 coast hamlet, command the close attention of gapin^ 
 rustics, who examine its hull, its spars, and cordage, and 
 pronounce it to be a marvel of human ingenuity ; yet let 
 the same vessel cast her anchor in Southampton Water 
 or the Pool of London, and you shall hardly notice her 
 among the great ships and g^alljpts of all nations. Of 
 such disproportioned vainglory Mistress Challice betrayed 
 no trace. 
 
 The company being assembled, there was no small stir 
 among the servants, whose liveries of yellow and scarlet 
 made gay the lower end of the hall. The butler stood 
 at the butieryjiatch, whence each man took a dish in his 
 turn and carried it to the board— great store of viands 
 —a noble salmon from the Kent, good Westmorland 
 mutton from the hill, a salted round of beef with pud- 
 dmgs, a dish of capons, wild ducks from Morcambe Bay, 
 French plums stewed with pot-barley, and many another 
 toothsome dish, even to certain fresh pot-herbs, which 
 I marvelled to behold, as betokening a right cunning 
 gardener, seeing what great cold had prevailed of late. 
 
 D 
 
so The Chevalier of the Splendid Crest. 
 
 Father Ailvvyn left me in no doubt as to whom credit 
 was due for this addition to the feast. 
 
 "Our English lords," he said, "do greatly err in their 
 neglect of ^lets and cooked herbs, wherein the gentle- 
 men of France take sp^great delight. Beef and mutton 
 be mighty fine fare," and his eyes twinkled merrily as he 
 scanned the fast filling board, '«but to purge a man's 
 blood of evil humours and to keep his eye clear, he 
 should eat of herbs onf e in every day. I will take you 
 to the herb garth on the morrow. Sir Maurice, an' it 
 please you, and show you our devices for keeping the 
 frost at bay, so that the table shall be supplied daily with 
 fresh green things. For the Mistress ChaUice hath com- 
 mitted the care of the garden to me." 
 
 " Then," said I, " you do not hold with those who 
 make it contrary to Christian doctrine to eat of things 
 save in their appointed seasons." 
 
 " Not I, i' faith ! » quoth Father Ailwyn ; - I would have 
 strawberries at Noel and pippins at midsummer if I could. 
 And the blessed Ninian was of my mind too, mark you 
 a saint whom we hold in special honour in the north' 
 Have you never read how he chid the monks of Whithorn 
 because their table was bare of green things at midwinter, 
 and how the brother whom he sent into the herb garth 
 to bring what he could find, went thither much doubting 
 that the holy man was distraught with constant praying 
 and fasting, yet beheld the borders teeming with the 
 finest leeks ? Ah ! no, the ten commandments and the 
 rule of the Church are nough for me, without works 
 of supererogation," 
 
 A trumpet flourished in the courtyard, proclaiming all 
 
 o be ready; the two ladies and their company seated 
 
 themselves at the high table on the dais, as is meet, while 
 
 I 
 
The Great Snow. 
 
 51 
 
 all 
 
 the household and retainers, to the number of about one 
 hundred and forty, ranged themselves along the lower 
 tables. Father Ailwyn besought a blessing, nor tarried 
 long upon it, for he seemed as sharply set as we were, 
 who had ridden so many hours in the storm. 
 
 To le Marmion, as the youngest knight in the com- 
 pany, was accorded the privilege of carving before the 
 lady of the feast. I noticed that, as he stood in front of 
 her, busying himself at the trencher, Mistress Challice 
 took occasion to look on him more attentively than 
 before. He, looking up suddenly, met her gaze fixed on 
 hmi, and was strangely moved thereat ; for he drove the 
 knife so stifHy into the roast as to force off a naughty 
 jagged slice, and sent a jet of gravy over the fair table- 
 cover. Whereat Mistress Challice fell a-laughing. 
 
 " Softly, sir knight ! " she cried ; " this is no Scots rebel 
 before you, but honest English mutton." 
 
 Le Marmion, colouring, laughed also ; and thus simply 
 was the ice broken between Challice de Roos and the 
 Knight of Shakingdon. 
 
 After all had well eaten and drunk, perfumed water 
 was handed round with napkins to wash our hands withal, 
 and the tables were removed. Now Kendal Castle being 
 so close to the highway, there were few evenings when 
 strolhng minstrels or players did not resort thither, for 
 such are ever welcome in those mansions that lie far from 
 great cities. Thus when the hall was cleared, there came 
 before us two Spaniards with giterns, and a blackeyed 
 wench with them, who did dance in marvellous fashion 
 -first on her feet, most graciously, and anon uoon her 
 hands with her feet aloft, though at times she brought 
 them down to touch the comb in her black hair. Yea, 
 
 but more wondrous tllincre ch,. f\\A ^\ fi- , r., , . * 
 
 o - "J" !-"'"i tliut. laking 
 
I) 
 
 52 The Chevalier of the Splendid Crest. 
 
 iwo short straight swords, such as we call the wlare or 
 tetlarde. and setting them erect, she placed her pXon 
 thepo,„.sand danced upon them as boys commoni; d^ 
 
 But Mistress Challice took small pleasure in such out- 
 >and,sh feats. She said she preferred to see a woman as 
 God had made her, rather than with her heels wheTe he 
 
 a couple ballads, she bade the seneschal give thcra 
 money and let them depart. Then she said to us • 
 
 I know not if it be your pleasure, Rentlemen, to retire 
 at o,,ce to rest. If so, my seneschal shall light you to the 
 Buest-chamber. But the hour is early; it has been our 
 cusu,m to deceive these long winter evtings byrtening 
 to Fa her Atlwyn while he reads aloud some rom ^„ J 
 cluva ry, „.h,c: he has great store. There ;;f chess 
 and the tables also, if you prefer such pastimes." 
 
 We all expressed a wish to listen to the reading. Glee- 
 
 iTseT, t r""*^"«'"' "" "'" <^"™Sh, and it is a poor 
 house that does not receive many such for the entertain 
 "ont of guests; but it is a rarer pleasure, and one th t 
 I marvel n.uch our great lords do not more commonly 
 encourage, to s,t thus round the hearth and hearken to a 
 
 n l^r Tl T ° '"""'^ ""= "^' °' "■^" delivering it 
 In th, craft Father Ailwyn mightily excelled. His voice 
 was clear and sweetly modulated, and swiftiv sped™ e 
 hours whtle he held us enthralled with the story „f si 
 liglamour of Artois. ^ 
 
 i 
 
 I 
 
 't 
 
 \ 
 
 f| 
 
 i 
 
3 
 
 53 
 
 ©f m robe of Sir marter h fJlarmtott, nnb boto tfje 
 ililS of Eenbal appomteU f)im j^er Imicjfjt. 
 
 Despite Sir Aymer's burning desire to get forward on the 
 kings service, tlie evil weather and the snow in the passes 
 kept us prisoners for a whole week at Kendal. I was not 
 bhnd m those days, my friends, and it needed no better 
 eyes than God had given me to discern what had arisen 
 between Walter le Marmion and Mistress Challice The 
 knight, at least, had fallen in love at first sight: as for 
 her, were It love, or merely the influence that draws two 
 young beings together, I knew not, but I could see that 
 she took pleasure in his presence, and encouraged him to 
 
 MisLs^Aitr ^'"^ ''' '''''-' " '-'-^'-y ^^-^^^ 
 
 Now I had conceived a warm affection for Walter 
 le Marm.on as we journeyed through England. Sir 
 Aymer de Valence, though as brave a chevalier as ever 
 bestrode a destrier, was but indifferent company in travel 
 By nature reserved and taciturn, he seemed unable to 
 shake himself free from anxiety about affairs in Scotland, 
 and he could talk about nothing else, and even about tba; 
 on.y now and again. So, for lack of other f:ompany, I 
 
i 
 
 j 
 
 54 
 
 T'/r Chevalier of the Splendid Crest. 
 
 had ridden chiefly witli Sir Walter, loving above most 
 things to listen to the bold hopes and frank confidence of 
 the young and strong. The r<.,t-;ard I felt for him seemed 
 to be returned, for he spoke to me with the utmost 
 frankness, and asked my counsel about many matters. 
 Perceiving, therefore, the growing sympathy betweer. Sir 
 Walter and the young chatelaine, I drew n,uch. pleasure 
 therefrom, reflecting how often froni such ir.iercourse the 
 fairest passions take their rise. What ! was it u,,bec.>iniiiu' 
 to my vows to have regard to such worldly things ? ( 
 trow not, indeeij. That I had wrecked my own earthly 
 hopes by a deea j have had to expiate by dying to the 
 world, was no cause ihat j. should not rejoice to witness 
 the happiness of otNc-3 I could not but reflect what 
 a comely pair of lo^er^ these might be; ay, and ho J 
 fittingly the wealth of the Lady of Kendal would support 
 the slender revenues of the Knight of Shakingdon. Then 
 they were both inclined to gentle pursuits. Mistress 
 Challice never wearied of books and ballads, and when 
 these failed (for the store of them in Kendal Castle was 
 .soon exhausted) she would talk of them by the hour; 
 wher.-:in le Marmion was a notable solace to her, by reason 
 that, although he had no clerkship, his memory was well 
 stored with deeds of chivalry and honest loves of man 
 and maid. Each day, therefore, at noon Mistress Challice 
 would bid Sir Walter to her bower, and there they would 
 sit while she told from memory some chapter from the 
 chronicles or he rehearsed a lay of Provence, Mistress 
 Alison saying never a word and paying little heed, it 
 may be, to what was said, her mind being greatly given 
 to household affairs. I douijt that Mistress Challice's 
 broidering did not make great progress dunng this 
 week ; at all events I remarked that, on the last morning 
 
 
 -1 
 
 r t 
 i 
 
Young Love. 
 
 55 
 
 
 of our sojourn, the needle was sticking in the self-same 
 golden flower-de-luce wherein I had seen it on the first 
 day after we arriv(}d. 
 
 The frost endured for five days ; hardly might one stir 
 naif a mile from the castle by reason of the snow. But 
 on the sixth day the wind shifted. Le Marmion and I 
 were pacing the paved ^ley within the barm^kyn ; I had 
 been saying something that lay on my n^nd concerning 
 the light conversation of Father Ailwyn, for I have ever 
 held that it is unseemly in a priest to busy himself with 
 vain tales of chivalry and worldly loves. It savoureth over- 
 much of the behaviour of certain friars, which of late 
 have filled our land, wandering from house to house, as 
 ready to tell a wanton tale or to sell trinkets and spices, 
 as to preach the gospel and !^s^^ the penitent. But 
 le Marmion was not of a like mind. 
 
 " I cannot hold," he said, " that he who wears a frock 
 should cease to be a man. Father Ailwyn is none the 
 worse priest because at proper seasons he holds the com- 
 pany with a harmless tale. For my part, I would put 
 more trust in a confessor of that kind than in one who 
 is ever mumbling prayers and looking sourly upon mirth." 
 "And yet," I argued, "it is hard for a man to serve 
 two masters. If he fill his mind with idle stories, how 
 can he meditate rightly on divine mysteries?" 
 
 "Then must you begin at the top of the tree, Sir 
 Maurice," retorted le Marmion. "You would have no 
 churchmen in the state or in the field. Is the Bishop of 
 Durham a worse pastor because he is a good commander?" 
 " I think the affairs of a great diocese are enough for 
 the governance of any man," I replied; "but I confess 
 that my lord the king could scarcely dispense with such 
 a soldier as Anthony Beck. Yet I tell you, Sir Walter 
 
11 
 
 56 The Chevalier of the SpletnUd Crest 
 
 that I have observed among the people a growing dis- 
 respect for the authority of the Church, which comes I 
 am well persuaded, from the abuses which are growing up 
 withm the Church." ^ ^ ^ 
 
 ^^ "Ah, well, it may be as you say," quoth my companion : 
 but as a plam Englishman I feel more concern for the 
 affairs of this nation than for those of the Church which 
 IS well able to care for itself. There are some signs of a 
 change in the sky," he went on, scanning the flagstaff on 
 the keep, where the gale blew the pennon stiffly out dis 
 playmg the red bougets of de Roos on their yellow field 
 Ihe wind seems backing to the west, and those clouds 
 
 Z.:^- '^'' -' -''-' ''- P-P-^ ^- the 
 We ascended a tower, through which we passed upon 
 the stone walk whereon the sentinels paced round the 
 whole enclosure, and whence a wide vie^y could be had of 
 the surrounding country. It still lay under a pall of 
 white. On our right, as we looked southward, the ground 
 ell rapidly to the river : the houses in the town clustered 
 like beehives along its banks, and beyond them the dark 
 ridge of Scout Scar closed the view to the west. Farther 
 to the south the land spread out in a fair plain, and away 
 to the north, beyond the keep, lay the road to Scotland 
 through the fastnesses of Fawcett Forest. 
 
 " How long, think you. Sir Maurice, will it be before 
 we can march again ?" asked Marmion. 
 
 "By my faith, I cannot guess," quoth I; "the frost 
 holds strong, but the season is late. We are near the sea 
 here-yonder is the glimmer of it, beyond Arnside Knot 
 —and the change may come in a few hours. I noted a 
 good omen this morning-a string of wild geese flying 
 high and heading due north," 
 
 4 
 I 
 
Young Love. 57 
 
 "But even if the change were to come," resumed 
 Marmion after a pause, « it might be some days before 
 the roads are open." 
 
 "Not many, if I reckon rightly the spirit of Sir Aymer 
 He, at least, chafes sorely at this hindrance to his 
 duty." 
 
 I spoke somewhat drily, thinking that le Marmion 
 found Kendal Castle too much to his Hking to grieve for 
 the chance that was keeping us there. A peal of rough 
 laughter came from a knot of fellows on the far side of 
 the courtyard, followed by a kind of scuffle, and we 
 moved round the ramparts to see what was ado. They 
 did not notice us as we stood above them, busy on their 
 sport which seemed like to become rougher than was 
 meet. A number of idlers, grooms and a hobelar or two 
 had gathered round Michael the Fenman, Marmion's sole 
 attendant, and were taking their fun out of the old man 
 who was busy cleaning his harness. * 
 
 " Thou'rt a man o' many parts, Master Fenman," a long- 
 limbed young dalesman was saying, '« surely. A man 
 said I? why thou'rt a whole knight's retinue-squire 
 and man-at-arms, groom and varlet, all packed into one 
 jerkin." 
 
 "The master who should lose thee and a sixpence 
 would be the poorer by it by just six pennies," retorted 
 Michael, not ill-humouredly. 
 
 The dalesman grinned, having no rejoinder ready, for 
 I have noted that these north country folk are harder 
 in the head than they are quick with the tongue. But a 
 stripling groom was ready with his taunt. 
 
 "That is a loss which thy master will scarcely come 
 by, Michael. Not many testers to fall out of his purse 
 I reckon." •>»«— t- , 
 
 
'ii 
 
 58 T/ie Chevalier of the Splendid Crest. 
 
 " Then God send thee more wit." answered the Fen- 
 7p:^^' "-''''" ' ^-weth we both stand 
 
 "Nay,"interpo,c.dapurheu-man from the forest "let 
 us not fall to sharj: ^ord^'lads. The Penman's knight is 
 a proper gallant, and if there be fighting to be done I'se 
 warrant he'll bear in's part in it. As for r^M there be 
 many maids and widows in the Ian. ..th pelf fo'r two " 
 
 Hell scarce look so high as the T.ily o' Kendal 
 Master Raf.," quoth the dalesman. ' 
 
 "Looking and winning are two different tasks," inter- 
 posed on., sententiously who had not yet spoken -a 
 servmn-nuan who, after the manner of his kind, esteemed 
 H.mseL of finer clay than the common troopers and 
 bowmer, yet was fain to mingle with them, if it were but 
 to display h.s more abundant knowledge of the world. 
 Sir Walter may look at my mistress s . long as he hath 
 a mmd or as she hath patience; but as for winning- 
 why, man, thou knowest she is the king's ward, and it is 
 the kmg who mu.t declare whom she sha'! wed. From 
 what I have seen of his highness, I should expe. t h" 
 choice to fall on some noble with a fairer following than 
 that, pomtmg to old Michael vfth a sneer 
 
 Michael was polishing a pair of h uhern reins • his 
 patience, at no time ■ v lon,^ was aring o.t a^ace 
 or he brooked ill to hear his master, the first gentleman 
 in Christendom, as he esteemed him, and his m.-ter's 
 affairs made the common gossip of the ... ble-court He 
 looked sidelong at the last speaker. 
 
 "You'll be a man among the geese," ..« said, "when 
 the gander's away. Go to! you'- be o.o of those r 
 reckon, that eat till they sweat and orl U they freLe. / 
 An honest days work is the medicare for such as thee ' 
 
 1* 
 
 4 
 
^Bmr 
 
 Young Love. 
 
 59 
 
 N'' 
 
 jmI 
 
 then wouldst thou have less leisure to mell in the business 
 of thy betters," 
 
 "Hark ye, Master Fenman," retorted the varlet, "'tis 
 well for thee that thou'rt stricken in years, else would I 
 cause thee to be stricken with rods for thy wanton tongue." 
 Michael's wrath was fairly on the boil now. He swuni; 
 the reins suddenly around and caught the varlet a stinging 
 cut upon his thin yellow hosen, which made him leap and 
 cry aloud. I feared the old man might come to hurt 
 among them, for this sort seldom argue long without 
 coming to cudgel play, and the step from cudgels to steel 
 is a short one; but Walter drew ii, ack. 
 
 "Trust old Michael," said he, "to take care of his ill- 
 favoured carcase. We have heard enough— too much, by 
 my faith— let us withdraw, good Sir Maurice." 
 
 For a time we paced the ramparts together in silence, 
 anJ well I knew on what my gentleman's thoughts were 
 running. That I read them not amiss was clear when he 
 first b^ ke. 
 
 " Did on varlet speak sooth, think you, about Mistress 
 Challic ..iid h'-r marriage?" 
 
 "Duubtles? luc'i T. "My lord the king's mind 
 is full of weig. th , at present; but his pleasure 
 
 will be made known vf a surety when he is at greater 
 leisure." 
 
 " The king's pleasure I " he exclaimed. 
 
 "The king's pleasure, of o .: ," I replied. "The 
 Lady of Kendal cannot wed without it." 
 
 " Do you mean that the king will command her to 
 rr.arry whomsoever he may name for her husband?" and 
 le Marmion stopped in his walk, as if t jmo new ide;- had 
 entered his mind. 
 
 " Undoubtedly, that is his right. Mistress Ch Hice has 
 
 mi J^Kri^l 
 
f 
 
 ; f 
 
 60 
 
 The Chevalier of the Splendid Cnst. 
 
 great possessions which it were not ri.TK^ .u ,j 
 any bu. a cHed and ,„,., ^n^^^::^^^ ^ 
 nfer,or to her own. Si „ua vo/es apu nuier.- ,nTpari" 
 I co„t,„u„d l„edlessly, forgetting ,„.,t had sTvVaUer 
 understood the La, .ongue he mi.ht hav to, 
 d.scourage„,e„t from this saw. He only bit hi li, and 
 we walJted forward. ' ' "" 
 
 about !h/ I'r ' '""'"« ''"■■«'"■ "''=' "^ "<" teat 
 about the uush. Let us be frank with each other I 
 
 perceive that you have fallen in love " 
 
 "I suppose I have," said he, laughing uneasilv "and 
 what you tell me show, the folly of it' xTI'k. „ot 
 
 .anor of' ShS'T^' T'" ''"" ''^ ""' "^ '»" ™" -d 
 n anor of Shak.ngdon, „h„ at the utmost can put but 
 
 Lad '"ri'^T" '" *" "«'"■ "* ^ "^^ -"or for the 
 Lady of Kendal, who has f,ve hundred of the stoutest 
 figumg men in England under her pennon. When a 
 man is once down— down with him ■ " 
 f.^- "Esperanee! man," I cried, "esperancel A man has 
 no more goods than he gets good of; nothing can be los 
 that has not been won. Was it not no later than ve L 
 
 rhTtare'oTT'h'^l n '""^^ ^""^" ^ "^^ -^ ^ <> 
 
 If tte E^/otof .?"r""" """ ^'°"''^' *= teiress 
 of the Earl of Oxford ? Have you forgotten how Blonde 
 
 was ordatned to be the spouse of the Earl of Gloucelr 
 
 and^how, m the end, Jehan won her in the teeth of bS 
 
 .o:?;hat"™fuif; '-rd'th^i^-^^-t '^ ^-""o- 
 
 him so." ^ "° '''^"'^ ^° 'ell 
 
 "Not at the first," I argued, forgetting that I was dead 
 
 to the world with all its loves and hate's, its well^ and 
 
St. 
 
 uld pass to 
 a rank not 
 nuk pari," 
 Sir Walter 
 ave drawn 
 lis lip, and 
 
 nd on his 
 
 IS not beat 
 
 other. I 
 
 sily, "and 
 it is not 
 he ruined 
 1 put but 
 or for the 
 e stoutest 
 ^^'hen a 
 
 man has 
 m be lost 
 an yester 
 !ad aloud 
 e heiress 
 "i Blonde 
 oucester, 
 
 of both 
 
 ^armion 
 to tell 
 
 'as dead 
 are and 
 
 Youmy Love. 
 
 6i 
 
 its woe, .saving only as they concerned Holy Church and 
 
 mv lord the king, -fhese high-spirited dames are not 
 
 .ghtly won. Jilonde of Oxford took no note of Jehan 
 
 of Dammartm, save as a playmate, till he proved himself 
 
 MUX chevahcr. Then she gave him her heart, and all 
 
 the power of the great earls availed not to take it away" 
 
 But the king," persisted le Marmion, "the king! 
 
 Who can withstand the will of the king?" 
 
 "He hath pronounced no will," said I^'nor is he one 
 to act the tyrant in such matters, having ever a tender 
 heart for beauty. Nay," I continued, recollecting what 
 Gilhan had told me in her gossip, "the king hath passed 
 his word to Mistress Challice that he will never press her 
 to wed agamst her will." 
 
 "How know you that?" asked Sir Walter, turning 
 sharply and facing me. ^ 
 
 fn/-"''^r "°'^'"^ ^"'' ^ '^"°^^ ^^'" J ^^^"rned softly, 
 for m sooth I was little vain of listening to the tattle o 
 servmg maids, and, as I have said, only practised the san'e 
 in so far as U furthered the service of my lord the king. 
 
 Wal er. You have won the king's favour already if you 
 wou, , also-courage! man, and y'o'u sL 
 
 run as lair a chance as any belted earl " 
 
 "Shakingdon and Kendal!" n,urmured the knight 
 rueMly, wagg„,g his head; "..is „o equal match," ^ 
 
 me sfr°wT'"/'"^'° "'" "•" ' '■'^P''''' "^i"' 'ell 
 „„, My «u" ! quoth he ; " I have preferred no suit, God 
 |;At least she shows you no disfavour?" I asked. 
 
 it be ll» f f ■ ''"' ''°" <="'■ ' «'«"' -hether 
 
 n be better favour than any gracious lady ,vould sho«- 
 
62 
 
 The Chevalier of the Splendid Crest. 
 
 s, 
 
 to a .storm. stayed guest? At times there is a Rentle 
 jeenng m her manner, which makes me doubt shT ! 
 makmg m.rth of me. It was but yesterday that she 
 ralhed me because of the outworn fashion of my no„ 
 wh,ch she sa,d was fully four inches too short ac"g 
 
 she w,ll be cold and readier to converse with others than 
 w.th me. In short, Sir Maurice," exclaimed Mambn 
 topping aga,„ and wheeling round upon me, " I an of 
 a men most unhappy. I have known no ^eace sLe 
 first I set eyes upon Challice de Roos : my very couraL 
 seems to d.e :„hen I think that in two days we may be 
 gone, and I shall see her no more. But wly Z TZary 
 you with my complaint?" ^ 
 
 "Why not?" said I; "once I too was young and in 
 love. Ifyou will have my advice, here it is Make voir 
 su.t to Mistress Challice before you leave th«e w' 1 
 If she hearkens-well-leave the rest to the king's g a e 
 -do not fear. If she hearkens not, no harm s do"e 
 you know the worst. No maiden ever yet liked a man' 
 worse because he wooed her " 
 
 How well I knew every 'symptom of the malady. 
 From generation to generation the game is the same, m 
 we learn no better skill in it than our sires-no kccne 
 nstght into ,.s secrets-till we have risen from our sea 
 and made way for fresh players. Then, when the wisdom 
 bought w,th dear experience can serve ourselves no longer 
 we stand behmd and look over the hands; many a falTe 
 card we see played, but there never was a flayer yet o 
 would heed a warning. ' 
 
 I saw Sir Walter no more alone until the second day 
 after our eonversat.on. The thaw had set in fairly, and 
 .t was expected that the passes would be open on t e 
 
 
is a gentle 
 >ubt she is 
 y that she 
 
 my jupon, 
 t according 
 1 company, 
 )thers than 
 
 Marmion, 
 
 ''I am of 
 eace since 
 ry courage 
 ve may be 
 io I weary 
 
 ig and in 
 /lake your 
 ese walls, 
 ig's grace 
 is done ; 
 3d a man 
 
 malady ! 
 5amc, yet 
 o keener 
 3ur scats 
 ! wisdom 
 o longer, 
 y a false 
 yet who 
 
 ond day 
 
 rly, and 
 
 on the 
 
 Young Love. g. 
 
 morrow. I felt some deal anxious how the young knight 
 m.ght fare with the lady, but I knew enough about such 
 n.atte. to feel assured that older folks had best hold aloof 
 from them until difficulties should be defined 
 
 Howbeit I bethought me again of the waiting-woman 
 M.S ress G.lhan. No easy matter it was to devise oppor! 
 unuy for conversation with her; yet her age and h'rd 
 eatures were my shield against such suspicion as m,"' 
 have been engendered by my approaching a conT li 
 handmaiden. The guest-chamber, where L tra" He 
 lay, opened close upon the top of the winding stai s 'n 
 the same gallery as Mistress Challice's bower. I accos'ted 
 Gilhan as she passed from attending on her mistress with 
 some tr.flmg request for the repair of a torn shirt. Now 
 for tcuchmg the gratitude and loosening the tongue^ 
 strmgs of an elderly waiting-woman, commend me to a 
 gobet of well-spiced hypocras sweetened with honey 
 such as I desired the butler to prepare for me, and bide 
 Gilhan attend me at noon in the guest-chamber with 
 needle and thread. Behold her then at the appointed 
 
 atTerTbfw.^^^" ''' ^^^^"^^".' ^'^^ ^^^ ^^^ '~ 
 
 I was not disappointed ; she needed little pressing to 
 
 talk about her beloved young mistress and 'abo 't,: 
 
 several .suitors that had paid their addresses. No one 
 
 a 'I;r2 . """'' -oun.ously, as beseemed 
 
 ^^rande dame m her own castle; each had been given to 
 
 the prize was beyond his reach; and, this far at least 
 Then, as the comforting hypocras loosened the old 
 
 W; l| 
 
64 The Chevalier of the Splendid Crest. 
 
 dame's tongue, I began to speak of Sir Walter le Marmi™ 
 and of the great service he had rendered l^ZTL 
 k ng ■„ „y presence. She hastened willingly e„ough to 
 tha for all people, especially in the parts near unto the 
 Sco».h border loved then to hear speech about "hdr 
 good k,ng; and when I had finished Mistress GifoL 
 
 began to praise Sir Walter, and was so franic a to s,°ta 
 he was the only knight of them all that had t uched 
 he damoysel's fancy. This was even better than I 
 ad looked for making nre confident that th ad c^ 
 had grven le Marmion was not amiss, and I determined 
 to foltow .t up, for I see no virtue in friendship „„Tess a 
 man be ready to aid a friend in all honourable ent^ Le 
 On the feast, then, of Saint Benedict it rained Tt,^ 
 
 Alistress Chalhee's bower, remained in the hall durintr the 
 afternoon, where I sat before the fire. He was "Lt 
 and strode from one side of the hall to the other. Once 
 
 talk, but the place was full of people coming and goinir 
 bad for pnvate conversation. At last he cried to me from 
 the casement — "'■" 
 
 ar^'b^'rllkL'" t^'^-'V ''"'' ''^ ''^""^^' *^ ^'-"^ 
 iake the ™?.' ""= "'" "" '''''"'■■ ■' "•'" do us good to 
 
 We passed into the bailey-ward. The cold had abated 
 
 b^ ed ;:t : ;'"' "^-i ^ ^«"' °^ ^^--^ -"•oa, S 
 
 Ooded fairly for our speedy departure. 
 
 '' WeiV he began, " I have taken your advice. I have 
 put my fortune to the touch " 
 
 " With Mistress Challic^ ? " I asked 
 
 '• With the same," he replied. 
 
 " With what speed, my friend ? " I asked again 
 
 3 
 4 
 
 I 
 
 •x--v—et^-iii^^:^ 
 
est. 
 
 le Marmion, 
 my lord the 
 
 enough to 
 !ar unto the 
 about their 
 ess Gillian 
 
 to s.'iy that 
 id tcuched 
 :er than I 
 e advice I 
 :ietermined 
 ip unless a 
 enterprise, 
 led all the 
 3 usual to 
 during the 
 s restless, 
 -r. Once 
 wished to 
 nd going, 
 > me from 
 
 le clouds 
 i good to 
 
 i abated, 
 It, which 
 
 I have 
 
 Young Love. 
 
 65 
 
 " Speed is not the word," quoth he. " We are iust as 
 we were. I told her I loved her; she said she knew 
 hat already I asked her whether she loved me, and- 
 blunt fool that I am .'-whether she would wed with me 
 - Love IS a great word,' she answered, laughing, ' but 
 wed IS a greater.' Nothing was further from me than 
 aughter; I pressed her earnestly for an answer.- 
 Plenty of time for that,' quoth she, still mocking.- 
 Not for me,' said I, ' for at daybreak on the morrow 
 we march, and I must have my answer first.-' Must ? ' 
 said she, becoming grave of a sudden; 'nay, but that is 
 a bigger word than either love or wed, and one that I 
 have not heard .o often.' I burned, for who had dared 
 to speak to her of love and wedding? I craved her 
 mercy ; I told her-what you know well. Sir Maurice- 
 that there was no happiness for me unless she gave me 
 her love; that if she withheld it I would seek to die 
 among the Scots. 'Let me see,' quoth she; 'I have 
 known you exactly seven days, sir knight. Such ac 
 quamtance is hardly warrant for a bond for life. Suppose 
 we try first how we get on as friends.' There was no 
 snamefastness in her manner, nor yet the boldness of 
 some ot our great Court dames; only a bewildering, half- 
 mahcous kind of raillery, that I knew not how to meet 
 so terribly was I in earnest. I said a man might have 
 many friends, but only one love. ' Then,' quoth she 
 many men are mightily slandered, seeing that their 
 loves are reckoned like their wars-the more of them 
 the greater glory.' But I pressed her so earnestly that 
 at last sne rose and said, ' Look you, Sir Walter, he who 
 would gain what you seek must do so either by tim.^-to 
 prove his faithfulness,-or by deeds-to prove his valorr. 
 Choose which you will : either come back to me in three 
 
66 
 
 The Chevalier of the Splendid Crest. 
 
 years from this date and a^t f^r ^ 
 forth against the king's enacts an "?""" '''?■ "' '" 
 will show you worthy of yZ sourf "'"°" ""''=" 
 
 beyond .,e co^^on^eats'^Tr cli:r "» ^' ^°"^ "^^P'"^' 
 And what was your choice, Sir Walter?" I ,sked 
 Can you doubt it ? » he exclaimed " Th'f 
 why, ,. is eternity ! Rath.r than t^a".!—.. ^''' '"""- 
 
 whenrhreiretblddUr "■'* ^^'^^^ -*= 
 
 readfh%dt,vi::;,;r?.T;'" "r *^" ""■-- 
 
 ravour-though „i:Xt soul't^ .rtaidr ' '" T 
 
 we,-,tt:-::„X-;--^-be.^^^^^^^^^^ 
 
 she,s acting the coquet.e-cold and caku.'^r^L^''''^' 
 ^^ Walter .n.errupted „,e with a vehement U,re or 
 
 en:::i2::tyr 
 
 =nd credit me, Sir Walter, as surely aTa „ W T ' 
 
 One thing was clear to me — namelv fhof at- 
 
 y the kmg or m any other way that offered itself. 
 
 i-Mmiimmmmietmmesi,^ 
 
 k 
 
rest. 
 
 :r then, or go 
 exploit which 
 some exploit 
 
 ' I asked, 
 'hree years — 
 
 t- You did 
 "or it is like 
 mon." 
 ess Challice 
 
 lan mine to 
 e is in your 
 ti, none has 
 tter how I 
 n touched, 
 iion, either 
 
 Young Love. 
 
 gesture of 
 
 fi she feels 
 he touch ; 
 I's interest 
 lacking in 
 
 Mistress 
 gns upon 
 t she de- 
 3 matters 
 fier them 
 her with 
 id itself. 
 
 I 
 
 'A 
 I 
 
 67 
 
 For I had taken the affairs of these young people to heirt 
 |n a degree that I had hardly believedVoss!b; se^ 
 how long ,t was since I had busied myself wi h love 
 passages. Walter and Challice had indeed each found 
 a way mto my affections in wondrous short time As 
 ong as I was with my lord the king. I had ever enough 
 to keep my thoughts busy and prevent them dwelling 
 much on a far-off past and a lonely present. But in 
 .hese days of waitmg at Kendal my heart was hungry for 
 some hvmg mterest. and I found myself drawn towards 
 these young folks in a degree whereat I marvelled. 
 
 The Angelus now sounded clear from the chapel belfry 
 le Marm^on and I bent the knee for a few moment I' 
 s.lent prayer, and then turned our steps over the dra" 
 bridge to prepare for evening meal-U^. At the entrance 
 to the donjon stood the Lily of Kendal with her page 
 haymg come forth to breathe the fresh evening air 
 
 Now would I wager a dozen links of this against your 
 m,sencorde, Sir Maurice," she cried gaily, holding! 
 with one hand a curiously wrought golden chain that hung 
 about her neck, and pointing with the other to the dagger 
 hanging by my hip, "that I know what you men of blood 
 have been discoursing about so privily. I have watched 
 you from my bower this hour past, as you paced to and 
 
 "Madame," quoth I, wrinkling my hard features in a 
 smile, without which a man might hardly look on that 
 ovely countenance, ''our theme was a noble one, and 
 
 concL y r If r '^ ^°" ^""^^ '^'^" '^ '^^^ --e 
 thrrguesses" ^'" ' '''''' '^'^"'' '"''- ^^ ^"^^ >- 
 "Three !" she cried, ''and I c a declare It in one." 
 it tickled me to behold the exnr^^inn -f .p,-- . 
 
 .*!» 
 
 .1^*1 
 
 . 5 
 
ii 
 
 
 ,mi^iii 
 
 68 
 
 T/:c Chevalier of the SplemUd Crest. 
 
 on le Marmion's countenance. " Nay, but I will give you 
 three madame," said I, «« and win r.y wager withal." 
 
 Allons- she exclaimed, "you were discussing the 
 ments of the new fashion of vambraces and demi-brasarts 
 You Sir Maurice, maintained that nothing "courd'brso 
 good as well-tempered mail of the kind worn by your 
 grandsire, which I sec you prefer; while you. Sir W.Her 
 were strongly in favour of the modern plates which 'the 
 armourers of Milan have devised, and which Sir Aymcr 
 de Valence wears." ^ 
 
 I shook my head. 
 
 " Well, then, you were talking about the order of your 
 march to-morrow, and reckoning the chances of getting 
 over the hills to Carlisle." ^ 
 
 I shook my head again. 
 
 " Come," she cried, " I cannot be wrong this time. You 
 were forecasting your plan of campaign in Scotland, and 
 how long It would take to restore the king's peace in that 
 
 I shook my head a third time. 
 
 "Pardie ! » said she, "if none of these things occupied 
 your thoughts, then I pity King Edward for not having 
 more devoted knights. Howbeit, I see I have lost my 
 wager and must pay." ^ 
 
 She made as though she would twist off some links of 
 the Cham, then paused and, saying it were pity to mar 
 such fine workmanship, took it from her neck with a 
 pretty grace of impatience. Next, with a dimpling blush 
 but with steadfast demeanour, she passed it round the 
 neck-not of me, who had staked my good blade of 
 Spanish steel with its hilt of green shark skin-but of le 
 Marmion, who had hazarded nothing, and so passed within 
 the hall. 
 
 :-! 
 
rest. 
 
 '. will give you 
 ■ withal." 
 iscussing the 
 ll^^lLbrasarts. 
 could be so 
 ^'orn by your 
 J, Sir Walter, 
 es which the 
 ti Sir Aymer 
 
 rder of your 
 :s of getting 
 
 time. You 
 ■otland, and 
 :iace in that 
 
 ;s occupied 
 not having 
 ve lost my 
 
 tie links of 
 ity to mar 
 ;ck with a 
 ling blush, 
 round the 
 blade of 
 -but of le 
 sed within 
 
 Young Love. 
 
 6g 
 
 * 
 
 % 
 
 "Call you that justice?" I cried, mocking, but well 
 pleased by what I had seen. "Surely this is a new way 
 to pay old debts." 
 
 Walter fingered the glittering links, and made as though 
 he would take off the chain. 
 
 " It is none of mine, Sir Maurice," he said ; «« you have 
 fairly won it." 
 
 "Nay, but I will none of it, sir knight," quoth I 
 " Know you not that the vows of my order forbid me to 
 wear ornament or fine raiment. See! I go free, while 
 you are bound captive by these golden fetters." 'xhen 
 as we passed within the hall, I added-" Your heart is 
 fainter than I think, le Marmion, if you refuse so fair a 
 challenge." 
 
 Challice had given an open pledge, not of love, perhaps, 
 but of acceptmg Sir Walter as her chosen knight. It was 
 a pledge of tUt nature which could not pass unnoticed in 
 a company which had sojourned so many days together, 
 and where there were so many watchful' eyes upon the 
 mistress of the castle. Sir Walter's jupon was jf dark 
 Lmcoln green, and, as he stood as usual at the trencher 
 carving, the heavy gold links glittered clearly in the light 
 The Cham was one which Mistress Challice had worn 
 every night since our arrival ; its absence from her neck 
 was not likely to escape attention. And, sure enough I 
 soon saw a whispermg round Gillian at one of the lower 
 tables, with keen glances directed to where we sat along 
 the dais. Next, I felt Father Ailwyn's foot on mine • 
 with raised eyebrows he made a gesture with his hand as' 
 If touchmg a neck chain ; Mistress Alison looked demure 
 and somewhat severe; even Sir Aymer, who had brightened 
 aanazmgly at the prospect of our speedy departure, detected 
 something m the wind, and presently ari iv-d at an inklir-r 
 
70 
 
 The Chevalier of the Splendid Crest. 
 
 i. \ 
 
 be, than her wont, but riving' '?, "f P"'"''' " '"">' 
 was in her mind M.l T-^uu "'' "8" °f «'''"' 
 
 «m ta.e a C, ^^rW e^XL^f t' ""'™^'"' 
 'he thing, though her heart V/i^ ''""""^""'' 
 '.ad this damoysel neve done h ""TV"""'"^' ^^' 
 'here had been many Jh dted no hh''""' "'°"«" 
 to wear her colours in th " list / "^J^ '""^"^ *=" 
 saw her eye. res. on r W L asTe .' T""' ' 
 
 before her-eyes wherein there , ay .he ,21^ ,""' 
 only from one source. Howsoeve^ i C k'J. f "" 
 ™ment; presently she turned to speak „ Hv " 
 about his journey on the morrow '"'"'^'= 
 
 What was going fol'rd 'wat,;! ^ eTst'^r °' 
 Honest gentleman h^ u ^ ^^ Strickland. 
 
 ing the rVro?sct- 1 r:,:Lr:fT ''^'-'^■ 
 
 .arrison of the c^lT 'Ir'affr 'ZV^-r " '"" '"^ 
 to discharge in a certain rhT , ? "*'" ™' """« 
 
 ana wherei bis m^r; "tr r^I^r ^^^ ''''^- 
 age, he had recour.^ f„ ., . ' ''>' '^^son of 
 
 it Withal. O th":: the™"'^ '"""'' "^^^^ 'o quicken 
 me, the mo^ succIm TTT '"^' "^ "^^ »-"-d 
 floor of the c, aTber tr.; ° ^^ ""' °'^'^" ™ "« 
 
 -^a^rm^X^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ -- -' 
 o-w.ou,dsecn;rZuU\Xler.t::-- 
 
Crest. 
 
 rid that moves 
 ifair ? 
 
 istress Challice 
 
 - paler, it may 
 sign of what 
 
 ;n, methought, 
 excitement of 
 touched; yet 
 'efore, though 
 f reward than 
 e I mused, I 
 'ed the meat 
 t that shines 
 IS but for a 
 de Valence 
 
 nore persons 
 
 conscious of 
 
 ! Strickland. 
 
 day, receiv- 
 
 - roads, pre- 
 customary 
 
 nts and the 
 It was wont 
 'ner bailey, 
 ^ reason of 
 to quicken 
 he assured 
 -ct on the 
 it should 
 inie about 
 mberlain's 
 :en by an 
 
 •Ai 
 
 young Love. «j 
 
 earthquake, every small article 1. . - on the floor, instead 
 of on the table or hanging on the svall. 
 
 That very morning, when I visited Sir Blaise to dis- 
 charge certam moneys which he had disbursed on behalf 
 of our people in the town, I found him standing like one 
 distraught, his white hair all ruffled, and his points-some 
 unloosed, some knotted awry. His eyes were fixed on 
 a spur which lay on the floor, beside a number of other 
 objects. He started as I accosted him, passed his hand 
 over his brow and chin, and said plaintively-- Beshrew 
 me ! If I can tell what yon spur is. Voyons un A«-that 
 hawk s hood is seed-corn for franklin Hans ; I shall not 
 forget that. The parchment roll is to remind me that 
 three new hauberks are wanted in the hobelar troop The 
 gauntlet is for proceedings against the salmon -poachers 
 at Lower Levens ; but the spur-the spur-nay, but it 
 hath escaped me for the nonce. But see— I will lay this 
 crossbow quarell beside the rest, so shall I not oniit to 
 reflect on what the spur signifies. Now, Sir Maurice it 
 shall be my pleasure to attend to your business. Be 
 seated, I pray. My memory serves me scurvily some- 
 times, but I find this plan of aiding it with tangible 
 objects vastly useful." 
 

 7» 
 
 ©t .lie Bfff t,m fttf.„c.. ej„„,„ ,„j ,„ 
 
 Merrily blared the trumpefi nr Sir a , „ 
 
 the gusty da™, calling ou^ln frL tTeT "''"''= '" 
 
 in the bailev-warri w„ ° '°'''" '° '""ster 
 
 whole househ ;j':rt: h-r"' •^' ^""""' ■^"^ «- 
 
 townsfolk crow, .: '1 ,hel "' '^°''''''='''' """e the 
 
 utmost Chri^u-slKl^lr™' ''"°™ '° ">« 
 hareheaded.hiswhltetcks'Z:i 'L^r^""'''^■*" 
 
 chaih-ce. wra;:ed'ra"rr;trr,r • "'"-' 
 
 on her shapely head save whTt Gorf h ^ ^ "° "'^ 
 
 stood beside the door to h,^ f '^ P'^"'^'' *ere, 
 
 of us in orderltVaie t Z'T T"'"' "'^^^ 
 Marmion-dropped on .h„ I ' "'"' """^ ""=" '<= 
 To each of us she made a 1>,T' """ ''"'"' "" "-"• 
 
The Golden Basnet 
 
 73 
 
 5tr mnrtfr 
 ftefcU at tfji's 
 
 e Valence in 
 » to muster 
 n'se, and the 
 d, while the 
 d the outer 
 own to the 
 and thither 
 eeze, giving 
 ■espect, but 
 • Mistress 
 10 covering 
 ited there, 
 ell. Each 
 'd then le 
 her hand, 
 -seemed a 
 When it 
 going to 
 feet and 
 
 turned away, when she recalled him, and, speaking low 
 and fast, said — 
 
 "Sir Walter, the king's .ervice hath been so urgent 
 smre you won your spurs, lliat you have not had time to 
 appomt a squir ^ such as it beseemeth every good knight 
 to have. Will you accept one of my naming? I have 
 caused Father Aihvyn to write to my young k? n 
 
 Geoffrey de Neville, desiring him to wait on you w! r 
 
 you may be in Scotland, and to place himself a our 
 commands. You will find him faithful and of quick 
 understanding." 
 
 il had been my purpose to avoid witnessing the parting 
 of these two, but i r the life of me I could not resist 
 turnmg to see how Sir Walter received this fresh mark of 
 ^.s lady's favour. Never can I forget that beautiful sight 
 —the very picture, as it seemed to me, of chivalrous 
 romance. Ah ! we may read as often as we list about 
 such scenes, yet rarely see them in such perfection. The 
 damoysel stood in the grey morning light— tall, pale, with 
 coils of dark hair ruffled in the wind— sending forth her 
 knight-errant on his quest. And Walter, meet chevalier 
 for such a maiden, what noble purpose shone on his 
 handsome countenance! It was the first time he had 
 appeared before Challice in full armour ; scarcely could 
 she have wished for a worthier champion. His hauberk 
 of mail, which it was Fenman Michael's prv.e to burnish 
 although of a fashion somewhat passed from favour! 
 showed forth the symmetry of his arms and shoulders to 
 better advantage than do the Milanese plates which our 
 nobles have lately affected. On his head he wore a h^ht 
 chapeUcde-fer, whence the coJM':.maUle was thrown back 
 like a capuchin's hood upon his shoulders, leaving his neck 
 and short curling hair open to view. At the iluoat, under 
 
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 « 
 
 'h' 
 
 74 T/ie Chevalier of the Splendid Crest 
 
 a jupon of his own liveries, v^ey blue and white, might 
 be seen a few golden links of the Lily's gift of yester 
 eve. Yet it seemed as though some sprite had smitten 
 this kn.ght with dumbness. He gazed steadily i„ the 
 damoysel's eyes for half the space of a paternoster: then 
 droppmg again on his knee, kissed her hand, rose lights 
 and passed out to his horse. It was then I first noted a 
 fi^sh token of the Lily's favour to her knight. Round 
 his steel cap was bound a silken fillet-straw-coloured 
 and rose— the liveries of Mistress Challice 
 
 "To horse!" cried de Valence, and there was clatter 
 ot harness as we swung into our saddles: then the 
 trumpets brayed sharply ; the castle gates swung open • 
 we three knights passed through the archway amid the 
 cheers of the Httle garrison within and the populace with- 
 out " A droite-tournez ! " cried the captain of hobelars 
 to his men, " En avant-marchez ! " and our escort defiled 
 after us as we rode out upon the northern road We 
 travelled fast-as fast as the state of the ground would 
 alow; but some of the passes were still deep with snow 
 which stayed our progress and caused Sir Aymer to 
 mutter many an impatient curse. A lonely region it 
 was; for full five leagues we met never a traveller save 
 only a couple of stout yeomen with a string of pack-horses 
 carrying wool to Kendal mart. 
 
 I have said that in the earlier part of this journey I had 
 found le Marmion a more spritely comrade than de 
 Valence. Mightily were matters altered now The 
 young knight rode wrapt in his own thoughts, answering 
 courteously enough, it is true, when I spoke to him bu^t 
 with none of that playful fancy and open confidence which 
 first drew me towards him. 
 
 "Ah! mon gargon," quoth I to myself, "I too have 
 
vhite, might 
 ft of yester 
 lad smitten 
 dily in the 
 Jster; then, 
 rose lightly 
 rst noted a 
 It. Round 
 iw-coloured 
 
 was clatter 
 then the 
 ung open ; 
 ' amid the 
 iJlace with- 
 3f hobelars 
 -ort defiled 
 road. We 
 und would 
 with snow, 
 Aymer to 
 region it 
 eller, save 
 .ck-horses, 
 
 ney I had 
 than de 
 w. The 
 answering 
 ' him, but 
 tice which 
 
 too have 
 
 The Golden Basnet. 
 
 75 
 
 passed that way, and found my own thoughts the best of 
 company. Humour fait passer le temps;' and I added 
 with half a sigh—" k temps, fera-t-il passer Pamour ? " 
 
 De Valence, on the other hand, showed himself a 
 diiferent man from the grim warrior with whom I had 
 hurried through the midlands. Released at length from 
 his intolerable durance at Kendal, his spirits rose higher 
 with every league that brought him nearer the scene of 
 action ; and he showed, whereat I marvelled, that he had 
 been in nowise blind to what had been passing between 
 Sir Walter and Lady Challice. Sir Aymer was so earnest 
 in the kmg's service as to appear at times unconscious of 
 the lighter affairs of his fellows ; yet was he but young in 
 years, and kindly disposed, as every good chevalier ought 
 to be, to honourable love betv/een man and maid. I 
 questioned him. therefore, concerning the view he thought 
 my lord the king would take of the Knight of Shakingdon 
 as suitor for the Lady of Kendal Honor. 
 
 "You know the king as well or better than I or any 
 other," answered Sir Aymer, "and how nothing delights 
 him more than a true love match. There will be no 
 difficulty in that quarter, I imagine : what le Marmion has 
 to make secure is the lady's will, and the saints defend 
 me from making a guess how that will turn ! " 
 
 I mentioned the incidents of the gold chain and the 
 silken colours (for we old men will gossip about such 
 things, long after our own day for them is past), and I 
 marvelled to find that neither of them had escaped Sir 
 Aymer's notice. 
 
 "Nay, but," quoth he, "there is little in such things 
 beyond the common amorous trifles that pass between 
 
 young men and maidens. What! we are Christians in 
 
 thi'; land inrl r>-><n«T .-if^t i;i.« ^i — t->- • .-.-.. 
 
 -1— iviuu iiuu iiicij iiOt, iijvc uic raynun lurk, marry 
 
 m 
 
76 
 
 The Chcvaliey of the Splendid Crest. 
 
 every lass we cast sheep's eyes uoon T « a/t • 
 faJi^fe^r an the bceerberu e ^. ^TT "'" 
 
 fancies himself so. As for the H,Z V "''''• °'' 
 
 -.ethe. he. is „ote tharrpt str^""^ '''" =''°" 
 _^^About th,s I had ^y o™ opinion.' but tept it to 
 
 upon man and he,« „f ™e -vays and so sore the labour 
 
 before we reached Pnrths""' *™"^' *^ ''""^' *at 
 the border city half our t' *°"'' '^'^"'^ ^"o^' "^ 
 
 unwillingly, tl/eWf: ro'rtXZed ,: ""';'^^?- ^"^ 
 we being ii„d|y ep^,^ fy Si^C ^e ttH "^'J' 
 king's constable of thj fine L,' " , ''f .^"wther, the 
 
 From hin, we learnt new Ton, te norTb o ?/' '°™- 
 indeed, vet not c^o ^-,;i , ' °^ ^^'^ moment, 
 
 ^rswo;„\iro;°caV;cr-„! ' etr„f r^'- . ^"^ 
 
 Marmion carried in hi. .., k , . ^°"Ser, for le 
 
 bestowing th:;i;rdo™ oTsfHeiy t p""^ "r""' 
 
 of Ayr county-Robert de Brnf T ^ de Percy, sheriff 
 standard in op'en reb I „ a„d had e^ '/""' "'^ 
 north of Scotland, where . ert he '""""''''^ '« *e 
 
 vaster than those'nearTh Xlt b^d" "' T'^ 
 
 of his exact whereabouts, nor had th. "^ ''""' 
 
 in his cause. Sir John de S t\ *^:;°'""'"='lty risen 
 
 in Annandale for the kin. de^P " '"" * ^™^'^ '^"^s 
 
 keep carrick ^^. s^i^'^f::^:^:;'^-^-^ ^o 
 
 ^^ tnytlLt-rd -' ^^"^^^ 
 
 prelates-the B^isC^S flXw" ::d ta^^""^" 
 
 had betrayed their allpafnno T Wasgow — 
 
 the blessii of H ly cfZh "wh""; ','" ^''^^""- 
 
 this, he was mi.,|„i,!„ed V'""'' ''^"'' 
 
 .-, inj concerned, inasmuch as these two 
 
Crest. 
 
 Marmion will 
 is in love, or 
 time will show 
 
 ut kept it to 
 
 -hing Carlisle 
 3re the labour 
 le drifts, that 
 ?ues short of 
 idstill. Very 
 for the night, 
 Lowther, the 
 ng th e town. 
 5vil moment, 
 Lout. The 
 •nger, for le 
 'tters patent 
 ercy, sheriff 
 J raised his 
 ^here to the 
 and woods 
 'One knew 
 "lalty risen 
 rus's lands 
 ! trusted to 
 to be two 
 1 powerful 
 o Scottish 
 rlasgow — 
 idventurer 
 ice heard 
 these two 
 
 The Golden Basnet. 
 
 77 
 
 ii^ 
 
 prelates— the primate of Scotland and the bishop of the 
 second -see in Scotland— exercised more powerful sway 
 than many earls, for men stand in greater awe of spiritual 
 than of temporal power, and these possessed both in large 
 measure. Moreover, they were rulers of high ability and 
 fiery activity. 
 
 T sat late into the night, writing all this to my lord the 
 king ; yet I urged him not to fret at the delay, as too well 
 I wot he would. There was still time, I said ; the king- 
 dom was in no jeopardy ; true English garrisons held all 
 the king's castles in Scotland, and the g^-^i ado was to 
 capture de Brus, and disperse his following before it 
 gathered strength. 
 
 At Carlisle our company broke up. De Valence, witli 
 the greater part of our troop, set out for Berwick, while le 
 Marmion and I, with ten spears, held i;orth across the 
 £sk, and so by way of Dumfries unto the town of Ayr. 
 It was hard to think that war was at hand, so peaceful 
 seemed the country and so busy the people on their 
 farms. Oxen were drawing slow furrows in the fields, 
 fishers hauling their nets in the rivers, shepherds driving 
 their flocks to the hills; the only sign of unrest was the 
 frequency of mounted patrols— ten to twenty spears in a 
 ^c-mp— scouring the highways and upland tracks. 
 "I doubt," quoth I to Sir Walter, "you may have to 
 go further afield than Scotland ere you find wherewithal 
 to fulfil your lady's command." 
 
 ■ 
 
 Now there is no cause, neither is it my purpose, to set 
 forth the events of this wicked rebellion, saving only as 
 they touched upon the fortunes of those whose story I 
 have taken upon me to tell. He who listeth to learn how 
 the arch-rebel was crowned King of Scots by that mis- 
 
 fff-; 
 
The Chevalier of the Sfte„dld Crest. 
 
 guided prelate, Bishop IVishirt nf r-r 
 cgil that came out of tlia^Xnt , ^^°"' """^ ="' *<^ 
 same plainly set fortl ,„ hi 1 ■ r'°"' '"''>' «'«' ""= 
 brand of the^^anc" a„^ oL rCari'f ^T'' "'''■ 
 patiently and truthfully record all that ' .'" ""'' 
 in these times. Brother Hi Idcb Ld" 7 °' "°'^ 
 
 as a most sedulous scholar to h„„ 7 '"7" ''^ "« 
 in those matters wherein he "'io//' "''""''■ '''" 
 surely move them to make d' cCa„ ° rt^oT t ""' 
 
 taking of Kin, S^ZlH e^Se^tb^f .^ V' 
 -and of the Scottish prelates Hard u ' ''™= 
 
 disease had obtained 'upon 'he f " Z," ^'V''^" 
 might not stir from his bedchambt n^W^stmLs. ' '' 
 he assured me that he was resolved to *^^''"""="='- : yet 
 land so soon as he should g"ltr"H"''r. '™'- 
 forth orders for the musterL nf f " ^'"^ """^ 
 
 on the 'east of the vSon "'" ' '' ''""* 
 atio,. were afoot roTltl^;, ^4^ ^Prfnt 1^ 
 of^C^narvon and three hundred yLg n^^^ 
 
 "We hope," wrote the kino- "i.„ *i t-i . 
 to keep the vigil of St Tohni; rr'' ^'"'""^ °^ ^^^ «^i"ts, 
 tl^at-aye, lon| befor Z^'AI^^^"^^^,; "^"^ '^.^ - hear before 
 the Scots, and let his hl.LlTj^^ltl^y^^'j^^^^^^ upon 
 
 us, that we may give him a Testn if the' '^""^'^^ ^'^^^''^ 
 wearing a crown." ^''^ manner of rightly 
 
 Alack. St John's day passed, and still my master re- 
 
 "s as the Chronicle of LanercosTwH^r , ''^"' '''°'''^ '^"^^n to 
 
 piled in the monastery of Carlis,; " En " " '' '^^^ ^^^» ^°'"- 
 
 '^ 2nd July. ■ • ' 
 
 I iii 
 
Crest. 
 
 w, and all the 
 may find the 
 brother Hilde- 
 who did most 
 pened of note 
 icnown by me 
 Tedence, even 
 lien do most 
 of the same 
 ■y often while 
 chiefly of the 
 bert de Brus 
 'e grip which 
 lard that he 
 minster; yet 
 upon Scot- 
 le had sent 
 t at Carlisle 
 reat prepar. 
 ice Edward 
 1 of gentle 
 
 ■ the saints, 
 hear before 
 ■ought upon 
 ught before 
 f of rightly 
 
 master re- 
 
 his ecclesi- 
 
 k known to 
 
 been cota- 
 
 The Golden Basnet. -g 
 
 mained bedridden in the south, though the Prince crossed 
 the border on the feast of St Swithun.i and fared north- 
 ward at the head of a great array of horse and foot 
 Howbeit I was able to send my lord the king tiding= ^ h 
 as It would do him good to receive-how, on the ftast of 
 S Peter and St Paul,^ de Brus dared to ^wait the aL, 
 of Sir Aymer de Valence in the woods near St John's town 
 called Perth m the speech of the barbarous people in 
 those parts), and how the rangale^ with him, to the 
 number, men say, of five thousand, were driven with great 
 skughter to the mountains where no man might follow 
 them. De Brus himself came near being taken, for h 
 was unhorsed by tha. good knight. Sir Philip d^ Mow! 
 bray, and had with surety been made prisoner or slain 
 had no he been rescued by his kinsman Sir Christopher 
 de Seaton whom, as being a knight of fair renown, I 
 mourn should have fallen into such evil company). N^y 
 but I had better tidings than these for my master for the 
 rec reant prelates had been seized and sent under strong 
 guard to the king's new castle on the Tyne 
 
 Verily, this speedy conclusion (for so it" seemed to all 
 of us) to the accursed rebellion against our sovereign 
 ords authonty, did act like a charm on King Edward's 
 
 th /k r T^"^ ''°"^^' ^"^^'^^ ^^''' he wrote to me 
 that before the feast of St Bartholomew ^^ he would be 
 able to laugh at lee^chcraft; and in truth he was so far re- 
 covered as to be able to journey slowly, borne in a horse- 
 itter. He came to the priory of Lanercost in Cumber- 
 land about the feast of St Michael and All Angels,^ where 
 he rested for the winter among the good brethren 
 And now there was nothing of such moment, whether 
 
 ^aSh {"'''■. =^ 29th June. 3 R.bble. 
 
 24th August. (s 29th September. 
 
So 
 
 The Cncvatic, „/i/,, SplauUd Crcsl. 
 
 HHK . indeed tte«:,:r 
 
 " certamty affirm. His wife 1 """" ""Bl" "f 
 
 «'" Queen of Scots, wUl, I S lu" "™' "°" ""''■'' '° 
 been mken by our P inee FH T' '"" '^'"'S'"'''-''. '-"d 
 -happy U., .o e™,a e :t;?ri:' T-''^"^^' 
 went m cages ' at various castL ,u ™ ^^ 'mprison- 
 de Brus had been brougit o Be n! / ?'" ' "■'^''^'^'g^' 
 faitor on the gallows-tree M^ ' *"' '° ^'^'^^ "» » 
 "" end, and I obtained he kin^l T"""' *"^''"=' ™^ ^' 
 ,. This happy settlemen (fori: ^^ '; 'f '" "is Court, 
 '"tie to the liking of one ZZ T, "''"<''' ") ™s 
 
 «'a'ecr ,e Marnnon had ece^d 'I T' k"""^ "^^ S^ 
 join the prince's army at clrh!. ^ *' ^'""™°"' 'o 
 Plementpropertohismao^: :;■"', '"^ '"°'^-' -™- 
 spearmen and nine Lincoln arch v™~"™'^'''' "'^'^^ 
 of this following not one was flr^ ?„ " "' ' "^^^ ''">^"' 
 *e Fenman, so sorely hid ,t^"® '""" °'"^ "^''^''^'d 
 estate diminished. Now mel in* °"'" °' ""'' '""'"' 
 
 k^Eos" were not such barbaraf. ,"" '" ""=^= '»'"«• Bu, tl°e 
 P»«<1. They were cons.r'cW Lv ,"™""' "' " commonly ,* 
 ta^Eh and Berwick and he To : tf L™? '" "" '=«'« "' ' "« 
 woo,lc„ lattice strengthened whhT i"""''"" ' "-ey were made of 
 
 '"-"tar (« , ^ 4 ":?«r ?'/""'■''■='' "''"-".tare 
 
 Scots ,„ l.erin,p,is„„n,e„,,K„g Edw" t"""."""" ""= "S""" ° 
 ta engaged two wailing.w;„en " ^I J'*"'"" "»" "■=« should 
 two vales and a foo, pfge "sober H '" '"'"^ »"■• "« Bay" 
 
 a"d for other things necessary ft it "1 "°'°"»' '-> -"ke herS 
 P»lsrave.s M;oc„„,e„,s and' Keco,|sT',' °' '"='''""•''"■ "-S« 
 Scotland,' p. 35S._E„. °""''' '""«rat,„g ,he History „f 
 
i Crest. 
 
 W write about to 
 among the great 
 10 man might of 
 e now dared to 
 ' daughters, had 
 d been doomed, 
 le by imprison- 
 'm; while Nigel 
 re to suffer as a 
 lerefore, was at 
 ;Join his Court, 
 deemed it) was 
 mong us. Sir 
 2 summons to 
 
 modest com- 
 -namely, three 
 I have shown, 
 e old Michael 
 
 this ancient 
 2nt of wealth 
 le hath with- 
 
 ■he memory of 
 «iies. But tlie 
 commonly sup- 
 astles of Rox- 
 were made of 
 "■ a comfortable 
 
 Buchan y cit 
 tlie Queen of 
 
 there should 
 nd not gay, " 
 'ake her bed, 
 imber. " — See 
 
 History of 
 
 The Golden Basnet. o 
 
 ol 
 
 should be exposed to .ucl, slights and ,a „! ItZ 
 
 ;vi. « .,. .„g a„d obtre'His'corisr •:; 
 
 Douglas Who, , WaTdee^ed, la3 ^IllM: ^I:: a" 
 
 Li^l/nn cf-ertdTe^"-^ '" "^ - 
 -son. the longest, afhe' a te w ^0^ TXl T'" 
 and the dreariest of his life ' ^ '°"'''«^''' 
 
 J°:ht"r t^:;r;t Te? ^ ^'' t'^ - 
 
 Noe,t,-de one who. eo„.ng: faCd Cu^thXr :; 
 
 Sir Walter's impatience. Through all th/ 
 
 aucu™., „o^hs no word had" ted' h' tleT Z a"."^ 
 
 es hfsh^ouldT' ^"' r"^ *= ''"'•^^' '-'"'"« d 
 rest lie should have passed clean out of her thought, 
 
 mcnly burns with a far nrore consuming flleT But ," 
 east of the Creumas.on of the Blessed Saviour,' brou.lu 
 
 appointed to l,„ ''*' ^°'^' "'"" she had 
 
 appointed to be esquire to her knight-errant. 
 
 ■* 1st January. 
 
 « : il 
 
 i" 
 
 hi 
 
82 
 
 The Chevalier of the Splendid Crest. 
 
 Sohd proof this that she had him still in „em„rv l,ut 
 hre was jnore to boot. GeolTrey was the bea^7'o a 
 o t Th "/.""■""y-' •" 'he knigh.-a basnet, ^wi, 
 
 «t and hfr: '""'"='' """ *= "^«« fashFo , ridy 
 8 it and bnghtly burn.shed, and with a e-mail of glitter! 
 ^'g l.nks to protect eheeks and ncek. Vborc more 
 over, an ornament whereof no man had seen he li e" 
 Lefore, a be.t our gallants have since that time assumed 
 such devices to bear in battle and the lists F^^^ 
 tor of the headpiece rose the similitude f'a f a^on w ,! 
 
 eiir:o/'"^;;r«^' ■■- ="-' -" --red : 
 
 cr rrif t , ^ ™' " "^"""'"8 masterpiece of the 
 Keld!, h T™" ""' ^"™'='"«h; and this the Li '„f 
 Kendal had caused to be fashioned in London town of 
 set purpose to bestow upon her lover. 
 
 Aye, but there was more to hnnt- t., i. 
 measure had the damoyseV^prX '^IT^CZ 
 
 degree cZ 1 f"""^ ^"°"S °" '^^'^s of high 
 degree Geoffrey, therefore, with the helmet, delivered a 
 letter from under Mistress Challice>s own hand rf r 
 a verity. Sir Walter, bavin, no more Tf k , J ' " 
 other noble knight's. was^noTarto^d eiptr^l^t'*: 
 purport thereof, being made known to him bV he Itle 
 sc.u,re^.d greatly stir and encourage him. /hus rfn the 
 
 sir^sr^^sts:^^^^^^^^^ 
 
 hlmself-tly Itr'^r^Lli^^^r ^^^^^^ - 
 perilous place'inThe kin.' Hn"''- ' """""^ ""'° ""'""'« 
 ra.co„ fam^ous. Ma^^ C^oStS Zwfof^™-^: 
 
.rest, 
 
 1 memory, hut 
 le bearer of a 
 basnet, to wit, 
 fashion, richly 
 (HH of ghtter- 
 t bore, more- 
 seen the like 
 time assumed 
 >• From the 
 a falcon with 
 covered with 
 rpiece of the 
 s the Lily of 
 don town of 
 
 ti marvellous 
 her Ailwyn's 
 ' wise, which 
 dies of high 
 delivered a 
 d. This, of 
 larship than 
 er; yet the 
 ^ the gentle 
 bus ran the 
 
 aveth bread. 
 t and I sent 
 t him prove 
 •o the most 
 2 make the 
 irwentwater 
 
 T/ie Golden Basnet. 
 
 83 
 
 ^2 ■'>= Kni,,,. in ,hcir g„„d keeping and s.rong.hen his 
 
 "Given at our castle of Kendal on 
 this the eve of Saint Thomas » 
 in the xxxiv year uf Edward 
 of England." 
 
 My friends-those of you who arc still yom.-nnv 
 .omc of you who, like n.yself, arc withered a^d dry-™ 
 you no. understand how greatly sueh a letter L t"i 
 s..rred the heart of Marmion ? Fain was he to r d" orth 
 
 stable of Curanoek, and might not quit his post, even on 
 o kn,g t,y ,„ ,„,^^^^^^ Well he knew that the L°c 
 
 hacked from t-h 7°"'^" ""'''■™'" ^P"' "'O"" he 
 hacked frorn h,s heels, and his name struck dishonoured 
 
 from the roll of knighthood He led Geoffrey oc Nev 11^ 
 
 up to the battlements, seeking to be alone foal , 
 
 w.th one so fresh from his mistress's dear presence and 
 
 quest,„ned him closely about how she fared whe 'up „ 
 
 she busted herself, what guests had been in the 0^^^ 
 
 and many other trifles such as mount into m men a^ 
 
 soon as a man hath given away his heart. 
 
 .,J, T""^- '*' ^'''"''■" """'h '= Marmion, as thev 
 hill VI r'' """"'■' ■■ '• 8-^0 "P» <l e brlw,' 
 fame? Is yon a dragon, think you, crouching in tha 
 
 o:t •: bt"';h?:"^k ' r^ '-^^^ ^ ^i-esseddai; 
 
 or s ,t but the bank where men cut peats? Is that a 
 
 yonder" ;■ " '""'"' ^"^'"' =" ^'^ back coming :er 
 yonder dreary moor, against whom I may ride single- 
 
 ^ 2 1st December. 
 
 I 
 
I 
 
 i 
 
 84 
 
 T/ie Chevalier of the Splendid Crest. 
 
 ,iii. f s iw.sii t 
 
 every mountaui-track, yet never hiv,. T . ""^' "=°" > 
 terrible than a parce.'o'f she h -rd pa^ir^ ^tT^ 
 or a kinfi's mcssenfier hurryin. to 2 t ^ ; '' 
 
 Fame-quotha- annepKclZ ^ despatches, 
 
 win fa„e-by the rood ' Mists Char"'""^^ "'" '° 
 bid. e™.Mrys,.od across tS^^^^^^^^^^^ 
 
 "Sir kn.ght," replied the squire who,,, h.-lf'- 
 had fashioned for his duties a ,d i , ," „,^„ ""'™ 
 ready speech, " I have learnt ^^lZ\ ^ ^^"'^ "^ 
 
 co^e seeking'a ci.evlh r C ™ hr;,f 'I "" 7'" '" 
 seized." '^^'^^^^ ^e sought and 
 
 " O excellent youth ' " criV(1 q,v wr i^ , . 
 gladdens me to find that n™' L 'h s'h T"^' "'' 
 the maxims of true chivalry 7^2 ^''" '™'"'^'^ '" 
 •".-.y reveal ,0 me how kn^h.-efrltr* ^7'^ ""'"'"""^ 
 by one who is tied by theto^' '^ '° ^^ P"'''^"™"^'' 
 ror^^en land like a UtdtfltoTsX';" '" '"^ °°''- 
 Oeom-cy s handsome countenance fell 
 I'orgLve me, Neville," continued Mtirmion " r 
 not weary you with my complaint. Thrwe;e . \T 
 rew.ird to one who has brouohr m„ ,1 ™"1 
 
 heard for months. See 1 tt Z "' '"" ' ''»- 
 
 letter runs; let me get he wordrofTb "'°'' '°" ""^ 
 you Shall ,0 to refresh and rlp^ at^ X'tr^ "'^" 
 
 tHMti^i^irut'-r^ttiftr*^^^^^^^^ 
 
 -idehi. Wellni,l:';tL",oX£eLt: 
 
► r 
 
 4 
 
 '■ Crest. 
 
 ith the wind ? I 
 ic five darksome 
 combe, scour i 
 ^en aught more 
 to Lanark fair, 
 'itii despatches. 
 )atience; but to 
 5 might as well 
 l^aiais." 
 
 his fair cousin 
 ht the grace of 
 is not wont to 
 be sought and 
 
 bitterly. " It 
 'een trained in 
 'ur philosophy 
 be performed 
 ^ '\n this God- 
 
 >"• " r must 
 'cre a scurvy 
 news I have 
 3re how this 
 )te, and then 
 travel." 
 
 ■ 
 
 months after 
 that my lord 
 f his life at 
 cr, I riding 
 nee de Brus 
 
 The Golden Basnet. 
 
 85 
 
 had rcljellcd against his hV lord, and .,,111 ,he traitor 
 «s at large. Some men .said he was hiding in the isles 
 a the .est, wherefore the king's galleys under liy 
 of the Glens d,d most diligently search those stormy seas 
 through that w,„te, yet to no good purpose. Other" 
 agatn spre.td the rumour that the false King of .S ots hid 
 passed over to Norway, and would return no more to 
 rouhle the realm. Of his ehief friends, the Earl of Men 
 .e,th,S,r Patrick d. Graham, and a few other rashl" s 
 who had been drawn ...to his desperate venture, had bea 
 recetved to the king's peaee_so great was my mas. " 
 mercy upon pen.tent wrongdoers. liu, others had si,n,ed 
 beyond redemption. Those who were proved to have 
 home arms agants. de Valence, or to have been accom' 
 phces m the most foul murder of John Comyn sutreZ 
 Che traitor's doom. Three knights and twelve o tos o 
 gentle b,rth were hanged on a gibbet at Newcastle in one 
 day; but the one whose fate I most deeply deplored ^ 
 nay I mourn for him to this hour-was gentle! gallant 
 
 to spare h,s hfe,-to strain the virtue of mercy in favour 
 of one who had done good service in the past. nZ 
 d,d Edward show himself more stern. Rafsing hbrse 
 
 \^t^\l '"■:•'='■ " ^'"^" "■' -l-^dyfeturnng 
 had confined h,m, h,s eyes flashed and seemed to draw 
 nearer together, as he said— 
 
 " Mercy I «tid you, Maurice ? Aye, as I hope for 
 n^ercy so shall I ever show it-even to . dog, were he t 
 
 tj. h t" '" "™l^Sainst myself-never! Pactum 
 serve; he who cannot k eep coven ant shall never live as 
 liegeman of mine." 
 
 The prince had returned to Carlisle by this time, where 
 
 
 '^H 
 
 
 ■ 
 
 
 ' ■ 
 
 ' 
 
 1 
 
liH 
 
 86 
 
 fill 
 
 II 
 
 i 
 
 The Chevalier of the Splendid Crest. 
 
 by the king's orders a numerous army was retained 9. • 
 that the rebellion was thus at an end TCT ^"^^ 
 
 Englishman who holds his oa.h sacrtd T " "° 
 
 if r T „ K K T "'"^ "^^ '° ""^o me and more also 
 " Tori f. K-^ example of breakmg mine own ! " 
 
 your vot 3 ^''r^lfliie?^" '■' T "" ™- - -^ *- 
 
 M^ihr^intCwi'hrd*" 'h™ "'' ^^""•-• 
 
 am I not Kin^ of W I u ''" *'^ ""'"• ^hat! 
 
 can a people pay to a king whom they never 3 'e' '°"; 
 J'l a distant cloud ? Th^ i • j see— a god 
 
 kingdom of h °ve„ in^h ^"^ "" °^ ^'=°"""'' '^ "' ">e 
 
 iorl thereof del yh's c """""' '' '''''' *"' '^ ">e 
 
' Crest 
 
 etained. Seeing 
 icame somewhat 
 rn to the sou^h, 
 'e might restore 
 vehemently that 
 ^er. 
 
 s come to this 
 !^ there is no 
 ? Know you 
 2 dull ears of 
 my Council at 
 . and by the 
 'ged the blood 
 and more also 
 breaking their 
 ; own ! " 
 1 can say that 
 have suffered 
 
 art, Maurice, 
 nad. What ! 
 ack from the 
 jress through 
 s, think you, 
 r see — a god 
 md is as the 
 that if the 
 lere will be 
 nore to me 
 md be not 
 lobbe ! " 
 le banks of 
 read across 
 
 The Golden Basnet. 
 
 87 
 
 the meadows, while prayer was made daily in the churches 
 that the kmg might recover strength. 
 
 One day there came to me a letter from le Marmion, 
 imploring me to lay his case before the king He had 
 wished for long, he told me, to write me a letter, but, 
 except Geoffrey de Neville, there was not one of all his 
 company who knew pencraft better than himself: but at 
 ast there had come to his tower a mendicant friar bound 
 for Carlisle, who willingly lent his service as scribe. Le 
 Marmion had applied already to de Valence, asking to be 
 reheved from his charge so that he might do some exploit 
 upon the kings enemies, whethe' .. Scotland or other- 
 where; but for answer he got only a command to attend 
 to his duty as constable of Upper Nithsdale. Then he 
 went on to mform me about that of which I had not 
 heard tell before, namely, of the gift and letter received 
 from Mistress Challice. He urged me to crave the king's 
 grace to enable him to prove worthy of his devoir to the 
 damoysel. 
 
 Now it had been more than once on the point of my 
 tongue to speak to my master concerning the affairs of 
 Wal er and Challice (I felt towards them in some sort 
 as though they had been my own children, and in my 
 houghts their titles of courtesy fell into disuse), and well 
 I knew what solace the king would draw in his sick-bed 
 from a tale of gentle love; yet I refrained, calling to 
 mind the saying of my own franklins in Staffordshire- 
 
 " Who mells in what another does. 
 Had best go home and shoe his goose." 
 
 But well I knew the practice of the mendicant brethren 
 of mine order-how they were used to be more eager to 
 =pxcuu ngnt tidings than to preach the Gospel; wherefore 
 
 ! 
 . t 
 [I 
 
 ^" i 
 
 il ■ 
 
 ! ■I 
 
 iti- 
 
 
:(f 
 
 88 
 
 The Chevalier of the Splendid Crest. 
 
 of wlir '"f '''' ^^ "^'^"^ °^ *h^ -riter and bearer 
 
 'IT ^"""""^"y i» *e doings of noble fanfli s tm 
 a 1 the more surely by reason that the Lady of the Hon" 
 of Kendal was such a great personage in the borde 
 reg,on_her dalesmen, easily to be known by the r yeHow 
 doublets turned up with scarlet, being well know 17 
 army then assembled at Carlisle'with fhriLg " '" "" 
 So I hung back no more, but opened the matter unto 
 
 ai^edtt ::r'"™' ™^^ ^''°- «■•-•-":::: 
 Rei^i's^oi.hLSVrrrast.rTsZ'otr'- 
 
 sangdieu ! but the fire spreads " °'^"~ 
 
 prelX'-t IdXiaiTlif^'"^^"'-' °^ ^°- 
 Chevalier, than whom ^u^Gr ^e l' mriTutd"! '' 
 no more dutiful and loyal subject He K t ' 
 
 obtain the royal licence to l.r\- P"Poses to 
 
 " A 11 . "cence to make his suite." 
 
 .I„n T K ^' ''T^^ ^''"■''"'■" ^""^"^d 'he kin, "„or 
 
 " , "'^'^°- Ah, Maurice, old friend i I fear m„ ,h,, 
 was the last sanglier I shall ever face Bufthe 
 »-^ sets some store on his services o .sk 1 T"' 
 -est wards as his guerdon-aye, a^d one of t fa leT 
 
 as I remember well." raiiest, 
 
 "There is no harm done vet ^W,^" r r ^ 
 -ore. at least, than must air;;'S;„L:tt,: ",? 
 
rest. 
 
 -r and bearer 
 Jrer's appren- 
 of it before 
 ^lee - maidens 
 f the loves of 
 Cendal. 
 delight taken 
 families, but 
 •f the Honor 
 the border 
 their yellow 
 nown in the 
 
 • 
 
 matter unto 
 tention was 
 
 3yal forest, 
 he other — 
 
 It of your 
 mds on a 
 ssured, has 
 )roposes to 
 
 ing, "nor 
 me at my 
 f me that 
 the young 
 tie of our 
 he fairest, 
 
 The Golden Basnet. 
 
 89 
 
 ed; 
 
 no 
 
 Innri- 
 
 young knights are allowed to carry eyes in their heads 
 and damoysels roses in their cheeks. Besides, even if 
 these two were to prove of one purpose, your Grace 
 might well have a worse lord of Kendal than Walter le 
 Marmion. Bethink you, sire, the levy of Kendal is 
 nothing less than ten score of bowmen, a score and a 
 half of qiiarellers,^ and three hundred of the best light 
 horsemen in the realm. Your Grace will doubtless 
 ponder well before adding such a force to the following 
 of some powerful baron." 
 
 "Well, well, Maurice," the king said, "there is time 
 enough, as you say. Meanwhile, let us have this fire- 
 eater of the Fens to our Court — this Amadis of thine 
 — this raiser-up of fallen monarchs — this vanquisher of 
 rich maiden's fancies. And look you, gossip, how were 
 it if we were to desire the attendance of the Lily of 
 Kendal also ? 'Tis but a ride of two score and ten miles 
 for her — write her a summons. Pardie ! tell the fire- 
 eater that he may come and the damoysel that she nmst ; 
 but harkye! not a word to either of them about the 
 other." 
 
 I was well pleased that this diversion should have 
 fallen at this time, so might my lord the king withdraw 
 his mind from certain troubles which, in measure as the 
 Scottish coil resolved itself, had arisen to cause him and all 
 of us grievous disquiet. It is known to all men thai Prince 
 Edward of Wales— Edward of Carnarvon as he was cleped 
 of the commonalty — had brought the royal housrinFo 
 grievous contempt by reason not only of his debaucheries 
 (for one does not judge the hot blood of youth too harshly), 
 but of the lewd and insolent comrades which he chose 
 for his pleasures. This prince himself, of noble aspect 
 
 ^ Crossbowmen. 
 
 \ I 
 
 
 ; i 
 
 i 
 
 
 
90 
 
 The Chevalier of the Splendid Crest. 
 
 :) .i 
 
 \> I 
 
 •>t this time, and in stature hardly inferior tn .!,„ i,- 
 
 dwh n TaTV::: '"f '"'>"" "- -^ '^" 
 
 George and ourVX ZT CTT "' ''"" 
 most masterfnl n„H . i- '^'"' ^'""' '° *e 
 
 following I af . hi „ K r"""« ^'"""'^^ '■" Ws 
 
 hadbroughteZLo hi 7 ^"<' . "»*"»- P^son 
 verily if la.han s'C petted" "'" "' •'™^^' ^"^ 
 
 ''athbee„,,oappear::e:::h ',Lne:::;rn"th°"'K'^ 
 were sureJv he T^h^ - •, "^^"^^^ °^ man, then this 
 
 -e anrotus^lTnrrr ^e^ ^^r''^ 
 
 men saw that he' was T l^ ' '""" '"°"'' '"" ^^^n 
 
 the prince lint °''" ™'* ™')' ™™^'="or of 
 
 ruffler ta' ter *" "T^ *"'■" => '>°=' «f -°mmo„ 
 
 Jfflffifs, tapsters, p.mps, and bullies, to the e,<-l„=,v, r 
 
 c" re-ar:^ t:'"^ '"^'"''^'' *"''-~ 
 
 -vcreign ."d t sXinT^^^ir '^ " "™^ °- 
 
 ;o^^.retr4rr-'^rste--rtr 
 
 hmits of his DatiVnr^ Ko^ K inends— but the 
 
 iiib patience had been touched at lq«f tu 
 pnnce, d„„„g „is campaign i„ ScCand, had s fed I ! 
 
 hatred and the ataor^T ""' °' ''"^''*'"»" '"'° 
 
 t«npt. The kin "n7, °" '°'""«" '"'^ »'° """ 
 F -ine Kings proclamation of nardnn tr^ fK 
 
 monalty of Scotland had been set n.S ''°"'' 
 
 Ida Deen set aside; many innocent 
 
! 
 
 The Golden Basnet. 
 
 91 
 
 persons (or those guilty of rebellion only in the second 
 and third degrees) had been hanged by the orders of the 
 said Pierre ; the farmer's crops had been wasted in wan- 
 tonness, their cattle and goods seized without payment 
 to support the soldiery — a thing which our sovereign 
 lord did ever most straightly forbid — nay, but the wives 
 and daughters of orderly burgesses in the towns had 
 been most shamefully entreated ; whereof the effect was 
 soon afterwards to become manifest — namely, that many 
 faithful lieges did incline to seek redress at the hands of 
 Robert de Brus. The king, therefore, the true source 
 of these disorders having been notified to him, did sum- 
 mon the prince before him about the feast of the Puri- 
 fication of our Lady, most earnestly rebuked him for the 
 like abuse of his authority, and thereafter, in the presence 
 of the Council, pronounced decree of perpetual banish- 
 ment upon Sieur Pierre de Gaveston. 
 
 Rejoicing then, as I have said, that le Marmion's 
 letter came at a time when my master, having disposed 
 of this grievous matter, could take pleasure in affairs of 
 brighter aspect, I wrote to that chevalier and to Mistress 
 Challice, bidding them to attend the Court which my lord 
 the king was to hold upon the first day of the new year.^ 
 
 The king's health continued to amend, the dry winds 
 of March seeming to abate the swellings ; and, albeit 
 unable as yet to mount on horseback, he took the air 
 daily in his travelling litter, el Bravo being led before 
 him, for he dearly loved to refresh his eyes by looking 
 upon that horse. 
 
 ■ Vv 
 
 ^ Sir Maurice's modern readers will bear in mind that, in his day, 
 the new year began on March 15. — Ed. 
 
I f 
 
 92 
 
 mu lort lie JSi4. ^ °^ ^™'"' '« fnance „t 
 
 season, there was little enough f! ' ""• "' "'■>' 
 
 and women's tongue Th/ V""^ "'^"'^ ">°"Sl>'= 
 reverence for their betters h T^T~' '-^'> with little 
 they would, and w r stirl'"' '"" °''' ^ ' f°-« 
 I'allad of the Lilv nfT ?, °"«'' "" *'= ««ets the 
 Splendid Crest It w'p'" '"" ""= Chevalier of the 
 had not cor,ir' to th" ea""'?""^'"' "■^' "^ -«" 
 •hat guise, else^ight'hln s h Tvel^ Tf ""^ '''"^ ■■" 
 course, for the most gracious 1,^7 . '' P'^P"'™^ 
 justly jealous of theirVre ^1..^ ^ "' ™"' '° "^ 
 
 I heard a mighty tumul ^nd ^ ^'"°""= '='""<=h, 
 
 ^ 14th March. 
 
ft'l 
 
 y of the 
 
 church, 
 
 Botcher 
 
 ado, I 
 
 Tsemen 
 ■ crowd 
 
 In Merry Carlisle, 
 
 93 
 
 of townsfolk — men and girls as well as soldiers from all 
 quarters— shouting viva ! and waving caps and kerchiefs. 
 At her right rein rode Sir Blaise de Strickland, her 
 chamberlain, easily to be known by the white escallops 
 broidered on his black surcoat ; but by his features not 
 his own mother, I'se warrant, could have made him out 
 by reason of the quaint fashion of his chapelle-de-fer, 
 which bore a nose-piece after a kind not in use since the 
 days of King Richard of blessed memory. The Lily, in 
 a close-fitting riding-robe of scarlet cloth, was pale, and 
 seemed to wonder what the turmoil might signify. I saw 
 her turn first to Sir Blaise, as if to ask him to explain ; 
 then, checking herself with a smile, she spoke to the page 
 riding at her other rein. He, casting quick eyes around, 
 saw me standing in the crowd, and, knowing my features, 
 pushed his palfrey towards me and said — 
 
 "Madame would know the cause of this imwonted 
 tumult." 
 
 "Tell her," I replied, "that the Lily of Kendal is dear 
 to the people of Carlisle, and they have heard bruit of the 
 golden helmet." 
 
 A deep flush rose to her beautiful brow when the 
 lad reported the tidings: then she turned pale as be- 
 fore, yet smiled at me, and so rode forward, erect and 
 calm. 
 
 Now I knev/ that le Marmion should ride into the city 
 that afternoon from the north ; and that if, as was sure to 
 be, he wore the golden basnet and were to pass up the 
 street in that flashing headgear, the bruit would run 
 straightway that the Chevalier of the Splendid Crest had 
 come to town, and, do as I might, it would come to the 
 Lily's hearing. Now, inasmuch as I plainly understood 
 my lord the king's will to be that neither should the Lily 
 
 ! .: i 
 
 I i 
 
 k: 
 
 
 I 
 
94 
 
 '"" "'"'"""■ "f"": Splendid Crest. 
 
 hear that her knight was in r, r , 
 ■^"-M be „,„ J knTJn "to * ,"" "'^' "'' ""™' 
 encounter him ere yet he reachln' I "' "' ^^"'"^ 'o 
 I ™ght conduct him quietHo If r'^ «••"=' ^° '^a. 
 ;Poken for hin, i„ Saint Cuthbe t', il^"'^ ' '""' b- 
 Towards evening, therefore n T"^' '""''"'>■ "y <>»•"■ 
 ""ehn, I ,p„,f', oufr't'eR '.'""=" '" "-« 
 wooden bridge that spans the ^'^^""i"''' ='"<'" the 
 'he hamlet of S.anwix a ol he „oTh ""' =° *^°"8h 
 "0' ridden a league before I a!v ^ '" '°^^- ^ '>"<' 
 approaching, „hom I soon di ^1 .' "°""'"'^ '"™"ers 
 -nd his squire Geoffrey foHot-T" '° ''^ «'^ "'-'•er 
 Michael the Fentaan. leadfei" ' '^ ^P'^^™^" -"d 
 as I had foreseen, wore "he h r^'t'""^- ^^='"-. 
 famous; so ,f,er »reeti„„ >, '"'" ^e was to make 
 
 -d. if I ^trj:/:zi':T'::y' ' "'» "» »* 
 
 -Jhat I told him. nrus ; :: t' : '™"^ °' '-h 
 'ord fte ing he accounted :;;„'„?""" "' "^ 
 
 -" - tt^Vn^Th?^ '' 5- - ao not 
 
 " Sangdieu ! therp ;<: r,^. 
 »ha. favour a lady ciooses"'!" 'P^"^"'' »y right to 
 ".ind to meet me ^ .Z J in 1 V"'''' '' ""* ^ 
 
 "Somy. Sir Walter." nje"^"^'-'-" 
 
 question of challenge or ch^^ T"""" ' "''"'^ i= "o 
 
 'he king, hath he it'not in'sf '"'"''^- '' ^™ disobey 
 
 Mist^ss Challiee for e e "mo p'^r '° .^T ^°" '™" 
 
 ■ ;"d.- I am not without ho"e th! TT "' ""^' "^ 
 
 favour on your suit if ^ """S '"" '"ok 
 
 ^-e. Sce,'dcCmrwri^r,^K""'^*-=- 
 "de covered in a furred cap? '"°"' ''''"'= 
 
In Merry Carlisle. q^ 
 
 "Would you have me seem ashamed of my lady's 
 gift ? quoth he, still chafing. 
 
 "Tush! man," said I, "she never bade you sleep in 
 
 ' A r' u "^^^ '^ ^''* 'P'"' ' ^^ ^^^'^ed by a friend, 
 
 and lay the pretty headgear aside till the morrow " 
 
 Very loth was Sir Walter to doff his precious basnet 
 yet m the end he allowed Geoffrey to unloose the fasten- 
 
 Michael drew from the valise. 
 
 "Keep your hand over that falcon crest while we ride 
 hrough the streets," I whispered to Geoffrey, adding, as 
 I laid a finger on his arm-" for the sake of your fair 
 cousin of Kendal." ' 
 
 T u^^A ^°T^ .""'" ""^^ ^"'"'^ ^'^ understand, knowing that 
 I held authority at the Court, and we rode on, Geoffrey 
 going before his master, as befits an esquire 
 /'I suppose," said AValter gloomily, "that the kin^ 
 views my pretensions with ill favour, as he takes obiec- 
 tion to the basnet." ^ 
 
 "Nay," replied I, "but he has spoken to me no word 
 of approval or disfavour in the matter. It was his wish 
 merely tha. you should not display it in public on this 
 occasion." 
 
 "The king surely has affairs of greater moment in hand 
 than that he should busy himself about the apparel of a 
 private gentleman." ^^ 
 
 mood. I have ever befriended your interest, and am not 
 going to desert it now. AH that I can tell you is to be 
 of good hope and be guided for the nonce by me " 
 
 "I am a graceless fellow. Sir Maurice," exclaimed the 
 young kmght, brightening, and turning his blue eyes 
 franklv unon mine. "I — ^ - - ^ 
 
 upon 
 
 ^'e you already far more than 
 
 Ml 
 
 
 
 •i.! 
 
 ( 
 
 ' 
 
 if . 
 
 Ml 
 
 i 
 
9« 
 
 The an;,licr of the Spkndid Creu. 
 
 So we rode back to the town ^; 
 -.Oh was s.t before we s^IZTZI T'^' ''"' 
 I l«rf Ihe p,ssword, nnd shouted "nl ^"^'^"S-'"^'. but 
 ^entn,d-s "Qui vive ? " where,, 1 , '''^'"•d » to the 
 down, the gate swung open n„H '"'""''"*<= ™™hled 
 '■ns streets, no „,a„ knoCi ^tj^'T"' "" *= <'"''- 
 *at_Sir W.,ter ,e Mar.ion tdl^: ^^Xr"'"'- 
 
 Whencesoever it m k 
 Echvard of Carnarvon Tath 1"'"'. T P'"""' ><'"& 
 Plays and „„„„„,.„,3,' wh ei ":e s, tV"" "" ^'"^' 
 ''.s ttme and substanee, it w"s no, . ■ '° '"'"='' "' 
 sire, whom men called Edward T '"u""'"' ''°"' ^'" 
 "•-.er ever brooked such 1. r^'"""'"- ^^ "^ 
 Palicnee, holding that ril ^"«amment with little 
 
 found by. rulerlith hawf orT"";°\""«'" °"'^ ''^ 
 did most heartily relish the Z Nevertheless he 
 
 ""'e strategics, Ld iefly t're'a' "' "'"""' °'" "^ 
 ^bl= iove affairs; whereforl was m:ri T tT-' """'"''- 
 common pains in preparing hi. , / ""^ """^ "' "» 
 
 whence he proposed to derive so "'' "''* '' ^''""'O". 
 On the moTOw after he "' ,"""" "" -"'"'>■ 
 
 Walter leMarmion from h^or™! 'r^''""^'^' "^ ^ir 
 from the south-bein "ht firsT^ ■•'nd of Mistress Challiee 
 '307-a Council was^ pi" a to' "' ^"' "^ S^- 
 noon; but my lord the" ng d Lrd ' '" '"" "^'^'^ 
 the travellers to his presence at T' '" ™'""°'> 
 
 king was lodged i„ th grelt , t'l'" " """• ^'^e 
 Co^cil was wont to asslble,r:' rg^;-': 
 
'■est, 
 
 • have learnt 
 sooth, I am 
 — basnet or 
 
 recly. Tfie 
 
 hergate, but 
 
 ird" to the 
 
 ?e rumbled 
 
 ' the dark- 
 
 I ourselves, 
 le. 
 
 ■ 
 
 ient king, 
 for stage- 
 much of 
 from his 
 My old 
 
 ith little 
 only be 
 
 leless he 
 
 g out of 
 honour- 
 
 ig at no 
 
 farmion, 
 
 rth. 
 
 of Sir 
 -hallicG 
 •f gruce 
 
 before 
 
 Jmmon 
 
 The 
 
 so the 
 
 iber, a 
 
 In Meny Carlisle. ^y 
 
 throne being set for the king upon a dais at one end 
 thereof. Openmg off this chamber through an archway 
 was a smaller one in a turret, wherein I and my cbks 
 transacted our business. This little room gave upon a 
 separate staircase, at the bottom whereof wfs a postern 
 d or opening upon a private avenue leading into^H e^r 
 S ea. There was a falhng arras over the archway 
 
 so that the two apartments seemed as one; but when it 
 was lowered, no person in either of these rooms could 
 perceive that it was connected with the other. My lo d 
 hek.ngd.eeted me to have the hangings drawn d'own' 
 and then to cause the Lady of Kendal to be ushereJ 
 through the postern into the turret-chamber, so th she 
 might be within hearing when Sir Walter entered he 
 presence from the main entrance. He bade me lo in 
 struct the knight to don his golden basnet 
 
 enttlld^ihe'r"""; '";'' '' ^'^ ^PP"""^^^ ^°"^ ^h^ king 
 entered the Conncil-chamber, seating himself, not upon 
 
 the hrone but in a padded elbow-chair beside the heanh 
 Th n he desired all to withdraw, except the Prince of 
 Wales and myself, that he might confer with his constable 
 of Upper Nithsdale. I heard the latch of the turret-door 
 raised, whereby I knew that Mistress Challice was at he 
 post, and presently the chamberlain in a loud vote 
 announced-««Sir Walter le Marmion de ShakingdoT" 
 The knight came before the king uncovered, Geoffrey 
 ^cT^^'Z^'f ''' ^°^'^" ^^^-^ behind him. ' 
 
 bent th k tf "'' ''^ '^"^' '" '^^ y-"g -- 
 bem the knee before him, "we greet you well. What 
 
 udings bring you from our realm of Scotland?" 
 
 None, sire, beyond what your Grace already knows, 
 " all IS nnipif- n tVinf i„„j » ^ » 
 
 that 
 
 quiet in that land." 
 
 
 G 
 
 :1 iif.. . 
 
k'-» 
 
 
 9» 
 
 y/« n,„.„/,h. „j-f/^ SpUmlU Crest. 
 
 w-u,. ..I eve no., , ro."::;' j; c;; ::: 
 
 '« Vn. ,v ■ I ^^ "° ''fe'" "^^ action." 
 
 vet It IS no heavier for you thm f.^r ^fk 
 
 some vow you have taken on you or som// 
 
 been comnm.ed to my unworthy care bv a Th ? '' 
 
 your Grace, domini nsT;, "e ,':„'7; P""™/ P-' "f 
 and all my complaint i. th^^ Culocrtno^o; ™.°"' 
 deeds of high valour may be do,™" """ """^''•^ 
 
 " And this noble dame— we would fain ),„ i 
 from vour liiK » „:^ .u , • " "^^r her name 
 
 wl u ■' ""^ '""«• "'^'^'^"■"g indifference 
 
 Walter hesttated-looked at me-I made a In „f 
 assent-whereupon he said boldly- ^" "' 
 
 "Mistress Challice de Roos of k-o„h,i u 
 your Grace." '"'^"' """"■ ^ P'^ase 
 
 "So!" cried the king; "by Saint Neofscros,. but ,hi. 
 touches us somewhat shrewdly Know v 
 -anight, that the Lady o. Ken'dal H^r r '^^ ST', "I 
 ward, and .hat it is our prerogative and pu po;e o i^f 
 
 i-e Marnnon winced. 
 
In Merry Carlisle. 
 
 99 
 
 "Under favour, sire." auot he •« th,>r io .,,. 
 . ,, . . . ' ' 4"0' ne, there is no question 
 
 at th.« t,me of marriage, seeing that the lady would henr 
 no word from me on that head. R.t I conce.ve that 
 your Craces prerogative is in nowise infringed by such 
 service as any gentlenmn may render to the lady who 
 honours him with her commands." 
 
 " No question of marriage, quotha ! " laughed the king. 
 
 who, I could see, was thoroughly enjoying the comedy. 
 
 Aleai, you that if our will were that you should wed 
 
 with Mistress Challice, you would think twice before ful- 
 
 filling it ?" 
 
 "Sire, again under favour," answered Walter " I would 
 set no store by such a boon-nay, I would value it not 
 one whit-unless the lady's will were the same as that of 
 your Grace." 
 
 While these two spoke, the Prince of Wales stood 
 under the window, mightily unconcerned with what was 
 passing, busily smoothing the feathers of a falcon on his 
 wrist. 
 
 ;'Sir Maurice," said the king, turning to me, and 
 pointing to the tapestry between the chambers, " let us 
 see the other side of the shield." 
 
 Seizing the cord I drew aside the hanging, and there 
 stood the Lily of Kendal-fair, exceeding fair, and straight 
 as a young fir-tree. The prince ceased to caress his hawk : 
 le Marm.on started forward, I know not with what purpose 
 save the natural force of like to like, but I checked him 
 by pulhng his sleeve. Challice waited for no command, 
 but moved with a firm strp before the king 
 
 " We cannot rise,"" said he, " to embrace our ward-not 
 for want of go..dwill, but from feebleness of frame. But 
 she will suffer us to kiss her hand." 
 
 "Nay, sire," quoth the Lily, "let me do my reverence- » 
 
 : ., , 
 
'!i 
 
 w m 
 
 •00 r& a«a/«r o/ae Splcdid Cnst. 
 
 and kneeling before .he king she raised his hand ,o' her 
 
 "PS. 1 never may forget the m^nr^ ^r j 
 
 she cast upon him from her briS .." ""'"""' 
 
 ^.e might ha. r^^^^^^ 
 
 hat'hllMed .o"uf "if "^ "'■"«' "^''"' *■•» '^nfe'-t 
 report ? " ""'' >""' ""S"' '<> ^V -gainst his 
 
 "Nothing, sire; he has rendered faithfnl =. 
 beseems an honourable ch.valier of th,, °""'' •■" 
 
 passed between us." ' " "■■""•■'■'^ ''•■'™ 
 
 "Do you incline, then," asked the kin. "to fnv. 
 hmasasuitor for your hand?" "' ""^™'"- 
 
 ^ Jhallice's eyes flashed in wicked wise, and her colour 
 
 -X fai?^: ,::~^ a''::::rthrr - r'- 
 
 bird on Tht hfe an/h " *' '''^''°" "^ ^ %"'g 
 
 a.e^ki„g spoke ■ ' '" ^'"''"='°" ^'^ ™M -gai^ af 
 " Yet it is time, Mistress ChalUpe fKof 
 
 a worthy lord for the Honor oKe.'-d wf" n*'"« 
 
 ^enaai. vVe would fain 
 
In Merry Carlisle. 
 
 II w 
 
 lOl 
 
 see o„r ward meetly mated, and we must not suffer the 
 matter to rest through our default " 
 
 " But, sire," Challice said, as calmly as though the kin. 
 had been parleying about a new palfrey for her, "I he 
 
 wLm^z t:,:.-^"' ''^" ^™ ^'^^^ "^ "■- p'-- - 
 
 "So we did, sweet lady, nor have we forgotten the 
 ame; but fme passeth, and we ourselves mfy pass at 
 any hour, and then the choice will rest with ano*e » 
 H,s eyes turned to the young prince, standing at the 
 
 "We wish " the king went on, "to see your choice 
 made and th,s great matter settled. Come, L gracious 
 Mtstress Challice. this is here a knight to ^hom'we owe 
 some specal mark of favour, inasmuch as he rescued u! 
 at a moment of mortal peril. He loves you-thus we are 
 .nformed-and by Saint George ! you rjight seek flth 
 and light on a less likely chevalier " 
 
 of "^V^ Challice-and I could see how the pride 
 of th htgh born madden did battle with her bashfulness- 
 
 that nf . "w r" °""'- '' '^ ''"°™ "> ^" "en 
 lo whlJn 7 f f "■ ''"^^'' "'^ """W I have cared 
 
 at hi , T "'^""'^ ''"°*"'^- I "» "0' » cold 
 at heart as to send a man into peril for the mere pamper- 
 
 g of my p„de. Yet is a girl's love but a sorry tlLg' to 
 
 hTo" T' ' T^'^ ' ™"'<^ '''" give more' han 
 such loye-I would g,ve him worship also. When Sir 
 
 Walter has won /to from me by some famous deed of 
 arms— well, he will not find me coyi" 
 
 noisT'r"'' ^Peech-surely the strangest, and yet the 
 noblest, I ever heard from maiden's lips. It were as 
 
 IH 
 
 It, 
 
 r li i\ 
 
 4 i <i 
 
 ?n 
 
 i 
 
 U Hi 
 
 # m 
 
 mii 
 
 I 
 
102 The Chevalier of the Splendid Crest. 
 
 though all the fantasy and romance of that windy parleying 
 between Oriana and Amadis de Gaul had been distilled in 
 one amazing sentence. 
 
 "Under favour, sire," continued the Lily, '<I would ask 
 that you should put it to Sir Walter himself, whether he 
 wjlls that I wed with him now at your Graces command" 
 (she laid much stress .n these words), " or hereafter, of my 
 own free will." ^ 
 
 The king turned smiling on Sir Walter. 
 "You have heard, sir knight; what will you? The choice 
 shall rest with you." 
 
 Walter gave not answer till he had pondered a space. 
 Ihen he spoke — 
 
 "Let the Lady Challice's free will be done, sire; and 
 God send me speedy occasion to fulfil her devoir on your 
 Grace s enemies ! " 
 
 Did my old eyes deceive me, or was it in truth a shade 
 of displeasure that passed over Challice's countenance? 
 The Prince of Wales shrugged his shoulders, muttering 
 something about "a bird in hand," and turned again to 
 stroking his hawk. 
 
 " So be it then," quoth the king, - if such be both your 
 pleasure; It is not we who will prevent the knight com- 
 ing by a broken sconce ; though where that may soonest 
 be come by at this unwarlike season it may be hard 
 
 Tasnet'" ""'" '"' " '"'""^ ^'^ ""^^^^ ^^^^-" - 
 De Neville, advancing, placed the helmet in the kind's 
 hands, who inspected every part of it most eagerly and 
 closely as he was wont to do with military harness of 
 every kind. 
 
 "A pretty headpiece," he said. -I like well that 
 mode of bringing the chapelle-de-fer above the mail. 
 
In Merry Carlisle, 
 
 103 
 
 !"!, 
 
 Then this hanging mouthpiece is a mighty improvement 
 on our old fixad gorgets. See, Maurice, how featly it 
 hangs when not in use; and then it is hooked up— so— 
 before goi..g into action, protecting the teeth and Hps. 
 A crossbow quarell is an ugly mouthful, as good Sir 
 Thomas Gray found it at the siege of Stirling. Now a 
 mouthpiece like that would have saved him. That is a 
 pretty conceit— the golden falcon. Edward," he con- 
 tinued, addressing the prince, who had begun to yawn, 
 "I like that device well; what say you to having the 
 dragon of Wales moulded on your basnet?" 
 
 Now the prince cared not a hayseed for military equip- 
 ment of any kind; all his fancy lay in carpentry and 
 Wright's handiwork ; had it been a horologue, now, that 
 was under question, or even a new churn, none had 
 been readier than he to spend a whole morning viewing 
 and handling it. Or again, had it been a costly robe or 
 silken hose, his love of finery would have been a-fire at 
 once ; but for helmets and suchlike— they reminded him 
 over-shrewdly of the labours he had undergone in the 
 Scottish campaign. 
 
 "Aye, aye," quoth he in an indifferent tone, stifling 
 his yawn, " 'tis an elegant bauble, sire ; though I cannot 
 affect to so much skill as your Grace in these matters. 
 Yet methinks it would have seemlier appearance were 
 this old rag removed." 
 
 So saying he made as if to tear off a faded, almost 
 colourless, piece of what had once been silken ribbon, 
 twisted round the feet of the golden falcon. 
 
 " Messire," cried le Marmion, starting forward, " have 
 a care, messire ! No man touches that save at his peril." 
 
 The prince looked up angrily, for ill he brooked to be 
 addressed in tones of command by one of the king's lieges. 
 
 if' B. 
 
 I 
 
 If " i| 
 
 EJiil* 
 
1 04 The Chevalier of the Splendid Crest 
 
 "Pardon, messire," said le Marmion, "but that fillet 
 is the gift, as it was once the colours, of this lady. You 
 would not wish that I should suffer it to be handled 
 irreverently." 
 
 "The knight is right, my son," said the king. "If 
 princes would have respect, they must abide by the laws 
 of chivalry." 
 
 "If the lady would have her colours honoured," re- 
 torted the prince sullenly, "it behoves her to see' that 
 they are such as a plain man may discern." 
 
 Walter bit his thutab. Such words, if spoken by one 
 of lower than royal rank, could only have ber;n main- 
 tamed by combat d, outrance ; but Challice sweetly set 
 matters in fair course again by saying to the prince— 
 "Your rebuke is just, messire; see, I will make the 
 token clear to all men." 
 
 Turning to her page, Algernon de Strickland, she 
 loosed a bow of bright ribbons— rose and straw coloured 
 —from his shoulder, twisted them nimbly into a fillet, 
 and bound them round the basnet in place of the old! 
 My lord the king was well pleased with this pretty 
 play; as for the prince, the cloud passed quickly from 
 his brow, for his nature was to be of sweet temper and 
 easy to be appeased when his anger was roused. The 
 hour for the Council now rang from Saint Mary's belfry ; 
 Sir Walter and Mistress ChaHice withdrew by opposite 
 doors, and I returned to my duties as clerk. The busi- 
 ness in hand was of import no more than ordinary,— the 
 assignment of forfeited lands in Scotland— the dismissal 
 to their homes of some of the levies from the southern 
 counties, no further use for them in the north being now 
 apparent— and an audience of the Bishop of Chester, the 
 king's treasurer in Scotland. Yet we had not proceeded 
 
In Merry Carlisle. 
 
 105 
 
 far with it when 
 
 messenger was announced, newly 
 arrived from the county of Ayr, with pressing despatches 
 for the kmg, whereby, as it turned out, the aspect of our 
 Council was strangely altered. 
 
 The sheriff of Ayr, Sir Henry de Percy, now by the 
 kmgs warrant Earl of Carrick, had his headquarters 
 during 'he winter at Turnberry Castle, the birthplace, 
 and, till he forfeited it, the chief messuage of the rebel 
 de Brus. The whole earldom of Carrick, in common 
 with the rest of Scotland, had remained in the king's 
 peace; the country folk were well-disposed to the kin-'s ' 
 officers, seeing that these paid well and without delay for 
 all supphes ; everything boded security, whereby, doubt- 
 less the vigilance of the garrison was some deal laid 
 aside. 
 
 Howbeit there had come a rude awakening. Robert 
 de Brus had more friends in the country than Percy 
 reckoned on, and was, moreover, nearer at hand than 
 our people dreamt of. Landing stealthily under cloud 
 of night with a band of caj]iera|i Erse and other broken r,,/. 
 men from all parts, he broke into the village of Turn- 
 berry, where most of the English lay in billets. These 
 were cruelly surprised, being cut down man by man as 
 they rushed into the streets; Percy, the while, hearing 
 he tumult, dared not open the castle gates, not knowing 
 the number of his foes. The rebels, having swept up 
 arms, victuals, and other movables, crying " Brus 1 Brus 
 for Scotland ! » uttering horrible blasphemies against our 
 sovereign lord, and rejoicing wickedly by reason of their 
 successful cam^a^^de, made off into the mountainous parts v.^' 
 of Galloway, whither no horsemen might follow them 
 
 When the king heard these tidings his eyes burned 
 under his shaggy brows. 
 
 I 
 
 i 
 
 \h^^ 
 
 I 
 
I06 The Chevalier of the Splendid Crest. 
 
 "Ha!" cried he, "said we not there would be no 
 security in the realm till King Hobbe was safe under 
 lock and key? See if all the idle and discontented 
 rangale will not draw to him after this exploit. Howbeit, 
 he has entered the trap this time; he cannot feed his 
 following among those hills ; if de Valence hath not for- 
 gotten his craft, de Brus passes not thence alive. Aye, 
 but we must be on the spot ourselves : 'tis the master's 
 eye maketh the horse fat. Blessed be our Lady and our 
 good leeches, we shall be able to set forth before the 
 Annunciation." ^ 
 
 Alace ! as the event proved, my master recovered not 
 strength so fast as he and all of us hoped for, albeit for 
 a time the stir of fresh musters — the ordering of the 
 host — the coming and departing of messengers with 
 despatches— seemed to put fresh life into him. When the 
 weather favoured, he was even able to mount a palfrey 
 and ride gently b^' the space of an hour or thereby; yet 
 ever the cruel disorder returned upon him, and the weary 
 change from sick-bed to horse-litter, from horse-litter to 
 saddle, had all to be gone over afresh, until even the 
 old king's lion spirit began to languish under hope so 
 oft deferred. 
 
 As soon as the Council was dissolved and I was re- 
 leased from attendance, I hastened to find le Marmion. 
 I sought him in vain at his own lodging in St Cuthbert's 
 ward; neither was he at my house in the Botchergate, 
 whence returning to the castle by the pathway which 
 runs inside the eastern city wall, the ancient habits of 
 a soldier led me to take a prospect from the ramparts. I 
 beheld a great throng of citizens and soldiery gathering 
 on the Swifts— a broad, fair meadow lying north of the 
 
 ^ 25th March. 
 
In Merry Carlisle. ,(,. 
 
 town near unto the river. I noted the flash of steel and 
 
 -Tis the Lady of Kendal," said an officer of eros,- 
 bowmen, of whom I asked what was ado, "who ev ews 
 her levy a. three of the elock, Many o cur town'foTk 
 have drawn together for the sight, these dalesmen be^g 
 pretty lads, and well liked in the town " 
 
 Mounting to horse straightway, I pressed out at speed 
 through the R,ehergate, feeling no longer in doub wh^e 
 my young knight should be found 
 
 "Room, room! for Sir Mauriee de Bulkeley r " cried 
 
 M,st.ess Chalnce sat on horseback with her suite, S r 
 Gently, my ft.end !" I cried to the fellow, for I love 
 
 pats to the"f" °" ""^ P™"^«^ °' ^^^''^•^ ^'™y^ 'o 
 pass to the foremost room in every assembly. However 
 
 he crowd feu back quickly enough, knowing howmTny 
 
 chevahers there be that reck little what toes maTbe 
 
 crushed or shoulders bruised among the common "ort so 
 
 tht place be qu.ckly yielded before gentlemen of de ee 
 
 Hav,ng, therefore, clear space before me. I spurred on 
 
 amonl 2 '° ""'■ '"''' ™^ *^ Knight 'of Shak.^fgdon 
 among the company, with the golden falcon glittering 
 bravely and the red and yellow ribbons fluttering in hf 
 for r 7": *" ™ "°"'^"' '° S-" ^P-^h of hm 
 
 a u tth'!" "■■" ""■'■ "'•™"^'"S '° ">'-'' P^'^' and 
 salute their young mistress. 
 
 A brave display they made, these stout dalesmen 
 whom regular exercise in harness had made into fine 
 troops as any soldier might wish to see. Six trumpeter! 
 
io8 
 
 The Chevalier of the Splendid Crest. 
 
 rode before on white horses, brilliant in scarlet »n^ ^A 
 
 With caps of black Genoa velvet of the be«-K ' 
 
 .wo. d.,,e„.,„,„.,.„„3 '" =4°e *n? ea :rn 
 
 ^■^-/«4 wear,ng red and yellow striped jup^ns ™ 
 
 the.r hauberks, each followed by a valet ,nH \ 
 
 mounted-three score and six in T p u 8™°"- '"^o 
 
 came seven troops of light Tor " "'„ ,'^°"°"""? *"= 
 
 ;roop -n the sa^^e «a„4 ^, '^^^^ ^^^^^ 
 
 can ain' Th """""^ ^'""^' '^^'^'"^ "''°"> -de *e 
 
 yeiio7:tot^:'i;:-rca^r"''''"^^'°''=^»<' 
 ort™for^H:rr:i„vrtt^rrr«- 
 
 mock despair. ^^' ^"^ ^^^^^" ^" 
 
 "A pretty display," he muttered in mine eir "for .k 
 
 dozen Lincoln archers t " ^P^armen and half-a- 
 
 .e7at' rt-"Mis:et''Sr""';" ™°" ^°^ "-»■ 
 this dav «T" """"= ''^= Publicly avowed 
 
 th day. She loves you, Walter ; can you doubt it now ? 
 But you must not tarry in CarMs " T . -a ■""°"''^ 
 back to the town. '' ' '""'• ^^ "^ ™de 
 
 "Why not?" he asked, his eyes fixed on a hat decked 
 ». h grey heron pluses dancing away in front of us 
 
 medt ?"''■?''" I. "your duty calls you hen;e i™ 
 med^tely, and that is why I sought you'here." 
 
 What, he asked, "you would not have me go b.ck 
 
 ^ng™i?I7 °" P'^^™-^"'^ °f Cumnock P Su' ly e 
 
 saM'th^s day."' ""^ "°" ^"'™« ™* -•"- "'«' he 
 
 "Much has happened since the morning, Walter," I 
 
In Merry Carlisle, 
 
 109 
 
 answered. "The V\na j,oc 
 
 ">ind now, .ha„ VatoZi: t:;^'!'" .f 
 
 hour of ac.,°n. Bes des to\"' °" "" P°^' '" *e 
 passes into Ni.CL that s^Tot "r"'^ ?? ^"'^^ 
 
 -77 ^- *. ,ou n,a;r:4txt,:°i 
 
 decree or wait the lady-s pleasure, had the M.ht 7 
 ess scrupulous and less fearful o offcndiL S ■'"'" 
 had he accepted the boo., gladly-nev^r had fh k'" 
 a more willing bride than she, and TL ' ? '" 
 
 to follow hereafter misrhf hn ■ ''°'' *"' «« 
 
 .u T •, "light have been avoided u„ 1, • 
 
 the Li y was too nmnri t„ -.i. j ""oraea. Howbeit 
 
 i^night Lntin/Lo'Tn^t „rrdir;:;°"'Tt"'^-'''^ 
 this advantage, and thus each h d ' taj h "" °' 
 which so seldom runneth smooth ' ""'""' 
 
 ' \ 
 
 I 
 
110 
 
 m ^ivmnUn It mnxmion'B to qnegt. anb of t!,e 
 
 Matter pertaining to mine office as Clerk of the Council 
 
 after' stw.;^"''. "' "'r' '"' '^"'^ '"""^ "-"^ ^^y^ 
 after S,r Walter departed. I was very closely kept with 
 
 the king, who was fretful and chiding beyond uis wont 
 greatly desn-mg to hear that de Valence had wrought some 
 exploit upon the rebels, and sorely vexed that he could 
 not strike the blow himself. Mistress Challice still 
 lingered in Carlisle, dismounting each day at my lodging 
 and turning her talk, as oft as we were alone, upon' the 
 fortunes of the absent chevalier. A week passed thus, 
 tilUhe time came when she fixed to return to Kendal. 
 Sir Maurice, she said to me on the morning before 
 she set forth, "I greatly fear I have done a vain and 
 wicked thing in sending Sir Walter upon this perilous 
 t'oT'.H ""l^l;'"^^^,--^ ^--d has been turned by listening 
 to Father Ailwyn's romances. I thought it a fine thing 
 that Sir Wa ter should prove that he loved me, as Roland 
 proved his love for Anne by his good sword Durendal. I 
 washed to feel for Sir Walter-perchance you do not know 
 
The Chevalier's First Quest. 
 
 lii 
 ^hat when you were all at Kendal he asked me to marry 
 
 "Well I know it, dear lady," said I, "and with all my 
 heart I wish ,t may yet be, for of all the knights in mv 
 master s Court I deem him worthiest of such a prize " 
 
 "Anan," she continued, «' I wished before— before I 
 went further, to feel for Sir Walter all that Anne must 
 have felt for Roland,-to feel as a woman can only feel 
 for a man who has done something far beyond her own 
 powers. But now-but now-God wot I wish I had let 
 It all alone, for I see little good to come out of it, and 
 much dolour that may befall." 
 
 Tears filled her eyes, and, too proud to let xv- see them 
 fall, she rose and walked to the casement. 'Tis the 
 onlooker sees most of every game, and here was a game 
 whereat I had played-ah me ! how many years ago. All 
 Its ruses aad feints I knew-nay, not all, for no man may 
 ever learn them ail-but many of the chases and passes I 
 knew. From our first meeting, the Lily had never thought 
 It worth while to baffle a harmless greybeard such as I • 
 and now-her thoughts lay open to me like one of Father 
 A.lwyn s painted psalters. Walter had taken her fancy at 
 Kendal ; to her fancy she had yielded play, until now she 
 had lost her heart. Mine went out to her as she stood 
 gazmg through her tears into the street, all her pride 
 abased-her bosom heaving with the first real pang that 
 had ever pierced it. i' a t<- 
 
 "Challice," quoth I, for I saw she wanted a father's 
 help and trouble maketh titles of ceremony cold and 
 comfortless, " Challice, keep good courage. You have 
 done well to send Walter on his quest; for look you - he 
 IS proud as well as you. He felt that a poor knight was 
 over-bold in offering his love to the Lady of Kendal nnH 
 
mw^ 
 
 1 12 T/ie Chevalier of the Splendid Crest, 
 
 it might well he that, had you given yourself with all your 
 riches unconditionally, sharp and unkind jests might have 
 been passed on him by some of Prince Edward's hungry 
 Gascons. Had these reached Walter's ears— had he 
 suspected that you could think him a fortu.ie-hunter— I 
 believe that you would never have seen him again. But 
 now he has gone forth a proud and happy man, to do 
 your devoir, and to return— yes, assuredly he will return- 
 to claim his meed." 
 
 She turned her swimming eyes full on mine, and with a 
 quick movement put her hands on my shoulders, hiding 
 her blushes on my breast. I was old, of course, and 
 young fellows will have it that to be old is to have neither 
 blood nor nerves ; I had the vows of Saint Francis ui)on 
 me ; but what vows may chain pulses or stifle thoughts ? 
 The weight of that warm, pliant figure in my arms, the 
 scent of her hair, her whisper—" Dear Sir Maurice, you 
 will aid us, will you not?"— well, they brought to memory 
 sundry passages of thirty years before, and I felt that of a 
 surety Walter le Marmion was greatly to be envied. 
 
 I comforted and soothed the damoysel in such wise 
 that she soon dried her eyes and smiled in a manner 
 shamefast for having shown so great weakness. 
 
 " You must not be afraid of me in future. Sir Maurice," 
 quoth she; " I shall torment you with plans and perhaps 
 with fears ; but when I weep, it shall be in private. Only, 
 you know, T get tired of being alone, and you are really 
 the only man to whom I feel that I can go for advice and 
 comfort." 
 
 " Not even Sir Blaise ? " I asked maliciously. 
 
 It was good to hear her laugh ring out again: it 
 reminded me of the first time I had heard it, when 
 Walter blundered in carving before her in the banquet- 
 
 
The Chevalier's First Quest, 113 
 
 ting-hall of Kendal. "Sir Blaise!" she cried, still 
 laughing; and at that moment the door opened' and 
 Sir Blaise himself appeared with his usual abstracted 
 expression. 
 
 "Coming, my dear niece," he said, "coming. All is 
 ready now for your commands to start. And yet— and 
 yet— there is one thing I cannot call to mind. I had 
 everything laid in order: an inkhorn to remind me to 
 send for your goods at the silk-mercer's, my misericorde 
 telling me to see to that tiercel's hood, my gold ring lying 
 beside it to bring to mind the dried fruit for the kitchener 
 —all these have been attended to ; but this gold besant 
 —that surely was to remind me of something important." 
 
 "Never mind it now, uncle," said Challice; "let my 
 people prepare for the road and my trumpets sound at 
 noon. Mistress Alison and I will be ready at our 
 lodgings." 
 
 While she was yet speaking there arose a great noise of 
 shouting in the street, and looking forth from the case- 
 ment we beheld a body of troops marching in from the 
 Richergate, filling the causey from side to side, and forcing 
 the townspeople to make room for them by standing in 
 the entries ; yet were all the folk clamouring for joy and 
 cheering lustily. In front of the column marched six 
 musicians, as I trow they claimed to be reckoned, albeit 
 in good sooth the din which they belched from their 
 uncouth instruments — leathern bags covered with gaily 
 striped cloth, whence protruded a number of wooden 
 pipes dressed with ribbons— this din, I say, had litde 
 of melody in it for southern ears. Yet is it the martial 
 music which these strange warriors do most greatly affect, 
 whereby they be stirred to great excitement and to deeds 
 of extraordinary hardihood. What we beheld was a 
 
 « 
 
"4 '^^'^ C^^^^cilier of the Splendid Crest. 
 
 squadron of the fierce Srnfq of r.n 
 
 of the Brus, and ther fo'e for he ™\ "'^'''''^ '"'' 
 mpn TK • "-""^fore, tor the nonce, King Edward's 
 
 harnpQ« \T^ ^ men-at-arms in full 
 
 Harness. Next came a troon n't ImKt- j, 
 
 nised his pa. feattlr^crH ' ""'^'- ' "=»«■ 
 
 Bru, brother of thT^ eU^J Scor"" ""7"'" '^ 
 
 known erstwhile at the Court f," T' ™' ""^ ' '''"^ 
 
 There were nearv a rf' "' ^°™S ^"l"^*^- 
 
 iiuuses. 1 scanned the farpc of <-u .. •'^ 
 
 kin» T h,H ""^^eaiy he had done to my lord the 
 
 mW;tLdhi"""r^' '" ''°P^- "'^' even now he 
 m.glnfi„d h,s way back to grace, and leave the land at 
 
 We hurried down to the ^frp^f fo u 
 
 make their way into the hnic ^ ^5?^ ' °P'"S ^° 
 y into the hills. Howbeit, the faithful 
 
?htly 
 
 ) 
 
 The Chevalier's First Quest. 1 1 5 
 
 Macdouall had been on the watch; scarcely had they 
 landed from their galleys when he swept down on them 
 m the grey morning and cut them in piece'--. Not a man 
 was kept alive save the handful of captives brought to 
 Carlisle. 
 
 It was my office to report to my lord the king of the 
 delivery of the prisoners, and to take his pleasure about 
 their trial. I must haste over the recital, for I can ill 
 brook to reflect on the shame and sorrow of this black 
 day. Shame! yes, there was shame in it, for these 
 knights were refused what every free man claims as his 
 right — an open trial. 
 
 "They shall die like the forsworn dogs they are," cried 
 the king; "direct the provost-marshal that it is our will 
 they shall be hanged before sundown." 
 
 Greatly venturing, I pled with my master for delay, that 
 a court might assemble for the trial of these gentlemen. 
 As for their lives, I had no hope, knowing these to be 
 justly forfeited; yet I misliked the setting aside of the 
 forms of justice, lest the king's fair renown might be 
 smirched. 
 
 "Mercy! trial!" shouted Edward Plantagenet, the 
 veins on his temples standing out like knotted cords • 
 "such trial shall they have as the shepherd gives the 
 wolf Why, man ! what boots a trial for men who, with 
 their fealty fresh upon them, have been taken in arms 
 against our rule. To the gallows with them ! Enough : 
 I have spoken." 
 
 There was nothing for it save to obey, and with heavy 
 heart I wrote forth the sentence ; yet was it not my old 
 master who spoke here; it was but the wreck of him, 
 wasted with long sickness, and outworn with just anger 
 against traitors. That these merited death none could 
 
 ■If- 
 
Ii6 
 
 II 
 
 if 
 
 The Chevalier of the Splendid Crest. 
 
 gainsay, else would no rpalm K^ o 
 
 who had laboured sor4"';;™4 ''"'*'!' Edward, 
 
 Englishmen, should have Uved t , ''""'"' °' 
 violently — verilv it w,! """'''S'' *™ ^o 
 
 pass. ^ "' " «™™"^ *'-"g 'o come to 
 
 It was well that Challirf^ lo/-*- ^.u 
 tragedy befell I LaT T I *^ '™» '''=f°re the 
 
 as!heVsstdoL':fthtr:°r'* ■""'"'''-'- 
 
 M::fi;:::» shTtid e::2,y":,:r ^"' -°'' «>' 
 
 come, send express to me a'' K e'l " "™ " ""'""'^ 
 
 I gave my promise, and with that ^h. ,„j „ 
 «-as long before I ceased tn .f °'^' ''"^ " 
 
 countenance. Long wasit al t " ™*''' P'^--**"-? 
 her knight-erraut, and The ' at 'ast' h" 'f^ ""^ "^ 
 were of a sort tl^at I took lit! n ^ ^ '°"'' *''' 
 
 cr:t intr vr ""~^^ ---" S 
 
 cause in Scotland about this season ^ 
 
 in fromt Htmy^";"^''" \ '" ' """'"^^' P°- -me 
 
 Since the ingl It ;T;d "r' '""• "^"^ '"^^^^• 
 clerk of his Council t^ 7 ,f """"trf to me, as 
 
 they came toWs eve' '° '''""'"'' '^^ <i«P-^'ches before 
 jf ^amc lo nis eye. This was my lord the Vmr.'. 
 
 command; reluctantly given, indeed as h old m b:: 
 necessary, own,g to the nature of Lis illne s whi h 
 .".as rendered him unable to give attem t'mt* o" 
 he utmost moment. He was pleased to say tha ta! 
 
 h"rxv:or^:rhe"ir:„r^--'™ 
 
 the extremity of weakness. * ° ''"°"' ''™ » 
 
 The king, after the execution of Thorais and Al. ^ 
 de Brus had remained gloomy and ho;, M^^^^ " 
 far less than was his wont, and I was fearfS, of theffe? 
 
 I 
 
The Chevalier's First Quest. 
 
 \\y 
 
 upon him of these Ayrshire tidings, lest they should bring 
 about one of those gusts of anger to which he was so 
 prone, and, in his enfeebled state, so ill able to bear. 
 Howbeit they were of a nature which would not brook 
 delay, and with unaccustomed trepidation I sought the 
 presence. 
 
 He was not yet risen, though it was past eight o'cIock, 
 but he had broken his fast, as I noticed by the remains 
 of a barley-cake and a cup of wine-and-water half finished 
 beside his pillow. He lay with closed eyes, and my heart 
 sank for dread that a fresh attack of his malady was at 
 hand. 
 
 " You sleep, my lord ? " I said in a low voice. 
 " No, Maurice," said he, rousing himself with something 
 of his old vigour. " I lay late this morning, having many 
 things on my mind. Any tidings from the north?" 
 
 " There are, my lord," I replied, " and such as com- 
 pelled me to break your repose. These letters are from 
 de Percy, and demand your consideration." 
 
 "Ah," he said, all attention and fire in a moment, 
 " thank God for any news rather than none ! " 
 I then read him the despatches. 
 They told the bloody story of that which men speak 
 of now as the Douglas Larder. Briefly, it had fallen on 
 this wise. James of Douglas, lord of Douglas in the 
 shire of Lanark, had companied closely with de Brus 
 from the moment he raised the standard of revolt; 
 had passed with him into hiding during the winter, and 
 had been foremost in the raid upon Turnberry, as was 
 known by his people crying " A Douglas ! " in the melee, 
 which was heard above the shouts of " Brus ! Brus ! " 
 This Douglas, a man of noted personal prowess, as well 
 as a chevalier of pleasant mien and rare clerkly skill, 
 
ii8 
 
 Hi 
 
 II 
 
 11 
 
 TAe Chevalier of the Splendid Crest 
 
 
 Dougia, which were held ^ e J '^ ''''\°' 
 gu.sing himself, therefore, as a net „ ? T' "''" 
 %h. enough matter, seeing how h d hn^™f' ™' " 
 had rendered gentle and .:„ , I ^ ^"'^ exposure 
 the rebel camp) h f"ed St °'" ^™'"'"^= '" 
 Ha.elside, har'd\, s^ Zj::^tTV° 
 where lived one 'fhomas nict.„ Douglas, 
 
 of his family Thr n- , ' "''" '""'"^ ''^'^'"<'' 
 
 -eive his master t S^^-J' "^ '^^""""^'^ 
 ■•" the hire of Sa.hanas, g TetLd . ,o'se Tft"' '"r"^ 
 who, whether frort, lo^e of the lo , "^'"'°"' 
 
 our sovereign lord wo„M ■ ^^^"^ "' '""^«d of 
 
 On the mo?rin! of Pa ' IT/ T '° ^'^ "- castle. 
 Douglas himse^ JrX:tn'ir'T ^*"' 
 peasant's froclcs; yet each L'tJl „"' ""* '~'^ 
 of mail and a whinzeonr r 2^' ""'"• " ™' 
 
 sword or hanger'^rS^eth" "^^ "'" *^ ^''°« 
 
 The Enghsh garrison marched down to h,.. 
 a the chapel, leaving but the porter and th^ ?""' 
 charge of the castle. Doughs and v ''°°'' '" 
 
 into the Chapel after the soS^ ^.e': h^^noTr 
 begun ere a terrible cry was rai ed 'm 1 T"^ 
 Douglas!" and these cruel bandti « ^'" ^ 
 
 soldiers, smiting and «!. ^ P'''''^ "Po" «>e 
 
 four escaped hvealh' " ""' ^'^^'-^'^ ">ree or 
 Worse wa's to f; tow r^^^T' "" ""'""" "' ^'=""- 
 band obtained postsion": rLTsttVdf' ""^ 
 the dinner which the kitchener h,H 7 .' °""^ 
 prepare, slew their prisoners stLd' 7"^ "'""'" '° 
 and burnt the castle to the grouTd I" "''""'^^''=' 
 
 and money to their stro gir „"le ^ '"'' "'"' 
 
 « 
 
 I.- 
 
 I 
 
The Chevalier's First Quest. 
 
 119 
 
 Galloway, 
 
 castle of 
 2rs. Dis- 
 :^li was a 
 
 exposure 
 ilitude in 
 I only to 
 
 Douglas, 
 : retainer 
 litorously 
 diligently 
 igh hours 
 atred of 
 e castle, 
 ogether, 
 h loose 
 
 a coat 
 e short 
 
 r mass 
 ook in 
 tressed 
 >t long 
 las! a 
 )n the 
 ree or 
 
 slain. 
 3, the 
 oured 
 m to 
 :asks, 
 
 arms 
 
 My voice shook as I read the letters; I dared not 
 look upon the king till I had finished, dreading what 
 effect his anger might take upon his weak bodily state. 
 Great was my surprise at the change wrought upon him. 
 Instead of an inflamed countenance and knitted brows, 
 I beheld his eyes sparkling as though he heard the 
 hounds first challenge in covert, and he broke into 
 loud laughter. 
 
 " By Christ ! " he cried, " but this is glorious ! " 
 
 A cold horror came upon me. My master's mind had 
 given way, and he was mad. 
 
 " Nay, but see you not, Maurice, how glorious it is ? " 
 he went on. "James of Douglas hath slain our soldiers 
 in cold blood; henceforward he and all who are with 
 him are hors de la lot ; not merely rebels, to be taken 
 and tried for their lives, but outlaws and assassins, to 
 be hunted down and slain wherever they may be found. 
 King Hobbe is in the toils. He can never escape from 
 these hills alive ; de Valence will not nod ; he has troops 
 in every pass; he has but to wait till the old wolf is 
 starved out, or close upon him in his harbour. Sangdieu ! 
 I have lain long enough here. We will march on the 
 morrow ; meanwhile there is a long morning's work for 
 you, sir clerk, in writing our commands to the forces 
 in Scotland." 
 
 Now we had four thousand bowmen and quarellers, 
 and five thousand horse mustered in Carlisle, and these 
 set forth on the morrow, yet without the gladsome 
 presence of the king, who was laid low once again 
 with dysentry. How matters took the evil turn in 
 Scotland — how right went to v/rong and the insolence 
 of the rebels carried all before them — is well known now 
 to all men, and I care not to retrace the sorrowful 
 
 ffi 
 
Ml! 
 
 1 20 
 
 
 il 
 
 nc au.„lier of the Spkndui Crest. 
 
 »-" tot, 
 
 narrativ,,, save in so far as if h 
 »y dear cWIdren (for so they l^T °" *' '"'""« "f 
 »d Challice. From Wal.eT h ."r^ '" ""=)' '^"I'er 
 «- by ,he hand of h s q , f^ ^T ''"^ '° "-' 
 »d later in his own writin! f ' ^^°^""'' * Neville, 
 ;^*um of his „,.,, J™"^ f- he whiled away the 
 
 f- hmself. In eaeh letter he t,^. ''=""'"8 '" ±A 
 
 'o get him relieved from iletion/^d ""' '° "'>-'^e 
 Where .nightly e.pfoit ^..C^:^, -' '» »- place 
 
 I'e Valence had wri«en .^savVf "^'"'^ *<= "-ir. 
 ;;eached him of the Erus^s M, '"'■""" ""^ had 
 
 had men enough he couH ! '*"«-P'=«; «.at if he 
 
 -e by death L impo«fb,e"a:r""'.'"" *^' --P^ 
 "'"'»■ The king him^tf h "'*<=<' '«' ™nforce- 
 d.reeted measures to comp ''^„. r^f/- »-'a"«y abed. 
 '0. every detail, and scruputojl I "■""■'='• ""'^"ding 
 ™-°- for the commandt evervT '" "'«"'"« ^°"> 
 oops put under orders for instawV '^^ • """""^ '^e 
 ere twenty men-at-arms and " 7'" '" *= """h 
 hght horse from Kenda" X T '"-""^"^^ """ «% 
 Now it so befell that tte 7, ? '" ' "^ ''alesmen 
 de Crackenthorpe. ^L' ingT'o;' *?' ™^ «°S« 
 command passed by right fo s r I, ™'""P'"'- and the 
 ^;' " had been sheer madness o '"I "' "*'"™''- 
 gallant and willing though he wis o . ""'' °" "». 
 » \ besought the king'torel ■,!?;''' .^" ^^P"^*""" 
 nock, commission him as elf """°" f™™ Cum 
 
 and make Sir Blaise e^s bf rCum "'\^"''^' "-P" 
 It mattered little who held that ?? '" ""'^ P''>'^c. 
 Sn- John de Botetourte not t ' L^^T"- '"' «ood 
 every passage This pieas^^ tVma^:'^'''! «""*"« 
 
 BySamtGeorge;-Mre cried.'., r' ;"'£?■ 
 
 •-wiu De a pretty 
 
t. 
 
 ortunes of 
 e), Walter 
 ■ to time, 
 ' Neville, 
 away the 
 to clerk 
 urge me 
 lie place 
 
 le king. 
 
 !ws had 
 
 ; if he 
 escape 
 
 in force- 
 abed, 
 
 ending 
 
 \ com- 
 
 ig the 
 north 
 
 i fifty 
 
 smen. 
 
 ^oger 
 
 1 the 
 
 Jand. 
 
 man, 
 
 tion, 
 
 'Um- 
 
 oop, 
 
 ace. 
 
 ood 
 
 ling 
 
 The Chevaliers First Quest. 
 
 121 
 
 passage in chivalry to give this game cockerel command 
 
 And so it was settled. Marmion wanting no second 
 bidding, came tr Carlisle, kissed the king's hand, and 
 took over the command of as pretty a squadron as 
 pennon ever fluttered over. His orders were to report 
 h.mself to Sir Robert de Clifibrd. who was assembLg 
 a force at the fords of Cree. 
 
 Now the Brus was known to be in hiding in a thick 
 orest lying between the lakes of Dee and Trool, his 
 harbour having been betrayed to de Valence by deserters 
 from the rebel band, who feared starvation in these 
 horrid wastes : it was reckoned there could not be more 
 than three hundred broken men still companying with 
 the traitor, and by the feast of SS. Philip and James i 
 all was ready for his capture. De Valence was to 
 advance on the second day of May through the moors 
 about Dalmelhngton, while Percy swept down the sea- 
 board of Ayrshire on the west; and between them 
 marched John of Lorn, with eight hundred hardy High- 
 
 H T ^r'uT'"'''' "'^ ^° ""°" "°^hing to pass alive 
 through Nithsdale, while de Clifford ascended the valley 
 of the Cree into the wolf's very den-the Glen of Trool. 
 
 * 1st May. 
 
 ny 
 
'i 
 
 122 
 
 iii 
 
 I 
 
 wl^ich of thL sha , kep hTrbV"^ V"" '° ™ 
 Prudent trees, in sooth no^ to h^ , °t" "' '°"«'='- 
 I few ba^ days, such'as UL'^^^^ Z° i^^'T '' 
 B-nham suddenly adi,n with^eo^et t or," T °' 
 they experienced the sharp-toothed 2' th°! ^"' 
 
 the young May moon • ,L u , "' '=°"«* »'''h 
 
 wind whetis blcHo't'he tte^Isf "' '^°--<'"^ '"^ 
 
 -d'^hrs^r ^rl:'';^^'^^.' *^ ^'' -"y softened 
 wa. T Ko ^ summer went abroad Then ,> 
 
 *e ague came upon hi™ finlhe" ,d"'""'^' "=" "°™ 
 Ws skin grew dfy and h e ' Vr 1?""° ' ""''""'"^ ^ 
 
The Passing of Eihvard. 
 
 123 
 
 Irs. 
 
 he wood- 
 ^1 to vie 
 longest. 
 i%e by 
 iches of 
 en have 
 les with 
 dily the 
 
 oftened 
 Then it 
 
 - king's 
 1 noon 
 estine : 
 
 - fever 
 )an till 
 ay still 
 It my 
 
 lendar, 
 
 breath and stolen a finger upon his pulse, fearing it might 
 be sti'l for evermore. Then would he open his eyes 
 and whisper feebly — 
 
 " Better again, dear old Maurice ; let me rest." 
 Rest ! that was an evil symptom in one like Edward 
 Plantagenet. How often in the old days would I have 
 been glad to obey the command to rest, yet it never 
 came. Sleep as the one thing that my lord the king 
 grudged, as much to himself as to those who served him. 
 Money, food, drink— as much as any man list let him 
 have ; but sleep— bah ! it was a dip into death, a cessa- 
 tion of life — no good thing was ever wrought in slumber. 
 With the softening air the fever abated daily. One morn- 
 ing I left him sleeping, and returned shortly before noon, 
 the hour when his trouble usually began to wax. I 
 found him sitting up in bed. 
 
 " I am hale again, Maurice," he said, " or shall be so 
 in a day or two. To-morrow, at this hour, I shall be 
 abroad. Meanwhile I am hungry — hey, man ! what say 
 you to a roast capon, with a rasher of good Cumberland 
 bacon ? " 
 
 No more rest for any of us now. In a few days the 
 king was himself again : his messengers rode north wi'h 
 despatches for Scotland— east, west, and south to sum- 
 mon fresh levies ; for at last the day was at hand when 
 the king himself would undertake that in which his best 
 knights had strangely failed— the reduction of this Scot- 
 tish rebellion. I marvelled to see him rally so fast, for 
 truly this last bout had been the worst and longest I had 
 seen ; but I found no room in my thoughts except for 
 gratitude to God and Saint George; all misgiving was 
 quenched by my lord's fiery energy and spirit. The 
 
 Di°.j"\op celC-TatCsa mass one day iti the cathedral 
 
 in 
 
 m 
 
 I 
 
ill 
 
 124 
 
 The Chevalier of the SpkmM Cnsl. 
 
 f"." the south was'carfed „p L'^T'"' " "-^^'^ 
 
 '" Saint George's chaJ All , "'" ""'' '''=l'°»"<^d 
 
 -n shone on ,1 rudd^owa^ anT ^T t"' '''■' '"= 
 
 'he people shouted, and al was oIITh V "' ''"^' ^""8- 
 
 fo'- the norll, on the morrow ^ '""' ''*=?"«""= 
 
 and';:t t:d7:arrrti-''°^' ^™"' ^-'•^-. 
 
 fi"er time for the kL? to hear 1 '■^''=--'^'^'>^» "" a 
 -l'« purport they migi,t be Th ' " ' ''™'' "" <" 
 'oad; the royal banner was uIhT"'. "'' ™ '"= 
 leopards passant on a sangZ field th "T '' ^°'''^" 
 almost in the stirrup for L „„ u , '""«' '^°°' ™s 
 
 mounting this day, vUiL 1!°" ' ''"* "<> assistance in 
 ,» -an as ever, ^hl ™' 'f f, ^ ,7""''^' ^^ ^"'^ 
 '■°-n,en entering the castlTeourt "^ ""'^'-'ained 
 
 News from the north! "he cried'- " , u 
 °"'en. Yon man has ridden fct ' m'' '"' '' "^ f-^ 
 goshawk against a sorry kite that de V ?*"■ "^ '^^^' 
 deemed his credit. Quick M , "'""'" ''^» «- 
 
 must not tarry: iet us he ' ^ r'n" ""'"'' "'^" ' 've 
 
 I opened the pLket h ' T, "'' ''*"«'^-" 
 
 -™ething in ,be ^ot ma t ac'e" nL d' *^ ^^"■■^^' 
 
 worst fears were fulfilled bvThe firTt r r "°'' """^ "y 
 
 told me of de Clifford's defeat o Tl''^^' ^"^^ 
 
 hts force in the Glen of T , ^ destruction of 
 
 Wgtoun and Sir wllte xTlr^ """ '" J->^" de 
 slain. '"' '^ Marmion were among the 
 
 My first thoughts flew to Kendal r«.n 
 
 "^i 
 
'est. 
 
 lealth. The 
 so wearily 
 
 d deposited 
 
 'cJ ^ay; the 
 lairds sang, 
 
 r departure 
 
 1 Scotland, 
 ches till a 
 lew not of 
 ^as on the 
 -e golden 
 s foot was 
 istance in 
 ' as good 
 el-stained 
 
 ' is a fair 
 
 my best 
 
 has re- 
 
 an ! 
 
 The Passing of Edivard. 
 
 I2S 
 
 we 
 
 squire ; 
 and my 
 They 
 tion of 
 3hn de 
 ng the 
 
 hallice 
 3-ht 
 
 w not " 
 lurinff i 
 
 bitterness of that. Yet I dismissed these thouglits 
 forthwith, for was not my first duty to my lord the 
 king ? 
 
 Ah, my beloved master ! He said little, yp^ I marked 
 how the glad light died out of his eyes, and his face grew 
 grey and sunken. He spoke not at all: albeit, as we 
 paced down towards the Richergate, he bowed graciously 
 to the cheering townsfolk. Then, as we rode slowly 
 along the northern road, I called to mind that other ride 
 °^ ^}B.J-^^^ ^""^"^ Bishop's Waltham to Itchenstoke, 
 when my lord heard of the first great act of treason by 
 the Brus, and my mind misgave me that he was far less 
 able now than then to bear such harassing tidings. 
 
 We had ridden a league or little more when the king 
 complained of thirst. I mingled a little wine and water, 
 which he relished. 
 
 "Sire," I said, "you have seen your columns fairly on 
 the march. Bethink you, were it not wiser to spare your 
 strength. If you now return to Carlisle, we can prepare 
 a horse-litter and bring you up with them on the morrow, 
 before thev are far into Scottish ground." 
 
 "Nay, Maurice," replied he, "it is kindly thought, but 
 it will not do to turn back. I am a little weaker than I 
 thought for, but the Scottish air will work wonders to 
 restore me." 
 
 So we rode forward again, while the bodyguard cast 
 many an anxious glance at the king's drooping frame. 
 More wine, and yet more wine. My inmost dread was 
 soon confirmed, for tihe spasms came on my lord once 
 more, and though he battled bravely against them, it was 
 plain that they were gaining the mastery. 
 
 At last, when we were nearing a fisher's hamlet on the 
 sands, the king had fallen from the saddle had not his 
 
126 
 
 The Chevalier of the SplauUd Crest 
 
 son the prince, riding beside him cast . . 
 
 round him. ' ^^^^ ^ strong arm 
 
 "I can no more, Mnnrirr. » u 
 e'en He here .o-nigl, wl;,r^,,';7™"^f ^ "' "'"^' 
 lie waved his hand feehlv ,„ V °\*'-"tla"d, tool" and 
 
 «^"., ,a, the low'^;: tr'^Tisir rf^r"'"" 
 
 can no more to-day » hard-hard, but I 
 
 "■h^"! they may, was a dutifj 1"'" ' ""^ ■"'" '''"'"s 
 
 were notath^d; he sat be d ?."'"" "" ^"™»ellora 
 that sun,.er eveninga^^ th. 1 • T"^" °' "'^ ^■'^ ="' 
 Ii|« and renewing the cold , ?k '"'"*■' *■= ^"'^erer's 
 .e,np.es. There, 'al , % 'l^^'^^VP™ ^^ burning 
 
 °n.neoln, of all „y lord's erncill" "I ■ ""''' ^"' 
 best— the one too i, I ,i,- , "'', '°'« *= wisest and the 
 
 most loved andttst-d "^ ^^^^ »^. '"'' *e king 
 
 together through the brief hours od, I™'" "^^ ' ^"' 
 
 wot! the vigil seemed long ""ow °' t" '''• «°<' 
 
 abated, yet instead of waxing we fcer '"""'' ""^ '•=^'='- 
 
 pens to sick men at snH, r ' "' ™"™onIy hap- 
 
 ^'-ngely gathered sLg 7osZ' '"" ''' ''"^ ">-« 
 
 tlie prince, exhortin., him to ,„ !^ !'"'*■ *"= "'^'''•e'^^ed 
 
 himself wholly to "he^oo6 " """"" "fe- '° S'™ 
 
 over all, not to re ilf ,ht rilT""?' "= "'^'"'- -d, 
 
 be put down. With trribl,. °^ ""•■ ^"''^ should 
 
 duty upon him. "^ "''''"°'"" "id he urge this 
 
 "I shall rise no more, Edward tin ,t. ■ . 
 yet I charge you lay no my bodv " "'V'"'^™™'-^''^' 
 master of Scotland I adi,! I '""^ ™"' ^^ are 
 - soon as my spirit sha 'Ctrss 'd Z '"''"' ^"^ *"'■ 
 do strip away my fl«h-sec" C ^ ^oT ""' '""^' ^'™ 
 «s w,ll make the task a heavy one --L/h '° """=" "' '' 
 
 'y °ne —and he stretched his 
 
strong arm 
 
 d; "I must 
 . too ! " and 
 he gleaming 
 hard, but I 
 
 village, yet 
 ■ his faults 
 counsellors 
 his sire all 
 e sufferer's 
 s burning 
 -acy, Earl 
 St and the 
 
 the king 
 and I sat 
 yet, God 
 the fever 
 only hap- 
 ing most 
 ddressed 
 -» to give 
 Im, and, 
 = should 
 irge this 
 
 int-day, 
 ^ou are 
 )d that, 
 ^y. you 
 h of it 
 led his 
 
 '^he Passhif^ of Edward. 127 
 
 long, wasted arm upon the bed-clothes-« and cause my 
 bones to be borne along with the army till you are vic- 
 tonous Good Henry de Lacy, hearken while my son 
 makes h.s vow. and Maurice do you be the second witness 
 and hand your prince the Holy Evangel " 
 
 Prince Edward took from me the book and held it 
 aloft, while with streaming eyes and in a voice broken by 
 sobs, as I myself both heard and saw, he solemnly vowed 
 to perform the will of his sire. 
 
 " Swear yet once more. Edward," said the king, yet 
 w.th faihng strength. .'Swear that you will govern my 
 people justly, and put aside evil counsellors. Most of all 
 Edward, swear that Piers of Gaveston shall return no 
 more to the Council-chamber, nor yet to your company, 
 for well I know how wickedly he bends your will " 
 Again the prince repeated the oath. 
 Then the king turned his hollow eyes upon 
 "My lord of Lincoln," he resumed, "and you Maurice 
 old friend. I can trust you hofh. Help my boy lo keep 
 hispedge He wills. -n ..ed of all the help you can 
 give him, for he is of . nU, r mould than L Pactum serva/'^ 
 Then he lay stili ,,,ce. as if composing himself to 
 
 sleep Only once we heard his voice again, some half- 
 hour later, avI,. he said low but clear— 
 " Doux Sir. jesu, ayez merci de moi ! " 
 The s, n was high in a clear sky, the larks were lilting 
 blithely ov., the linL-s, and the western wind hi- softlv 
 across the firth, when the King of England-the noblest 
 and greatest king that England hath ever known- -passed 
 to the keeping of the saints. 
 
 As the trained destrier gauges the mind of the rider by 
 ' Keep covenant 1 
 
 I 
 
128 
 
 The Chevalier of the Splendid Crest. 
 
 if. ' 
 
 quickly the barons and fighting men assembled for the 
 subjugation of Scotland, discerned the change in gov! 
 ernan e when Edward of Carnarvon became ting. hL 
 fathe s corse was scarcely cold ere I became assufed tha 
 
 trie of Tr T^r^' "''^'^' I' f^" '° -e a 
 clerk of the Council to take the young king's commands 
 
 or the captains-general, and for carrying out the inTruc 
 
 ions given by my lord on his dying bed. And wh't 
 
 hink ye, my friends, was his pleasure ? To press forlard 
 
 the invasion of Scotland with all speed and spirit ? To 
 
 prepare h,s sire's remains for transport with the hosT? 
 
 Far otherwise. It was toward sundown before I gained 
 
 access to the king, for he slept long after his unwZd 
 
 ^Haf dT^M'; 1^?"^^-"' Ws chosen friends. 
 Ha ! de Bulkeley," he cried, as I entered the pres- 
 
 deeply , I reckon we must lie another night in this poor 
 lodging; on , e morrow we return betimes to Carlisle ' 
 
 its head 7L '"°* '• "*' '""' '°*^ '° y" "» ^ 
 Its head. The campaign can scarce proceed without your 
 
 highness's presence." ' 
 
 '■ Aye, but I must take council with my friends » he 
 answered, pleasantly enough, for even in his cups Edwa d 
 of Carnarvon was ever debonnair. "Fact is, we must 
 consider we l_hic— the clan of fl,;. „ • 
 matter hi^ , r T '^ campaign. What 
 
 matter-hic-a few days or weeks; we have the whole 
 summer_h,c_before us. The longer that damned rase 
 -hic-de Brus is left among his miserable mountains 
 the more likely_hic_be is to starve. From Carlisle we 
 shal direct-hic-the conduct of fitting obsequies of ol 
 royal sire, whose remains-hic_it is our pleasure shall be 
 laid in the abbey church of Westminster." 
 
-, and most 
 'led for the 
 ge in gov- 
 king. His 
 Lssured that 
 II to me as 
 commands 
 he instruc- 
 And what 
 3SS forward 
 3irit ? To 
 the host? 
 - I gained 
 unwonted 
 friends. 
 
 the pres- 
 lad drunk 
 
 this poor 
 arh'sle." 
 •u now as 
 hout your 
 
 Jnds," he 
 3 Edward 
 we must 
 . What 
 le whole 
 ed rascal 
 3untains, 
 rhsle we 
 s of our 
 shall be 
 
 T/ie Passing of Edward. 
 
 II: 
 
 I 
 
 129 
 
 " But your vow, sire ! It was my lord's pleasure, and 
 he straitly charged us, that his bones were to be laid in 
 no tomb till your Grace had subdued Scotland." 
 
 "I know, I know," answered the king, twirling the stem 
 of a wme-cup, and suffering not his eyes to rest on mine 
 " I know all that, of course; but the world marches, my 
 good friend— hie—the world marches. What 1 we are 
 not barbarians ; much that was held honourable by our 
 ancestors-hic-is-what was I saying ?-is contrary to 
 the spirit of a gentler age. Ugh ! " he shuddered, " my 
 father's mind was failing at-hic-the approach of death, 
 else had he never made such unreasonable demands. It 
 shall not be." 
 
 And thus fell this grievous change on the realm of 
 England. All the ^yorId knoweth what followed there- 
 after-how the corse of the first Edward was carried to 
 London, the second Edward riding with it as far as Staf- 
 ford, where he fell in and tarried with Sir Pierre de 
 Gaveston. This evil spirit, at whose door I make bold 
 to lay all the shame and sorrow that befell us in after time 
 had ventured back from banishment during the late king's 
 Illness, and resumed full sway over the pliant, pleasure- 
 loving prince, who received him back with open arms 
 Among the very first letters patent which I, as clerk of the 
 Council, had to submit for the new king's seal were those 
 creating this Gaveston Earl of Cornwall. I marvelled not 
 at Edward's love for Gaveston, he being an accomplished 
 courtier, gallant in the field, and of noble bearing, yet 
 respected he neither woman's honour or man's purse, 
 being of a nature most lewd and covetous. Hence- 
 forward this greedy Gascon ruled England, so far as 
 England can be said to have been ruled, when each 
 man begun to grasp for his own store and the realm 
 
 i'til 
 
If 
 
 If 
 
 ini 
 
 1 30 The Chevalier of tlie Splendid Crest, 
 
 was rent by faction. I continued in my office at the 
 Council, having, in truth, little heart for it, yet mindful 
 of my sworn devoir to my late lord to be helpful to his 
 son. Of little help I might be, seeing that my advice 
 was never sought, only was I employed to register the 
 decrees put mto the king's mouth, and to conduct the 
 correspondence. 
 
 Now I had passed my word to Mistress Challice that 
 be the tidings of le Marmion what they might, I would 
 send them on to her express at Kendal, which promise 
 lay heavily on my soul. Nevertheless I fulfilled it, telling 
 her that Sir Walter had been seen smitten to the earth 
 in the contest with the Scots, and that he was reckoned 
 among the slain I bade her submit bravely to the will 
 of God, yet well I knew how she must suffer, and how 
 vain must all consolation be for a while. 
 
 Then I rode in the king's train to Stafford, returning 
 with him to Carlisle on the feast of Saint Mary Magdalene," 
 and lo! when I rode to my lodging in Saint Cuthbert's 
 ward, I found word from Mistress Challice that she was 
 m her house in the street of Saint Nicholas. It was 
 not long after noon, therefore having dined and washed 
 1 hastened to v/ait upon her. * 
 
 Now as I fared along the' causey, musing heavily what 
 kind of comfort I could bring to that bruised spirit, one 
 pulled me by the sleeve, and, turning, I beheld none ;ther 
 than Michael the Fenman. 
 
 •!i'1''!'k^T^ '"''"" ""^ '° y°"^ ^'^"O"^'^ lodging" 
 said he, "but by chance the cripple caught the hare, and 
 1 make you my humble service, Sir Maurice " 
 
 "Make it short then, good Michael," quo'th I, "seeing 
 that I am pressed." ^ 
 
 * 22nd fulv. 
 
 
 W 
 
est. 
 
 )ffice at the 
 yet mindful 
 sipful to his 
 : my advice 
 register the 
 :onduct the 
 
 hallice that, 
 ht, I would 
 ich promise 
 :d it, telling 
 3 the earth 
 s reckoned 
 to the will 
 r, and how 
 
 1, returning 
 lagdalene,! 
 Cuthbert's 
 at she was 
 >• It was 
 id washed, 
 
 iavily what 
 spirit, one 
 none other 
 
 lodging," 
 hare, and 
 
 ', "seeing 
 
 T/ie Passing of Eihvard. 
 
 131 
 
 ii 
 
 " If you would have a hen's egg, you must bear the 
 cackling," said the old man, who never could open his 
 mouth but some stale saw would slip out ; " I have that 
 to tell you maybe fain would know." 
 
 "See here, Michael," said I, "here is a silver half- 
 penny for thee ; go thou to the tavern, and come to my 
 lodging an hour hence, when I will gladly hearken to 
 thee. Meanwhile, I must to the Lady of Kendal, who is 
 sorrowing sorely for thy master's death." 
 
 " Death, quotha ! Look you, Sir Maurice, my master's 
 coffin still grows in the greenwood." 
 
 "Speak, knave!" I cried, -and drop your parables 
 for the nonce. Say you that Sir Walter le Marmion still 
 lives ? " 
 
 "A^' ,-th he," answered the honest fellow, "and there- 
 fore t!:. J, obiter his need for a friend's help. Aye he liveth 
 —at least he did live fourteen days since, when I last 
 looked on him." 
 
 " And where is he ? " 
 
 " Oh, among the scurvy Scots, but safe enough, I reckon, 
 seeing the store they set by hard coin. They sent me 
 here to seek his ransom ; but Shanks is a sorry hackney • 
 I was seven days on the road, and for seven days more 
 I have been seeking audience of some one in authority. 
 Methinks Cumberland justice is like kissing in Kent, and 
 goeth by favour. I could get none to further my master's 
 cause." 
 
 "Come with me, Michael," said I, scarcely containing 
 myself for joy, " I will bring thee to one who, I'se warrant, 
 will reward thee handsomely, and we will soon have your 
 master back among us." 
 
 ^ I^was ushered, Michael with me, into 'the dining- hall 
 of Chaiiice's house, nor were we there for the telling of 
 
 iii 
 
J ( 
 
 t I 
 
 1 
 
 t ?f 
 
 ^^H ^1 
 
 * 
 
 1 
 
 ^^^B 
 
 ' 
 
 ^^^^^^^^^B 
 
 
 
 
 Hlf 
 
 ' 
 
 ^^^^H^^^^^^B m^g. 
 
 y 
 
 ^^^Bw 1 i 
 
 ^^^m i ' ' ' 
 
 ^^Hn i 1 
 
 
 ^^^hI ^ 
 
 
 1 3 2 r//^ Chevalier of the Splendid Crest. 
 
 half a score of beads ere Mistress Gillian came down to 
 bid me to her mistress's bower. The Lily was dressed 
 all m sad grey; I noted how sorrow had wasted the 
 roses an her cheeks and drawn great shadows under her 
 sveet e>-es and as I knelt to kiss her hand my hea 
 leapt as I thought what joy was in store for this poor sou 
 Yet known.g how sudden happiness may disarray the 
 h nges ot a mmd as surely as the pressure of gdef I 
 blurted not out my tidings like a headstrong boy, bu 
 planned to brmg the sun softly into her' darkened 
 
 " You are, welcome, Sir Maurice," said Challice, and 
 then, as if my hneaments brought too clearly before her 
 the image of h„n she had lost, she covered her poor face 
 with her hands and turned away. 
 
 "You have suffered sorely, ChalHce," said I, "yet you 
 have been brave and bowed to the Lord's will. I am 
 here to bring you comfort." 
 
 " I look to you for comfort," she said, looking upon 
 me again, and I noted that no tears had fallen from her 
 eye.. Ihere is but one road for me to travel now, and 
 I look or your guidance in it ; for you too have renounced 
 the workl, have you not ? I drew little help from Father 
 Ailwyn '-a faint smile flitted across her features-" but 
 you will show me how to proceed in obtaining admission 
 to the Order of the Sisters of Saint Clare, and you will 
 effect the surrender of my lands and goods to the king." 
 
 Dear lady," said I, "you may command my best 
 
 service m all things; but first listen to the tidings I bear 
 
 for they are good to hear." ' 
 
 "There is no more good for me to hear in this world" 
 
 -she saw the hght on my countenance, and gasped, then 
 
est. 
 
 me down to 
 was dressed 
 wasted the 
 s under her 
 d my heart 
 is poor soul, 
 disarray the 
 • of grief, I 
 ig boy, but 
 r darkened 
 
 hallice, and 
 
 before her 
 
 r poor face 
 
 The Passing of Edward. 
 
 i 
 
 133 
 
 seizing my hand with both hers, she cried—" Ke lives ! 
 Sir Maurice, he lives ! " 
 
 I nodded my head, smiling, and then the well-springs 
 were unloosed, and the first tears shed by Challice since 
 she had received my message of dolour flowed warm and 
 free. I stole quietly from the chamber, telling Gillian, 
 who stood without, that I should await her mistress's 
 summons in the hall. 
 
 I had not long to wait, and, taking Michael with me, 
 I let him tell in his own way ; howsoever, seeing that it 
 was long and interspersed with many outlandish sayings, 
 I prefer to tell here in mine own. 
 
 ill 
 
 hi: 
 
 , "yet you 
 ''ill. I am 
 
 'king upon 
 I from her 
 ■ now, and 
 renounced 
 3m Father 
 res — " but 
 admission 
 d you will 
 le king." 
 \ my best 
 ?s I bear, 
 
 lis world " 
 ped, then 
 
 i4 
 
 11 ,■ 
 
 'W 
 
f I 
 
 134 
 
 11 
 I ^11 
 
 ©f th hxabt tampnnu iW follafoeb Sir ^ahttt Ire 
 ^Iifforl. to tf,e taftmg of t>e ISrus m tfte ©len of 
 ^rool Jofo ft fareb tott& tf,em, anl. e^pecfalls int'tfi 
 Sir ^imaltcr U Mmiion, 
 
 Merrilv rang out our English trumpets among the oaks 
 of Cree ,n the first light of a May morning as 5e Clifford 
 marshalled his own Cumberland yeomen and led them 
 from their camp on the stmth of Kirroughtrie. Never^ 
 comeher knight than he in^^l King Edward's Court, of 
 whom the jongleurs do still use to sing^ 
 
 " Robert le seignour de Cliffort 
 
 A ki raisons donne confort 
 
 De ses ennemis emcombrer 
 
 Toutes le foiz ki remembrer 
 
 Ki puet de son noble lignage. 
 
 '■'•.. 
 
 Si je estoie une pucellette 
 Je li donroie quer e cors, 
 Tant est de li bons li recors."» 
 
 J " Robert the Lord of Clifford who has reason for confidence in over 
 linZf ' " w'"' r °'''" " '^ ^^"^ '° '"-^ ^^^ ra.ne o^hi nobt 
 
The Glen of Trool. 
 
 135 
 
 Eabert Ire 
 &e @Ien of 
 
 ? the oaks 
 le Clifford 
 
 led them 
 Never a 
 
 Court, of 
 
 ire m over- 
 his noble 
 heart and 
 
 Men were proud to rally under his famous gonfalon, 
 whereof the field was chequered gold and azure charged 
 with a scarlet fess. 
 
 Next in the column rode the Kendal dalesmen, Mar- 
 mion at their head, preceded by young Geoffrey de 
 Neville bearing the golden basnet, and followed by old 
 Michael the Fen man. The pennon of de Roos, three 
 red bougets on a golden field, fluttered over their heads ; 
 but Sir Walter wore a surcoat of his own bearings. 
 
 The rear was brought up by Sir John de VVigtoun 
 with three hundred spearmen of Galloway, grim, bearded 
 fellows, not so bravely attired as the English horsemen, 
 yet hardy fighters on their lean, active nags, and thirsting 
 for the first thrust at him whom they looked on as the 
 oppressor of their own prince, Baliol. Sir John's banner 
 and surcoat were alike black, bearing three golden stars, 
 whereby he might be readily distinguished in the closest 
 mellay. 
 
 Wellnigh nine hundred horsemen there were, of excel- 
 lent quality as Marmion noted with approval, regretting 
 only that they were not in the field against a foe who 
 should more shrewdly test their mettle. Yet was it evil 
 ground for cavalry; the woodland track was so strait 
 that the horsemen were compelled to move in single file, 
 whereby from the advanced files to the rearmost it was 
 nigh unto two parts of a league. Howbeit, there was 
 little risk of a flank attack so far from the mountains, 
 and de Clifford reckoned on extending his front upon 
 the open upland beyond the woods. 
 
 It was a false reckoning. It is true that after advanc- 
 ing ten miles the column cleared the dense forest, and 
 entered upon a rough moorland, wooded only on the 
 rocky heights, which stood like islets out of the plain ; 
 
 m 
 
 ,1! 
 
 I 
 
■ If " 
 
 but that plain itself was shp„ 
 
 horses. I„ vain de ClilTord cursed^ir'"' • !"''"'''''"'= ''>' 
 to hang him as a traitor M, ^""'°' "'^''tening 
 
 he believed the fellow ^s fa"ll7°" '°'' "" '"''"--d? 
 tongue but his own baTblou p '""k"^''- '^^'''^'"S "° 
 to a blue chasm in the mo™, '''„ ' '™''' """ Po'nt 
 before us, and explain .hXTrf'^^ '™ '^^-s 
 was the Glen of Trool. Qeaflt to K "'"'^ *■'"' ">« 
 man could ride thither, at Teas^ ,° T " ""^ *at no 
 marvel much that a Itn „h, ""* ^ '^■'''O". and I 
 
 as was de Clifford had „otr™"".' '" " """'^ «■••« 
 scouts beforehand ; for such „e h'!!,"'; "" «™""'' '^'^ 
 'o be of greater moment to sTcc u"'""^ '" ^"'-^^^e 
 combat or speed in m LuJe Ho h" '"" ™'°" '" 
 snare of our Enghsh caotal^t , "™^"' " « ever the 
 -d scouting as unknight ":! W ,*^^ "''^'" 'Py'"8 
 
 -«^a:^/^ir s:;r horsSf — •» 
 
 -nlike the Scots, ar; ZULl °"' ^"SHsh soldiers, 
 -1 find it but ;„ encu^Ce tT "' ^""^ ^f"' 
 quarellers ■ i„ de Clifford s.Z u "' """'^ ^''^ ^rty 
 Wth sword and dagger onlvp' l c'' "'' ''" '" a™ed 
 men had been trained as all ^ •'°''" '^ '"s'™"'^ 
 
 *e.> spears afoot as pfteme %T7." T' '° """-^'^ 
 art from the Flemings wh„ fi ^°^" '""' ''^"'" 'hat 
 
 "TO.™ Count Robert"strp 'f"^ ''' °^"- 
 atCourtray, and shown howtotlL "' "^ '"■= ^purs 
 
 alone, were more than a matrfo^r """'''"'' P*^ 
 ' Crossbo„„„„ ,„ „, , , ^°' *" P^'-^^est chivalry 
 
 't«r weapo jrC "™'' '"'"' '"= "l"-.l» " or bo,., fir., , J 
 
Crest. 
 
 impassable by 
 Je, threatening 
 me afterwards 
 Speaking no 
 "Id but point 
 3 two leagues 
 :ter how that 
 t was that no 
 season, and I 
 many wars 
 ground with 
 
 in Palestine 
 2n valour in 
 
 \^ ever the 
 dain spying 
 Jver for the 
 
 "adrons to 
 n hfliras of 
 2t. Spears 
 ^ soldiers, 
 >ear afoot, 
 but forty 
 in armed 
 VVigtoun's 
 to handle 
 -arnt that 
 lad over- 
 ne Spurs 
 ith pikes 
 chivalry 
 
 ired from 
 
 The Glen of Trool. 
 
 m 
 
 of France. These men of Galloway, then, claimed the 
 y?^-^' *° ^'"^'^ ^^ Clifford gave assent, and changed 
 the order of march in such fashion that the Kendal troop 
 became rearmost. Rest assured that Marmion chafed 
 thereat not a little, yet had to obey his chief. 
 
 From Borgan the array advanced on foot, making slow 
 progress, for the way was exceeding rough, and it was 
 high noon when they halted for mealtithe at the entrance 
 to the pass of Trool. Not a sound came from the glen 
 to betoken the presence of living man, not a wreath of 
 smoke— nothing but the scream of a pair of buzzards, 
 wheeling slowly above the dark pines on the hill flanks, 
 the whistle of the curlew, and the distant bleating of a 
 sheep. The soldiers were weary and wet with struggling 
 through the bogs ; before them rose the mountains, cleft 
 with one mighty rent, wherein slumbered a winding mere 
 between mighty precipices. No wise commander would 
 choose to hazard his men farther in such a trap, unless 
 confident in the weakness of the enemy. De Clifford, 
 fearing an ambush, sent for the guide once more and 
 questioned him right sharply as to the numbers with 
 de Brus, and his exact position. 
 
 "Fifteen score, or twenty at the most," affirmed the 
 fellow, a ragged, low-browed rascal, round whose neck for 
 better security a noosed rope had been passed, fastened 
 to the girdles of two stout spearmen : «' half of them with 
 the Brus, and half, behke, with Sir James of Douglas." 
 
 " And how be they armed ? " inquired de Clifford. 
 
 "No two of them alike," answered the guide, "and 
 that's the truth. There be some with bows, and some 
 with pikes, some with sperthes,! and some with whinzeours 
 and dirks." 
 
 ^ Fighting axes. 
 
 I 
 
 
•ft "I 
 
 If 
 I 
 
 )i! 
 
 '38 '^'•^ Chevalier of , he '^., ,.,^ 
 
 "J "le Spleiiiltti Crest. 
 
 "Has tlicre been 5;,.i. 
 Cifl-ord. "^^"^- -^ong ,hen,?» ,,^,, ^^ 
 
 ii SCO, ...„, ,„ ,1::;;:::;:: ,r? ^-'^ ■■ "-'. 
 
 l^<-'lly-t.n,l,er being hard to cZ • '''•■'•■" "''•' enough 
 
 -"d corn.fed, lying ,■„ ,;,X%anr, ''"'" ''^''''•«' b-ef. 
 Vmptoms of short commons Z T" ""^ ''■'"her; no 
 
 "Can ye lead „s io Xr^ "L"' "'™»">">e: 
 "«« on, .. Mark y, fellowron '"f«"°"'= "^•"' ' " "e 
 you sw,„g from .he nearest (CJt'' "'" "' "''^""' 
 
 ^ can take you as far ■ i 
 ?';>'• ""here dwells a caille :h ''I f*"''" "'""=<= "- 
 Ihe Brus slew her son with l"; own I 7 *' ^"^ 'P"'- 
 ha.h vowed to deliver him oTrtoL'',^''"'''''' ">- 
 , At a sign from Sir Robert ,h ^ ^"«''^''-" 
 fee,; no, a trumpet soundeAo !i 1°°"' "'"'"^ '° "><^- 
 the march was taken up i„ 'L' T"'"^ '° ">e foe; 
 'he glen the guide halted po "J; "" V^ ^"•™'- 'o 
 "here, he said, hved ,he wmTwh ' """''' "' ''»-''. 
 o the harbour of de Brus ." " T '° *°'' '"e way 
 k'nd of hovel, built of rough s,on ^ T"" ^"'^'^ ™s a 
 ""h hea,her, so wondrou y\e,~^ '"^-d .ha,ched 
 around ,ha, a man migh, scarceTav « *' '''''««>■ "oor 
 foyhe ,rampling of ,hf herblge 'e" ,hr'' "'' ''"'= " "<" 
 
 The spy whis,Ied ,hrice after T ^""■•■'™«^- 
 
 and anon there stood in ,he oL """""■ "'' " '^"'■"ew, 
 haired hag, screening her evefr' °f ""^ 'l™ a grey! 
 ^kmny hand. The spy urb,, "'' ^™ ""h her 
 approaching her begafo "a k t F '" '^'' «"""'- 
 hag grew exci,ed, ,he barb^^' Zf^ ' '"'''"''* '"^ 
 her hps, and ,hrice she shook to Zl ''T "^' ^™'" 
 
 ■An old ''""""•"ds , he defile 
 
 An old woman. 
 
Crest. 
 
 ^?" asked de 
 
 ^^"les/' quoth 
 •" rife enough, 
 J" country." 
 
 fel'cws, beef. 
 
 h>Mther; no 
 'ought he. 
 e lieth?" he 
 n of treason, 
 
 answered the 
 'e very spot, 
 lerefore she 
 
 ed to their 
 to the foe ; 
 •n trance to 
 ■ of hazels, 
 >w the way 
 'hes was a 
 ' thatched 
 ggy moor 
 ere it not 
 :e, 
 
 a curlew, 
 fi a grey- 
 ivith her 
 guards, 
 eat the 
 St from 
 e defile 
 
 1 
 
 The Glen of Trool. 
 
 139 
 
 Ijotwccn the mountains. But when, at de CHfTord's 
 conunand, a rope was passed round her neck, she fell 
 into a frenzy, waving her arms and scolding shrill in her 
 unknown tongue. Hardly might the other rascal pacify 
 her, explaining that she was not going to be hanged — 
 the rope being no more than such precaution as soldiers 
 do mostly use to observe with doubtful characters. 
 
 Once more the column advanced. The ground be- 
 came more steep ; the space between the mere and the 
 hillside narrowed so sharply that the men lost all order 
 and struggled forward at random through a thick wood. 
 This for the space of some two miles, after which the 
 trees grew more scattered, and a prospect might be had 
 to the utmost end of the glen. The hag beckoned that 
 all should lie down, and pointed to a lofty hill-face which 
 lay right athwart the pass, upon which, she made de 
 Clifford understand, was the harbour of the Brus. 
 
 De Clifford summoned Marmion and de Wigtour into 
 council. Should they attempt to surround this crag, 
 which seemed scarce possible from the steepness of the 
 ground ? or would it not be better to scale it from the 
 west where they lay, trusting that if the rebels took to 
 flight they would fall into the hands either of de Percy, 
 who was advancing from the north, or of Sir John de 
 Botetourte, who held the passes into Niiiisdale? All 
 three knights were of one mind. Their men had been 
 in saddle and afoot a matter of eight hours already : to 
 scatter them on a circuit of many miles through these 
 accursed mountains might be to lose tl.em altogether. 
 It was resolved to take Craigmin^ (for so they called 
 
 ^ On the face of Craigmin the shepherds still show the King's Seat, 
 wlience Robert Bruce viewed de Clifford's purty entering Glentrool. 
 
 ■■#*' 
 
 
 1 
 
 
 1 
 
 y 
 
 ^m 
 
 - a 
 
 "1 
 
 j 
 
 ■■ 
 
 1 
 
140 
 
 The acvalUr Of tne SplenMJ Cresr. 
 
 '\ 
 
 •;.e approach 7tr.::Z71 '" ""= ""'^"'^ '"- 
 ""-•(,'Ien. a!i was silent Id " ""' ""='" '"'>™ ■" 
 
 'heir only fear w,, >lTth"J, ""T "'"''^ °" «>= "i"'; 
 
 'lie lot of some other party ^ ''''' '^°'"'^ f^ll ,o 
 
 fhe conference over each l, ■ i. 
 P-"'y. Michael the f!^„1 ,M '' :?"'"=" •"•» ""- 
 Ihe brush. ""''" ='"'" to his master through 
 
 '"nd half-way up the mount, ' ""'"'"S '° " ""We- 
 % Which they Le to ~' """" ""'^^ *" '-<= 
 
 ' see nothing but a fs» i ' • 
 ■•eplied Marmion; " what oT hT^-f '""""'"« ^''™'.'- 
 
 "Mickleoftha I"? °^ ^'f 
 ".ought you wouM havTbr „lr ' ,"' "'"'' ""^ 
 know that those birds don't crvfo T '°"« "'°"S'> '» 
 " Well ? " qu-rieH th! '^ " "othmg." 
 
 ,, T • , . ^ -"ea the master. 
 I wish ,t may be well," retorted ,h„ 
 heed ,s safe speed. There are m' ™"'- "'^^°°d 
 I'Tds would not be so n!,7 u "P J'°"der, or the 
 
 " Men are what we le lolu "/ *"'^ ^«8^-" 
 '■•ghtly, and the Engu!h 1°^ "\°''" "P''"" Marmion 
 way ever grew worse Th"; 1?" '' *" '^''«-*- The 
 « '"e Steps of Trool-whfe ™ ' P'-^^-n,e„ call 
 ■n'o the dark waters below IndL""!''"'"" P'^^es fair 
 had to clamber along a 1^ °"l ">' °"' '"e soldiers 
 'WO full bowshots. De Cr f /°^ "'^ 'P^^^ °f 
 ^^fely across and stood !^' tee^ ' ,™"«""'^ '=°' 
 
 "etter ground. ClilTord's 
 
■rest. 
 
 3 Jie) in front. 
 ' was set at 
 
 ^^"'ghts that 
 5ed alarm m 
 on the hills ; 
 e decamped, 
 >ould h\\\ to 
 
 d his com- 
 pter through 
 
 hJm in the 
 to a table- 
 the track 
 
 g about, '- 
 
 )uld have 
 '"ough to 
 
 "Good 
 ■> or the 
 
 ^armion 
 J- The 
 len call 
 ?es fair 
 soldiers 
 •ace of 
 rd got 
 ifford's 
 
 T/ic Glen of Trool. 
 
 141 
 
 hordcrrrs were creeping along the rock-face, while Mar- 
 inion waited his turn to bring up the rear, when a bugle 
 rang out far up the face of Craigmin. Instantly a yell 
 pealed along the crags above the Englishmen ; great 
 rocks came hurtling down the precipice, crushing the 
 scattered soldiers or hurling them into the depths below, 
 and soon the air was hissing thick with arrows. They 
 had been led into a frightful ambush. The worst befell 
 de Clifford's men; truly it wa" ji'oous to behold these 
 stout yeomen thus penned f )r slaugi ter ; but all alike in 
 the column were helpless tga.'nst th ir foes high aloft. 
 Marmion's rcrew_;ard could noL tuivanr ., nor yet Wigtoun's 
 vaward retreat, Clifford's comi; ly blocking the only pas- 
 sage. Hell was let loose on these br^ve men, who could 
 not strike a blow in their own defence. 
 
 Marmion and his squire Geoffrey thrust as far forward as 
 they might for the press, mad to succour their comrades, 
 but the way was closed against them by living and dead 
 men. While they were thus struggling with the throng, 
 a boulder plunged fair on Geoffrey's head, scattering his 
 brains over Marmion's gay surcoat. That horrid sight 
 was the last that met the knight's eyes ere sudden dark- 
 ness fell upon them. 
 
 After the senses have been knocked out of a man, the 
 first of them to return is, ordinarily, the most trivial — 
 namely, smelling. Hence when Marmion came again 
 to consciousness the first thing he perceived was the 
 sharp odour of pine brruiches. Opening his eyes, he 
 beheld nothing but a green glimmer, and calling 
 "Geoffrey!" marvelled that his voice came so faint. 
 '• Michael ! " but none answered, and he lay still, feebly 
 
 WOnHprinor Annn clot:"!-* r\r c/-Nt-^Q«-U;„™ ,v>,^-« „_-.f_,,„J 
 
 • c ** ' — i' ■-■' ---•::i'-i.nink mOiu piOiuunu 
 
 Ihtl 
 
 11 ' 
 
 I. 
 
142 
 
 T!ie ac,alie. of the Sflendid Cresl. 
 
 came upon mm again inrf i, , 
 
 ^eardone who stirfed Le at ^m" ^""t."^^'" "= 
 Fenman. '""• ^^ was Michael the 
 
 "Where am I, Michael?" ask^r? .1. , • 
 "Neither in heaven nor h. f » ' ^"'^^^• 
 
 "though I reckoned you 4e"; ?"'' ''^ ^"^^-^ 
 the other. Yet are there "r:; -f "'^'^ '°^ ^^ - 
 "^^n might wish. Your vT '•' ^' ^'''"d ^han a 
 
 camp." "^^"^ ^^I'^ncy ,s in the Scottish 
 
 ;;Pardie I how came I thither?" 
 ine same way that the kinij rropfh f. w 
 -that is, feet foi;emost " ^ ° ^'^ °^^" funeral 
 
 "Was I hurt?" ^^ *■ 
 
 "Even so, my master. I will nn^ . n ,- 
 o' news. You came by what wonM . ^ ^'^ ^°^ «^«nt 
 for most stomachs; howbek tr" ^''" '" °' ^^^t 
 
 the old oak breaks." ^''""^ ^^^^^ bends where 
 
 Walter lay still for n 
 P>^«d, but the mirror w^hlf f "'? '° ''•^'" "''« had 
 entering the g,a„. HeTrLd !„ f *'« ^^f^" '"^r 
 
 ^hot through his breast nVth::: V V"^'' ^^8 
 heather couch. His eve, h ^™ ''^'='' O" his 
 
 'Old him that he ^ inTsmrh"',"' T '" '"^ «'»"' 
 S-en pine branehel and Too Id ^ '^': ™°^^<' -* 
 "•hKh a stack had been onJ7 *'°™"S ^eath, of 
 
 had left the hut. bu L't^^' "^^^ ''' ''^''' *^-hael 
 trained from seethed o tmeal """ ,"f ^ ™™ ''"^'^ 
 «ee.e„ed with honey, wh4l "' '^ '"* "* »" 
 "11 he drained the ho n m1?™'°" '^'■^"'' 'l°»ly 
 
 "Meat and matins huijor no T'. "^" P'^^sed. 
 'here being few occastnf whTch h! io^Tr^'" ^^'^ ''^' 
 from h,s store of set saws • "Z 1 "°' """tch 
 
 that hath pa^.ed thy gullet' thel ,1 " ""^ '='^' "eat 
 
 / ftUiiet these three days." 
 
The Glen of Trool. 
 
 143 
 
 "Three days!" cried Marmion, in a voice, feeble in- 
 deed, yet greatly strengthened by the nourishment. " I 
 broke my fast heartily before we left Kirroughtrie camp 
 this morning." 
 
 " This morning, quotha ! that was three mornings ago. 
 Mickle water goeth by the sleeping miller,"— and not 
 another word would Michael say at that time, nor was 
 it until Walter had slept again, long and sound, th; t he 
 could recount the events of the combat at the Steps of 
 Trool. Then he told him how a boulder, hurled from 
 the height, had struck him fair on the chest and, knock- 
 ing him senseless, had broken two or three ribs which 
 Michael's leechcraft was even now in exercise to heal. 
 "Where are my comrades, Michael?" 
 "A bloody day for England," sighed the Fenman, 
 shakmg his head. " It was a foolhardy venture to push 
 into these wastes without prickers in advance. The fool 
 saith— Who would have thought it? yet none would 
 listen to old Michael when he pointed the warning of 
 the lapwings." 
 
 "But where is Geoffrey de Neville?" 
 "Death devours lambs as well as sheep," answered 
 Michael. " The brave lad fell, as half our men must 
 have fallen, in his tracks, without so much as a blow struck 
 in defence. The Scots were far above us on the crags ; 
 they just rolled the rocks upon us as we stood. Of the 
 vanguard, scarcely a man escaped ; but Sir Robert brought 
 away about half his company, and your Kendal blades, 
 being in the rearward, made good retreat. What mortal 
 man could fight against mountains and rocks ? " 
 
 "And we are prisoners with the Scots?" asked 
 Marmion. 
 
 - V • > 
 
 sphcd the other ^ '■ it's coiTiv to little, but it's 
 
 
 % 
 
 > 11 
 
 ' !•» 
 
'44 
 
 ne ChevaUer of the Splendid Crcs,. 
 
 <:orae to that. When th» „ 
 
 '-"•ed and need the hind's helo^M' *' '°"^ ""^ be 
 gentleman, was slain fi.s _. £ ''^''" Geoffrey, poo, 
 head's ofl; think, I. ,,^„ J ^ Past joking when the 
 self, but there was not time fZ """ '° ™'eh your- 
 
 ™ek struck you clean 0"^:'° r"' "^ '^ » "'ekle 
 a bank where there was some shdt r """'' ^°" "^er 
 «"d it was there the ScotsX.t l™" ""= '"'""« «""; 
 to ^Wp the shin. The; wo /d t" "' "'''" *^^ ^™e 
 enough, and were bent on Thad no,"" "^ "'™'' ^«e 
 'ng noted the clmrges on your 7 ™' ""^ ""^''er bear- 
 cans out in the hefthen to'gue oT '"'"« "'«^- "e 
 he turns to me and quoth he ■ Wh . f """«"-''■ ^"d then 
 'Sir Walter ie Marmion of Sh Jlf '. ' ^°" ''"^ *ere?' 
 that truth may be told in ff"?"™'' "J""* I, seeing 
 ■ong preamble' .Good" ^tlT '"[ ' ''" "-"' ' 
 'hough he smelt a savoury tth^'' ""* ' S^^ce as 
 n>y prisoners.' 'Hell wort be^Mln^' *'" ''"'^ ^™ 
 I to ".yself, 'but better wl'''r-» ■'.'thinks 
 and obeyed with as fine a gr t f r '^" f°°" "°'hing,' 
 the rood ! but it was » .,„ ! ^"'"^ ""ster. Rv 
 
 - been iater onTscrLtT -'"^ \'' "" «-'^ 
 yo" and I would have fed ,L m'"« °'^ =" P^'e^oster, 
 f"d 'hat's as sure as thert'sa.r ■"""'' "^ ""^^er 
 l^ep. me alive not by reason of '," ^°"""'- The,: 
 
 old hide, but that I L-gh kee/th7rr'"' ""^ '^ '" -l 
 Roner. Boyd, for that fs he k^-'h ' '" '°"' ""^ '" «'> 
 
 ■ng. might hold ,ur valiancv ," .° "°PP^<' ^e slay- 
 
 Walter Ie Marmiont r ^ " ^°°^ ™''°°'-" 
 
 heen sorely b^^d" tVZk: "h ^''"^'' ^" "^ had 
 
 yet by Michael's carefuf te^r ^ *" i^^^^' ='°"e; 
 
 — .-yetmore,pter:fb-:-^-f 
 
The Glen of Trooi. j.^ 
 
 and clean blood, he stood after many days upon his feet 
 and warmed himself in the summer sun. Sir Robert 
 Boyd had set over him a secure watch, and came nearly 
 every day to see how his prisoner fared, for knights ever 
 set great store upon their equals taken in battle, forasmuch 
 as they look to making sure gain by their ransom. One 
 mornmg there came with Boyd another knight, for such 
 Marmion deemed his rank to be, albeit he knsw him not, 
 and his attire was simple, without cognisance or knightly 
 device. He stood somewhat over the middle height, with 
 broad shoulders and flat back and limbs of exceeding 
 strength. Fresh of colour, his hair and beard had grown 
 long and of a golden colour, barbers, I ween, being scarce 
 in that wilderness; his eyes, of a dark-grey hue, were 
 bright and searching and of a noble aspect, even as of 
 one accustomed to bear rule. This knight, then, made 
 courteous inquiry about Sir Walter's recovery, and began 
 to question him concerning the king's forces, their dis- 
 position, strength, and other matters, of which things the 
 prisoner spake never a word, disdaining to make false 
 report and little inclined to reveal the truth. 
 
 "Art thou not feared, sir knight," asked the rebel chief, 
 "to withhold what thou knowest, seeing that it needs but 
 a word from Robert King of Scots and thou shalt look on 
 land and sky no more ? " 
 
 "I hold not life so dear," quoth Sir Walter, "that I 
 would pay for it with mine honour. As for him you call 
 King of Scots, I count him recreant and forsworn. The 
 rightful King of Scots is Edward Plantagenet." 
 
 Boyd started forward, as though he would deal Marmion 
 a buffet, but the other stayed him. 
 
 "Softly, good Sir Robert," quoth he, "softly with your 
 prisoner. In good south, he hath said no more than I 
 
 K 
 
 f-i I. 
 
 Ml 
 
 I M 
 
 
 p*^ 
 
 :.!| 
 
^4S "-^^^^ Chevalier of the S,;. ^'. 
 
 J tne iiplendtd Crest 
 
 should say did I st r? ' 
 
 n>y ™"sta 'Edward has' sucllf "'""• ^ "« Prosed ,haf 
 so thai we have ,,.>T u ^ S™'' SMva„t_,h! 
 
 Ma™io„-..ZgTvf:e "•" • ■"^" "^ -" «u d Zl 
 "WC- has been bornet Tj/V « >"" ^es. .he 4°, 
 ^-"« le Marmion, which ri '"«'' "^"''-"er of s" 
 
 g«her among thieves. Vo„r '°^'' >"«' not alto 
 
 =^fe w,th us as in Cariisle CaL"""' ''"'^ P"™" are ^ 
 your freedom we must t^^^' "^'^""^^^ to regaf„ 
 five thousand golden nobles . 2°"^™"'^^ '' ""»™^ 
 
 -V^"(t\:^;^.^;™-;iw„otwho,ou 
 
 one bating rule among thT^', ^^t', " '^ '^e you ^ 
 'lat no messenger from that fl, '■ ""'' ^ «w you 
 -cept as ,„ outlaw in a'; 0"":^- " "^ ^-i =," 
 We thank you for fh. ^'"S:^ castles" 
 
 castle have made us well aware^f .^ ^"'"^ ''"d New. 
 expect Howbeit, you ha^e a / '' '=™^ "^ have to 
 !>- ..dmgs Of your presen ^g tTV'T' ^" W™ 
 ■I am but a nnnr , ^ '*^ Carlisle" 
 
 *en, halting 'on the tl^eshoM "t'/"'^ ^""^^ 'o go- 
 your freedom to move abroad w,.''~''^°" ^^all hfve' 
 PO^''. tf you give your lent".; pZ''" '™"= "^ °" out! 
 
 ;A^»^.««i„.o<,e,„ ''°""°"° escape. We 
 
'B> 
 
 The Glen of Trool. 
 
 14; 
 
 will set our cousin Edward an example how to deal with 
 prisoners of every degree," 
 
 Walter hesitated. To find his way out of the wilder- 
 ness without a guide and in his present weakness seemed 
 a slender hope. 
 
 "Take my parole, then," he said, not with the fairest 
 grace, for he was sore at heart, not knowing where his 
 ransom might be raised. " Take it, until I call it back. 
 I take Sir Robert Boyd to witness that I will not pass 
 beyond the outposts until I give due warning that my 
 parole is resumed. Yet have I title to know to whom I 
 have committed that parole." 
 
 The stranger knight smiled again, saying— 
 " All men call me Robert de Brus, but the people of 
 this land know me as the King of Scots." 
 
 Sir Walter was startled ; a scoffing reply rose to his lips, 
 yet prudence counselled him to hold his peace and he 
 obeyed it. Moreover there was that in the appearance 
 and address of the rebel chief which took Marmion's 
 favour despite himself, — a mingled dignity and kindliness 
 — a courtliness — the manner of the great world — strangely 
 at variance with his homely attire and untended locks. 
 The English knight felt that he stood before one who, 
 although rebel and murderer, was yet a man indeed and a 
 leader of men, 
 
 " We have heard tell of your quest, Sir Knight of the 
 Splendid Crest," continued de Brus, pointing to Marmion's 
 helmet which lay on his folded jupon in a corner of the 
 hut, and which it had been Michael's pride even in 
 captivity to keep bright and clean. '* Rest assured that 
 we shall do nothing to interfere with your devoir to the 
 Lady of Kendal, in whose house we lay in our last 
 passage through England. Ferriiit us to wish vou a 
 
 'if 
 
 
 
 
 sin .;■ 
 
 i 
 
 
 Hr^ !t'^ 
 
 
 * ■ 
 
 '^B 
 
 
 
 
 
!! 1 
 
 ^^^<^ Chevalier of tI,P ^j,r ,. , 
 
 -^ ^^-^^ ^plmdid Crest 
 
 ^e^r- *^' - -, .e .0.. .CO.,,,, ,„ 
 
 naughty wilderness anc a. d' „. Ij^ '''^""^' "^ ™gl' a 
 
 -y .nto Nithsdale and .^L ^^tfl '"" "^ 
 
 ' ^-^ E"S'ish border. 
 
 ■m 
 
 i 
 
 W 
 
>mplish her 
 
 ^"<^^ of two 
 tf! ouglj a 
 ree, oirect- 
 - hold his 
 ^ border. 
 
 149 
 
 m\ 
 
 1 r' 
 
 ( 
 
 !• 
 
 u 
 
 u. 
 
 m tfiE wanner m infiicli Sit Simnller le ifHarmCon's 
 ransom iuas paiU, anb of tfje ®arl of CTorntoairg 
 suit for tfje j^anti of im^ixtm ©{jallice. 
 
 Never did damoysel hearken so intently to trouvere's 
 vijelai, ballad, or chanson de geste, as did the Lady Challice 
 to Michael the Fenman's long story. She never took 
 her eyes off his countenance, and I marked her colour 
 flush and fade and flush again, as she followed the 
 speaker into that valley of the shadow of death. When 
 the tale was told she turned to me with a light I had 
 never thought to see again in those dear eyes. 
 
 " He was dead to us, Sir Maurice," quoth she faintly, 
 with the dew of joy rising under her lids, " and lo ! he 
 liveth. What ofi"ering can I make to Our Lady for this 
 most blessed deliverance?" Then rising from her seat 
 she went on in stronger accents. "Now let us lose no 
 time about the ransom. Gentle Sir Maurice, you will 
 doubtless prepare for its speedy despatch under proper 
 escort. It must be sent to-morrow — why not indeed 
 to-night? My dear knight must not lie an hour longer 
 among those bloody men than it needs for succour to 
 reach him." 
 
 
 r'lR^mtrr' t %m 
 
'50 
 
 The Chevalier of the SplenJlJ Crest. 
 
 % mind misgave me • i l 
 ^""> wa., ,0 be had. " "<" "'«»•« 'his great 
 
 "Dear Jady," said I, ",„. „, , 
 b- lost in .ransaeeing his bl"^ """ "° '■"= -^M 
 proceed so swi% asl , 'de ," f' 'rl't- "^ ""^ "«' 
 his treasurer is with hi„, and 2 i*"* """8 "'= ='l'^'=>«; 
 ;nd willing ,0 advanee «,","!? "^^^ ""^'^ "' '>and 
 W'-'ter's kinsman, Sir Ph ! 'fT*: °" "-^ '''ourity of 
 -say whenee it' eould he'come r^'^' '' ^^ ^^^ 
 The L,,y of Kendal flushed deeply 
 Sir Maurice," she said "? ,^^' 
 I have wealth -God Icnoweth r,""' """ P"P'"' >'°"- 
 What should be simpler thiltl T' """" ' «"'■ 
 should advance this money "p™ '' '°™ "'^'^'^ 
 credit of the Honor of KendT 7 ""•"""" The 
 "thinks, in .his town of Ca 'r 7 '"^'* '° ">". 
 
 '" »o. "eighty a matter pIL T , """'P^^"" 
 --™g the inkhorn, I said to l^'rl' '"'^"'^' ^f'- """ 
 
 -'■■■n^^:::: r ra:;r ^-V''-^' - are 
 
 know not aught Xt t ^ufht """ " «*^ ^^ ' 
 find himself under a debt wtvh T" ""'=">' 'han to 
 to repay." """ "h.ch is far beyond his power 
 
 "Go to, Sir Maurice!" cried r, „■ 
 
The Chevalier's Ransom, 
 
 151 
 
 >u are 
 i able 
 ion is 
 md I 
 m to 
 >ower 
 
 her 
 slow 
 
 as to conceive that Sir Walter shall ever know whence 
 his ransom comes. I charge you on your knightly 
 honour, and you too "—turning to Michael the Fenman 
 —"on the true faith yop bear to your master, that no 
 word of this matter shall come to his hearing. Nay, 
 I will have you both swear"— and with a quick turn 
 of her hand she had my misericorde from its sheath • 
 then holding the cross of the hilt before us, she caused 
 us both to swear by the holy symbol that we would 
 never betray her part in the business, unless it were 
 with her consent given. 
 
 And thus was Walter's ransom found. On the eve 
 of Saint Peter ad Vincula ^ a troop of forty of the Lady 
 Challice's light horsemen under Captain Leonard de 
 Musgrave passed out of the Richergate, Michael the 
 Fenman riding in their midst, leading a pack-horse laden 
 with five thousand golden nobles. Mistress Challice 
 continued in her house in Carlisle, counting the hours 
 till Walter should return. Before that came about, 
 however, the king came back to the town and with 
 him the newly belted Earl of Cornwall. A council was 
 summoned to meet on Saint Bartholomew's day,2 whereat 
 I rejoiced, for I had great store of despatches from our 
 commanders in Scotland waiting the king's attention, 
 some of them, God knoweth, of evil purport enough. 
 Yet could I not persuade his Grace to give ear to them. 
 When I read a letter from de Valence, telling how de 
 Brus had taken the field, and that people from all parts 
 had gathered to him in such sort that, intrenching 
 himself upon strong ground at Loudoun Hill, he had 
 repulsed the onset of three thousand horse under de 
 Valence himself, slain many of our men and put the 
 1 1st Augi.,.st. 3 24tj, ^„gy.f_ 
 
 I - 
 
 
'52 
 
 The Chevalier of,,,, Sf Undid Crest. 
 
 nu^h'tr;:';^" ' -^o "-e u.,y e,-,,,,,, ,„ ,,^ 
 
 Now bet«w:, , I'""- 
 
 de Valence, i,,,; o,- p^^,,f"' of Cornwall, and Ay„,er 
 other than ,!■ ,vill anrf "" ^''' "'"'^ ^ad never been 
 -cJ dishV, on 1"!: "7 "T °"™"'^ '»"• "'*-" 
 "» 'he serpen,, was ever at ,b °"' ""'''' ""'' »"l"te 
 
 b/ --eason of his sallow counl" s """"^'^ ^''^ ^y^er, 
 
 cora,.,a„d twenty .honrand™' n'''^.^^- ""= ''"h « hi 
 
 -atter the ragged rabb e of Kin^ rV!''' ^"™»"'' '" 
 
 tehef that twenty thouLd ™ * "''''''' '^i^ my 
 
 h,m," °''«»'d "I'-re would not satisfy 
 
 "Nay," said I, scarw «M. . 
 'h;> Gascon o.vil. ."b, fnde "nTf ''- ^ """ ^«"-' 
 what ,s wanted ,s ,ha WsCr? . '" ■"'""'^ f"™-"-. 
 'he field without delay The Sc „ ?'"" ='" "" '^^e 
 akmg arms because, lf„ow',g thatT , T"""™^"^ "^ 
 hey see none in his place and ''"^ '^ '^'="''' 
 
 fnends with the ,. i^e ^ "! ''' '™''™ '° -"ake 
 eomnronalty alone; .ome o ,?.""• ^'" '^ '' 'he 
 «;er. I have he^ a Tetter ^^L"?"^ "'» '''«"' '« 
 b^fore your Hi„;,ness, teW^ L; t "" *° "" '^^ 
 W, powerful knights „ ,h, '"'' '^''^^^''d'''- 
 
 have gone over to the rebel, -.r' """" ^'■erdeen, 
 , /'We will hear of , ha, J'"' '" ""^'^ "^ ''°'™'8-" 
 Maurice," quoth tlie km, „hn ', '■™''' food ,ir 
 8en.le of speech and cou^eous' lutla!. '' '"''■ "" "" 
 
.il 
 
 my 
 
 The Chevalier'' s Ransom. 
 
 153 
 
 ••Under favour, sire," I persisted, "but there have 
 
 and 
 has 
 
 been murmurs even among our Enj^a-sh nobles 
 commonalty, forasnmch as the twentieth {tcnny 
 been granted and levied for the furtherance of the 
 Scottish war, yet the work goes neither forward nor 
 toward." 
 
 " De Valence is our viceroy in the north, and we trust 
 him too well to doubt that he will render right account 
 of these rebels in the end. Meantime, there be other 
 matters of nearer moment to us in which we shall wel- 
 come your aid. We have ber advised that our father 
 of blessed memory set too little store of late years upon 
 consolidating his power by the wise disposition of his 
 wards in marriage. Now there is at this time, we are 
 advised, in this very town, one of the wealthiest of these 
 wards, as yet unbetrothed — the Lady of the Honor of 
 Kendal. You know the dnmoysel, for we remember how 
 /• ' broLi-'ht her to audience with the lute king in this 
 very chamber." 
 
 ^'^ ■ heart grew cold at this hearing. 
 Sire," answered, •• I know the lady right u ell, but 
 she is alri promised in marriage by the sanction of 
 
 your Highness's e." 
 
 •'We have other views for her," said the king. "We 
 heard, indeed, that something had passed between her 
 and one Sir Lai k-land in ( nresence, but such as 
 not be suffered to interfere in our disposal of wealth and 
 military power." 
 
 ••But, sire " I began. 
 
 •'Prithee, no more at present, Sir Maurice," said the 
 king. •• Let a summons be sent to the Lady oi Kendal 
 to attend our Court at this hour on the morrow." 
 
 1 could do no more than my duty. Ho>v long that 
 
 ■i '■* i 
 
 h 
 
 !i! ( 
 
 T^^^H^^ 
 
 
 % 
 
 
 f 
 
 1 
 
 m 
 
rr^'f 
 
 'S4 The Cncvalier <,/,;„ Sp!cn.U,, Cres,. 
 duey should remain such as r . i , ,• 
 « it passed left n,e "n ,he " *'"""8'^ "■>'')'% 
 
 y-rs would have ZZ^A,^ ' '"""'"■ ^"^"^'"8 
 -y office a. any n,o™ ^ td^" T""^" '°' "^"'"'"S 
 'he firs., but for ,,. obfction , ""'""' *""" "o""-' ''^ 
 ™-ter. I would nave doLl "''"" """ ''^ '"' "y'"*-' 
 1 saw a chance of 1 1,'™ f L"™ ^1^'""^^ ''"t .ha- 
 <i-r young friends. liLT; I'f ^'•™'' '° ""^ 
 summons to Mistress Chall " no"! """ ""•■ ■"■"«■= 
 "•yself, « I should be temotd T"^ '° '"'^'- ""=™ 
 «s coming. Fain would 7h!, "'"^ '° ''" »■'"« 
 
 b"' "y vow as a privy coJn^^" ""'"''^ "" '^"^< 
 b-held her not, then tm she "^ ,''"'''* "'' ">■ I 
 
 '"ce on the riorrow I e^ T "''"'"' '"'° "■» ?■■-- 
 "•■■•eh she was abou: 't. , e ^.p^eTf '"^ ^"= '™' '° 
 
 "ThTkinr '" '"""' -"~e""" ''"^'' "'' 
 
 -••h goIdT;;ga™f.s! Svel the'r„r",' '"™="'^'^ 
 h.s courtly grace, and bade her h ^-''^ "'''"^ '"« "ith 
 h»d. Upon his right hand 1 -k'T" ""'"' '"= '^ft 
 yet more gorgeously a, pat^dtha: l"\°' ^""""' 
 won ^.^..^,.^,^„„^ emb^dered ^ith ne'? ''" '°"« 
 off wuh orange-tenney silk. He h.T '^ * ""'' ^<=' 
 '«t of us, saving the'king when the l^,'"'" "'"- ""^ 
 ■■eseat himself so near the 11^,1, It'' ™'""'^' '«<' 
 '™e to time recline aga nJ fh ^" """'' *'" f™"> 
 found the said earl's nefk "L ' ^''''"^ "is arm 
 
 his bosom, as though he had h^". ""'"'"^ "'^ """'' » 
 manner I have seen the It»lh ^" P»™"our; which 
 
 ye. hath it alwl! been Sd"' "'" '° """' ^'°^^ '''-"ds. 
 -n. Besides this t an 'mrerb ^""""^ ^"S"^"' 
 but five other privy councillor"- 1' J?,T"= T'"' 
 of Lincoln, whom Cornwall in I- ' "^ 8°°<^ Earl 
 
 l-ornwall, m h,s wanton insolence, had 
 
The Chevalier^ s Ransom. 
 
 »55 
 
 named hoele-crev^e ; ^ Gilbert de Clare, young Earl of 
 Gloucester, whom lie thought it no shame to address to 
 his face as fih-i^-puteyne ; Thomas, Earl of Lancaster, 
 the king's cousin, whom he spoke of as vielers"^ behind 
 his back ; John Hulton, Bishop of Carlisle ; and John of 
 Stratford, the king's treasurer. Making becoming rever- 
 ence to these. Mistress Challice took her seat beside the 
 king, who spoke as here follows to her : — 
 
 "You are welcome to our Court, madame, both by 
 reason of the grace brought thereto by the presence of 
 such a gracious lady, but by reason of the high esteem 
 we bear to the Honor of Kendal. Furthermore, standing 
 as we do towards you in the place of guardian, it is con- 
 cerning your own affairs that we have sought occasion to 
 confer with you." 
 
 ♦' My poor affairs are surely beneath your Highness's 
 regard," replied Challice. " My estates are administered 
 by my good uncle Sir Blaise de Strickland, who is even 
 now at Kendal conducting my household. Some three 
 hundred of my levies are with Sir Robert de Clifford in 
 Galloway, the rest are gathering in the hay on their 
 lands." 
 
 ** It is of something nearer your welfare than lands and 
 levies that we would speak, fair lady," said the king. 
 "You are young, yet not so young but that we marvel 
 greatly that the good king, our father, did not choose 
 one of his most favoured barons upon whom to bestow 
 your hand in wedlock." 
 
 No thunder ever clapped so suddenly as this speech 
 upon the Lily's ears : she had received no warning, yet 
 quailed she not as she maae reply. 
 
 •' The king your father did not forget the humblest of 
 1 Burst-belly. « Fiddler. 
 
 % 
 
 ' I 
 
•Se m Chevalier of t!^ Sfknaid Crest 
 
 'ha; choice is already Idt" ' '"'"'''"'^' """■ sire, 
 
 " Tiie king our fatlier was in hi. a . 
 he gave such a promise. WhaM ! T^'' ""^^^"^"^ when 
 our realm would soon go to wreekTf ^^^ '"'^'- """'"''' 
 were suffered ,o wed with a! i„h "' °^ ^''"^ «"«« 
 -^"ches. No, madam! we Loon: 7""°"' '' '"•"=''^'> 
 worthy of your ancient li;Z,e It; ""'' '"' '""^'"^- 
 
 have selected our trusty ecu in Si'T ^°''''''°"'- '^- 
 Ban of Cornwall, to be your ! '""' '^' «"^«'on. 
 
 pleasure that you do accept k' T""' '"'' " '^ °" 
 here assembled, and dispo e allTh' ^'T °'' C°"-' 
 espousals." i ^ '^ *" 'hmgs for your speedy 
 
 Challice had turned nn?. 
 --dy and Clear as she^answ^'H; ^ktg"^^ ™'^^ ''- 
 
 o-hXCpo:sr.rd?^^"'----on 
 
 assured he will tum. Z^n^ Z ''-'''''' ^ ^^ well 
 Grace's command is my p^f K '" "^ P"'" ^""^ 
 am bound by my word,'whe„ " I „"" '" *'= ""«- ^ 
 depart." ■ ™''"" I may not—I will „ot 
 
 "Bu.amaide„.s.ro.h,"i„terposedGavesto, ..unless 
 
 niece of Edward nr. I"'' ''''" °^ ^^e Earl of Glo, ^^^ ' 
 
 '""" ''»"• Ireland in l309._Eu. ' '"''= P'"" "Mil ,fcr his 
 
The Chevalier's Ransom. 
 
 esses that 
 and, sire, 
 
 ne, when 
 nadame ; 
 at estate 
 kitchen 
 alh'ance 
 IS. We 
 iveston, 
 ■ is our 
 -ouncil 
 speedy 
 
 :e was 
 
 rmion 
 1 well 
 ' your 
 ter I 
 
 I not 
 til ess 
 
 e de 
 -■airs 
 and 
 ving 
 ;ral, 
 lice 
 nd, 
 ng- 
 H's 
 his 
 
 157 
 
 it receive the blessing of Holy Church, cannot be reckoned 
 valid. Speak I not sooth, my lord bishop ? " 
 
 '' The truth, my lord of Cornwall," replied John Hulton. 
 " The Church hath appointed certain forms for ratifying 
 
 the betrothal of man and woman — " 
 
 ("Not forgetting the fees for the same," I plainly heard 
 Cornwall whisper behind his hand to the king.) 
 — -" and the vows of those persons who neglect such 
 ordinances are written as it were in sand." 
 
 " Written in sand or graven in steel, I care not," said 
 Challice bravely, " from my plighted troth I pass not." 
 
 " The law of this land," quoth the king, *< has given us 
 certain duties and rights, and the power to execute and 
 enforce the same. Nevertheless we should be loth to 
 constrain a damoysel whom we hold in such high esteem; 
 surely our ward will admit that we have been discreet in 
 our choice. A belted earl, a gallant knight— pardie ! your 
 ladyship must not reckon on escaping the envy of other 
 dames." 
 
 Gaveston rose and, passing round to where the Lily of 
 Kendal sat, went lightly on his knee. 
 
 " Dismiss me not unheard, Mistress Challice," said he. 
 " Here is one who craves no higher honour than to wear 
 your colours in the lists or against the king's enemies. I 
 pledge my word that I will ever be your true knight 
 against all comers, that I will place your favour before 
 all other ends, and serve you so till death us do part." 
 
 She suffered him to take her hand and raise it to his 
 hps. For a brief space I sat amazed, thinking that she 
 would surely shake off his touch as it had been that of 
 some unclean reptile. But that had been the gesture of 
 any ordinary maiden ; and Challice de Roos was different 
 from any that ever I beheld. She suffered the earl to 
 
 "it V 
 
 1 .J 
 
158 
 
 The Chevalier of the Splendid Crest 
 
 kiss her hand, as coldly as though she had h.. 
 accepting the homage of a sublet T. ' '^"'"" 
 
 drawing it, rose to hfr feet and pote wlho".'"""'' "''■ 
 with a decision which none presenfcou m ' -'r""' ''' 
 " Never sir eiH v^ i^'^esent could misinterpret. 
 
 you an to z::t-iz^:x:Tz' ':''-' '-'''""'"'' 
 
 Sain, Herbert of Der,vemwa er . '^\'^°"'" "^ God, by 
 'hat never „i„ I wTSa' ml^ '""f^''^ "--• 
 Mar^ion of Shakingdon sife" tn /''' "^'"^ '" 
 
 .oo4ror;„:Lt::rr:;r:^f.---- 
 
 Pierre,-' he said .0 Cor„wa« ' ' .' t"" ' "''°"'" 
 ■eave .bis Li,y in tbe borde!' wbTrf stgrZ X'"' 
 
 .0 .he hand ater 1 1 lC;::t '''?"' '^""^ 
 li-'e that is worth so^e patiencnrjin ..^ """'' "'"^ 
 
 ~ tcht "irtT:r air th^r ""- '^ 
 
 E^P. n,igbt |a„ upon hi. forT' In^ L : ''''"^ "' 
 
 Sangdieu ! " growled my lord of r iJT' 
 spoken than one in „y office could b " ' ""' ""'- 
 
The Chevalier* s Ransom. 
 
 f i 
 
 159 
 
 " The Countess of Cornwall, as she will soon be, stands 
 in no need of my lord of Lincoln to read me lessons in 
 manners," said Pierre, with a nonchalant wave of his 
 jewelled hand, and without giving so much as a glance 
 towards the other. 
 
 Lincoln flushed an angry red, and Lancaster, who hated 
 the Gascon more bitterly than any of us, whispered in his 
 ear. I feared there would be an outbreak even in the 
 presence, but the king smoothed matters over for the 
 nonce, saying in his gentle way — 
 
 " Nay, cousin Lincoln, but the Earl of Cornwall meant 
 no offence. We must allow that the damoysel gave scant 
 hearing to his suit. But who is this Knight of Shakingdon 
 who hath wonned so far in her fancy ? " 
 
 "One who is not likely to win much further, sire," 
 answered Cornwall— "a veritable Gautier Sans-avoir, held 
 to ransom by the Scots at this present for five thousand 
 gold nobles, and the devil himself could not raise as 
 many deniers off Shakingdon manor." 
 
 I held my peace, well knowing that my dear young 
 knight would be with us anon to answer for himself; yet 
 I quailed as I counted the odds against which he would 
 have to contend. Presently my thoughts were occupied 
 with other matters, inasmuch as the Council turned to 
 consideration of the Scottish war. The Earls of Lan- 
 caster and Lincoln spoke up boldly, declaring that the 
 barons of England were not going to suffer the kingdom 
 to be rent in twain, and insisting on due consideration 
 being given to the position of our forces in the north. 
 They met with support from a quarter whence it might 
 have been least expected. Cornwall had faults enow, God 
 knoweth, but he was a good commander ; no man ever 
 called in question his courage in the field. Whether it 
 
i6o 
 
 The Chevalier of the Splendid Crest. 
 
 11 
 
 were that his knightly spirit was roused to repair the 
 disasters wh.ch had overtaken de Valence, or whether he 
 
 r;op°if„Th" '"' ^" '."^ '"^'^^-^ '^ P— fo 
 
 ence whLh d? 'Tl" '= ""^» "'^' " ™^ >>- influ- 
 ence whtch detennmed the king, after all these months of 
 nacfon, to put htmself at the head of his army and lead 
 hem mto Scotland. It was his influence, also, fta ma 
 
 n d^cLT L'^^'TV' "°' '" '^'^^-. « ^» even 
 Bret gne Ea 1 n P ■ 1 T '"' ""«'^ '=™="' J""" de 
 ScSd ^'■"°"'' "' ^PP^"'^-^ viceroy in 
 
 Thfr,,*" ""T"' " ™' " "^'^^"Sed world in Carlisle 
 The hstlessness, the uncertainty, which had lain so lont 
 and so heavtly on captain and private lance alike were at 
 an end Tne streets rang to the tramp of horse aXthe 
 c ash of arms as the levies were mustered to their uU 
 strength; blithely the dalesmen left their harve . cafce 
 begun, to be finished by women and boys for had n^r 
 word gone forth that King Edward was'gj^l . ' "edel' 
 h.s pledge to h,s dying sire and restore vict ^ ^^ 
 leopards of England ? ^ ™ 
 
 As for Challice, I bade her be of good cheer. I deemed 
 .no breach of confidence to tell her wn., was dailyTore 
 apparent_to wit, that the influence of Gaveston waron 
 
 Lincoln and Lancaster, were resolved that the afiairs o 
 
 the kingdom should no longer be guided by him. I old 
 her .hat S,r Walter would soon be with L once m re 
 
 hat the fortune of war would bring opportunity that he 
 should perform h.s devoir, and that-and that-wel ' 
 own heart was so heavy when I sought to persuade Idf 
 
 hat Cornwa 1 wouM resign his suit, that I Lid not affo d 
 her much solace on that score. 
 
 
The Chevalier's Ransom. jgi 
 
 "Wait," said I, with all the assurance I could muster, 
 watch and pray. When devotion like Walter's is yours 
 God and H,s saints will never suffer that wicked Gascon 
 to effect his will." ^^^loh 
 
 "WaltVr 7'"""' "^'^"'^^ ^'^h ^ fl-ting smile. 
 
 Watch! she contmued aloud, 'Svhile the cloud 
 
 shadows flit across the cornfields and the sea-gulls toss 
 
 and all that has come out of it is that Walter is wounded 
 
 husbLTr^Oh"' ''' '"^' '" '^"^^' "^^ ^° -°^her 
 husband ? Oh you men, you men ! how glibly you bid 
 
 vouZwT'h T' '"' ""^ ^"' P^^^' -^ how little 
 you know the burden you lay upon us-the boon that is 
 yours IS the privilege to do/" 
 
 Amid the busde of preparation for the Sco'ttish expedi- 
 ^on, I took occasion to approach my lord the kMig when 
 Cornwall was not with him, and obtained his consent that 
 Chalhce should return to Kendal, and abide his pleasure 
 among her own people. Thither, therefore, she went 
 before we marched northward, but with the army rode 
 a hundred of her horsemen in red and yellow, the rest 
 being still absent on service in Galloway 
 
 It was a grand sight as we set forth on a bright autumn 
 morning and my old heart was stirred with pride in the 
 power of England, such as I had never thought to fee! 
 again, so little spirit had there been in our affairs since 
 Edward of Carnarvon came to their head. But, as I have 
 said, nothing was hckinr to the Earl of Cornwall in skill 
 and knowledge for the mavshaHing of a host, and i. th^ 
 he acted as lieutenant cndcr che king. The levies num- 
 bered fully thirty thousand, of which one half we^e 
 
 cavalry; but besides these thf-rp W5,e fi,. ,....., .. , 
 
 — .,.,_ uiuui iiorae 
 
 
 
 1| ' 
 
 k 
 
i62 The. Chevalier of the Splendid Crest 
 
 of sutlers, provisioners, camp - followers both men and 
 women, so that in all there cannot have been less than 
 fifty thousand souls assembled on the Swifts that morninfr 
 around the leopards of the royal standard. The army 
 was m four divisions ; the first under the good Earl of 
 Lmcoln, of whom the trouveres sang— 
 
 " Ki proveste enbrasce k acole 
 E en son cuer Je a soveraine," * 
 
 His banner flew bravely out, bearing the purple lien on 
 a field of yellow silt Next in the column marched the 
 division of the Constable, the young Earl of Hereford' 
 easily to be known by the lioncels of de Bohun, separated 
 by the broad silver bend cotised with gold, all on an 
 azure field. Lances and pennons clustered thick where 
 the scarlet silk, charged with a gold fess and six cross 
 crosslets, blew out over the head of the Earl of Warwick 
 commanding the third division. Scarlet also flamed in 
 the banner of the fourth leader, known by the ermine cross 
 famous on many a field, to be none other than Anthony 
 Bek, the bold and wary Bishop of Durham. Besides these 
 chief standards, how many bright bannerets and pennons 
 flash out before my blind eyes as I sit here in fond 
 reverie : the gold and scarlet bars of FitzAlan, the chev- 
 ronels of de Clare in the same tinctures, the billets and 
 danzette of d'Eyncourt, gold upon blue, the bezants of 
 de la Touch upon a crimson field, the cups and cross- 
 lets of Argentine-these and many more. My ears a,^ 
 filled with the flare of trumpets and the rattle of the royal 
 kettle-drums, memorial of the Eastern battlefields whence 
 my old master had brought the fashion which he loved. 
 
 ^ " Who holds fast to valour and worships it, 
 Making it the sovereign of his heart," 
 
The Chevalier's Ransom. 
 
 163 
 
 I behold them all marshalled and marshalling in the 
 green meadows, such a goodly company of chevaliers as 
 perchance may never more be mustered in England, so 
 sorely has the realm been riven by unreason of its rulers 
 Dear Jesu! forgive me if I dwell on the glory of that 
 mornmg— if the memory thereof withdraws my thoughts 
 for a space from the contemplation of Thy cross and 
 passion. 
 
 On the second night after our departure we encamped 
 about Dumfries, a moderate town of the Scots upon the 
 march of Galloway, and here it was that I once more 
 embraced my dear knight of Shakingdon. His ransom 
 had reached the Scottish camp without misadventure; 
 de Brus had sumnaoned him before him without delay' 
 restored to him his sword and shield, and, in parting with 
 him, spoken some notable words, as here followeth. 
 
 ''Go thou free, Sir Walter," said he, "and may God 
 speed thee in thine honourable quest. Happy may'st 
 thou be in thy lady's love, as happy as th ,u art— thou 
 know'st not how happy— in thy single allegiance to our 
 cousin of England. We grudge thee not to him ; in good 
 sooth we have more to fear in the father's bones than in 
 the living son. Neither do we wish him any ill. Bid 
 him from us that he look to his own realm and rule his 
 heritage wisely. In so doing he shall find none of his 
 neighbours more willing to aid than the King of Scots. 
 But tell him also that we had rather be a Scottish carle 
 than an English earl. Say to him that he kicks against 
 the pricks in trying to bend our subjects to his yoke. Let 
 the misery and bloodshed lie at the door of himself and 
 his counsellors, that must follow if he persist in this unjust 
 war." 
 
 I burned as I hearkened to these insolent sayings. 
 
 
 w 
 
 i 
 ill 
 
 1.1' 
 
 11 
 
I<54 The Chevalkr of the Splendid Crest. 
 
 "Take your message to the king, Sir Walter," quoth I 
 Ihe r,ght sp,nt is withir, hira now, and a rebel's taun s 
 
 like these will serve to confirm it." 
 
 "Rebel or not," replied le Marmion, "there is some 
 
 h.ng ,„ e ,at man that tells me he ean'rule „ 'rZy 
 enrol da.ly under his captains; I marked how earnest 
 
 hey were m the.r drilling, and how de Brus went Z 
 among them, speaking to the meanest of them in thel 
 own arsh tongue, and living upon the same far a the 
 humblest p,keman- sodden meat and oaten pudding 
 this has gained him such a sway with them as I have „«; 
 known any of our knights to equal in their following 
 Trust me, these rough and ragged Scots will take somf' 
 thmg more than child's play to quell them. Every man 
 of *^m wrll have his throat cut rather than y^JdW^ 
 
 «."■/'*/ Sure you can have as little doubt upon which 
 Hke ilTo h "'" " "P™ ""'^^ ^^'" "^ *^ victo 
 
 "Nay, Sir Maurice," said the young knight warmly 
 "never misunderstand me thus. I have liftle skm in 
 statecraft and care less about rights, knowing only whe ^ 
 my own duty Iies-under the leopards of Engfand. The " 
 I stand, and there shall I fall, if f^u ;. be • only be wen 
 assured of this, that it is no mere rabble 4 have beror" 
 us, but some thousands of damnably likely foot-soldier L 
 a naughty land for cavalry. As for de Brus-c i -ff a" 
 
 you will, but let no man err in reckoning him le" 
 craven or unskilled." ^^ 
 
 Of Mistress Challice I told Sir Walter much that I 
 need not weary the reader withal; only of the coil con 
 
The Chevalier's Ransom. 
 
 I6s 
 
 cerning Cornwall I kept Oi, .,wn counsel for the nonce, 
 thinking ill to dash the young chevalier's joy at being free 
 once more. 
 
 Now le Marmion's dismounted squadron of Kendal 
 horse having, as I explained before, formed the rearguard 
 of de Clifford's column in the attack upon the Glen of 
 Trool, had suffered little loss except that of their com- 
 mander, and had remained as part of de Clifford's force 
 in Galloway, yet without a captain, for Roger de Cracken- 
 thorpe had died of his grievous malady. It so fell out by 
 good chance that these Kendal men were bivouacked on 
 the merse of Nith not a league from Dumfries when Sir 
 Walter joined the king's army at that town, and were 
 already under orders to march in the van on the morrow, 
 in the division of the Bishop of Durham. As soon, there- 
 fore, as the knight had made his report he rode quietly 
 out in the evening, and resumed his command of Mistress 
 Challice's levies. My lord of Cornwall's head was too full 
 of weightier matters that he should take any heed about 
 what captain should lead a single squadron of light horse, 
 and you may be sure that I was not careful that this 
 detail should come before him. As for le Marmion, 
 never have I seen a being so full of joy and hope,— joy,' 
 that he should be riding once more, a free man among 
 the red and yellow liveries of his mistress— hope, that in 
 the campaign opening thus brightly, his position in the 
 van would bring him the exploit which he so ardently 
 desired. 
 
 I 
 
 « 
 
 \ 
 
 1- 
 
 1 
 
 !r 
 
 
 ■ i 
 
 ^ \ 
 
 ;- J 
 
 ■I 
 
 1 i' 
 
 . h 
 
i6G 
 
 XM. 
 
 JHarmion faret. fortfi upon fjfs seconl. quest. 
 
 Thk season was waxing late; already in equal measure 
 night and day diwded the hours, yet have I noted that 
 he airest skies of all the year sometimes come between 
 the feasts of Sa; s Matthew i and Saint Luke.^ Hitherto 
 not a surcoat h^i been smirched nor a corslet dimmed by 
 so much as . , v .. . shower, and, held the weather good 
 our capcams-gc:u : 1 reckoned upon occupying the chief 
 places m Scotland before the winter storms befell Yet 
 hardly had the rereward of our army cleared the outskirts 
 of Dumfries than a change came over the heavens. A 
 chill mist crept up from the firth; the wind backed into 
 he south-east quarter, and we had not marched two 
 leagues up Nithsdale before rain was falling heavily Wet 
 and comfortless was our lodging that night upon the green 
 plam where the Cample Burn flows into the Nith still 
 drearier was the prospect at sunrise, when the rising storm 
 roared up the ^.trath with sheets of rain. But ours ^^ 4e 
 no carpet-knights ; no fair-weather birds the men-at-arms, 
 ' 2"t September. , ,g^^ ^^^^^^^^ 
 
I 
 
 The Chevalier Snond Quest. 
 
 67 
 
 light horse, and archers of King Edward's army. Corn- 
 wah had seen well to supplies ; abundance of good food 
 was brought up from the fleet lying in the Cockpool of 
 Solway ; wine and ale were served out in liberal measure ; 
 marching songs rang out briskly as the columns pressed 
 on through drippmg woods and across flooded plains. 
 
 On the second evening — our fourth out < " ( .ri le 
 
 we came out upon a bleak moorland, on evil a 
 
 place for bivouac as a man could easily The 
 
 tempest grow worse ; scarcely could the cai ip fires be 
 kindled from the soaked timber ; not a man in the army, 
 not even the king himself, carried a dry thread upon 
 him; every 1 nner and pennon was close wrapped up; 
 every man's harness was red with rust and his face purple 
 with cold. On the morrow no mention was made in 
 orders of the hour of advance; only details of guards 
 and duties, with the usual record of sentences upon 
 defaulters. The day wore on, yet without signs of a 
 move. I had lodging— if lodging it could be called- 
 in the hamlet of Cumnock ; the king, his lieutenant, and 
 the chief commanders being housed in that keep where le 
 Marmion had so long held vigil. It was verging to noon 
 
 when a council was hastily summoned, whereat oh 
 
 shameful day for England !— the king announced that 
 after taking due advice (God knoweth he had seen no 
 one of all his commanders that day, save only the 
 accursed Gascon) he had come to the decision that the 
 army must retire. 
 
 "It seemeth to us, my lords and gentles," said he, 
 "that the very powers of heaven are against us in this 
 enterprise " 
 
 "Daunted by a few hours' rain ! " burst out the fearless 
 Lincoln. 
 
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1 68 
 
 The Chevalier of the Splendid Crest. 
 
 with unruffled temper. " Meanlh.t f ' , f ' """« 
 has been done af this .a"'^;^:;, ^.^t 
 
 Lrc7;Vs:tntt":*r°'""'"^ ^^ '^"' '- 
 
 "That IS well off all our minds gossm Q^ 
 
 be found so well as in Anjou?" '""^ 
 
 Returning to my lodgings in the hamlet, I overtook 
 some of the barons, walking slowly for all ...! 
 as 'twas, by two and three, '^cloal J f^/LlTZl 
 
The Chevalier's Second Quest. 
 
 169 
 
 talking earnestly. I joined my lords of Lincoln and 
 Arundel. 
 
 "By God!" Lincoln was saying, 'I tell thee that 
 poisonous asp must be crushed and flung out, or this is 
 no realm for such as we. To be driven forward or back 
 like a flock of sheep— to allow these rebels to lord it in 
 the land— nay, to leave Richmond for the winter without 
 so much as a diversion in his favour or a single squadron 
 of reinforcements — by the Lord above us! I tell thee, 
 Arundel, I am rank ripe for rebellion myself." 
 
 "Nay, my lord," returned the other, "let us not try 
 to make white out of two blacks. I am no friend of 
 the Gascon's, as is very well known ; but we are strong 
 enough to purge the king's council of him. If we are 
 not, then assuredly we are in no posture to talk of making 
 a new king." 
 
 " Who spoke of a new king ? " quoth Lincoln. " Not 
 I, i' faith! but only of controlling the king we have. 
 The king is nothing amiss, if he were delivered from 
 the hands which encompass him. What say you. Sir 
 Maurice? You have longer experience of State matters 
 than any of us." 
 
 "In truth, my lord," said I, "I am but the paid 
 servant of the king, held bound to carry out his will. 
 Yet when I see that will committed to the power of a 
 Gascon knight, I cannot but remember that I am an 
 Englishman, and if affairs hold their present coarse, I 
 shall have no choice but to resign my office, seeing that 
 I cannot serve a foreigner, English earl though he be." 
 
 "Well said. Sir Maurice," cried Lincoln, "well said! 
 We will confer on these matters on a more convenient 
 occasion, though I care not who knows my mind now. 
 Meanwhile, before we bring Scotland into subjection, v/e 
 
 is 
 
 W 
 
W t 
 
 W-"^ 
 
 170 The Chevalier of the Splendid Crest. 
 
 must know into whose hands we are bringing it. There 
 IS no question, now, but that we must march back again 
 
 God! before I brmg my men from their farms again I 
 
 I had scarcely been in my lodging for an hour, di.pos- 
 .ng my scro Is and other movables for departure on the 
 morrow, ere la Marmion came to me greatly' disquieted 
 
 the LZ% r"* '"■ *™™"S his wet cloak on 
 the clay floor, "I have come to you for counsel there 
 bemg httle .0 be had elsewhere. The orders are ™t fo 
 the retreat to-morrow, and there is such a babe! of argu- 
 ment m the lines, that a man may scarce get a hearfng 
 fo his own case. We have all been made fools o 
 that IS the plam matter, but that concerns the repate of 
 
 rat'sHr""'::; ,"'""■ ^°^^''' ^y P^ate honour 
 redeen^d":? ^"' ' "^''^ ^™' ^"^^ "» " ^» "> ^ 
 
 "Under favour. Sir Walter," 1 answered, "T do not 
 take your meanmg. It is my lord the king and his chief 
 adv,ser who are responsible for the disposafof the fLce 
 you and 1 have but to obey like common soldier- ' 
 
 "Nay," he cried, pacing to and fro in th> rrow 
 chamber, "but see you not how I am placed? frreT 
 have been parading through the land with that golden 
 basnet these s.x months and more, making mighfy pro 
 ™se of t e fair exploit that is to render if fam'ouT, Td 
 
 Scots at the first encounter, and among them I shotdd 
 have la,n to th,s hour but for the miraculous in.erven&n 
 o some unknown ransomer. I set out again at the head 
 of the finest squadron in the realm of^Eng, d hi 
 
The Chevalier's Second Quest. 
 
 171 
 
 would it look if I were to ride back with them to Carlisle, 
 and tell her that sent me that I had failed a second time 
 in my devoir? Why, Sir Maurice, she would tell her 
 household to set me on an ass with my face to the tail, 
 to be led through the streets as an emblem of him who 
 waits fortune when he has been bidden to make it." 
 
 "Softly, softly, Sir Walter," said I. «'No shade of dis- 
 credit can be cast on your shield from what has come to 
 pass, least of all by Mistress Challice. In fact, I have 
 r.ad it on my mind for long to tell you how sorely she 
 repents having sent you into peril; how willingly she 
 would absolve you from your vow, and, Walter, how easy 
 it would be to persuade her to listen while ycu made one 
 of another kind," 
 
 Le Marmion ceased his pacing to and fro, and looked 
 me in the face with a sterner expression than I had 
 ever beheld on his fair young counloriance. After some 
 moments of silence he spoke again. 
 
 "No: you are not trifling with me. You actually 
 think that I could accept a lady's gift, wear her colours, 
 take on me her devoir, and then come back and say that 
 the task was too hard for me and beg to be excused." 
 He laughed aloud. " No, no. Sir Maurice ; it was not to 
 hear such counsel that I sought you. I came to you as 
 the oldest knight in camp, as I am wellnigh the youngest, 
 to demand that a Court of Honour be assembled with- 
 out delay to relieve me of my command in the king's 
 army, to set me free as knight -errant to fulfil my devoir, 
 and to appoint me, in terms of that devoir, to the most 
 perilous post in the kingdom. As for Mistress Challice," 
 he continued in a more broken voice, "she has shown 
 me the way she may be won, and I will win her in that 
 way or forfeit my life for it. But let her never regret it. 
 
 IH: 
 
 
172 The Chevalier of the Splendid Crest. 
 
 for whether I win or fall, she has made me the proudest 
 and happiest chevalier in Christentie." 
 _ I perceived the justice of what le Marmion said, for 
 indeed a knight who abandoned such a quest could 
 scarce hold up his head again among his peers ; wnere- 
 fore I offered to go with him at once to the pavilion of 
 Norroy Kmg of Arms, with whom lay the direction of all 
 such affairs of chivalry. Thither we went accordingly. 
 Norroy gave good heed to the case, and promised that 
 on the arrival of the army at Dumfries a court of seven 
 knights should be assembled to decide the question 
 submitted. 
 
 On the following day, therefore, at five of the after- 
 noon, the court was set in a chamber of the castle of 
 Dumfries "to hear the cause of Sir Walter le Marmion 
 knight bachelor of Shakingdon, in the county of Lincoln ^ 
 and to give true and impartial judgment in the same" 
 The members sworn of this court were Sir William le 
 Vavasour, Sir ilalph Fitz-William, Sir William de Ferrers 
 brother to the Lord Groby, Sir Almaric de Saint Amand' 
 Sir Hugh de Courtenay, and Sir Erminion de la Brette' 
 who was distinguished among all other knights by wearing 
 a surcoat of plain scarlet, without figure or adornment of 
 any kind, inasmuch as his scutcheon was simply gules 
 Over this assemblage of goodly thevaliers I, as eldest of 
 my rank, was appointed by Norroy to preside. 
 
 The court, after hearing the case stated, were of one 
 mind upon the first issue-to wit, that Sir Walter had 
 done rightly in seeking to resign his command of the 
 Kendal horse, and they did then and there relieve and 
 acquit him of that duty; for such, as all men know, are 
 
 J Le Counte de Nicol, as Sir Maurice wrote it in accordance with 
 the orthography of his day.— Ed. 
 
The Chevalier's Secotid Quest. 173 
 
 the powers of a Court of Honour, notwithstanding the 
 king's commission to the pleader, inasmuch as it is rightly 
 held that no knight may be bounden to any service who 
 clearly proves that he is held in honour to proce- • Ise- 
 where. Howheit upon the second issue— namely, what 
 might be declared the most perilous place within the 
 kingdom — there a-ose much debate. Sir Ralph Fitz- 
 William was for Douglas Castle, so lately razed and burnt 
 by the owner thereof, and the English garrison cruelly 
 slaughtered; but this, although held again for King 
 Edward, was but a heap of ruins now and not likely to 
 attract the enteri)rise of the Scots. De Ferrers, on the 
 other nand, was for Saint John's town of Perth,' or Stir- 
 ling, seeing that these were places furthest from succour. 
 Roxburgh, Berwick, Edinburgh, Linlithgow— each was con- 
 sidered in turn, yet in the end all were rejected in favour 
 of Norham Castle on the English bank of the Tweed. 
 
 " If Sir Walter meet not a fair chance there," said 
 Sir Hugh de Courtenay, "I know not where he may 
 seek it. The constable of Norham is brave old Sir 
 Thomas Gray of Heton ; none knows better than he 
 how to set forward deeds of arms. The rebels are strong 
 in that quarter, for Douglas has much power round his 
 house of Lintalee, and it is the only part of Scotland 
 where they are well furnished with horse. In fine," 
 continued Sir Hugh, smiling grimly, "Norham at the 
 present time is just the place in all the realm to which 
 Sir Walter may repair with the slenderest chance of ever 
 coming back again." 
 
 Now we all had Sir Hugh de Courtenay in high 
 esteem, and none had more experience than he of 
 Scottish warfare, seeing that he had been summoned 
 five times from distant Devonshire to take oart in it 
 
 (1 
 
174 The Chevalier of the Splendid Crest. 
 
 during the reign of the late king, ^he present unhappy 
 expedition being his sixth campaign. The verdict 
 therefore, having been given by acclaim in favour of 
 Norham Castle, we did all, according to custom in 
 hke cases, embrace the knight-errant on both cheeks 
 committing him to the care of the saints, and the court 
 was pronounced dissolved. 
 
 Now the safest road to Norham lay through North- 
 umberland, where the Bishop of Durham had all defences 
 well appointed and manned, and this way I urged upon 
 Sir Walter that he should take, marching with our van- 
 guard as far as the Eden and striking eastward thence 
 toward Tynedale. But he would not hear me 
 
 "Nay, Sir Walter," said he, "but I will never cross 
 the Esk again till my pledge be redeemed. Norham 
 is on English ground, it is true, but I ride thither 
 through the heart of Scotland ; for, mark you ! I am 
 pressed to accomplish this task, and perchance the 
 saints may send me some good occasion on the way." 
 So he went forth, young Gaspard de Neville, brother 
 of the slain Geoffrey, bearing aloft his pennon before 
 him, and carrying his shield, vairy argent and azure 
 with a fess gules, for such are the ancient arms of le 
 Marmion. Michael the Penman followed on a stout 
 palfrey, leading a sumpter-horse. Besides these there 
 were but a single man-at-arms and two hobelars. 
 
 " See thou speed better with thy master this second 
 essay," said I to the honest fenman at parting, pressing 
 a couple of gold pieces into his hand, "and take as much 
 care of him as he will suffer." 
 
 "You may trust me for that. Sir Maurice," quoth he 
 "There be luck in doubles, they say, and the book 
 of the maybe's is a long one." 
 
'i 
 
 The C/ievalier's Second Quest. 175 
 
 Now of what befell le Marmion at Norham I could 
 tell httle had I only his testimony to guide me, seeing 
 that he was ever most loth to speak of his own deeds • 
 yet had I from old Michael a full and veracious account' 
 of the whole proceedings. Before repeating it to you 
 however, meet is that I should make mention of certain 
 events most nearly affecting the fortunes and standing of 
 Sir Walter, of which tidings came to Carlisle but three 
 days after he had left the army. 
 
 It hath been sufficiently shown that the knight of 
 Shakmgdon, albeit of most honourable birth was of 
 exceeding slender means, seeing that his manor had 
 been most deeply mortgaged by his father to the accursed 
 Jews of Lincoln. Walter's uncle, Sir Philip le Marmion 
 of Scrivelsby, owned great possessions both in land and 
 money, but forasmuch as he had most bitterly quarrelled 
 with his own brother, Geoffrey, the father of Walter 
 no part of that wealth had ever come the way of his 
 nephew. Sir Philip had two sons, handsome, active 
 young men, wherefore it never entered the thoughts of 
 either Sir Philip or his nephew Walter that the line 
 of succession should be altered. These two sons wer^- 
 serving in Scotland under Sir Ingelram de Umfravi. • 
 kinsman of the murdered Comyn and a knight of hi<.h 
 renown, distinguished wherever he went among others 
 by a red cap borne before him on a spear -point by 
 a man-at-arms. Sir Ingelram held chief command 
 m Galloway, whither came Edward de Brus, brother 
 of him who claimed to be King of Scots, after the dis- 
 comfiture of de Valence at Loudoun Hill You may 
 credit me that the rebels had drawn no small arrogance 
 from the victory; their forces swelled to the scale 
 of an army, and forasmuch as the knights who took 
 
1/6 The Chevalier of the Splettdid Crest. 
 
 part in this most wickerl resistance to their liege lord 
 were skilled in arms and with good experience of 
 war -Edward de Brus. James of Douglas, and the 
 like -these churls -the very offscouring of the land, 
 broken men and thieves of every degree-soon became 
 tramed and well -disciplined troops. I have fought in 
 many lands and against many and various races: this 
 always have I noted, that, be the commonalty of what 
 quahty they may, they may be fashioned into good 
 soldiery ,f the commanders but know and attend to their 
 duty. Contrariwise, if knights and esquires be sunk 
 m sloth or given overmuch to ease— if they stoop not 
 to learn like the commonest spearman the rules of war 
 and the simple ordering of a camp— their high chivalry 
 and mastery of arms availeth nothing, and their people 
 fail m routine of vigil or fall away in stress of battle 
 The host, therefore, which Edward de Brus led throu-h 
 tne mountain passes from Ayrshire into Galloway, though 
 numbering no more than fifty light horse and fifteen 
 hundred pikes, indifferently equipped, was marvellous 
 obedient and hardy, as I have been assured since by 
 Sir John de Saint -John. Moreover, the Scots were 
 so frugal that they murmured not, as our English yeo- 
 men are wont to do, when beef and wine and ale are 
 not to be had. Marry! nay, but they are content 
 although they have but a handful of oaten meal to 
 serve them for a whole day, baking the said meal into 
 naughty sodden cakes which nourish these barbarians 
 indeed, but fill English stomachs only with wind and 
 noisome humours. Greater marvel still, they are able 
 to encounter grievous fatigue, albeit they go many weeks 
 with nothing better to slacken their tasteless victual 
 than the water of their rivers or, it may be by good 
 

 Tlie Chevalier's Second Quest. 
 
 i?7 
 
 fortune, a draught of milk from the little black kine 
 of the hills. Truly in this they enjoy undue advantage 
 over better soldiery, seeing thai our people may scarce 
 be kept to their companies if they lack tlieir measure 
 of wme and ale, or at least the expectation thereof. 
 Hence it came to pass that Sir Ingelram being encamped 
 wifh two thousand horse and foot in the plain between 
 the mountains and the river Cree, did suffer so con- 
 l.nually from the sallies of these light-footed rascals 
 harbouring in the woods and hills, who cut off foraying 
 parties, murdered sentinels, and yet offered no opportunity 
 of chastising any considerable body of them, that he 
 fell back as far as Buittle Tower, the head place of the 
 family of de Baliol, and there awaited the approach of 
 Sir John de Saint-John, who was bringing up a reinforce- 
 ment of horse from Carlisle. 
 
 Now Saint-John, having won much fame in encounters 
 with the Paynim horsemen in the Holy Land, was inclined 
 to hold these rangail Scots in disdain, and could not 
 believe that they would stand before English lances 
 rightly led. Moreover, de Umfraville's distinction of the 
 red cap had fired the jealousy of many knights, amongst 
 whom was Sir John de Saint-John, burning to do some 
 exploit which should throw the said red cap into shade. 
 
 "What, Sir Ingelram^ quoth he with affected sur- 
 prise, -I thought to ha.e found you further advanced 
 against the foe. Is the l^onnet rouge but a southern 
 blossom, that it withers in the mountain air?" 
 
 Sir Ingelram gnawed his beard, litde relishing such 
 banter from an officer under his command, to whom 
 notwithstanding, the custom of chivalry permitted such 
 licence as from one knight to another. I have noted, 
 indeed, that much evil has arisen from the law of perfect 
 
 M 
 
 K. - 
 
178 The Clievnlier of the Splendid Crest. 
 
 equalitv in knighthood, which jars on occasions with 
 the due respect of gentles to their military seniors. 
 
 i:\i^ bonnet roujre," replied he, "flourishes in any 
 clime, as the king's enemies have cause to know • but 
 It has been my fortune until this campaign to 'carry 
 It agamst men, not catamountains." 
 
 " So ! " quoth the other with a sneer on his lip ; «' then 
 your valiancy will doubtless permit me to sweep the 
 ground clear of these vermin. I have fifteen hundred 
 good besoms behind my simple pennon, and I shall 
 be proud to make pure the air so that the bonnet rouge 
 shall flourish again." * 
 
 Sir Ingelram, swallowing his wrath, shook his wise 
 grey head. 
 
 "Were this an enterprise for your single spear, Sir 
 John, said he, «« I would not be the man to hold you 
 
 T .!"' \ 'n'.' "°' '° P'"' '^'^ ^""^^ ^'^g^« ^" ground 
 where the skulking rebels have so much vantage over 
 
 orderly troops. Better wait till the Scots come out into 
 the plain, as come they will to plunder. Remember de 
 Clifford m Glen Trool." 
 
 " De Clifford dismounted his men," replied Samt-Tohn 
 and went afoot into the wolPs mouth. All I claim' 
 and I claim it as knight from knight, is to be allowed to 
 lead my men wherever men may ride. As long as they 
 are in the saddle they cannot come to harm from half- 
 armed savages." 
 
 "Be it so. Sir John, a God's name then!" quoth his 
 chief; -but If you will hearken to a word from one who 
 has not been wont to avoid encounter, you will keep 
 in the open." ^ 
 
 Thus Saint-John set forth to seek the Scots, and one 
 summer morning rode out at sunrise from his bivouac 
 
 ! 
 
 **-«4;f 
 
 
The Clievnlier's Second Quest. 
 
 \ 
 
 '79 
 near the sea at the head of four squadrons of horse and 
 
 sa dl , rode a coun.ry.nan a,, guide, and behind l,i„, 
 Kle h,s two .„|u,res, the sons of Sir Philip |o Marn,ion 
 t was fine, st,ll weather, hut the dew lay so heavy ha 
 
 .n from the Solway so thick that a man n.ight not see a 
 
 Cs :fh '^r '\'°'''- -'"^y -'"-■■" -'"- " 
 
 hem " 2° fu"' "'""' °' '"""'' '■-"■"S "> lose 
 
 hem ,n the fog, and the trumpets of each troop sounded 
 
 m suceesston continually fr„„, f„nt to rear lest the 
 
 squadrons should go astray. Thus, unhappily .,,eSco 
 
 h d full wannng of their approach, and Kdward da 
 
 Brus was not one to be found unprepared. They ad! 
 
 vanced as ,t were blindfold, nor was there either sound 
 
 or s,gn of friend or foe till they were passing ^ong the 
 
 narrow strath separating the sea on their Ic't fron' the 
 
 wooded crags of Cassencarry on their right. Suddel 
 
 and fell full on the.r right flank with levelled lances 
 Down went horse and n,an, and a loud shout of "liru ": 
 the o, '''"'' ": *' '^°'' '"' "-^'^ «y ^'ean througl, 
 
 "Damned traitor! you have misled us," cried Saint 
 Jo n, as with one blow of his mace h br^ld t "e 
 
 :™T Cs.^^'^^ ^'■"- "--pe-. .ou„rrr:« 
 
 None could say by reason of the fog what wn. n . 
 strength of the ene.y nor whence the ^'1::,- 
 
 the cn-es of """P^^^^^ ^-"^^^ -^ the air was full of 
 
 the cnes of captains forming their troops ; but before th^ 
 
 movement could be executed o c. ^ / ""; ^^'o'^e the 
 
 uc executed, a second body of Scots 
 
iSo 
 
 The Chevalier of the Splendid Crest. 
 
 I! 
 
 horsemen dashed upon the flank and through in like 
 
 a th rd attack came from the opposite quarter i this time 
 Samt-John h.mself was unhorsed, and his t vo squTe 
 went down before the Scottish spears. Thus it went on 
 by the space of half an hour; charge after charge w," 
 sustamed by our men, until at length they brokJ Th 
 fled Many had fallen ; many were fos. in h u gs of 
 bolway; others mtssed the line of retreat and felUnto the 
 hands of the Scots, but the two sons of Sir Phi ip e 
 Marmion perished where they fell 
 
 So it came about that Sir Walter le JMarmion- 
 Gaufer Sans-avo,r as Cornwall had named him in 
 denston-stood next-of-kin to wealthy Sir PhiIip,"ho 
 It rs hke enough, would have devised his estate to a 
 more d.stant kinsmun, so great had been his tared 
 towards his deceased brother Geoffrey; but the saims 
 gu.deJ ,t otherwise. When they brought tidinl to T 
 P .lip of the death of both his sons, like tl^e fi-prie:: 
 Eh,the old man fell backwards. Yet brake he no. h s 
 neck, but hved speechless, sightless, a living wec^ 
 
 hTrhers'"'™ '' ™'" """ "^* '^'- '-^ P--d 'o 
 Behold then, Sir Walter le Marmion, no longer the 
 
 IT\ [ r"'"^' T^"™--*. »d Lutterworth in 
 England hereditary champion of the kings of England 
 ..aster of fifteen men-at-arms, three hundred light horse' 
 and twelve score and ten Lincoln archers of the best . 
 
 But of h,s changed fortunes neither he nor we knew 
 aught when we parted at Dumfries. He went his wty 
 to Norham through the country of our foes, little wotZ 
 of the power and r.ches that had come to him ; ,ror Z 
 
 '1 
 
 \ 
 
h in like 
 disorder ; 
 this time 
 squires 
 
 went on 
 large was 
 "oke and 
 quags of 
 
 into the 
 Philip le 
 
 The Chevalier's Second Quest. i8i 
 
 it till I was back in Carlisle that I learnt how matters 
 had fallen, and sent word to Mistress Challice thereof 
 and of Walter's fresh enterprise. 
 
 W 
 
 rmion — 
 him in 
 ip, who, 
 tes to a 
 
 hatred 
 i saints 
 i to Sir 
 h-priest 
 not his 
 
 wreck, 
 ised to 
 
 » * 
 
 Advertisement to the Reader. 
 
 yfSir Maurice de Bulkeley carried his narrative beyond 
 this point, the remainder has not come into his present 
 editors hands, and it has been necessary to collect the rest 
 of the adventures of Marmion and Challice from other 
 sources, which, the reader may rest assured, are equally 
 authentic, — Ed.] -^ 
 
 :er the 
 aye in 
 rth in 
 gland, 
 horse, 
 t! 
 
 knew 
 3 way 
 Dtting 
 r was 
 
 I 
 
1 82 
 
 m 
 
 1 ' 
 
 m m mortal ptxil mki MtU Sir TOalter le Mnxmion 
 in tfie Eaixjzt of Emfiope. 
 
 Sir Walter rode with his little clump of spears-six 
 horsemen m all-into the very heart of de Brus's lar^ds 
 of Annandale. The rains had rendered every rivulet a 
 nver and every river a torrent; the farmers and peasants 
 sullenly avoided the knight's approach, for upon the 
 Enghsh they laid the account of crops trampled, harvest 
 wasted cattle, sheep, and horses driven off, and hom - 
 steads fired, mstead of holding their own lord as the true 
 culpnt who had brought the scourge of war upon a 
 peaceful land. Nevertheless, Sir Walter's armed force 
 was not so small but that he could command such 
 supplies as he required for man and horse, paying full 
 value in good English money, inasmuch as every true 
 knight scorns to visit upon peasants the punishment he 
 may deem due to their lords. It was lucky he had 
 money with him. Sir Maurice de Bulkeley having skilfully 
 overco. 3 his scruples and induced^him to take as a loan 
 a purse well stuffed with current coin. Wherefore they 
 made easy progress, for, as Michael the Fenman senten- 
 tiously observed — 
 
^ht in Linhope Totver. 
 
 i8- 
 
 ilarmion 
 
 ears — six 
 s's lands 
 rivulec a 
 peasants 
 pon the 
 , harvest 
 i home- 
 the true 
 upon a 
 d force 
 d such 
 ing full 
 !ry true 
 lent he 
 le had 
 ikilfully 
 a loan 
 e they 
 senten- 
 
 
 " Silvern shod horses make good journeys, and prompt 
 payment wins many friends." 
 
 Thus they fared across Annandale and, holding up the 
 water of Milk, crossed the hills and lay the first night 
 at Langholm on the Esk. It could scarce be called a 
 tavern where they lodged in this hamlet ; it was no more 
 than a hovel, where meat and drink might be had by 
 travellers, and a space on the clay floor round the peat 
 fire whereon to lay their cloaks and sleep, their horses 
 being picketed in a garth at the back. 
 
 Thus far they travelled easily without a guide, but now 
 the track bore away into a bare wilderness called Eskdale- 
 muir, where one brown hill was as like another as plums 
 in a pudding. 
 
 A couple of brawny fellows with coarse woollen doub- 
 lets over shirts of rusty mail stood watching the English 
 hobelars as they fed and groomed the horses in the 
 morning. These answered readily enough when Sir 
 Walter asked them to direct him on the way to Hawick. 
 He was to keep along the Ewes water as far as wind and 
 water sheer, a matter of three long leagues or better, 
 then he was to ride five leagues farther into Teviotdale, 
 till he came to Hawick kirk. Albeit these men did 
 not offer to guide the travellers; it seemed that they 
 were bent in the same direction, because before the 
 Englishmen had ridden half a league from Langholm, 
 Michael the Fenman pushed his nag up beside his master 
 and pointed to a hanging birch wood on the far side of 
 the river. 
 
 "Yonder ride your messengers. Sir Walter," said he, 
 "no laggards on the errand you committed to them." 
 
 "My messengers! What do you mean, Michael?" 
 inquired the knight. 
 
 
4 
 
 184 The Chevalier of the Splendid Crest. 
 
 wrong road" ' "'^ "°' "^^'^ -' "^ « the 
 
 The Penman's suspicion was not asff,„ d-j- , 
 ward a short league, they beheld th,*^', !*"« ^°'- 
 followed striking to tte no'th t ty rt le ri J'^' 
 
 of the banks grew steep and impasTable Th"' tT 
 retrace their course nearlv ,. " ^^7- ^hey had to 
 they could ford the water when tf ^''°''" """"' 
 track along which theTo\, I "™"' '"'° ""e 
 
 Even so tLr trou .'.t: ^ e ^ ran'td'^fb •'■^^"^■ 
 easy task; to discern the n„i„ I ^' "' ""='"6 no 
 
 swollen tributaries. Many "s T-^""""' '" "'"^ 
 after one of these sideJeamT ad tlltV'*' ''^^'' 
 
 topped the riUrd Sd 70^^:1 t^ ^^^ 
 Side. It had hppn mi • ^*^"waras on the eastern 
 
 for that .t.a:t.trnr nrw^o? r ■ - 
 -™:itrth^e:;rd^^^-T"'^'"»""^^^^^ 
 
 track, which was „: Ze .'hrt'br"!' "^^ '^^^ *' 
 down to loose stones and lav by he f, 7" ^°" ™'" 
 Their own horses, leg-weary anH k "^ P^'="°tses. 
 
 in the rough wet patl^^^^lXa/fo" '" """'^^ 
 a supperless bivouac in ,h u u P'^'Pare for 
 
 Mjchaers hackneyTHc^rd t^ ^^^^J^ ^^"'^ 
 and uttered a shrill neigh From ^^ f ^'^^' 
 the darkness cante an a^sweri^nei ^ "^^ "" °^ 
 Ihe Lord be pra,sed." quoth Michael, "if this be 
 
 =;%E 
 
'St. 
 
 ancy. You 
 
 the faithful 
 
 •• Silence 
 
 as in most 
 
 us on the 
 
 hiding for- 
 vhich they 
 ''er, where- 
 ^ey had to 
 'm before 
 
 into the 
 5n before, 
 being no 
 its many 
 ■ide back 
 em upon 
 
 than a 
 ore they 
 i eastern 
 reak, as, 
 !ays, and 
 weeping 
 ^eep the 
 3il worn 
 >horses. 
 lounder 
 >are for 
 iddenly 
 s pace, 
 out of 
 
 his be 
 
 A Night in Lin hope Tower. 
 
 185 
 
 still 
 yet.' 
 
 in Christentie we shall sleep under a roof- tree 
 
 Dismounting he scanned the track narrowly, and pres- 
 ently found a path leading steeply up the hillside to the 
 right. Up this they clomb, and discerned a dark mass 
 looming above their heads— a peel tower such as squires, 
 or lairds as they are called in the north, do mostly dwell 
 within in that land. All was still without and within; 
 neither sign nor sound of man or maid ; only the stamp- 
 ing and neighing of horses within the barmekyn. Never- 
 theless a most savoury vapour, betokening the prepara- 
 tion of a toothsome fry, floated out upon the wet wind, 
 mightily tickling the nostrils of the hungry travellers. 
 
 The gateway of the barmekyn was stoutly barred and 
 locked from within ; there was no door in the outer wall 
 of the tower ; wherefore Sir Walter wound a shrill sum- 
 mons on his horn. No answer came to the first blast ; 
 at the second, a female voice answered from the battle- 
 mented roof in the uncouth speech of the bordei land. 
 
 " Wha's yon ? " it cried. 
 
 "A knight seeking shelter for his following," cried 
 Sir Walter ; " I pray you open speedily, in the name of 
 the saints." 
 
 "A bonny-like knight to be dannering ower the Dod 
 Hill when decent folks is seeking their beds," came the 
 reply from above. " Ride on, sir knight, and Saint Cuth- 
 bert guide ye aright." 
 
 "My good dame," quoth Sir Walter, "not a rood 
 farther do I ride this night. An ye be Christian folk 
 within and peaceable subjects of the king, I pray you 
 open to us without more ado. If not, then must we 
 take by force that which you deny us by favour." 
 
 ..n '■"P-y came back; the woman's head had dis- 
 
 !'*' 
 
 1 
 
1 86 
 
 ^ii; 
 
 !^n 
 
 il 
 
 The Chevalier of the Splendid Crest. 
 
 appeared behind the battlpmpr.f u , 
 further pa„ey or with .h '":&:??;'"• "'"=''' °' 
 travellers remained to be seen 1 ""'■'"* '° '"' 
 minutes without furthe, „ ™'""S some 
 
 the Fenaan, who tad h " "' ''""« ''^^"^ ""l>'". 
 
 the barmek;„ returned T"."" '"""" *^ """-"^ ° 
 wea., steedfs'airtn-'^lLr'- ""^ '™'^'' ""^ «= 
 
 wards for this lock Tf ' "^ """ "^^"^^^ fashion 
 
 '-™.yn, ;Lt°tre bererThl^ r '"J^ ^ *« 
 wn.go hard but we find soUtddtr^'!^;:.^"'''' 
 
 answ!^d^:-r^f---ho7L^^^^^^^ 
 
 way plain even as far as the stabT doTr » "' ""' "^ 
 
 he wt ^:Ld"":f.. ::, t^ r - ""'='°- *- 
 
 more than four incLesTfoaT J ''"''' "^" " '^kes 
 his supper, and irmth? f°f ° ''"'P " '"'"«'■>' "an from 
 
 At z /urtht'inX/ : s;rr: '"^^'■': ' 
 :rCen;rorth?-.f"wrtrLr- 
 
 h.» clamberiru/^hrstr!*: ^nt "^ "^ ^ 
 ven.ut\r;''::r-,-f.".ou must not 
 garrison may be in the\e"p" "^ '"°"' ""' "l"" 
 
A Night in Linhope Tower. 
 
 187 
 
 soon the party outside heard the bars falling inside the 
 gate. Luckily, the key had been left in the lock, and it 
 was not quite dark before they had led their horses into 
 a shed on one side of the garth and helped them freely 
 to some sweet, dry hay of which they found good store. 
 But hay is little comfort to hungry men, and the prospect 
 of supper seemed as far off as ever, for the tower stood 
 dark and silent as before. Entrance to it could only be 
 had through a door ten feet above the ground. The 
 door was fast shut, but the wooden steps which gave 
 access to it had not been hauled up. 
 
 "It's easy to see there are none but women within," 
 observed Michael. 
 
 " How know you that ? " asked Sir Walter, 
 "Men would have pulled up the stairs if they wanted 
 to keep us without," replied the Fenman. 
 
 Even as he spoke the chain tightened, and the steps 
 began to ascend s.owly ; but Michael leaped on the lower 
 rung, which sufficed to overpower the feeble hand on the 
 windlass within. 
 
 Sir Walter ran lightly up the steps and rapped loudly 
 on the door with the pommel of his dagger. "Ho 
 within there!" he cried; "if you do not unbar speedily 
 we will batter down your door." 
 
 It was an empty vaunt, for the oak was solid and 
 heavily studded with nails, and the platform outside was 
 so narrow as to give no room for swinging a beam ; but it 
 was effectual. The same voice came from within as had 
 spoken from the roof. 
 
 " Canny, then, canny ! Eh, sirs ! can ye no gang yer 
 ain gate, and no come breaking into honest folks' housen 
 at nightfall ? " 
 
 No, I tell you," answered Sir Walter from the out- 
 
138 
 
 The Chevalier of the Splendid Crest. 
 
 side; "we go no farther to-niVht n,. • , 
 
 name ! " '^^** ^Pen, in the king's 
 
 Tliere was a whispering behinrl fj, a 
 f-t, .hen ,hegn„d4 o^^TZI^T.^'^'^K' 
 dooropened outwards the sunc<.„f I r j , ' ''"™ ""^ 
 Walter's sword leapt f omTh, n "''■''''•■"'"'■ Q"'<^'<ly 
 what hostile foree 4t be wlh" ,r'' '" '"' """ ™' 
 mailed hand into the openinlh^' """^ '''^ f°°' ""d 
 
 Wm. There was no o„e ot tl ?f ''. *^ ''°" '""""^ 
 darkness. °" "'^ ""'•^^hold ; only empty 
 
 m i'utTrr;",""^^ "^"""^'^ "'- - «° «-; an 
 
 he':'riw;dT;;LTe',t':a:'- "'* "-^ ^--" « ^^^ 
 
 house, and, guide^by Ig ir^lt ofTu '"''^'' '"'o *^- 
 arched chamber -Huminat^by h" ol'""t "'° "" 
 wood fire and the feeble flame oa„nl"*' ""^"^ "^ » 
 Two women stood in ' "' .""^ "" °'l "«=et. 
 
 who had parleyed w.U them T"" =''^^'- ""^-'^'■^ 
 
 hera ide.Uerivt::^:^^;::,^;:"^^'"^ 
 scarcftp^: ::es:„f V'^ «- harfb,;r:.yo„ ,,„ 
 
 night?" ""' """'"K like thieves in the 
 
 wZ:Covrwnet":^:i;;t:-''--- 
 ■■andTtrre':igras'rcr'"''=-— '^. 
 
 ye'Il lay hands on goods and '"P"" ' '^^''°" 
 
 of insight." Oh 1 ve £ 1 ^'''"' ^""^ ^''"y kind 
 
 i^- a u or?e,pSst;r r- 1:: "bV^^-'^ 
 
 scarcely crow sae cruse then, I reckon. 
 ^ -furniture. 
 
.f^mm^- 
 
 ^^'<U 
 
 1 the king's 
 
 shuffling of 
 d anon the 
 h. Quickly 
 - knew not 
 is foot and 
 'or towards 
 )nly empty 
 
 first ; an 
 
 an at his 
 d into the 
 i into an 
 bers of a 
 
 3ne— she 
 d behind 
 
 you will 
 in the 
 
 loth Sir 
 
 accents, 
 
 reckon 
 y kind 
 
 there's 
 : wait a 
 
 that's 
 eckon. 
 
 A Night in Litthope Toiver. 
 
 h 
 
 189 
 
 "<> 
 
 Watty o' Linhope's not just the man to let his house be 
 raked out and cry God-speed upon the spoilers." 
 
 "Spoilers!" said Sir Walter, as soon as the dame's 
 volubility had run her out of breath. " Who speaks of 
 spoilers ? I will pay you in good money for everything 
 that we and our horses eat. See, mistress,"— and pulling 
 out of his satchel a handful of silver, he flung it on the 
 table,— "help yourself to what you think meet. On the 
 other side of the border a knight's word is reckoned as 
 good as his bond, and payment is not a traveller's first 
 thought on alighting at a gentleman's door." 
 
 The dame seemed somewhat disconcerted at this ad- 
 dress; muttering something about "unchancy times" and 
 "the rough characters that were travelling through the 
 land," she turned to her young companion and gave 
 some directions, which resulted before long in a steaming 
 and savoury mess being set before the hungry men, with 
 a black tankard of ale. While they were discussing these 
 good things, the women sat by the hearth, the elder upon 
 a high -backed elbow-chair, the younger upon a low 
 "creepie" or oaken stool, attending to a fresh supply of 
 viands which were cooking in a huge pot hung over the 
 fire. A row of fine three-cornered oaten cakes set on 
 end before the blaze were toasting to a seductive degree 
 of crispness. 
 
 " You spoke just now of your master ; is he expected 
 home to-night, mistress?" inquired Sir Walter of her 
 whom he supposed to be the housekeeper, 
 
 ''My master, quotha ! " replied she, with a grim smile, 
 while the girl's dark eyes danced and her teeth gleamed 
 in merriment ; " and wha might you be meaning by tny 
 master ? " 
 
 " Well, the master of this house," answered the kni"ht. 
 
 ';,/'l 
 
1 90 
 
 s 
 
 The Chevalier of tfip <:a/ j-^ ^ 
 
 •^ ^"^ splendid Crest. 
 
 " J he master of this house i, m ^ l 
 dame «,h more digni,, than hehadlvr'"""'" '"■°"' ">« 
 'h'sts my daughter s/bil, at vou7'"'°*°™; ""d 
 
 S,r Walter sprang to h s flet " TT'- '" '"'«'"-" 
 h«3peeeh, even the manner Jf ,?'"?"■ ^''"= "ress, 
 ^d.es. ditrered hardly at al from t " °' "''''' "«' 
 'ass ■ nevertheless, the iJJjZ T\ "' ""' P^^^""' 
 'hat he had made an almost n . ™''^ *°»''=<i him 
 ^^°^ days the separatbn bet'' '"'''"' ""'^^ke, for ," 
 "gidly defined than ," has bZT" '""'^ '■■'^ ^^ ™o e 
 pn'fe birth, such as could claim ™! ""''■ ^^"""^ of 
 '" 'he belief that ,hey were 2 ""°"- -^re reared 
 
 '=■" ^^ being, of a difeem' order 7 ""''"'""' ''^ *e 
 common herd. ™" °f creation from the 
 
 " I humbly crave vo..,. „ 
 'hough'-th/t is,!-™ r-!!-,^^™e,» he began, .j 
 
 Oh aye, I ken what ye wo„M 
 servant-wenches. Seat yourself . T^' ^' '""^ "' ^r 
 granted. Well, sir, we see t "ntl "'''' ' *^ P^*''' 
 daughter and me were not prelfrd r "" ''"'• ^'"d my 
 have busked ourselves more see't I """'^'"^ °' "-'d 
 honourable house of Howpas IT [^ " ' ™"^ "^ 'he 
 bend upon the gold as rightfu Iv'. *"" *^ '>^"e 
 
 does h,s fess gules upon the v^'ey '' """ ™"^''^^> ' *e, 
 
 ~?/rw^,rn:f; That: - -T;- --- re. 
 
 -,;— Of the country t^-uXh::t: 
 
 ■"i;:ti:r;""'*---«---.and 
 
 I 
 
'rest. 
 
 'ter before we 
 
 ^>" quoth the 
 ^hown; "and 
 knight." 
 
 'i^he dress, 
 >f these two 
 the peasant 
 showed him 
 stake, for in 
 is far more 
 Persons of 
 ^ere reared 
 sed by the 
 from the 
 
 »egan; ««i 
 
 ok us for 
 ' pardon's 
 . and my 
 y or we'd 
 e of the 
 he azure 
 ■y, I see, 
 
 Tiion re- 
 ^hghten 
 s drawn 
 
 er land 
 head of 
 
 A Night in Linhope Tower. ,p, 
 
 t '1:7.,:' ^""".T ''"" ■' '-'""°P= ^-^^ -herein ye 
 
 b.«er .enned .„a„ ca Jt^ ^.tr ol;' Zs o"t' 
 
 hope are broad, ye see, marching „,„, no.,Xl^Z 
 
 !or.hw,ck water, and good wholesome graz ng iLn amJ 
 
 ' °"'^'= y^ "OSS the Hislop burn, but-l- " 
 
 Perhaps the mistress of Linhoue wis ilmi.t ,„ 
 for the sma., state kept in her malln ' t , ° rd^d' 
 
 g^trr dSrnf:o"'rr'"^ -^^"^ *e'poore;SeottS 
 
 :'Zn''::.-L''^^^^-"'----''^^*e;ou:dt 
 
 " Yonder is the laird himself" nnnt-K cK^ • • 
 
 rtas^^'-r S r *^ ^^^'^^^^Z 
 repast. Run, Sybtl, and unbar the barmekyn yett and 
 
 . tell your daddy we have company here to-niglj- ^ ^ 
 
 J^h7hrr^^rnr '- *^'r ^ ^'---o 
 
 ' *"^ newcomers d smounted • hni- 
 
 haTbet 'm' ?'k '™' "^'"^ «^«' -'"-"^'o the 
 Chamber, followed by four heavy-footed men rou^h 
 
 Lta^diirr:t~' Ti - ^^ 
 
 memory of havmg seen two of them before Rnf .k 
 two ept in the background and averted Lirfl*^: 
 tbat he could get no right view of them. He dism' sed 
 the t ought carelessly as he made a reverenceTo S 
 Akm, related. „ ^ 
 
 ^ Urandson. 
 
 li 
 
 i£t; 
 
ill 
 
 I 
 
 1 
 
 III! 
 
 n. Crvalur cf the S^cnM, Crest. 
 
 involuntary host and 
 
 with his housed'unng h/rie"c7° '" '"""« """« <■'« 
 
 you an .vclcomi; Kcntic sir., » -j , 
 remarkably go„u grace ' to Ih 'h , ""■' ''"'"' with 
 
 ''"der as n,y hous; aff^d. M„ " "'"' P°" P™v. 
 
 H.a»ici< ,„art"_hcra Mu„,i„ '^ "' ""'' ' "'"^ '••»<•• at 
 ^hoe by .he speaicerltt r- i,;??'' ' '^'' «'-« 
 wh.ch prevented n,e receiving you 1 , / 7-" '"««-- 
 your rank." <* '°" '" ""•' foshioji he/itting 
 
 Nothing furtbcr was said T. 
 upon the table once mor/ih , }'°' ''"'"8 l^en sst 
 *.ee sons set to ZhTlT ' f ^'"''"P^ »d bis 
 -feed as severely fr 1 th „ e^lVf ' """"'"''• ^'^^^ 
 ^"PPI; had done from S r W 1 „." "r ""■' "'^"°"^ 
 reta,ners of the laird, who '^ "'' °^ '"■ '"''<'- 
 
 Wm to market, were upLfed with '■ "' "^'"'" ''* 
 floon even so, the ^^0 c^! ^ '"'^P" °" '^e ground 
 crowded, there being no Jess ^ T T '"^-^'''^'nely 
 "• N°'>vitbs,andi„g^his M™ f„ '"' ""'"'"' "''1™ 
 
 de Neville had be™ t^o !^, " j '"'""f'"''"^ ""'P-d 
 page to lose any fair on, 1,, '"'">' '"^''"'"d as a 
 
 daughter of the hou S bi "' °' •'"^'-"■•"''"t'' The 
 '-ess Of her dress e;uldlr:ar:h:^ ^""'.'"^ '"- 
 and symmetry of her figure • and h '"''"« S^ce 
 
 Northern accent, was not ^ea Iv s 'T^' *™S'' "^ 
 -other's. Gaspard treated hTU" T^''^^^^ ^er 
 -ons,deration every gentle s„,!,- ^ "'" "'"> 'he 
 
 Oi«ned the first parallel .. °""' '° ''eau'v and 
 
 rul^ as if he had'b t hL ^ ' '"' ^""'■■' '' 
 -■ege. He helped her with her'LT '° ™"*" ' ^^■«'"- 
 tables above stairs and below iv"' '" r"*'"^ "^^ 
 entiallyand looking into ht ^y ''^wiS df " ''^^"- 
 hac • cen a maid of honour. *^ ''" '^ ''he 
 
'ng made free 
 
 he laird with 
 '^ poor prov- 
 f were late at 
 I «vvift glance 
 5 it Jiap])ens, 
 lion he/jtting 
 
 "^' been set 
 ope and his 
 :ents, which 
 ■he previous 
 six. 'J'liree 
 idden with 
 the ground 
 ^nveniently 
 *ons within 
 fe Gaspard 
 ooled as a 
 ing. The 
 the home- 
 h'ng grace 
 though of 
 h as her 
 with the 
 lutv and 
 )ruu Lo 
 ^ regiilai- 
 ding the 
 IS defer- 
 s if she 
 
 A Night in Linhope Tower, 
 
 '93 
 
 Supper over, the party a.^posed themselves for the 
 n.ght. Three of the Englishmen were told off to si 
 - the lower chamber with the laird's retainers ;Sir V ^i' 
 C. spard and the Fenman were to share the u.per heanh 
 s.d. wuh the laird and his three sons. A ' e "d ' 
 withdrew to a chamber still hiuher Tn^mrH n . 
 -ed Sybil's hand to his lips.'^';;^ "^^^ ^^^^^ 
 poor tl.ng! she had seldom or never received' ntfat' 
 lonely home the courtly homage which her charms had 
 undoubtedly commanded among kindlier surrounding 
 It must have touched a tender place in her bosom fo" 
 
 str ir shT? '^"'^^ ' '' -^^^-^' "^^^^-^ 
 
 Ind w^h-: tet.^^^^^^^^^^^^^ %,^^ -°P^^ - ^^^^ i^ 
 
 Th»n .1,; , ^ ^'""^P '" 'hy harness." 
 
 Ihen she was gone like a flash. 
 
 The Fenman, since entering the dwelling, had snoken 
 no word; as diligent as the others at trencher work " 
 had ass,sted the ladies in their household duties, in pa ing 
 and re,novn,g dishes, and so on; then, supper ov« hf 
 busted hnnself beside the wide hearth in burnishing h's 
 master's weapons and accoutrements, polishing the goM 
 helmet t.ll ,t shone like a star. But his eves had hi 
 keen as a hawk's all the time, and noJ „ n e e'r 
 pany was separating preparatory to a nighl's sleep, he took 
 occas^n as he drew off Sir Walter's boots to say in a tw 
 
 is 'ipi:t!^^' ""' ''""-'■ »--• ^^'^ ^-p 
 
 "Go to!" answered the knieht • "wh-.t- ^« 
 man ? " ^"'gnt , what do you fear, 
 
 Michael was silent, but looking round cautiously made 
 a shght gesture with hi thumb towards two of the'laTd 
 sons at the farther end of the room. 
 
 N 
 
 
; n 
 
 194 
 
 m 
 
 The Chevalier of the Splendtd Crest. 
 
 c 
 
 " Well, what of them ? » ;« • , 
 waxed sleepy after a haM ^ ""'"' ^' "'^""^ "'"o 
 
 "Just this," whispered th? p«„ 
 parted with those fellows in t/.T' *"' "''^" « 
 did no. recl<on on thel Z berfT, ""'' """'"«• « 
 
 In a ™on,ent Sir Wal"r "drt^ Td '°-"''^'"'' 
 scented danger as it flashed oH,''''""'^'^- "<= 
 his hosts two sons, how thev hL T "" ""^ '^^" 
 
 ;-=l^-, how they hai pals d 'hL 0^1 7 ^'°"« ^ '^'- 
 Ewes water, Hawick marke" Th ""^^ °^ *«= 
 
 crooked in all this. Ti,« ,h. ' ™' sometbinR 
 
 his lord's side, and in,p:r ed 0" hl"l ""P"' ^^"^ '° 
 received from the girl " ""^ ™™i"« he had 
 
 The sleeping accommodation in fh. , 
 sunplest. Coarse mattresses 3fr^ t '""" "' °' 'he 
 down before the hearth th "'""'""" *'-°™ 
 other. The laird and l^is' three "" T ''^'^ """ °" *e 
 |i^ Walter, Gaspard,'a:d'tC;; "VTT' °''°'"' 
 Scots ware arranging these rude co^cheTM """'''' 
 
 the third watch. But see-Lr """^ ^'^'"'"^' "'" take 
 
 the chamber, and warn our fellows IT """"'' '° '"'"^^ 
 on their guard." downstairs that they be 
 
 do': z: ot :r*e soZt' '"'"t- ''■■""^'^ °- °f -he 
 
 Of the stairs was th ZZZ To thT " '" ^' "^^ f°°' 
 other Englishmen were .0 pass bl nii":" xt' "f "^ *^ 
 already fast closed and barr'ed from W^ „. ''^ """ "^= 
 
 "Myt:rlT'^°""«-'''-''edtheScot. 
 
 y hath some commands for his man-at-arms 
 
i Crest. 
 
 '^r VValter, wlio 
 
 "that when we 
 his morning, wc 
 o-night." 
 iappeared. He 
 ■e he had seen 
 m along a false 
 far side of the 
 '^'as something 
 5pard came to 
 arning he had 
 
 'er was of the 
 1 were thrown 
 !, four on the 
 ther, opposite 
 the younger 
 •rmion seized 
 o his squire 
 
 Jeep. I will 
 ird, will take 
 nee to leave 
 that they be 
 
 out of the 
 At the foot 
 , where the 
 is door was 
 
 an-at-arms 
 
 A Night in LiiiJiope Tozvey. 
 
 195 
 
 touching the morrow," answered Gaspard • - I nr.v v 
 open for me." -P'liu, i pray you 
 
 "That I cannot do," quoth the Scot; "see you not 
 the door is barred from within?" ^ ^ 
 
 Upon this Gaspard beat a summons on the oak with 
 the pommel of his dagger The Srof ^ u 
 
 exclaiming-«Stay, there ! "young f 1 /"" ""'' '''f 
 lodge in a gentleman's house you ml '°" ^'^"^^ 
 quietly." ^ " "'"'^ ^^"y yourself 
 
 ScotTt^uT '""^ "^'''" "^^ ""'°^'"g ^^^ door, but the 
 
 desi t and r""' "7°" ^"^^ °" ^^P^^' -ied out t 
 aesist, and the sounds cpa<;pri r-„ j , 
 
 hearth flicke ed Jl ™ ir *^ 'J« '°«' ™ '"e 
 vaulted „o, htc.e„"Xf:„ttrZl:rUt 7 
 
 ^.though rton, s:otst,"tg'L°':'?r? ''"''■■ ■"" 
 
 on Tea ; ;,eepi r s , ''> "« ^"P^'"^ ^^ *<= ""'V 
 
 habit Of lo^r:!, h ' : ;::tt. *e r- r'^"- 
 
 ing to an intense desire for repose ^'''" "''"- 
 
 It was well to be wnrrhfni v 
 
 ™ion perceived one o he 'of th"!' '"' f '™^ ''"" 
 his head scan fh^ °"'.'=f o' 'he snoring Scots to raise 
 
 again int^ <s ^si: s.'^^r;; :T"'.''^T 
 
 (and in days when horologuef w^e few;' " '"*' 
 tomed to measure time mentally elenil T TW """'" 
 drawing towards the close of hlH . , *^ " ™' 
 
 'he sound of a shou " 1' ™ °"= ™^''- -»» 
 
 i....,d_> lu his ears through the 
 
 I Hi 
 
if 
 
 I'' ' 
 
 '96 n. Ccvalie. of the Sp!c,uUa Crest. 
 
 steufs^rbutftV^nf,?/;:"''^ "'^'^^ <"■• the clash of 
 no ..ore, he „,oved T t^ ^l^'^^' ^"^' '^-"n« 
 something that might have .If "'°'"''"' ^e saw 
 
 'han his own. Tl,e head no! ' '"'"''' ^"'^ ^^dy 
 
 one of the four Seots a^ Xd 7 °"'^' ''"' "^ -"^ 
 'he gleam of ,,„. fireligh, if 1 f™"°" ™"W "etect 
 Slowly, silently fou, fo,;f3''" f; -h.tes of their eyes, 
 
 »tout sword in the hand of each ^ "'"'"'"'"^ P°'^"'°"' ^ 
 
 >vas afoot almost as soon as h,s " ^"^P""' M'<^hael 
 
 ready and armed for the shocl^ "'"f ' ^"d "" three were 
 dashed across the floor to attack o ?l'°" '° '""''• 
 ■"S his foot in a plaid ,vh"h had °^*"°"'' <^«"^h- 
 cover, stumbled heavily mJ"^ f™'' '«' '^ ^''-eping 
 J"« » the annpit, pier^ .h?™^,.?™", ""="'" '™ 
 been parchment, and the felinl f "' "'™Sh it had 
 
 h^ >vas a big man and his «! f f T"'"^ >>«-'>■. But 
 knight, who was left unarm./ "'"= *" '""^e of the 
 '-'d in his left hand, he™ „ =T "" 1"' ""'^""'^ he 
 to eatch and ward a sllshin^ M„ r *""'' '^'''''^of ^^tved 
 of the fallen man's b thre„ « I?' '"'''"8^^ "^ one 
 fallen under the side at Iclof a 1 ' ™^ '""^ '° have 
 Michael dashed his bo ?. t: .7*;/ °' *em, had not 
 laying it open from eye to ch , "1 t """" °' *'^ one, 
 on .he stone floor. The as In / *"= '°° '^^ «"='teri„g 
 three; Gaspard, heedful lest ^t.^' "°" >"" '"o 'o 
 from without, dashed to the door ot "'°"" '^ ''''"«'^ 
 .ng the heavy bolt, returned to the"? "' "«"' ^"^- =''oot- 
 
i Crest. 
 
 out the clash of 
 'ck, and, hearing 
 Tioment he saw 
 rves less steady 
 ^y> but of every 
 on could detect 
 of their eyes, 
 hing position, a 
 
 springing to his 
 5ard. Michael 
 
 all three were 
 . four to three, 
 he sons, catch- 
 er a sleeping 
 t caught him 
 though it had 
 heavily. But 
 
 blade of the 
 
 poignard he 
 lereof served 
 dinger of one 
 Jike to have 
 em, had not 
 of this one, 
 lay weltering 
 
 but two to 
 
 be changed 
 
 and, shoot- 
 ^vas already 
 ope pinned 
 the terrible 
 latched up 
 
 A Night in Linhope Tower. 
 
 197 
 
 the weapon of one of the fallen men, was exchanging, 
 passes m the uncertain light with the third son, who after 
 an me/Tectual attempt to force his adversary's guard step- 
 ping back was tripped by the nimble Gaspard and fell 
 helpless beside his dead brother. Sir Walter, leaping 
 forward and placing the point at his throat, cried to him 
 to yield, which he did with an evil grace. Seeing how 
 matters had gone, the laird lowered his point and yielded 
 himself also to the Fenman. 
 
 "Shame, Gaspard!" said Marmion to his squire. 
 Why, man, where have you been schooled to spoil 
 sport in that fashion ? Two to one is not fair play " 
 
 "As fair as four to three. Sir Walter, according to my 
 arithmetic,' replied Gaspard; "but I will crave pardon 
 as soon as we know how matters have gone below 
 stairs." 
 
 Even as he spoke the latch was raised and voices 
 sounded from without. 
 
 "All is siccari below, laird," cried one; «'how fares it 
 wi' yourself?" 
 
 Marmion signed to the prisoners to be silent on pain 
 of instant death. Michael was busy uncoiling some 
 strong tarred cord which hung from a hook on the wall 
 With this he swiftly bound the wrists of the laird and his 
 son behind their backs, and then lashed their feet securelv 
 muttering the while— 
 
 ' [ ^f k°'- this tow was made ready for your betters. 
 If I had my way it should be round your necks I'd put it 
 1 here s for one of you," he continued, as, rising to his 
 teet, he bestowed a hearty kick with his shoeless foot on a 
 part of the laird's geography situated exactly midway be- 
 tween his head and his heels. " How like you that, 
 
 ^ Safe. 
 
 I 
 
1 1! [ 
 
 E, i 
 
 ■i\ iff 
 
 198 ne Chevaliey of the Splendid Crest. 
 
 Of the wounded men, the first was dead, with two feet 
 o good Toledo sticking through his brisket. The "the 
 although a ghastly object owing to his slashed L^s 
 not otherwise injured; but he was so weak from oL o 
 blood that Sir Walter bade Michael let him be 
 
 he wm^'un" y ^T'"^ "^^^^^ ^ ^°^ ^"^ ^ ^-t and 
 ne will run Your valiancy has the lads outside to de.l 
 with yet; best leave all safe behind us" 
 
 ma'st?"'''^''" "'' '^"' ^°" °^^ ^^-g^'" insisted his 
 ma ten Have pity upon a fallen man." 
 
 Pity .."quoth Michael-'' as much pity as I have for 
 a goose going barefoot » P y as 1 nave for 
 
 soles, but Marmion ^.^CX^lCr ^ ''T'"''"'- 
 ing and the clank of stL ThJ. "''^ 'i"' "'Wsper- 
 
 p.ace.ofderence,o;aLrLJa' ,r;hlrarn?„''" 
 on a turnpike stair; all attempts therefor to for ell 
 the outside must be vain To „■,:„ h "" 
 
 where the rest of hi. , ^ '" '°"'^'' -chamber 
 
 carr/thettras^Jb^'lTu^d r;u^rr" 'T™'"^'' " 
 before hi™, so as to secure t ult^^^^^^^^^ 
 by the only exit from the tower which ah °k " '^ 
 plained, was from the upper hallAIIh ''" 
 
 commander, he explainedTo hist„o« 3 "'Bid^dilTh: 
 Fenman rehght the cesset and stir the logs on he 1 h! 
 so that they might have light to guide tiZ 1 ^ 
 Oaspard gently withdraw the'bolt thft t W 1 e doo • Th™ 
 
 lalch „, the other, he whispered-" Are you readv ?» and 
 
 .*S^ --..-;, 
 
A Night in Linhope Toiver. 
 
 199 
 
 Nil 
 
 , insisted his 
 
 ' as I have for 
 
 next moment threw the door violently open. The heavy 
 oak struck a man standing behind it anc' sent him back- 
 wards down the stair; two others remained, but, taken 
 unawares by the flood of light and sudden attack, one of 
 them recoiled before Marmion's thrust and fe'l likewise 
 after his comrade, and the other, turning to fly, received 
 Michael's deadly spear right between the shoulder-blades. 
 Following uo the attack. Sir Walter found the two knaves 
 at the foot of the stair with no stomach for more. They 
 were mere moss-riders or hill farmers, tenants of the laird 
 of Linhope, and obedient to his commands. They were 
 promptly disarmed ; but this time the Fenman's spear had 
 done its work once for all — the third fellow was stark 
 dead. 
 
 Gaspard ran back for the cresset, and, entering the lower 
 hall, Marmion found his three men. One of the hobelars 
 was dead, his skull having been smashed by the blow of 
 an axe ; his comrade and the man-at-arms had been over- 
 powered without resistance, and lay unhurt, but securely 
 bound. 
 
 Michael was sorely cast down because Sir Walter forbade 
 any more bloodshed. 
 
 "Dead men bite not," said the Fenman, "and it would 
 take the blood of three of these lousy Scots to pay for 
 Hob of Marston yonder, as likely a lad as ever sat in 
 pigskin." 
 
 But Marmion would not hear of more kiUing, It was 
 not yet midnight, and a start could not be made before 
 daylight ; he therefore directed that all the prisoners, five 
 in number, should be placed, securely bound, in the lower 
 hall ; that his own men should take their rest in the upper 
 hall, which commanded the door of egress from the tower, 
 relieving each other in turn as sentry on the stairs. 
 
 (i-'i ■ • 
 
ir 
 
 . I 
 
 1 ^i> 
 
 V. 
 
 200 
 
 7-/« CT.W/.;- „///„ .^^^^„^^^.^ ^^^^^^ 
 
 W,le these dispositions were bei,.„ , 
 '■Ppe.ared on the scene, and thT.M ^ "^"^ ""= ''<""^" 
 husband a prisoner, one of ht T' '^^''°Wi"S '-r 
 
 *^%urcd by a hideous Le^tldl' ^'' '"" """'^er 
 "tuperation. Marraion had ,T ,' '"' °'" '""' ^'"k"' 
 Pu'ting his prisoners to deal ^ he"" '" ''^ ""--'^ »' 
 the law of arms She 1. f . "^^ ^""""^d to do by 
 Engh-shn^en with in, ns Cd'^' T'^^' ^'^-S °n .he 
 on the other hand, w^ J:^; ' "bit ",''' '^"^ 'y''"' 
 her brother's wound ShTif f^ "' *<= ™*ed 
 
 handsome squire of his da ger Itle" r t" ""^"^^ *e 
 'o cost one of her brothers I's li fe """'""« "■^' " was 
 
 ^-'aspard took the first w,f.K ' . 
 -ders to a„ow no one to ^^ Z''": f"^. ™th strict 
 Marmion and his men lav do ° ^ '°"'''' "^"^ 
 
 get some much-needed I'eo 7 , ' *' "'' ^''"''" '» 
 seeing that all arms had been "^ ^'''""^ '"^"'' 
 
 •he prisoners beW, evL' sho iJ^Hu'r "''' "^ 
 'hem. ""'" We old dame unbind 
 
 Gaspard had not been Inn„ 
 came upstairs, passing ,„ Z", Z t ""'' '"'^""^ ^ybil 
 squire inquiring after 'he state ot? ' "'°"- °" 'he 
 she tu-ned and looked „„„' , ' ™""'^"='^ hrother, 
 
 'he cresset hanging on the „,ll f™'^' ^'''^ "ght o 
 
 shadowed by 'he folk Ll: "I't "iT "^'^ f=^'"- 
 was forgetful of the disord rt h. ^^'"'^ '■"''' 'he 
 Gaspard, a connoisseur in fem „i'f ,r""^ "«"-■'. and 
 wards he had never seen T , "'' ™wed after- 
 
 "My brother!" sad "! I""' '"""'^ ■•"■'^■°"- 
 for n,y brothers. Yo„ta ''"r'- """'='' ^°" -cic 
 another to the death, I ,,". . """ """^ """^ wounded 
 care for your safety." ' " P''''">' ^'u™ for my 
 
 "It is the fortune of wnr „,, i 
 
 war, ma damoysel," returned 
 
 ^V^SSSSC^^ 
 
nd Ci 
 
 est. 
 
 made, the women 
 '"e, beholding her 
 'ead, and another 
 ^e out into violent 
 her by threats of 
 
 entitled to do by 
 ■e, glaring on the 
 dry Qy,^s. Sybil, 
 ^ as she washed 
 had warned the 
 ik'ng that it was 
 
 fairs, with strict 
 ie tower; while 
 - fire within to 
 erfectly secure, 
 from reach of 
 ' dame unbind 
 
 it before Sybil 
 iJoft. On the 
 inded brother, 
 The light of 
 pale features 
 lek hair; she 
 njghtrail, and 
 vowed after- 
 sion. 
 
 ich you reclc 
 nd wounded 
 turn for my 
 
 '/' returned 
 
 A Night in Linhope Toiver. 
 
 20 1 
 
 Gaspard. "Had we not vanquished them they would 
 have slain us." 
 
 " Oh, I know, I know," she exclaimed, the tears wellintr 
 afresh from her eyes. "I warned them too, but they 
 would not heed me. I dinna blame you altogether— I 
 wanted but to put you on your guard, lest you should be 
 slam m your sleep, for I am weary— oh that weary ! of 
 slaughter." 
 
 "Is that the way, then, your people generally serve 
 travellers?" asked the squire. 
 
 '• Oh, it's just the way they have with Englishmen on 
 the Border; but it's worst in the house, and I'm weary 
 of it." ^ 
 
 " Worst in the house," repeated Gaspard. " You mean 
 it would be better done on the moor." 
 
 "Assuredly," quoth she. "It is man's work on the 
 open moor, and if blood be shed it is little seen. But in 
 
 the house, among women " she broke off shudderincr 
 
 Then she resumed, with that irrational confidence which 
 cannot be restrained between maid and man—" You see 
 they had ridden on to the Carlanrig ; they were to wait 
 
 you there, and fall on, man to man, in fair fight " 
 
 "Seven men to six," interposed Gaspard. 
 "Well, well," she said, smiling through her tears, "that 
 would be the fortune of war, as you put it just now. Any 
 way, It would have been clear of the house. But you sent 
 the whole plan awry by stopping at our door." 
 
 I think we did wisely," said Gaspard ; and then with a 
 levity which, under the circumstances of the night, every 
 moralist must condemn, he passed his arm quickly' round 
 the girl's waist, saying-" Had we not stopped here I had 
 never met the fairest damoysel I have ever seen " 
 
 C,,l.,"l>„ 1 . . _ 
 
 ■M 
 
 Sybil's eyes became soft as silk. 
 
 Poor girl, it had been 
 
^7i 
 
 f/i 
 
 
 t 
 
 ^/^e Chevalier of thp <r/,/ j- , 
 
 ■^ ^"^ ^Piendtd Crest. 
 ^ case of lovR of r . . 
 
 '"tin ™'''' ""'"""■"■^ '"-^ ■•-" you. 
 
 ■n^ke your"faTher'yfeTd''''"''''" '"''^ '"=' "^ ™'y helped to 
 "Swear it I "she said. 
 
 ^■^ ™-- -, a„, «, ;''r:r; - ~u„d 
 
 ii 
 
 li i'i 
 
203 
 
 
 ®^ ^l u^'f ^'P^''* ^^""S^t "P^" t?,e Sc0t« 6tT Sir 
 pSHalter le fHarmion, inberrbg fte performel. i,fg Sefaoir 
 to f)i0 mistress anU maHe famous t()e uolUen {lelmct. 
 
 Before daybreak Sir Walter's party were astir, the 
 horses were fed and watered, and necessity compelled the 
 Englishmen once more t- break their fast from the 
 store of the laird of Linhope, for nine long leagues lay 
 between them and the English castle of Roxburgh, where 
 they would lie that night. Sybil, like a pale spectre- 
 her mother like a cowed fury-moved about dischargin.^ 
 the ordmary duties of the humble household, for cows 
 must be milked on days of mourning as well as in time 
 of merry-making; and although three corpses lay in the 
 ower hall stark under woollen plaids, the wants of the 
 living were none the less pressing. Wooden bowls of 
 oatmeal porridge, which even the addition of the ostly 
 luxury of salt could not render grateful to English 
 palates furnished the solid part of the gloomy repast, 
 washed down with draughts of dark ale or new milk 
 according to the fancy of each. ' 
 
 By attacking the Englishmen, the laird of Linhope 
 had committed an act, whether of war or mere brigandage, 
 
I' 
 
 ■.'•I I 
 
 A\ 
 
 ^°4 ne Chevalic. of ,!,c Spkn.nj Cres,. 
 "hich Sir Walter knew would iu^lifv I ■ ■ 
 Of retaliation. Much to th ,.(f^- '" ""^ '^^'^^ 
 ever, ho suffered nothing within t c h„ ■"""'' ''°"- 
 
 and even offered to sen k .1 ^ '' '" '"= '™*ed, 
 
 ■"en, and his horse! Unon Th'"'?''' °^ '""'■"="'' '"•' 
 out afresh. P°" ""' "'= d.™e>s fury brol-e 
 
 and forsworn Itnight I Keen it T ', ' ''' ''"''" ^°"""-<"' 
 
 you the tnaiison'of Cai ^^c led ,,e"' " T' ^'"' 
 
 every hair upon it I Cursed h/ *'™'' ^"'"^ ""d 
 
 your body! Cursed be ^ •''°" '" '"='>■ ''""e ■■" 
 
 »d siee^ng, b^fran hinrS'^"-^.'? "■-"'■^S 
 
 And in the anguish of h r ha ' t ' "' '' 
 ^Pat upon the knight. Svll ,1 u ^"''™^ ''"'"an 
 to moderate her mother'. '""' '" ™''n tried 
 
 Clasped hands an7 be o„2"s"'rr^' '"""^ -''h 
 offence. "^''^ '"'■ Salter not to laie 
 
 "My mother's heart is snr^" d, 
 notwhatsheisdoin^ L°„ ,'""^' "^^e knows 
 
 and forget that you ^ ct'e^o^'th" 'T'' ' ^'^^ ^«". 
 
 "What says the I«!L?'M„ ."""'P''^ ''™='''" 
 
 "Unhappy iouse! The oTe7Tl '"r "" "°"^"- 
 a happy place till i, sheltered traUors-;'' "" ''"' 
 
 ■•' .'™n;m:rci'ti:fr.;° --•"«' '^--on, iud^ng 
 
 'o Sybil, and left Z Z.^'Th^:'' 'V''''''"'^ 
 "oment behind: taking Sybil's cold '7^''"°""^" ■'' 
 he knelt and kissed them th ''"'^' '" '"'• 
 
 mother could deal Ihe h^' ™ u™ «°™ ""^f^^e the 
 j^.^_ the blow wh.ch she intended upon 
 
 Despite his clemenrv tr, tK^ • 
 
 Mannion did no. ' 'to ac "aTTh""^""'^ 'O"-"' 
 
 to act as behoved a prudent 
 
NorJiani Castle. 
 
 205 
 
 soldier in an enemy's country. Had he left the laird's 
 horses in the stable, there was risk of the water being 
 warned upon hini,i and of his party being overpowered 
 before reaching Tweeddale. Michael was for hamstringing 
 the animals, but Sir Walter had too great a respect for 
 good horseflesh to permit that. 
 
 "Put up thy knife, Michael," said he; "never spoil 
 a good horse till you know where to put bridle on a 
 better. We will take them with us, and turn them 
 loose when we have ridden a league or two," 
 
 " Yet it was for want of a farthing belt that the gold 
 buckle was lost," muttered the Fenman. "It's aye 
 better to be safe than sorry." 
 
 The cavalcade was then formed of fourteen horses 
 and five riders, the led horses being tied head and tail 
 in single file, for so the narrow moorland track required. 
 Gaspard rode first with his lord's blue and white pennon, 
 then the knight; after him the Fenman, who had ex- 
 changed his master's sumpter-horse for one of the 
 Linhope stud, which he fancied more. The led horses 
 came next, the rear being brought up by the man-at-arms 
 and the surviving hobelar. As they issued from the 
 barmekyn in the cold morning light, and rode under 
 the grey tower, the lady of Linhope from her old post 
 on the battlements continued to pour curses on them. 
 
 "May the water of Tweed rise upon ye and drown 
 ye, as the Red Sea rose upon King Pharaoh and his host ! 
 May the earth open and swallow ye quick to hell ! " and 
 so on. 
 
 Gaspard, turning in the saddle to take a last look 
 at Linhope, kissed his hand lighdy to Sybil, who waved 
 
 ^ Warning the water was the term used on the Border to describe 
 calling; out the ar.'nfd mf-n r>f ■ 
 
 ^i I'! 
 
 '\' \ 
 
 ir.cn of a valley ag 
 
 ainsi uii eiiciuy. 
 
206 
 
 ''^^^'^^^^-^'-^'e^o/^;seS^Unrfi^,Cra, 
 
 •I 
 
 m 
 
 t '""^ ^^^^^^^'I '-^"d withdrew withi,, h . 
 
 Even so must it often be in T ! ^''""'^ ^'^'"^• 
 
 °f'ed it: the gallant ta de a whi." ' " '^"^ '''^''^ 
 
 r-des away to forget it in act on nd'T ^ ''''''' -^' 
 
 maid must bide at home in adventure; the 
 
 «oul in patience. '° "^°"^" ^'^"d possess her 
 
 "A pretty lass that, Gasnard " r' 
 ' ^-'t she reserves all her favour; for h"''' ''"""'""' 
 whereas that old beldame m de ml t. ",' ''°" '''^^'' 
 iicr attentions." '"^ ^'^^ chief object of 
 
 "\ pretty lass, indeed," replied fh 
 one that would grace a revel f^L t u '^"'^'' "^"^ 
 ^^-o"gh the hands of Ts i,t V' ^'^ "'^^^ P^-d 
 good lass too, Sir Waited h^ '''^^^°'^''^"- And a 
 
 timely warning there might' have b "°^ ^''" ^^^ ^^' 
 riding." ^'" ^^^^^ ^^^-'en ^n end to all our 
 
 "A good bairn of an ill hroo^ *i 
 repressible Fe„m», ,ho ov ht d'w," fT*' *= ''■ 
 «.ci, and must needs put in „„ "of k *"' '"P™°^' 
 
 Teviot. They deemed' p,';' T" -'" "own the 
 so as to avoid passing wL "'"''^ " de'our 
 
 house of BranZm "^vnt "atirr "' ?^ ^'™"« 
 "ver, and, after fording the slrlt °'' *" "oUen 
 
 Teviot, they east loose hd ,?d\ ™ "' ^""«'°" -* 
 
Norham Castic, 207 
 
 the great square keep of Ancrum on the left, tlu' roid 
 .roadened before th.ni through a well-cultivated district 
 leading to Roxhu.gh Castle, where they were kindly 
 received by the English constable, Sir Guillaume de 
 iMennes. a knight of Gascony. Thence next day they 
 pushed on through the wooded valley where Teviot steals 
 softly into the masterful embrace of 'I'weed. They crossed 
 not the river by the fair bridge built by the Black Monks 
 of Kelso, but held along the English bank past Kin. 
 Edward's castle of Wark. The storm-clouds had rolled 
 away, and a brave sun streamed out of the western skv 
 over the fair vale of Tweed as Marmion rode within 
 view of the famous castle of Norham. Set upon a steeo 
 eminence on the south bank of the river, the dark pile 
 loomed far over the land. On the keep the red cross 
 of Saint George flaunted defiance to the territory of the 
 Douglas, but above the jumelle gate-towers fluttered a 
 white hon rampant on a scarlet field, the well-known 
 arms of the king's constable. Sir Thomas Gray of Heton 
 No stauncher servant -no more wary captain -could 
 the Plantagenet reckon on his rolls than this veteran 
 Northumbrian knight ; to no more capable hands could 
 the defence of such an important post as Norham have 
 been mtrusted. From the outbreak of war in 1306 
 and especially since the destruction of Douglas Castle 
 m the following year, the possession of this royal keep 
 the key to the eastern march, had been the chief desire 
 of the Scottish leaders, and especially of Sir James 
 Douglas himself. The principal strength of the King of 
 Scots lay in Selkirk Forest, a district embracing the 
 ^vhole of the counties of Selkirk and Peebles, as well 
 as Clydesdale, to the march of Ayrshire. In this wide 
 tract Douglas held great sway, and in concert with 
 
 i yuung 
 
 i ; , 
 
 H 
 
 I 
 
2o8 
 
 The Chevalier of the Splendid Crest. 
 
 
 .! fi 
 
 mounted „e„ ^XCTJZ'X"T'"''' """^^ °' 
 cueting off convoys dLined' foV nXTS r""™^'^ 
 ag.ng detachments sent out from the " ^ '°'- 
 
 >.mes riding under the very °Z. .T^l " °*'^ 
 English knights to come o„t ,' <=''^"«"Sing the 
 
 Attempts even had bZ . "" «"'" *"=" '^""bat. 
 
 place. 'but hit er thte h"d be"''r"''.'^ '"^^^^ *<= 
 
 ments from King Ed'rd', " '"""=" ''>' *""=h. 
 
 Wark. ^ ™"'' Sarnsons at Berwick and 
 
 Waut'sZyrlTulrth*^ '"''■^^" "" - S" 
 brought t-'he warrriti tdTTrl"'^ ^"^'^ 
 open and the knight was admitted to make 1^" """« 
 known to the constable. War-worn ttrt '"" 
 
 recetved a frightful wound from the shot of ' "'' 
 
 at the siege of Stirling Castle i„T,„7 It 'P""«"" 
 'he whole of one side^of Ms v sa.e' anV ' '""«"^^^ 
 grotesque appearance. Although 's,ent rVl' "°^' 
 part in that notable deed of arms ,t"'."''°"' l"^ °>™ 
 duct by King Edward I had "'«* ""* "^ ~"- 
 
 "is memory/that hi c uld ne^ers^k"'"" ""-^ "^ 
 matters (and he rarelv «,.oi u ^ "P°" military 
 
 mustratiL take^^tm^ars rvir^*:« "''' ^'''"^^ 
 welcome to the Knight of Shak^gdon '"' ^ ^"'^'^' 
 
 story. aVdrb-::;!;,; Snt:;::;™ t- " '^ ^^^"-'^ 
 
 By saint Cuthbert ,\ut it dotteVfd" To" h "^" "" ' 
 - young bloods Claim such a boon.^^^ sh^;:: if 
 To become f™„„. „„,.,„ ,, ^.„^^,^^^ ^^^^ ^^ ■'. 
 
 -"•*tl,, 
 
' Crest. 
 
 obert's nephew, ^ 
 red to the cause 
 )ttish chevaliers, 
 ually parties of 
 nts, sometimes 
 
 Castle or for- 
 nie; at other 
 hallenging the 
 them combat. 
 
 tc invest the 
 ed by detach- 
 
 Berwick and 
 
 wall as Sii 
 nd his bugle 
 gates swung 
 e his errand 
 rhomas had 
 ' a springald 
 :h disfigured 
 •'e it a most 
 'Ut his own 
 and its con- 
 n home to 
 on military 
 Ise) without 
 'e a cordial 
 
 'ir Walter's 
 ' well said ! 
 ear one of 
 all have it, 
 Moray. 
 
 Norham Castle. 
 
 209 
 
 Sir Walter, you shall have your desire, if there is luck left 
 in loyalty. And you have come to the right place for 
 deeds of chivalry. Scarce a week passes but some party 
 of Scots affronts the king's flag. Sangdieu ! it ir wellnigh 
 as stirnng as the siege of Stirling. Ah, that was a time ■ 
 Nmeteen weeks we lay in the trenches there, battering 
 the walls with the best engines in the world. Trust me 
 our old king saw to it that we had the best— thirteen of 
 them ; let me see, there was the Lincoln and the Segrave 
 the Robmet and the Kingston, the Dovedale and the 
 Toute-le-monde-all of them hurling great rocks and fire- 
 balls. But you must know we were down in the plain 
 and the castle upon a lofty rock, so that half the force 
 was spent before the missiles struck the walls, and we 
 might have been lying there to this day if Sir William 
 de Ohphant's garrison had had command of supplies 
 Nevertheless, it was noble sport, for we had frequeni 
 escalade parties from without and sallies from within 
 The king brought his Queen Margaret thither, and to 
 afford pleasure to her and the French ladies he caused 
 build an oriel window in his house in the town, whence 
 they might view the feats of arms and the destruction 
 wrought by the siege engines. The chief of these was 
 long m arriving, by reason of its great weight and the 
 wickedness of the ways. It came at last, however the 
 mighty Loup-de-guerre, the like whereof the world' had 
 never seen, and my lord the king was like a child with a 
 new toy, so eager was he to watch its effect on the walls. 
 Alas ! on the very morning it was to be discharged for 
 the first time, the blue banner with the white cross of 
 Saint Andrew was hauled down upon the keep, and 
 m Its place was run up the white flag of surrender. 
 Ohphant's garrison had eaten their lust crust— nay, the 
 
 M' 
 
210 
 
 The Chevalier of the V/./ j- , 
 
 ■^ ^^^^ ^P^endui Crest. 
 
 m ^ B 
 
 Jast rat in the castle a 
 
 "-e »oe„ how .he y^TllZ Tt'' ^™ ^"-'^ 
 '°M hm. .By the body TanM. *""''' "''- *ey 
 "">« try one shot fro™ the LS?" ' "'^''' '^'" I 
 "W troops enter the castle fnT *■"'"■"• ^'=' "<""= of 
 •° '-Ming.' Then he ^ t'ou" ^d" H? ■«"""" '° S« 
 ment watched the winches wound .'h"^ ™* ^™'- 
 'he a.m taken, and the shordteh, f" '''" P"'-", 
 he, and flung his bonnet in the a '^'u "^'™ •" "fed 
 aga.nst the wall between the barh.V "' ' ''™'= ""^^-^d 
 ho.sts of the portcullis and send n! '°"'"'> ^'^^ing the 
 and shattered „,asonry in the * f "^^ ' """'^ "^ ''"■^' 
 pardon, sir knight, you ^st be w ' ' "^^ P'^^ ^O" 
 -! discuss these matteT at anoT' ," ' '""«'^- «'e 
 refreshment; make yourself at easf !'"'• ^"''^ >'°"r 
 you w.n no. have many days to „;> '''' '^^"^^ "^at 
 be afibrded you." ^ ° ™" ere a chance shall 
 
 Had'^rme tr^X^tttlet^k' ''°" ^ '""'^'-'-errant 
 "Pon the Scot, for i„ AotdaTs f/'™^ "^ ^» -P'™ 
 ranged on opposite sides „ b S^ th°"'' '"''«'"' «- 
 the common bonds of chivalry w^^ Z"'" ""''"'' » 
 «s repeated by their re^„e„ ","'*=>' 'earn,. ,00. 
 ™"ntry folk, 30 that from end to .'' *^'" '° *e 
 Te«ot dales ran the inteLnct . .' °' '^^'"^ ^"^ 
 Pectation of a fair deed fm" H "™ ='"'' '" ex- 
 P ace during the first three dTv's of.?"™'' "°"-''"8 took 
 Norham. On the fourth H ^ Marmion's sojourn at 
 %ht horseman prel:; tteT;:';™'^'''^^"' ^ -"-^ 
 ^peech bewrayed him for a Scot L ' ^'''- »" "' his 
 d'sarmed. and put in ward ol , """^^^Ptly arrested, 
 he would make no anlr^bu T' "'™^^ '« «"- 
 -''■ence with Sir Walter ie Mlmlm^o'r V^e ^ 
 
ii Oldest. 
 
 "& You should 
 lumb when they 
 le cried, 'but I 
 ''e. Let none of 
 
 - garrison to get 
 ^i"g with excite- 
 eat ball poised, 
 
 'Viva I' cried 
 e stone crashed 
 ■s, smashing the 
 
 cloud of dust 
 ^ut pray you 
 
 hungry. We 
 ■• Take your 
 St assured that 
 • chance shall 
 
 knight-errant 
 by an exploit 
 knights were 
 re united in 
 ^ learnt, too, 
 lem to the 
 Tweed and 
 'tood in ex- 
 othing took 
 3 sojourn at 
 'j a solitary 
 and as his 
 ly arrested, 
 s he came, 
 
 - boon of 
 a time it 
 
 Norham Castle. ^ii 
 
 seemed the young man was like to pass the night in dur 
 ance, seemg that none cared to bring such trivial business 
 to notice of the kn.ght at such an hour, but it happened 
 that young Gaspard de Neville passed through the bar 
 
 t'TeTrrot.-^^-^ ^^^ ^^^-- - '-'^ ~ 
 "Here is Sir Walter's esquire," cried the Scot- »! 
 trow he wm not be so churlish as refuse an h;nes 
 man a hearmg. Master Neville, I pray you get me 
 audience with Sir Walter le Marmion, this night if th^t 
 be possible." ^ ^"'-"^ 
 
 ''How know you my name, sirrah?" quoth Neville 
 not unwil ing to enliven with parley the tedium of a lon^ 
 -.nmg, for time hung heavy on his hands at Norham! 
 10 my knowledge I never saw you before" 
 
 "Like enough," said the other, -yet I know you for 
 a gallant esquire, and you will not commit me to a 
 dungeon till I have seen your master and discharged 
 myjission. See, I am unarmed; you need fet'no 
 
 Something in the youth's manner pleased Gaspard 
 who. havmg less than nothing to do, was inclin d to 
 humour him. Besides, having failed by further questiol! 
 2 to elicit anything from the stranger, his own cur ty 
 wa somewhat aroused, and he strolled back across the 
 bailey to seek Sir Walter. The knight, who was h v ng 
 
 tor the tenth time by good Sir Thomas Gray, willindv 
 
 ZttTI '' T ^^^"" '° ^^-p^' -^ ^°^ G S 
 
 delay ' ''°' ''"^"^' '' ' P^-^^^ chamber without 
 
 The prisoner, therefore, was brought before him hn 
 
 t^veen two of the gate guard-. A.u^t2 v- ■ 
 
 - = -- — o-"/ DUiit yuuai 01 
 
 Mil 
 
 I 
 
212 
 
 The Chevalier of the Splendid Crest. 
 
 m 
 
 iiij?i,. 
 
 height rather more than middling, with a pale, handsome 
 nice, wearmg a fair suit of plain mail, ^.ithout bad-^e or 
 cognisance of any kind on his justaucorps. Marntion's 
 quick eye, however, detected on the sleeves marks whence 
 some device had lately been cut away. The lad wore 
 no steel cap, and his hood of mail thrown back on his 
 shoulders bared a rough shock of thick black hair 
 "Your errand, sirrah?" inquired Marmion briefly 
 "I heard," quoth the young man, "that your valiancy 
 had lost one of your hobelars in a mellay upon Eskdale 
 mmr, and I am come to crave leave to serve in his place 
 under your pennon." ^ 
 
 Sir Walter motioned to the guards to withdraw before 
 he replied, then when there were none with him but the 
 prisoner and Gaspard, he replied— 
 
 " But you are a Scot," replied Sir Walter, « as 1 hear 
 by your speech, and it is not every one of your nation that 
 may^be counted loyal to King Edward, lawful King of 
 
 " I am a Scot," said the stranger, " but I am no man's 
 vassal. I am of gentle birth, sir knight, but own neither 
 land nor fortune and therefore have sworn allegiance to 
 no king. But I have heard of your renown, and am ready 
 o make your king mine, and to render you true and faith- 
 lul service. 
 
 "Do you bear no letters of commendation? How 
 shall I know that you come not as a spy?" 
 
 "I bring no letters, sir knight," replied the other 
 seeing that my own family hold me in ill-favour be 
 cause of certain passages between us, and I have no 
 friends willing to stand surety for me. I pray you, sir 
 knight, refuse not my prayer. I ask but to follow you in 
 battle ; henceforth your people shall be my people and 
 
Norham Caslle. «., 
 
 your quancl ray quarrel; and, if I fail ,.o„ i„ ,„„,„ 
 
 Sir Walter rausecl awhile. It seen.ed a foolish thin, to 
 
 east «as ,n open war with England-one of whom he 
 knew nothn,g, and who, by his own confession Z of 
 doubtful repute araong those who did know hi Bu 
 Marm.on was young in years, and quick is the sympaZ 
 of youth wrth youth. It was falling dark in the cZb 7 
 . erefore drawng the stranger towards the caseraent where 
 stronger hght fell on his features, he noted how the cot 
 mounted qu.ckly in his cheeks. Something there wa'n 
 h.s steady trustful eyes, in the full but soft tones rf hi 
 vo.ce, ,„ the childish sweetness of his countenance th 
 won strangely upon the knight's fancy and g..i„ed hi 
 confidence, he could not have said how or why lav 
 
 him Ml t th:"f "%^°""^ ^^"°"'= ^''°""^-' ^^'<^^ 
 stlljl '" '""'' "°'"'^"'^' ^1 *- said 
 
 very hoT Tee"°f ""' 'Z ^'""' '" "°"'^' P™' -' '^^ 
 Z r f '™" ^°'"^" S'"^'^ ^=^l>-"-ee in the court 
 
 sp.es , rt takes but a single word from me and vou shall 
 make a fourth among them." ^ 
 
 "Oh, sir knight," quoth the youth, with a smile and •, 
 
 sWl'brrW 1- 1°"" ™"'"" '° 'J™' " '" " f-hion that 
 he I 17 °"°" "P°" "y ™""= a"d kin. See . 
 
 icare no T" "' '"■!'" "^™^= ™" ™' ^ave it? .hen 
 th .nf"l'r?°°" *' ^"^ ^^»«=. fo^ I - full w< 
 
 leol 
 
 already. 
 
 I 
 
-:i| 
 
 214 The Chevalier of the Splendid Crest. 
 
 Marmion mused for a while, searching deep into the 
 stranger's eyes, which were steadfast and clear, yet nowise 
 bold. 
 
 " Well," the knight said at last, '« I accept your offer. 
 Methinks I see in you a true man, albeit an unfortunate 
 one, as it seems." 
 
 The other fell on his knees, and seizing Sir Walter's 
 hand, kissed it passionately. 
 
 Gaspard," continued Marmion, " take this lad ; enrol 
 him as one of my suite; see that he is well fed and 
 suitably lodged, artd to-morrow we will see what he is 
 fit for." 
 
 " Under what name is he to be entered, your valiancy ?" 
 said Gaspard, coming forward out of the gloom. " He 
 speaks of name and kin, but has not told us what they 
 are." 
 
 _ " Call me Richard Runagate," said the youth, rising to 
 his feet. " 'Tis not my own name, of course, but it will 
 serve my turn and carries my confession with it." 
 
 " Nay," exclaimed Marmion, laughing, '' but to give a 
 dog a bad name is to hang him. You cannot come into 
 my service with such a passport to the nearest gallows as 
 that. But you can be Dickon le Dechu, if you like, till 
 you can claim your own name again." 
 
 And as Dickon le Dechu the recruit was duly enrolled, 
 and went daily thereafter to exercise with the garrison. 
 
 A week had passed since the knight-errant's arrival at 
 Norham Castle, and he seemed as far as ever from accom- 
 plishing bis purpose. The company were assembled in 
 the great hall at their mid-day meal ; the conversation at 
 the upper table had come round as usual to that in- 
 exhaustible source of anecdote and military instance— 
 
Norham Castle. 
 
 215 
 
 g Sir ^V'■alter's 
 
 the siege of Stirling — when the sergeant of the guard 
 presented himself and reported to the constable the 
 approach of two squadrons of Scottish horse. 
 
 Even as he spoke, the flourish of trumpets was heard 
 without, and Sir Thom.o Gray hastened to the barbican 
 gate to see for himself what was ado. Marmion, standing 
 beside the constable, beheld from the battlements a pretty 
 sight. It was a beautiful autumn day; the sun shone 
 brilliantly upon the Scots cavalry as they deployed on the 
 green slope at a little better than bowshot from the walls 
 under a banner which both knights recognised instantly 
 with a thrill of soldierly delight. A pure white field with 
 an azure chief, bearing two silver stars, told them that 
 James of Douglas was himself present.^ 
 
 Now it must be clear that even the doughtiest of the 
 Scottish king's captains could avail nothing with a handful 
 of horse against a place of such strength as Norham • 
 and the duty of one intrusted to hold such a place for 
 his king would be equally clear under the conditions 
 of modern warfare— namely, to keep within his defences 
 Far otherwise was it in the fourteenth century; a fair 
 challenge from knight to knight could seldom be declined 
 without loss of honour. As soon as the Scottish line was 
 formed in four troops, their commander, a tall and singu- 
 larly graceful horseman, rode forward, and coming close 
 under the gate tower, wound a clear blast upon his bugle. 
 "Who summons the king's castle of Norham?" cried 
 Sir Thomas Gray from the battlements, "and in whose 
 name doth he come ? " 
 
 I'M 
 
 I 5' 
 
 It was not till after the death of Robert I. of Scotland that the 
 sangume heart was added to the arms of Douglas, in commemoration 
 ot Good Sir James s mission to carry the king's heart to the Holy 
 Land, and his death in that enterprise. 
 
2l6 
 
 The Chevalier of the Splendid Crest. 
 
 
 'iiiii 
 
 I, Jam« of Douglas," replied the knight in a voice 
 pocuharly pleasant, but with a marked lisp ■ "and in Z 
 name of Robert, by the grace of God, Ki g o s . I 
 challenge the constable of this tower, or any appTo 'cd 
 kn,gh, whom he may appoint, to meet me and do sTn„e 
 combat wtth spear and sword on horse or on foot o! 
 otherwise, ,f he prefer, to meet my troop, man for ma^ 
 m open mellay." "">"' 
 
 and^rire:' Ms'ptelrfr^t ';'';■" ™T' ^^"""^^ °' 
 
 ;hecos.able.s4y:%\Xl'L:rer^^^^^^^^^^^ 
 he,r harness, hurried across the paved bail y-ward, where 
 the gamson were already .nustering under arms s" 
 Thomas returned first; a few moments later rWalfe 
 sTeTTn' th' ""',-r'^' ^"'^ appointments blal i e 
 
 afire"at 'th? '^'""'" ""' *^ ™'^'^" ^"-'""e, already 
 afire at the prospect of combat, "here have the good 
 samts accorded your prayer. You have come mong us 
 to make your lady's gift famous, and you shaTI 
 
 " Ahve, an' it be the same to you. Sir Thomas " ouoth 
 Marm,on, and turning to Gaspard, bade Mm Z'l 
 Michael up with Lightheart. It was a foolish ? 
 
 enterprise, yet the knight blenched not; T^::Z^ 
 
 iivea or fell, he should make famous his 
 
Norham Castle. 
 
 217 
 
 helmet, and the name of her who gave it, in all places 
 where trouveres sang their lays. 
 
 Up came the Fennian leading the beautiful charger, 
 whose swelling neck and forehand were sheeted with fine 
 mail, and on his frontlet stood a sharp spike of steel. 
 Behind the saddle was a short housing of the knight's 
 liveries— vuiry, blue arj white; but the shapely limbs 
 were bare, and the good horse pawed, and tossing his 
 head proudly, threw the foam-flakes from his fme muzzle, 
 as if he knew that he must carry his master to glory! 
 Gaspard held the stirrup ; Marmion swung lightly to his 
 seat and cantered thrice round the enclosure to clear 
 his horse's lungs ; then, reining up before the constable, 
 saluted him and demanded to be let forth of the 
 castle. 
 
 " Go forth, brave knight," cried Sir Thomas, " in the 
 names of Saint George and King Edward, and may the 
 saints have you in their keeping. And hark in your ear! 
 I remember at the siege of Stirling how Sir Marmaduke 
 de Twenge " 
 
 But Marmion waited for no more. Saluting the con- 
 stable, he wheeled his horse and trotted to the barbican ; 
 at a wave of his hand the castle gates swung outwards, the 
 drawbridge rattled down, and Sir Walter, lance in rest, 
 thundered across it, and swept at a hand -gallop down 
 the gentle slope fair towards the commander of the Scot- 
 tish squadrons. Douglas, seeing his adversary coming 
 laughed low to himself. He held no spear, but only a 
 mace in his right hand, so heavy that there were only two 
 other knights in England and Scotland that could handle 
 the same. Consummate master of the manage, Douglas 
 waited till the English knight was within two spears' 
 lengths. Then with a dexterous touch of the spur he 
 
 I 
 
2I8 
 
 
 i' !ii 
 
 ?■//<• C/uvaU^r of the Sp!en,U,l Crest. 
 
 
 I'nm lift tlZ k"™' "''=. '° "•= '*■ -<>. checking 
 nm w.th the curb, swung him round on liis haunchet 
 
 ^ 'he ngh, so as to bring the great mace do' .upon 
 
 ffiuvre, which, to be eflect.ve, could only be attemoted hv 
 a pracsed and powerful horseman. Douglas was bo.b 
 
 S ot had' Tv " '° ■^'■"'""°"' ""' in MarmTon the 
 S5Cot had met his match in saddle - rnff c t. 
 
 -now. wing the good brown'trsrlrv^r o^^: 
 left, the m,ghty mace descended harmlessly in the air 
 
 aeam to whomsoever rece ved it Marminn'. 
 struck full on the corslef of . ^armion s spear 
 
 him from hi= A n "^^n-at-arms, and, tearing 
 
 fast in this human target, he irtolct; ^ma^tr 
 the castle. A smgle cavalier, he had ridden through 
 
 rTpeLrrrT' ^"' """"''^ -"= could 'hTut 
 repeat the feat, h,s purpose was surely accomplished and 
 
 which t Tar™- T'r'' " *^' P-' °f *' 
 
 Which he had p:=rced, there was no disarray The 
 ^qoadron had wheeled into column of sectio„; thei 
 commander not daring to wheel about, not knowin.!, 
 
 ht\:r' 'i;: ^"^'■•^\^-- ^^ ^:^ 
 
 hesitation set his horse full against the flank of the 
 column, hopmg to dash through the interval be ween two 
 troops Lightheart's condition was as admiraWeas his 
 master's sp,r.t,-,he Fenman had seen to that -but to 
 carry a knight in armour up a slope and down 'the ml 
 
/ Crest. 
 
 t, and, checking 
 5n his haunches 
 lace dovM upon 
 hazardous man- 
 be attempted by 
 'uglas was both, 
 in Marmion the 
 ft. Swift as a 
 swerved to the 
 ssly in the air, 
 ", Marmion had 
 ipon the ranks 
 certain, sudden 
 armion's spear 
 tis, and, tearing 
 id through his 
 ■ving his spear 
 his mace and, 
 s way back to 
 idden through 
 could he but 
 oniplished and 
 irt of the line 
 isarray. The 
 lections, their 
 )t knowing at 
 issue to take 
 : a moment's 
 flank of the 
 between two 
 lirable as his 
 that, — but to 
 wn the same 
 
 Norham Castle. 
 
 219 
 
 are mighty different things. The momentum in the 
 second charge was greatly less than in tiie first. 
 
 "Viva!" lisped Douglas, as the good brown horse 
 with fiery nostrils bore his rider once more into tne 
 throng. " Viva ! you have a fine style, sir knight, who- 
 soever you may be." 
 
 One — two ! the nearest files went down under Mar- 
 mion's swinging mace, but the rest closed thickly round. 
 A gigantic man-at-arms raising a huge battle-axe in both 
 hands brought it down full on the back part of the golden 
 helmet, hearing not or heeding not Sir Alexander de 
 Moubray, the captain of the troop, who shouted, " Hold, 
 you fool ! I will not have him killed : he yields himself 
 my prisoner." 
 
 "Not kill him!" grumbled the giant, "and what for 
 no ? him that has straiked out my ain sister's husband's 
 cousin, Archie o' Eckford." 
 
 "Hands off! I tell thee. I hold him to ransom. 
 Come, sir knight, yield you my prisoner." 
 
 But Marmion was far beyond reach of such summons. 
 The axe, driven by a pair of powerful arms, had cleft 
 clean through the glittering metal; dark blood welled 
 through the opening, and the knight lay motionless on 
 the trampled sward. 
 
 " He is spoilt for ransom that one, I trow," quoth the 
 man-at-arms, wiping his weapon on the grass. " He's no 
 the first pock-pudding ^ this bonny blade has sent on his 
 lang errand, and he'll no be the last, I trow." 
 
 The Scots, meanwhile, had to look to themselves, and 
 Douglas prepared to receive the attack of Gray's garrison. 
 The old constable, mindful of his pledge to Marmion, had 
 
 ^ The ancient name of contempt among the Scots for an English- 
 man. 
 
 ' i 
 
 ,\\ 
 
 
220 
 
 1 
 
 
 Pf 
 
 rf ' 
 
 .III 
 
 The Chevalier of the Splnidid Crest 
 
 marched them out on foof nn,i e , , 
 
 of Sco..i.,h warfare had laught him ,o 'n^ .•'"■''''""•'"'^^ 
 the best of cavalry. This solid ?„! f ™ "S'"'"^' 
 
 .-.nd fifty spears now des end d . "7 '"° '""'"■"' 
 "■"'■ge, the drums on the r"„man^ h "?' '■" ""^ ^"^ * 
 -r; it precipitated i, If S ' hc'c'::', "^^7' "' 
 were in the act of re-forraitHo ,h '' "'■"^ ""-■>' 
 
 tetrible scene of confusio e ted the h?'""' '""'• ^ 
 l>efore the weighty irapaet m, ' t '™ '■'■™''<^'' 
 
 I'owelled by thrusts fZ,' 71 ''°'''' """^ *»em. 
 .'.- •Heir^ride:';*™'^, \t;t" r ;?' T" '^"'"« 
 auempting to wheel inwards a.^har J w 'f '''"°"^' 
 Lehind the fence of slain and foSd ti,^ So"' !"' 
 
 and, nourishLgTfha in^St'lrif "^ '^''=="' 
 -..^wedhisdisorderedt^rr;:™™- 
 
 .^eXSTedT :rcur"M:;:irr"" ': ^'» *™ 
 
 life, his features disfigured wkh T ^ I ""''°"' ^'^n of 
 
 re.'-" '^^ -"- -^or^r^^^rJ^^^^^^^^^^^^ 
 
 lived .0 claim the meed so fairly 'wo B^rT H ?t '"'" 
 doubled up that Scottish troop, Thafjno^s' ""'^ 
 an exploit wrought since Tohn V,V ,. u '^*" '° '"''■ 
 
 castle of Stirling' whTnlL'" °' ""*'^" = =^"^ f""' 'he 
 
 cut^'iV'vvhrt ZTir ""^ ^-^ '° '- 
 
 Fenman were la g therj^b'T ''"''"' ""' *= 
 .V g ineir lords body upon a pallet, and 
 
 ill 
 
 #f 
 
Crest, 
 
 'cni up on tlie 
 'lis experience 
 Tcctive against 
 ' two hundred 
 at the pas de 
 
 the point of 
 Iry while they 
 nal front. A 
 inicn recoiled 
 
 ^vere diseni- 
 ', and rearing 
 ank sections, 
 - J^ept at bay 
 till Douglas, 
 'ught by the 
 
 the retreat, 
 to the con- 
 vly down to 
 
 • him whom 
 out sign of 
 ly trampled 
 •ack to the 
 
 anight, and 
 not have 
 y! how he 
 sen so fair 
 y from the 
 
 3nt to be 
 
 and the 
 
 )allet, and 
 
 Norlia n Castle. 
 
 221 
 
 nobody paid the slightest attention to the constable's 
 commentary. Dickon le Dechu hurried ui) with water 
 and ap[)liances to wash the wounds. 
 
 "Tush, man," said Gaspard impatiently, "let be! He 
 is past all our care." 
 
 "I'm something of a leech, Master Gaspard," persisted 
 Dickon; "I pray you let me to my lord. He is but 
 swooned, I believe." 
 
 "Go too!" growled the constable. "Why, fool, his 
 brain-pan is cleft, and, leech or no leech, he is half-way to 
 kingdom come ere now." 
 
 " Fool or no fool," cjuoth Dickon quietly, " the wounds 
 must be washed ; " and the others, having greater craft in 
 bestowing wounds than in handling them, were fain to 
 let him have his way. Dickon, therefore, gently unf - 
 tened the gorget and drew off the helmet, when it 
 seen that the steel, being of proof, although thickly gilt, 
 had so warded the weapon that th- . ' ■^e had merely shorn 
 a great slice along the scal( uing the skull. Much 
 blood welled from the gaiuig wound as the headpiece 
 was removed; Dickon bathed it with skilful fingering, 
 and presently the knight gave a sigh and opened his eyes. 
 It were hard to sa) which of the four attendants was 
 most rejoiced to behold him restored to life — Gaspard 
 and Michael, frf ai devotion to their lord; Sir Thonuis 
 Gray, by reason of his pledge to rescue having been so 
 fairly accomplished; or Dickon le Dechu, from sheer 
 tenderness of heart. This much is certain, that Gaspard. 
 looking quickly in the young spearman's face, was amazed 
 to perceive that his eyes were streaming with tears. But 
 Dickon's emotion did not hinder his helpfulness. Bending 
 low over the wounded man, he deftly cut away the close- 
 _, .„L. ..^iu.- ...iv \tOuna, sprcau sume saivc on a 
 
 |l 
 
 H- 
 
 'J 
 
t. A, 
 
 M 
 
 m 
 
 222 T/ie Chevalier of the Splendid Crest. 
 
 piece of linen, and bound all firmly with bandages. Well 
 was it for Marmion that none of his bones had been broken 
 in the rude handling he had received, else had Dickon's 
 simple surgery been at fault. With clean wounds and 
 bruises he seemed to be a practised hand. But as soon 
 as the dressing was complete he took command of the 
 sick-room and desired that all should leave it, so that the 
 wounded man might be in perfect quiet. To this the 
 Fenman would by no means consent. 
 
 "I have watched the master," said he, "through many 
 an ailment since he was no higher than my knee, and I'll 
 not leave him now. • 'Tis but a bit of hanging skin; no 
 great mystery in that, I trow. Many a far worse broken 
 ship has come to land." 
 
 "Come away, come away, Michael," said Gaspard; 
 "Dickon has skill in such matters, he says; and his 
 dressing is warrant thereof, I think. Sir Walter can 
 hardly be in better hands." 
 
 Then the Fenman's wrath found vent. 
 "Aye, aye; better hands, no doubt; better than old 
 Michael's, which are hard and stiff and bent by thirty 
 years' serving of the house of Shakingdon. Here's this 
 Dickon springs from the nearest dunghill, and Michael 
 may go hang himself, and make way for a smockfaced 
 bastard." 
 
 "Softly there, Michael," said Gaspard, who felt for the 
 old servant's bitterness; "they say that the young fellow 
 is of good blood." 
 
 " I'se warrant it," returned the other, " and so is a black 
 puddmg. But I'll e'en take myself off, or I'll be saying 
 summat that I'll be sorry for. This much I know, this 
 bolt never came out of my master's quiver, for there 
 never was a Marmion yet that carried a thankless heart." 
 
'est. 
 
 iages. Well 
 been broken 
 lad Dickon's 
 wounds and 
 But as soon 
 nand of the 
 , so that the 
 To this the 
 
 rough many 
 nee, and I'll 
 ng skin ; no 
 orse broken 
 
 i Gaspard; 
 3; and his 
 Walter can 
 
 :r than old 
 t by thirty 
 Here's this 
 id Michael 
 imockfaced 
 
 elt for the 
 ung fellow 
 
 ) is a black 
 be saying 
 
 know, this 
 for there 
 
 3s heart." 
 
 Norham Castle. 
 
 223 
 
 The faithful old fellow turned away shaking his head 
 ruefully, and gave his attention to Lightheart in the stable 
 none the less diligently for his disappointment. Women 
 there were in the castle, whose office it would have seemed 
 to act as sick-nurses ; but Dickon would let none of them 
 come near his patient; night and day he was constant in 
 attendance, and pled so haro to be allowed to finish what 
 he had so well begun that Gaspard had not the heart to 
 send him back to military exercise. 
 
 No woman could have been a nurse more tender or 
 more watchful than Dickon proved himself, and under 
 h.s care the wounded knight was soon convalescent 
 Bruises inflicted by the trampling of the Scottish horses 
 were the most serious part of his injury, and kept the 
 patient on his back, from sheer inability to straighten 
 himself, several days after the wound in his head was in 
 fair way of recovery. Waking one day towards noon from 
 a refreshing nap, he saw Dickon seated in the deep splay 
 of the wmdow, his elbow on the sill and his boyish chin 
 resting on his palm, gazing wistfully upon the winding 
 river and the fair vale of Tweed. The slanting November 
 sun ht up the youth's delicate profile, and his slight but 
 graceful figure was well set oif by the dark-blue doublet 
 lined with white and long dark-blue hosen, which he h^d 
 assumed as the proper garb of the househoM of Shaking- 
 don. For some minutes the knight watched his atten- 
 dant in silence, scrutinising him more closely than he had 
 yet done, and speculating how one of such gentle mien had 
 fallen into such humble circumstances. 
 
 ''I wish I knew your story, Dickon," he said at last • 
 
 slid' \ T\"' '" '°"^ ^'^ y°""S spearman 
 s arted violently, the colour rushing into his smooth 
 cnppk-Q and hr'^— "T - ■■ u •» i 
 
 ^na orw,r. i wish 1 knew your story. I be- 
 
 ! ! II 
 
 li]'!:^ 
 
 I ! * 
 
 ft. { 0' I 
 
 '$'1 i'\ 
 
 ;i:'\r.m 
 
 i 
 
 
 1 
 
 m ' 
 
 ■■-] 
 
 1 
 
 i : 
 
 r 
 
 
 i 'H 
 
224 The Chevalier of the Splendid Crest. 
 
 fr > r| 
 
 if ?) 
 
 lieve you are as much out of place in a hobelar's saddle 
 as I should be in a bishop's throne." 
 
 "I am content with my lot, Sir Walter," replied 
 Dickon, mastering his emotion and speaking in a calm, 
 clear voice. " It is one of my own seeking, and I de- 
 sire no better— for the nonce. As for my story — your 
 valiancy should have it, were it all mine to tell; but 
 short and humble though it be, it belongs in part to 
 another— to others, I mean — and you are too gracious to 
 press me to be untrue to them." 
 
 "Assuredly," answered the knight, "keep your own 
 secret and that of the damoysel who shares it with you, 
 for I can read as far into your millstone as that, you see. 
 But such shapely saplings as you do not grow in every 
 hedge; tell me, have you no home of your own?" 
 
 "My home is in your valiancy's household, by your 
 grace," quoth the youth, making preparation for his 
 lord's dinner. 
 
 " No very substantial edifice at present," laughed Mar- 
 mion ; " it is but a hand-to-mouth establishment, as you 
 see ; and I would have you reflect before we set out for 
 Carlisle, as I trust my ribs will suffer me to do before 
 many days are past, whether you do wisely to leave your 
 own people and country. Does your mother live ? " 
 
 "My mother lives," answered Dickon passionately, 
 his dark eyes flashing and his colour mounting again, 
 " and my father Uves, and neither of them know where 
 I am. But their ways are not my ways. The saints 
 
 befriend them; but rather than go back to them nay, 
 
 Sir Walter, rather than leave your service, I would 
 drown myself in the river down yonder. I pray you 
 urge me no more upon this matter." 
 
 "Enough said, Dickon, enough said. I care not to 
 
'est. 
 
 )elar's saddle 
 
 ter," replied 
 g in a calm, 
 I, and I de- 
 story — your 
 to tell; but 
 in part to 
 ) gracious to 
 
 p your own 
 it with you, 
 lat, you see. 
 ow in every 
 ■ own ? " 
 »ld, by your 
 ion for his 
 
 lughed Mar- 
 lent, as you 
 5 set out for 
 ) do before 
 ) leave your 
 live?" 
 )assionatcly, 
 iting again, 
 <now where 
 The saints 
 them — nay, 
 J, I would 
 pray you 
 
 care not to 
 
 Norham Castle. 
 
 225 
 
 pry into any man's secrets; but neither do I care to 
 accept menial service from one born to better things. 
 See now, you like my young squire Gaspard de Neville, 
 do you not ? " 
 
 "I do," said Dickon shortly, turning to lift a pot 
 which was seething on the hearth. 
 
 " Well, look you, I will relieve you from hobelar's duty 
 and appoint you to service which you have shown your- 
 self so well fitted for, since your countrymen handled me 
 in their own rude fashion. I have Michael the Fenman 
 as my henchman ; you shall be Master Gaspard's valet 
 and attend him in the field and chamber. As for wages 
 —well, they mus*- ^e according as our fortune fares." 
 Dickon look ,,. . radiantly. 
 
 " Oh, I thai..v >uu, my lord ! It is a boon far beyond 
 my deserts. And think not of reward; I will blithely 
 serve Master Gaspard for — for love." 
 
 Thus Dickon le Dechu became henchman to Gaspard 
 de Neville, and the Fenman was restored to his place in 
 his master's chamber. 
 
 Towards the close of the month, when the days were 
 getting longer and more windy, le Marmion bade adieu 
 to his kind host, who to the last never wearied of tracing 
 the analogy between Walter's feat upon the Scots and 
 John of Ruthven's famous sally upon Sir Marmaduke de 
 Twenge in the English trenches before Stirling. Light- 
 heart, who had come unscathed through the Scottish 
 spears, thanks to the good mail on his neck and fore- 
 hand, was in hard condition, fit to go for a man's life, 
 having been exercised sedulously by the Fenman during 
 his master's illness. Also Michael had busied himself 
 in repairing the dints in the golden helmet: the cleft 
 made by the smith's axe had been cunningly restored 
 
 ^1 
 
 w 
 
 w% 
 
 
 H 
 
 1 
 
 
 r 
 
 F 
 
 " 
 
 1" 
 
 ': t| 
 
I i 1 
 
 Ijil 
 
 226 The Chevalier of the Splendid Crest. 
 
 by rivets ; th^ whole affair shone almost as brilliantly as 
 when it had left the heaulmier's shop. Far and wide 
 had spread the fame of Sir Walter's exploit, and great 
 was the glory of having encountered the terrible Douglas, 
 which none single-handed had ever done before and lived 
 to tell the tale. The garrison mustered on the walls — 
 the guard behind the barbican battlements — and loud 
 and hearty were the cheers as le Marmion's clump of six 
 spears fared forth upon the road to Carlisle. 
 
 \: 
 
 
 ■|- ' 
 
 
 _^, 
 
227 
 
 i 
 
 Ui. 
 
 i . - 
 
 m Sir smarter le Mamwrt's renoton nnti t^z fame of 
 tfje Qolttn j&elmet ; anti furtf)£rm0rc of fjoto fje iecame 
 ILorli of JFontenage. 
 
 This time Sir Walter chose the shortest route to Carlisle 
 through English territory, traversing the Cheviot hills 
 and striking the North Tyne at Corbridge. For his 
 mission was accomplished ; in whatever towns or even 
 villages he passed through his progress partook of the 
 character of a triumph. The display, unusual in those 
 days, of a crest— the rising falcon—upon his helmet 
 and the gilding of the helmet itself, proclaimed at once 
 the approach of the hero of Norham, for the Northum- 
 berland farmers in those days were as keen to hear of 
 deeds of arms wrought upon the Scots as to learn the 
 price of wool in Hexham and Kendal markets. The 
 English, ever since their land became one kingdom, and 
 indeed long before that was accomplished, have ever 
 been martial at heart, ready to take up arms should the 
 need arise, and liberal of honour towards those who bear 
 themselves gallantly. And although they seek peace 
 and put it to busy use when they secure it. and althoimh 
 the warlike core is now more thickly masked by the web 
 
 m^' ^ 
 
228 The Chevalier of the Splendid Crest. 
 
 of industry and world-wide commerce than it was in the 
 fourteenth century, it is still sound as of yore, vibrating 
 with as true a response as ever to summons in the hour 
 of danger. 
 
 Disappointment was in store for Sir Walter le Mar 
 mion when he reached Carlisle. He had reckoned on 
 findmg the Court still established there, for it never 
 entered his mind to suppose that the king would move 
 far from the Border until his Scottish realm had been re- 
 duced to Its allegiance. He had purposed to demand 
 audience of the king, to report how, following the in- 
 structions of the Court of Honour, he had carried out 
 his knightly devoir to his mistress, and confidently to 
 claim her hand from the royal grace. But the king and 
 his Court had left Carlisle ; from Sir Andrew de Harcla 
 the governor, Marmion learnt how they had repaired 
 to London early in October to transact the obsequies of 
 Edward I. in Westminster Abbey ; that these had already 
 taken place, and that the king was on the point of sailing 
 to France, in order to wed the French Princess Isabella. 
 
 Worse was to follow. It was necessary that the king 
 should appoint a Guardian of the Realm, to act as head 
 of the government during his own absence in the parts 
 beyond the seas. That appointment had already been 
 pubhshed, to the mighty and just indignation of prelates 
 and barons : the Viceroy of England was announced to be 
 none other than Sir Pierre de Gaveston, Earl of Cornwall 
 the royal proclamation conferring upon him plenary au- 
 thority to issue licences to elect, grant royal assents, make 
 restitution of temporalities, collate and present to prebends, 
 and lastly, which touched Sir Walter most nearly of all, to 
 deal with wardships and marriages. 
 
 Something in the tone of Sir Andrew's voice as he 
 
Lord of Fontenaye. 
 
 ing the in- 
 
 229 
 
 recited the powers conferred upon Cornwall caused Mar- 
 m.on to look fixedly upon him. Sir Andrew added no 
 
 shoTdTrs, "™ *' ™ """^^' "^ " ^'""S of '- 
 "But what are men saying to this?" burst out Sir 
 Walter. " By heavens ! to hand the realm over to that 
 Gascon rat-wtll the nobles and commons brook it, think 
 
 "aid Z^^ ■",''" r'""' ^" '""'"■" '■<=?''■'='' *e other, 
 and me 1 not w,.h matters of state. But this much I 
 
 ml^t ^t . ?" "r ''' K *■''' *■"" "' '" *■= """h "'••■y 
 
 meet the Scots when they cross the Border, as cross it 
 hey w,ll, .f we are left thus unsupported and forgotten. 
 V ho commands on the IMarches? I k„ow not, by 
 Chr,s ; each one of us is left to make our own battle 
 I tell you S>r WaUer, that rather than see my good 
 troopers falhng ,n a vain struggle for a king who set, 
 more store by a single foreign pimp than by the be 
 blood >nh,s realm, I would make what terms I mth 
 w. h the Kmg of Scots him,,elf I am ready to shed mv 
 last drop, but no. for nothing. If I am to do my duTy 
 others must see to it that they do theirs " ' 
 
 Gloomily Sir Walter sought his old lodging in Saint 
 Cut berfs ward, yet as he trod the famili r 'st eet d 
 brea hed the ch.U air of the old border town, associat d 
 as hey were so closely with the dear memory of his 
 mrstress, there fell upon his heart a lightsomeness-the 
 
 ^efendin, the ci.y agains, a sU'Ld Zcfas ! t; t^'hefa^ 
 
 It-" 
 
 ■ '■' i 
 
 i 
 
 '• i. i 
 
 
 i 
 II 
 
 1^ 
 
 ; ■ 
 
 MKEttlfil' 
 
 tfi 
 
 
230 The Chevalier of the Splendid Crest. 
 
 \'\\ 
 
 joy of being near the beloved. Thoughts and hopes 
 thronged swiftly through his brain. The king had left 
 the country, therefore from him no boon could be 
 craved; could Marmion seek it from the Viceroy? He 
 frowned at the idea of bending the knee to the odious 
 Cornwall, and then smiled as he reflected what a simple 
 fool that earl would hold him in making such petition to 
 him of all others. No : he would take the law into his 
 own strong hands, seeing that the rightful lawgiver had 
 quitted his post. He would ride to Kendal on the 
 morrow, receive from the Lily acknowledgment that her 
 commands had been fulfilled; she would receive him 
 graciously — he could fancy how her brave eyes would fall 
 before his ardent gaze, how the colour would mount in 
 that lovely face. He would claim her in the face of the 
 world; her scruples on the score of duty to the king 
 would easily be overcome, for had not she as much reason 
 as he to distrust and detest Cornwall ? He would per- 
 suade her to wed with him without delay, and afterwards, 
 when the king returned, if he could not make his peace 
 with him, the Lady of Kendal was surely too powerful and 
 too well-beloved in the north to have anything to fear for 
 having broken the law. Fear ! why, the idea of a muster 
 of the king's forces at Carlisle without the yellow squad- 
 rons of Kendal (and not a man of them all would quit the 
 dales without his mistress's summons) was too preposterous 
 to be entertained. So busy were his thoughts with this 
 exciting theme that, all unawares, he wandered far along the 
 Botchergate past his lodging, and was recalled to the pre- 
 sent by the warder's challenge at the city gate, for it was 
 long after dark. Returning, he directed Gaspard to prepare 
 for a start at daybreak. 
 
 It was still stone-dark when the Fenman presented him- 
 
 ■I 
 
 J 
 
est. 
 
 and hopes 
 ing had left 
 n could be 
 ceroy ? He 
 1 the odious 
 hat a simple 
 ti petition to 
 law into his 
 awgiver had 
 idal on the 
 int that her 
 receive him 
 is would fall 
 d mount in 
 
 face of the 
 to the king 
 nuch reason 
 
 would per- 
 
 afterwards, 
 e his peace 
 owerful and 
 
 to fear for 
 of a muster 
 illow squad- 
 uld quit the 
 >reposterous 
 ts with this 
 ar along the 
 
 to the pre- 
 ;, for it was 
 i to prepare 
 
 sented him- 
 
 f-ord of Fontenayc. 
 
 self next morning for his lord's leveV h • 
 the steel hauberk he Jnd 1- : 'f' ^'"""^ ^^e^" his arm 
 Setting the oil-lamp upo„ t 'Tk^ ^1°""^'"^' ^^^^'^'ht. 
 putting the chamber n orl ,' ^ *'"''^^ himself 
 
 filmed about, puttbg offt^;' Z '"" • ^'^ ^^'^^ '^^ 
 perceived that he had Leth ^ "r '''^'"'>'' ^'-^^'O" 
 -t- Long experience had ta,"?'"^ ^" ^°'"-"-- 
 -"st be left to take his own vvav of""" '^^' ^'^'^^^^ 
 «Pnngmg from his pallet he . t / u"'^'''''"^ news, so, 
 it was outside. ' "'^"^ ^^^^ kind of weathe^ 
 
 "Wet," answered the Fenman «o 
 louse in Pomfret. It riin^.h , '"'^ ^' there's a 
 
 - the score in these n en "^ .'^^'^ ^" "--^-- ^^ys 
 would take the hands of haTa ^ ' ''°^'"" "' ^"^ ^^ 
 of a single knight in such In ^^ '° ^'''' '^^ ^^^"^«^ 
 I^oes your vahancy wf h th s ^rb " -'^^ '^^^ ^-- 
 to-day?" he continued ..I '^'""^ before you 
 
 le Marmion's arms wet ^l"' ''' '"^^' °" ^^^^^h 
 eyeing it with his head on n ' ^T'^' ^^'^'"g ^^ and 
 -ght ogle a pewter splr " ^''^ ^^ ^" ^'^ -^^P^e 
 
 " Why not ? " answered Sir Wni^. • 
 g-en no instructions to Ma e^^ "T^'^""y^ "I have 
 of our march." '^' ^"'^^^^ to alter the order 
 
 "Why," quoth Michael w^i, 
 
 "*-ebecun„n,gc.t::;„Tc:r,!r^'" "'' =^^. 
 
 ^■^e-ng that your valiancy mus" need "^ "^"'"""'ht, 
 
 grfes on the field vairev Za 1^ ?'"" "P *e bend 
 crowns to be eracJced 2 A. ' *"" ""^ "° -"ore 
 
 'he new bearings .fblilned""""' *.^' ^°" "''^^' '™'' 
 
 "New bearings, you old'ti^aid' slt f '"•" 
 bee ,s buzzing in your bonnet this ^Ij ^''\"' ""hat 
 from you, and bestir yourself for I u "''>''^' P"' " 
 
 by the first stroke of dawn' """' ""^ '" *e saddle 
 
232 The Chevalier of the Splendid Crest. 
 
 m 
 
 
 "Aye, aye, but the rathe cock has yet to crow 
 Much water goes by the sleeping miller, and maybe your 
 valiancy has not heard the tidings from Scrivelsby." 
 
 "Scrivelsby?" spluttered the knight, withdrawing a 
 glowing face from a great basin of cold water to scrub 
 It dry with the towel. - Scrivelsby ? nay, I am not wont 
 to hear much worth the listening from that quarter." 
 _ " Aye, you may say that all that you got from Sir Philip 
 m his life you might put in one eye and see none the 
 worse for it; and you might put in your hosen all that 
 you owe him in thanks, and yet your legs be none the 
 bigger. But Sir Philip is dead." 
 
 "Dead, say you?" Sir Walter observed without much 
 concern; "well, he was a good knight, I have heard, but 
 he loved not his kin at Shakingdon. You would not 
 have me wear a hair shirt for the good of his soul, would 
 you ? " 
 
 " Nay, but Sir Philip's two sons, my masters Geoffrey 
 and Roger, are dead likewise, slain in open combat with 
 the Scots." 
 
 A flood of light broke in upon Marmion : these two 
 young men had been all that stood between him and the 
 lordship of Shakingdon. 
 
 " You mean, Michael, that " 
 
 " I mean, oh my dear master," cried the old man, going 
 down on his knees and kissing Marmion's hands,'" I mean 
 that you are the new lord of Scrivelsby, Tamworth, Lutter- 
 worth, and Fontenaye, as well as the king's champion. Oh, 
 I bless the saints that I have lived to see this day." 
 
 Marmion, quietly bidding the Fenman desist from this 
 unprecedented manifestation, hurried on the preparations 
 for departure; and bright were the visions that floated 
 through his brain as he rode out upon the wet higtiway in 
 
 Uf \ 
 
Lord of FoHUnaye. ^xx 
 
 the grey mild dawn. He came no longer as Gautier 
 Sans avo,r ,o claim his bride; he was now by fa he 
 weaUh,es. and most powerful commoner in .he county of 
 Lmco n, and might lift his head as a »uitor not unmeet 
 even for so great a lady as the I.ily of Kendal. nIv 
 much more than wealth and power had con,e to him: the 
 hereditary honour of the Championship was his, marl<in! 
 h.m out ma special manner among all the c ivalry of 
 England. As the Fcnman had reminded him he must 
 dtscard the gay shield of the Marmions, and 1 s me the 
 honourable but sombre bearings of his office, the sword n 
 pale upon the sable field. In an age less busy than our 
 own, men la.d much store by the herald's craft and all 
 to d, and be sure that .Sir Walter was not so different from 
 his l^md as not to anticipate the pride with which he 
 should nde ,n the lists and display his new cognisance 
 under the bnght eyes of Mistress Challice herself The 
 young kn.ght had been more or less than mortal-he 
 wou d at east have been out of keeping with the age 
 he hved ,„_had such not been ingredients in 1 
 
 CadisrwhCs^ Waher^rhi:?"" ''' ''T '^''""^ 
 
 fj.^ A CI I ^ vvaiter and his company rode through 
 
 the defiles of Fawcet. Forest and viewed the well-r mem- 
 bered landscape, with Kendal keep rising square ^^d 
 grey above the smoke of a thousand chimneys. But whh 
 qutck eye Marmion noted that it was not the yellow banner 
 o de Roos that flapped from the stafl-, but one of s.Me 
 
 HeTnurreT"''^ 1""' ""''' ""'^ "'"<' ™'"> "oubts. 
 could H '''"'='">' ,<^''™ '°™'-<i= the town, until he 
 
 Strtckland. The L,ly then was not upon her lands : her 
 
 ^ 
 
 \y\ 
 
 > i 
 
 k\ 
 
 I 
 
 ■ ' 
 
 f 
 
 ' j 
 
234 
 
 The Chevalier of the Splendid Crest. 
 
 X Miuw sne iioldeth in high esteem." 
 
 "Six days," repeated Marmion, musing "six dax T. 
 
 btiri'" "'r *^' ^'■^ ""^^ Sive he. decision .1^:: 
 bt ore she reaches London. Know you where she !wil 
 lodge in the city?" ™ *'" 
 
 "Most commonly my niece h'eth at the hospital of 
 
 .^ 1 v-Ct ch" """'••r ' "'" --''- -L° 
 
 me village ol tharing, midway between the siihnrh 
 caned the Flete and the borough of Westminster f she 
 be gone to other quarters it is unknown to me ■ but if 
 
 rorrretrh^""'""'---'-— tr'bf 
 -^:.T::i:TL:rr„:r;T::vrafL^: 
 
 caster that night, and as he rode forwa d hi mM ^ s" 
 M of busy anthmetic, devising how that star, of si" div 
 was to be overcome. The Lily would not ride 1 e th/n 
 
 fourteen he m.ght overtake her in six days more, but no" 
 
 ^ 8th December. 
 
Lord of Fontenaye, ^ % 
 
 befriend him Challi 'I™! 1 , "™'-™''' 'f'l"^ ^•''ints would 
 
 He co.d i.a;d^"e!r:tr:r,:r:;:,,: ":■ ™''- 
 
 iourney hc.ond ehT'l: , ''',~" '" ''^ '- 
 obedience ,o the ki,,,.. sumll ' "'™' '""" 
 
 Andrew de H.relaW '\""-''"''"<^^ °f " sudden Sir 
 scare, „r hL a h^^^d f.^ f ° V'-" "'"S • " about to 
 committed all govern n 'in H^k"' "'" '"'"■ >"= '"'' 
 This remembrance el Ln b :-^"™ '° '■"'"«"• 
 Cornwall could Ha^ t^trp u^os f^: .«';" "°-^^^ 
 one, in sending for the I ilv t , ''' ""'•'*^^'" 
 
 for .he l^Z^^t^^^^ - "is side, 
 of soldiers is to take counsel with" ' T'-°" """"" 
 Of distress. Marmion del.l tid in Ca If '" "" '"" 
 a" times; the squire had T^f^ ^"'^' company at 
 of difficulties, and'^l^ay^ .i:.e ': ;::i "^ r''"' '""^ 
 
 spec.l solace .tVrn.rr ', 't^^' ^ '° ^' ^ 
 
 ^ see no cause for anxiVfv ., 
 Challice," said Gaspard. ™ fw: T™"' °' ™"'" 
 to letch his bride- b. -M ^/'"S '' gomg to France 
 
 her a fitti "sute uoon h""""' "'""' '^'"^» '° "-1=^ 
 
 proper, thL::;:; t;X'::^^i ^"-'^^ ^^" »- 
 
 I' 
 
 t"i. 
 
 I 
 
 i ^h| 
 
ill ti4 I 
 
 If -^ 
 i) t 
 
 2S6 The Chevalier of the Splendid Crest. 
 
 "By Saint Eloy ! » exclaimed Sir Walter, "but you are 
 a jewel, Gaspard. I never thought of that. I had made 
 up my mind that this was a device of the Gascon to get 
 Challice into his power," 
 
 So he fared forward with a lighter heart, and made such 
 good progress that at the close of the fourth day out of 
 Lancaster he rode into Leicester, taking hospitality there 
 from the Franciscan brethren of Saint Martin's. 
 
 He had picked up good news on the way, for it seems 
 that the Lily had not travelled so quickly as he had 
 calculated, and he was informed that the yellow-coated 
 troop had passed but four-and-twenty hours before him. 
 Therefore had his good fortune served he might reckon 
 on overtaking the Lily at the close of the next day. But 
 his strength failed him at the last. The strain of forced 
 travel proved too much for his weakened frame, for he 
 had lost much blood from the wound in his head at 
 Norham; every joint was racked with pain, his eyes 
 burned, his tongue and throat were parched, he could 
 hardly stand when he dismounted at Saint Martin's gate 
 and the fever mounted so high that Gaspard and Dickon 
 could do no more than strip his harness and lay him 
 between good blankets. Among the monks was one with 
 the trammg of a leech, who was for bleeding him — the 
 one relief applied to every kind of malady— according to 
 the practice of chirurgery in those days. But Dickon 
 interposed. 
 
 " Nay," said he, '« but already the chevalier has left too 
 much of his blood beyond the Border; it is that which 
 aileth him now. My mother has had plenty of experience 
 of wounded men, and she never would suffer the lancet to 
 touch them. ' Never take away that which you cannot 
 
r/. 
 
 )ut you are 
 
 had made 
 
 con to get 
 
 made such 
 day out of 
 tality there 
 
 II 
 
 Lord of Fontenaye, 277 
 
 rest.e,| she always said, Tor the blood is the life 
 
 Once more, therefore, Michael had to yield his nh 
 to D.kon,and once more Dickon assumed th^^rf 
 sick-nurse, and watched his lord tenderly throurth. 
 ravmgs of a desperate fever. ^ ^^^ 
 
 ^ m 
 
 r it seems 
 IS he had 
 ow-coated 
 2fore him. 
 ht reckon 
 day. But 
 of forced 
 le, for he 
 ! head at 
 
 his eyes 
 he could 
 :in's gate, 
 i Dickon 
 
 lay him 
 
 one with 
 
 lim — the 
 
 ording to 
 
 t Dickon 
 
 s left too 
 lat which 
 cperience 
 lancet to 
 I cannot 
 
238 
 
 'i' ft 
 
 ®t t&e snare 0prea^ for Mi^ixm CfiaUtce fig tfje 
 lEarl 0f erarnlnair. 
 
 The royal summons, in obedience to which Challice de 
 Roos repaired to London, contained a reference to the 
 kmg's approaching marriage. Concluding, therefore that 
 It was mtended that she should attend the new queen on 
 her passage from Paris, she took with her a suite befitting 
 her rank-Mistress Alison the gouvernante, Gillian the 
 tn-ewoman. Father Ailwyn the confessor, the page Bertram 
 de Willoughby, and six pack - horses. Her escort con- 
 sisted of the Captain de Musgrave, an esquire named 
 Alan le Ryder, who carried the lady's banner, two men-at- 
 arms, and eight light horsemen. These made a brave 
 show m the bright frosty noon as they followed the high- 
 way through Saint John's Wood, the sunlight streaming 
 hrough the gnarled oaks upon the yellow and scarlet 
 hvenes and lighting up the well-polished harness of the 
 escort Leavmg on their right hand the skirts of the 
 great forest covering Notting Hill, they held through the 
 coppice fringing the banks of the Tye Bourne, and so out 
 upon the level ground, where thick hedgerows, leafless 
 though they were, half concealed the village of Charing 
 
Trapped. 
 
 239 
 
 The sky was beautifully clear save in fK 
 
 t" '-'' -°- ^"- -- "nixx:^ 
 
 afire, I trow." ^ "'• "'^^ ^ity must be 
 
 "Nay," replied the priest "m^fK.- 1 ,. 
 poisonous s^oke of .elcoa , vS' : ''k ' '"' *^ 
 very doors of .he indolent i.iz "' f„'f , '""« '° *« 
 burn the poisonous stuff h, theTr L *" ^'"'^'"' '° 
 
 their houses -rather than be a tth *"'' "T "''' "™" '" 
 wI>o,eson,e firewood fromlhe forLt- """^ °' ^"""^ 
 
 sail era,!"? '.'.TrrenT " "'nT '"™^ " ^-<'- '-.■' 
 in the east, it used to cZ" C ' T'"^" '"^ "'"<> ^^' 
 
 «f the logs on ten thouTa^d heart'"' "' ""^' ^^^«^='"- 
 
 p.aintdi:h::s;„° ". „: 'Th °' °" °" "■■"=<• - 
 
 fun,es of sea-coal. and ena" d th t Z T "^ ™''^°- 
 ".ineral should answer for t mU th'^ ^° "'' *"' "'^ 
 good usage, like many ano health f M™"- ''"' "'^' 
 -nder our present rulL. as tiK-y H „ ™ '"" "'-- 
 Sending her squire le Ryder win, „ u 
 
 the meadows to the Icing-s pat e o Ct "'"'" """'^ 
 desired him to notify that V ^^ "'"""■■ Challice 
 
 at the hospital of S fnt Mary r™' , '"' '°''' P'-^^"™™ 
 mission to rest and e re* he^If"' ?';""" '=™^'' P^ 
 Ryder brought back the re ' d L ' ' "'°"™- '- 
 *e disquieting inteiligemj th"':'""' '" "«'^'''»' 
 quitted the country, leav n'the Ear o'f c"' 'n'- ^'"""^ 
 wuh plenary powers of goyelanc T^ ™ '"''""'-"'' 
 h- greeting to the Lady of Kendal 'anl "' '"' '"" 
 attendance upon his Court at West^i:' ™-n,a„ded her 
 
 I it 
 
 r< 
 
 t I 
 
 .1 ,i 
 
 i i 
 
 ^ 1 ]l 
 
 ' ' 'I 
 
 !■! .:| 
 
 ^,f ,; 
 
 ten o'clock 
 
 on 
 
t fT 
 
 240 The Chevalier of the Splendid Crest. 
 
 the morrow, provided she should find herself in good 
 health and restored from the fatigue of her long travel. 
 Chalhce carried a bold heart under her silken bodice 
 yet It sank somewhat upon these ominous tidings She 
 had received no word from Walter since they parted in the 
 summer; she knew not whether he was still at Norham— 
 whether mdeed he was still alive; but this uncertainty 
 made no change in her resolution. Waving a signal 'to 
 her attendants that she would be alone, and seating herself 
 in the deep bay of the window, she set to work calmly to 
 survey her position. Her eyes wandered over a tranquil 
 scene. The wmter sun was sinking red, but a reach of 
 
 shone'^'n Z"^"""^''' ''' "°^ '^^^^'"S ^he reflection, 
 shone w,th the fan.t greenish-blue of the sky. Shapely 
 
 elms hned the hedgerows, throwing their delicat. tracery 
 agamst th- saffron west, yet not so thickly but that the 
 new twm towers of the abbey might be seen to the right of 
 the kmg s palace roof. The hail of boatmen on the river 
 sounded softly through the still air; the sharper note of a 
 bugle marked the hour of watch - setting. The red sun 
 slipped out of the heaven; the shadows gathered; lights 
 bega.i to twmkle in distant Westmmster; still Challice sat 
 on — so still — so silent. 
 At last she rose. 
 
 "Fear not, my love, my darling, my own knight," she 
 sa:d. "You would not doubt me were you here trus! 
 me wherever you be. If you live-I am yourr,, and yours 
 only,^ If you be dead~oh, Walter, if you be dead-it is I 
 wno have slain you, yet am I still yours. Dead am I also 
 to the world, and in this cloister I sha'l abide until I may 
 come and be with you once and for aye." 
 
 Clear and sweet rang the Angelus from the abbey on 
 the west; the sound was taken up by the belfry of Saint 
 
 
Trapped. 241 
 
 Martin's-in-the-Fields near at hand, and passed eastward 
 from tower to tower till it was lost in the hum of myriad 
 bells in the distant hive of London city. Challice sank 
 on her knees and buried her sad face in prayer. Then 
 she rose, wrote a few sentences upon a piece of linen 
 paper, shock a tiny silver hand - bell, and desired the 
 answermg page to seek out Alan le Ryder, for whom she 
 had another errand. 
 
 " Alan," said she, - loth am I to send you abroad again 
 thus late, but my business presseth. Look you. I would 
 have you ride to the Leaden Hall, where my cousin Sir 
 Hugh de Neville keepeth house. With him lodgeth the 
 Clerk to the King's Council, Sir Maurice de Bulkeley. Of 
 him you must demand audience; see"— and she slipped 
 from her forefiuger a heavy gold ring, which once belonged 
 to her father, wherein was a large sapphire, uncut, save 
 that there was graven upon it the bold motto of her house 
 -NEC ASPERA TERRENT— "this will obtain you instant 
 admission. Give Sir Maurice this letter. Tell him that 
 I am here in Charing, and do most earnestly desire to 
 confer with him at eight of the clock on the morrow. 
 Now haste, Alan, and see you miss not the road in the 
 dark." 
 
 Troubles were gathering thick round the Lily. Two 
 hours later Alan returned, having found his way to 
 Leaden Hall, only to be told that Sir Maurice de Bulkeley 
 had passed to France with his master the king Then 
 and not before, Challice's friendless position overcame her 
 fortitude, and in the solitude of her bedchamber she did 
 what was rare indeed for her— she cried herself to sleep. 
 
 None of her retinue could have discerned on the 
 following morning that their mistress had anything of 
 
 1^ 
 
 A 
 
242 The Chevalier of the Splendid Crest. 
 
 great.:, moment than usual on her mind. She selected 
 her attire with decision, but not with greater effect than 
 was her wont, for Challice always went well dressed, wit}'- 
 out seeming to bestow the amount of thought or. the 
 subject which exercises so many ladies. She talked -u'ly 
 to her tirewoman Gillian, commended Alan ie Ryde' for 
 having found Leaden Hall so cleverlv in the dark, and 
 kissed her palfrey's velvet m.s/^le before, mounting to ride 
 over to Westminster, str-ked his fine neok, and adminis- 
 tered the manchei which he w:.'s accustomed to receive 
 'Vom her hand. Nor was she unmindful of the inark of 
 seigneuriai dignity to which she was entitled, but stooping 
 from the sa^ Idle iook from little Bertram de Willoughby 
 the falcon wh^ch he held ready for her wrist. So they 
 set forward ^lo.;. die broad level way, with a flourish 
 from the rapta-n's bugle; four lances riding forward and 
 four as rereward, Alan le Ryder in front of Challice, 
 Father Ailwyn on her right hand, the page on her left' 
 till they came lo the gate of the king's palace beside the 
 shmmg river. There Challice dismounted, and, handing 
 the falcon back to Bertram, left her escort in the court- 
 yard, her esquire and chaplain in the great hall, while she 
 herself, followed by Bertram, was conducted by a gentle- 
 man usher up a great stone stair. Passing two archers 
 of the guard at the stair-head, she was led down a long 
 lofty passage lit with grisaille windows on one side, through 
 which the sunshine struck sparkles of bright colour upon 
 the stone pavement. All these trifles Challice remem- 
 bered distmctly in after days, even to the bearings of the 
 coats armorial set in stained glass amid the grisaille 
 
 Pausing at the end of the corridor, the usher, whose 
 office It was to instruct in etiquette persons attending the 
 levee, imparted some unwelcome information. 
 
 ,«**/! 
 
^'Wfm;.'''''wmw'Mwm- 
 
 Trapped. ^43 
 
 " It is the pleasure of my lord the Viceroy to receive 
 you in pc/ae lev^e, an honour which, as madame is doubt- 
 less aware, is usually reserved for ambassadors and papal 
 envoys. Madame would observe that the guards stamped 
 twice on her approach-the highest mark of respect that 
 can be paid to a subject. For my lord the king himself, 
 or, in his absence, for my lord the Viceroy, they stamp 
 thrice, but for none other. I offer madame my profound 
 congratulation. As for the rest, madame will find my 
 lord the Viceroy alone, or at most with no more than his 
 secretary. Madame will be graciously pleased to leave 
 her page in the ante-room, inasmuch as it is my lord's 
 desire to conter with her in private." 
 
 This functionary then led the way down another pas- 
 sage floored with polished oak and patrolled by a man- 
 at-arms, whence a flight of broad oaken steps led up to 
 a single arched doorway. Here were two more archers 
 on duty, who stamped twice like the others, sending fine 
 echoes down the corridor. The door was then thrown 
 open and Challice was admitted to a panelled ante- 
 chamber, of which the sole occupant was one dressed in 
 the sad -coloured raiment of a Dominican lay brother 
 who stood writing at a high desk. This was the earl's 
 confidential secretary, for, like many public men in that 
 day, he found it convenient to employ one of an order 
 whose members, by reason of the vow of poverty which 
 hey had taken, their well-earned reputation for unworld- 
 hness, and their practice of bearing no arms, were able to 
 transact much difficult business, whether purely secre 
 tarial, financial, or diplomatic, without incurring the sus- 
 picion or Ill-will which a mere layman might have had to 
 nsk. Ihe usher having announced Mistress Challice de 
 Roos, the friar laid down his quill, made a courtly obei 
 
 '■■;! 
 
 f 
 
 1 
 
 , 1 
 
 1 
 
 i 
 
 1 
 
244 The Chevalier of tJie Splendid Crest. 
 
 sance, and saying, " I will advise my lord," passed through 
 a side door into another chamber. Returning presently 
 he said to Challice — 
 
 " My lord attends the coming of the Lady of Kendal in 
 the Presence Chamber." 
 
 He then led the way through two or three rooms in 
 suite, each tenanted by a couple of archers on duty ; 
 finally into a chamber loftier and more richly decorated 
 than the rest, and retired with another obeisance to 
 Mistress Challice, closing the door carefully behind 
 him. 
 
 Cornwall was standing before the hearth, for the frosty 
 air struck sharply through the high oriel window giving 
 upon the river. Superbly dressed, as was his wont, with 
 his thick, dark hair combed back from his square brow, 
 his athletic and graceful figure well set off by the knightly 
 jupon of green cloth trimmed with ermine — the exclusive 
 badge of royalty — and belted with the golden symbol of 
 earldom, Pierre de Gaveston certainly had a fine appear- 
 ance as he stood in the morning light beneath the high 
 chimney - piece, whereon were carved and painted in 
 scarlet and gold the famous leopards of England. As 
 the door closed he stepped lightly forward towards his 
 visitor, and taking both her hands in his, led her to an 
 armed settle near the fire. Much as Challice had learnt 
 to detest and distrust the Viceroy, she could not but 
 acknowledge the tact with which he exempted her from 
 the obligatory obeisance of kissing his hand. His next act 
 did not please her so well. The settle was long, with 
 a high back which kept off the draught from the window, 
 and strewn with cushions. After begging the Lily to be 
 seated, Cornwall took the vacant place beside her, and 
 proceeded to express hopes that it was not inconvenient 
 
[ 
 
 Trapped. 245 
 
 to her to attend the Court at that season, that she had 
 not found her journey fatiguing, and so on. 
 
 "I thought it well," he continued, "to make your 
 audience a private one, whereby we can more freely dis- 
 cuss our affairs, and take measures— speedy ones, I trust 
 — for their transaction." 
 
 "I have no affairs," replied Challice coldly, "which 
 might not be discussed with my lord before the whole 
 Court. Howbeit, seeing that it is my lord's pleasure to 
 receive me apart, I am here to know how I can serve 
 the king." 
 
 Cornwall's eyes glistened with admiration as he looked 
 upon the beautiful girl. The ride through the keen air 
 had brought a divine colour into her cheeks ; the delicacy 
 of her complexion was enhanced by the scarlet riding 
 dress, the justaucorps lined with lamb's wool, and the 
 black velvet flat cap, looped on one side and fastened 
 with a silver image of Saint Herbert of Derwentwater, the 
 patron of her family. The dominant motives of this earl's 
 actions were love of power and passion for pelf, but he 
 was far from indifferent to feminine charms. If it was 
 the Lady of Kendal's wealth and influence which first 
 attracted him as a suitor, her exquisite beauty soon added 
 fuel to his desires, and it was with something of a lover's 
 
 hesitation that he made answer 
 
 "Fair damoysel, I believed— that is-I expected that 
 you yourself would prefer that we should speak in private 
 of that which concerns you and me alone." 
 
 He paused, but Challice gave him no assistance, sitting 
 silent as she toyed with the silken tassel of her riding- 
 wand. 
 
 " It is now more than five months since the king be- 
 stowed upon me the priceless boon of your hand. You 
 
 
 \i 
 
 M 
 
 III 
 
 iff ill 
 
 ' IN"! 
 
p^ 
 
 1,1 * 
 
 ■r 
 
 
 1* 
 
 III 
 
 m 1 
 
 ' ■'• • 
 
 246 T/te Chevalier of the Splendid Crest. 
 
 cannot wonder that I -n^ impatient to obtain the formal 
 blessing ot Holy C ... .ould fain do so before the 
 
 king returns fron: Krr.— l-, lui then will come all the turmoil 
 of his coronatio", which, us you know, is appointed for the 
 feast of Saint Matthias ^ next-to-come." 
 
 The stately cliambor rang with a peal of joyous, heart- 
 whole laughter. One of Challicr' vitching traits 
 was the way she [passed suddenly from extreme gravity to 
 clear, ringing mirth; and she laughed now like a child, 
 displaying two fine rows of pearly teeth to the perplexed 
 Viceroy. 
 
 " So that is what you bade me come three hundred 
 miles in the depth of winter to talk about. Marry ! your 
 Grace, but had I known that, I think I should I.ave let it 
 wait till the days were longer. It is the custom of our 
 English knights to attend upon *^he ladies whom they 
 honour with cheir attentions — not to send orders for them, 
 as though they were bales of wool or firkins of butter." 
 
 Cornwall's brows lowered, and a baleful light gleai led 
 in his eyes as he made answer — 
 
 " The Lady of Kendal could scarcely disrey rd a royal 
 summons." 
 
 " A vice-royal summons, you mean," ret tied Challice, 
 and again the cl( - laughter ranr out. " Nfot quite the 
 same thing, I fane;, my lord." 
 
 " Craving your pardon, precisely the same thing. Mis- 
 tress Challici " qu' .ii Cornwall, aking th. man-like 
 blunder of arguing a point subsidiary to the main one. 
 "Know you not that the king has rr emitted to me the 
 entire governance of this realn' durin:' his ab ;nce? See, 
 if you doubt me, here is my "ith ty under thi -iign- 
 manual of Edward and the pr y s>. " — and takinj^ from 
 
 * 25th February. 
 
Trapped. 2^y 
 
 a table in the window a cylinder of violet velvet, he drew 
 from it a parchment and spread it before (.uallice She 
 scarcely glanced at it, but taking up the case, exclaimed— 
 "What a pretty box !" then turning to the Viceroy with a 
 distractmg gleam of mischief in her eyes— 
 
 •' No, my lord, not quite the same thing, at least to 
 us in tiie dales. We made our fealty to Plantagenet of 
 England, not to Gavcston of Gascony." 
 
 " Have a care, madame ! " exclaimed the Viceroy, striding 
 up and down the room, and making a second blunder, as 
 man-like as the first, in beginning to 1' his temper. " Have 
 a care ! or I shall have to prove to you that our authority 
 IS every whit as dread as the king's. Bah ! " he changed 
 his tone and seated himself again beside Challice, «' why 
 let such (juestion rise between us. Challice! beautiful 
 Chalhce ! you know that I love you— that I worship the 
 ver, ground you walk upon. Come, f:hallice, keep me 
 not :. ger in suspense. Say, when shall we wed?" 
 
 He iiad taken her hand in one of his ; he made as 
 though 1 would draw lier to him with the other; but 
 with c, o of h( swift changes of mood, gently but' irre- 
 sistibly diseng h. rsclf, she resumed her icy tones. 
 
 " My lord, 1 iiav oken my mind plainly to you on 
 this subi ct already, li pains me to have to repeat it I 
 hav, told you that my troth is plighted to Sir Walter le 
 Marmion ; with him will I wed, r - ith none. If the king 
 holds that it matches with his honour to annul the pledge 
 given me by his sire that I should have free choice in 
 uian:age-if he forbids me o m. ,y Sir AValter—then 
 have I vowed to enter the cloister. The king himself 
 cannot bar that course to me. But with you, my i.rd 
 I cannot, I will not wed, and there is my last word in 
 this matter— the same as the first." 
 
 i I 
 
 '. J 
 
 II 
 
i 
 
 m 
 
 ti» 
 
 
 I 
 
 248 T/te Chevalier 0/ the Splendid Cnst. 
 
 " But hear me further, Challice," urged the Vic( roy, 
 who knew by experience the value of an ordinary maid's 
 nay-say. " See what you are putting from you. See 
 what a position will be yours — the wife of the first subject 
 in the realm. A su ject — nay, who shall say an I shall 
 be always a subject ? Few monarchs enjoy such real 
 power as 1. Harkye, Challice 1 " he lowered his voice 
 to a husky whisper, " who is the real ruler of England at 
 this mon nt? That royal booby who has gone to seek 
 a puling minx from the French king's Court ? Bah ! give 
 him a block of wood and a few tools to fashion it withal, 
 and he wants no more. See ! I turn him as I will round 
 that little finger ; the habit grows upon him ; more and 
 more the real power conies to me. You shall share it ; 
 you shall be my Queen — Queen of Beauty — Queen of 
 England." 
 
 Challice was silent, playing again with her riding-wand, 
 and Cornwall, exasperated by her indifference, and per- 
 haps irritated because he had disclosed so much of his 
 secret projects, passed again into the furious vein. 
 
 " At all events, madame, I rule England at this moment, 
 and I bid you dismiss this le Marmion from your thoughts 
 for ever. If you will not wed with me, by the God above 
 us, you shall not wed with any other. Take the veil if 
 you will, but remember this — Pierre de Gaveston is not one 
 to forgive an injury ; no man ever crossed his path without 
 ruing it, and this upstart lover of yours shall brook a 
 lodging of even greater discomfort than your cloister. 
 Look you, Challice de Roos, wed with me — and le Mar- 
 mion may ruffle it as he please ; I will do him no harm ; 
 but go into a convent, and you condemn him to linger 
 out his days in the deepest dungeon within the four seas." 
 
 He had touched her to the quick. She would have 
 
It 
 
 Trapped. 
 
 249 
 
 || 
 
 I 
 
 committed her own youth in its bloom to the irrcvo( able 
 discipline — the life-long imprisonment — of the Church, 
 with anguish, no doubt, but without hesitancy. Rut 
 knowing as she did the Gascon's limitless power and 
 relentless vengeance, how could she sentence her lover 
 to such an awful doom ? For a moment she falteied j 
 her lip quivered and the colour fled from her cheeks. 
 But next moment the dauntless spirit of her race was 
 kindled ; threats only strung her nerve to the truer pitch. 
 Rising to her feet, she said in full, calm accents — 
 
 " I have no other answer for my lord. Permit me to 
 pass to my horse." 
 
 "Softly, Mistress Challice," replied Cornwall, with an 
 evil smile that marred his visage far more than his scowl 
 "Your decision in so important a matter must not be 
 made without reflection. We propose that you shall pass 
 into retreat for a space, and we ■ iitreat you to employ 
 the leisure you will have in coming to a more reasonable 
 mind." 
 
 Drawing the misericorde from his golden belt, the 
 Viceroy smote loudly thrice upon the panel between 
 the fireplace and the window, and moved quickly round 
 so as to stand between Challice and the door. A few 
 seconds passed ; steps were heard behind the panelling ; 
 it flew open, disclosing a secret passage, whence four 
 archers, wearing black masks, stepped into the chamber. 
 At a sign from Cornwall these placed themselves round 
 Challice, but laid no hand upon her. 
 
 " Kidnapped ! " she muttered ; then moving swiftly 
 up to the Viceroy, cried " Coward ! " and smote him 
 sharply across the face with her riding-wand. Cornwall's 
 nerves were good and he wa^: of tried courage ; he 
 scarcely flinched under the pain, which must have been 
 
 u 
 
 ?• 
 
 -'Jl 
 
 4-11 
 
It 
 
 250 The Chevalier of the Splendid Crest. 
 
 considerable. The archers started forward and laid 
 rough hands upon the lady, fearing that she meant 
 assassination. But Cornwall only laughed. 
 
 " Gently with the lady, men ! " he said. " I will not 
 have a feather of the pretty shrew's plumage ruffled. 
 I regret, madame, that I must invite you to take another 
 journey this day. I trust our parting will not be for 
 long. When it is your pleasure to receive me you 
 have but to send me word, and I shall fly to your feet. 
 Archers, do your duty ! " 
 
 He who stood behind Challice flung over her shoulders 
 a silken mantle, and, drawing the hood over her head 
 and face, bound it round her neck. The others were 
 ready to carry her along had she made any resistance; 
 but she suffered herself to be led to the secret stair. 
 They took her slowly down the winding steps — down — 
 down — till by the damp air, the plashing of water and 
 the echo around, she judged that she stood in a vaulted 
 boat port. The sergeant-archer craved her pardon as 
 he lifted her in his arms and placed her in a barge. 
 A few words of command followed, and presently the 
 Viceroy's barge glided out into the current, and with 
 the measured beat of eight pairs of oars sped smoothly 
 along upon the flood -tide towards the lonely marshes 
 of Battersea. 
 
251 
 
 t'iii 
 
 "i -■ 
 
 m tfie tamins of Sir malttt It Mnmian to EonKon 
 to&jn, nnlr of iijz &jtse counsel |^e receifaeti from ^ix 
 Mmtitz t(e ISuIfteleg. 
 
 For ten days Sir Walter le Marmion lay between life 
 and death in the Franciscan house of Saint Martin at 
 Leicester. Time after time, Brother Anthony the 
 leech warned Dickon le Dechu of the peril to which 
 he exposed his lord by refusing to have him bled ; but 
 Dickon, though he seemed but a lad of eighteen at the 
 most, had a strangely resolute way with him, would 
 listen to no remonstrance, and succeeded in convincing 
 Gaspard that he knew better how to treat a sick man 
 than all the leeches in Leicestershire. Even stubborn 
 old Michael gradually yielded to Dickon's authority in 
 the sick-chamber. 
 
 On the tenth day the fever began to abate ; the light 
 of reason returned to Sir Walter's sunken eyes, and 
 although so weak at first that he could not raise his 
 hand to his lips, he drank the seethed milk sweetened 
 with honey which Dickon gave him every two hours, 
 and at the end of three weeks was able to sit up beside 
 the hearth. Yet his strength had to fight its way back 
 
 
252 The Chevalier of the Splendid Crest. 
 
 s 
 
 f I 
 
 to him against an obstinate and restless foe. Anxiety 
 — the intolerable uncertainty as to what had befallen 
 Challice at the unscrupulous Viceroy's hands — weighed 
 upon his mind and racked it continually. Deep thotigh 
 his love was for Challice, it was not proof against the 
 demon of doubt ; for men are ever slower than women 
 to yield implicit faith in another, and these lovers had 
 never enjoyed intercourse of that leisurely kind whence 
 confidence most surely may be generated. At times 
 the remembrance of the Lily's true and trustful eyes 
 would suffice to reassure him ; her queenly manner and 
 artless ways were enough to dispel all idea of coquetry ; 
 but then he remembered also how she used to tease him 
 in her artful moods, to mock at his solemn manner 
 and mimic his slow speech. There came to his mind 
 what Gaspard de Neville had said one day, with all the 
 flippant worldliness of youth, repeating, no doubt, a 
 piece of shallow philosophy picked up when he was 
 page in a lady's bower : — 
 
 "En general les femmes sont plus inconstantes et 
 les hommes plus infideles."^ 
 
 It haunted him, this bitter saying, as he lay wearily 
 through those long winter evenings in the Franciscan 
 hospital. Had he been up and active, he might so 
 easily have dissipated the impression by applying the 
 cynical phrase to his own case. Infidele ! the impos- 
 sibility of infidelity to such a love as his would have 
 exposed the hoUowness of the rest of the adage. But 
 in his feeble state it worried him sorely. Had Challice 
 ever loved him as he loved her? Yes, he could not 
 doubt that — he never would doubt it. But inconstante f 
 
 '^ Centuries later the French writer Voisenon pronounced much 
 the same sententious formula. 
 

 The King's Champion. 253 
 
 if that was woman's nature how could she help it if 
 she changed? Would she continue to love him-nay 
 did she love him still? love him enough to put aside 
 all the splendour which Cornwall had to offer— enough 
 to brave the displeasure of the king-enough to sacrifice 
 all her power and great possessions, and become no 
 more than mistress of paltry Shakingdon ? The fever 
 had laid such a fierce grip upon him as to drive clean 
 trom his memory much that had preceded it. He had 
 forgotten all about the great fortune that had fallen to 
 him through the death of his uncle and cousins ; where- 
 fore, although in fact he had been for nearly a month 
 one of the v^ealthiest commoners in England, he still 
 thought of himself only as the needy Knight of Shaking- 
 don-Gautier Sans -avoir— with means too narrow to 
 maintain easily his scanty following, let alone a wife 
 
 Thoughts like these, revolving in endless monotony 
 through his brain, added to his impatience at being 
 unable to set out and learn the truth for himself, and 
 very seriously retarded his recovery. However it came 
 at last, for, up to the age of five-aud-thirty, a robust 
 body generally wins mastery in the end over the mind 
 whether for good or ill. It was on one of the early 
 days of February that Dickon le Dechu at last yielded 
 to Sir Walter's earnest, almost angry, entreaty, and the 
 knight was permitted to ride out in the soft air a short 
 stage along the London road. To London-yes, whither 
 he haa been bound when the fever laid him low • to 
 London, whither so many steps have hastened during 
 all these centuries, so many hopes have turned, where 
 so many prizes wait the winning; to London-the wil- 
 derness wherein so much treasure is buried, the grave 
 of so many fair prospects, the rock for so many r^^nnta- 
 
 i?f. 
 
254 The Chevalier of the Splendid Crest. 
 
 tions. Whither should he go but to London to hear 
 tidings of Challice? 
 
 As Marmion rode along the Flete towards the city he 
 perceived that the great houses by the wayside on either 
 hand were decorated as for some public festival. The 
 Earl of Richmond's great house at the Savoy was draped 
 with garlands and scarlet cloth; from the tower of the 
 Templars beautiful church hard by fluttered the banner 
 with the cross of their order, and the houses of the 
 nobihty, standing apart among the groves that lined 
 this great thoroughfare, all displayed some tokens of re 
 joicmg. But when Marmion passed through the citv 
 gate he beheld the whole street aflame with buntin/ 
 wreaths of holly and fir swinging across it from house to 
 house Asking of the warder what was ado, the man 
 seemed surprised that a knight of Marmion's fine appear- 
 ance should be in ignorance, and replied that the kin^ 
 and queen had passed through the city the day before 
 on their return from France. 
 
 Marmion knew very little about London, having never 
 been there but oi:ce before, when he passed through it 
 in the suite of Sir Robert de Clift-ord. He would have 
 
 hat half the population of the neighbouring ..ires seemed 
 to have crowded into the capital to welcome their new 
 queen. The streets were crowded with sightseers ; vendors 
 of every kmd of necessary and unnecessary commodity 
 raised such a dm that a man might scarce hear his own 
 voice; round the door of nearly every dwelling-house 
 stood the retainers of some great seigneur; brightly 
 dressed girls, in nowise abashed by the broad coLli 
 ments paid them by these free-spoken soldiers, thronged 
 the narrow pavement, and made their way among a 
 

 The King^s Champion. 
 
 ^5S 
 motley stream of <?pam^r, f . 
 bound on making houL n ""'™' ^PP'^""^«. ="1 
 hardly be found but Gal' , ""''«"?"='' ^"^"ers could 
 Leaden Hall, the rj. T' T:'" '" ^^"" *a. the 
 
 Nevni, would co„s:".b;:roi:'X"':':; fT^' "^ 
 
 certain of a warm welcome th'^h'^' f '"'^" '''"' ^ 
 took ,heir way. and whrye. a S b r.*: ""'^ 
 known banner of the Kniirhf nf Zl ^'''' *<= ""^H" 
 
 a scarlet Aeld-wavi^'^r .y^ot^rioTt'^"'"^^ "" 
 crowded round his mansion ^ ""' "'''<='> 
 
 Sir Hugh de Neville was a great lanH. 
 northern counties, but he had .hTh , u "" "" "'= 
 
 en^barking upon c'ommer ia tte pSe w, h 'T'^' '' 
 and diligence very rare »m„ "='"'='P">^c with a shrewdness 
 
 early days, Witlf Z ZZltrT t' ^"' '" '"°- 
 and fitted out a fleet of TL u ""^^ ""^ ''^'' built 
 
 and hides from "ht elf 'tT f^r'rr'' ™°' 
 even to Venice, bringing h,.l ' "^™burg, and 
 
 disposed Of at' good^'pTofi t ZZ^^'^t'' '° '^ 
 greatly did he prosper .„ this tr ffic „d thrb"'' '° 
 supenntend the disposal f,r h,- / * ''''"ef «o 
 
 be lived half his timeTn T J "«" merchandise, that 
 
 respected as a mTh t^p" rr'arn? '^ T "^ ^^="'^ 
 the north as a feudal ..f '"" honoured in 
 
 bad built himsel he .Si'm "' °?'= «^™ "^ 
 Leaden Hall, whereof h^ "mole d"™" ■ '™™ "^ '"« 
 nificence had been no whit *""'"'^'°'« and mag- 
 
 Gaspard, nor yet "he h T^>^'"'"^'^ ^^ his nephew 
 
 Sir Hug'h received MarZ;r' "' ™"" "«-f- 
 his chamberlain preprreT . "^^ ''™'^' ''Adding 
 
 and horses. ^ '^ ' ''<-^"n™odat,on for his retinuf 
 
 " By Saint Eloy ! » said )iP - ,^ 
 --n men weL.„ar^:!-,rh::r 1:^^-5 
 
 
256 The Chevalier of the Splendid Crest. 
 
 yourself, for we had word from Sir Thomas Gray that 
 you had left Norham on the feast of Saint Thomas/ and 
 from de Harcla we learnt of your haste to leave Carlisle. 
 The Viceroy himself — praised be the saints that the king 
 hath returned and that we are no longer under rule of 
 the Gascon ! — the Viceroy himself sent a summons for 
 your instant attendance at the Court, but you were not 
 to be heard of at Scrivelsby, nor yet at Shakingdon." 
 
 " I have been lying sick at Leicester these six weeks, 
 Sir Hugh; but my comings and goings are seldom of 
 much moment to other people ; I am at a loss to know 
 wherefore there should be all this stir." 
 
 "Why, man, have you forgotten that you are a great 
 personage now ? " exclaimed Sir Hugh — " the man of the 
 moment, in fact. Know you not that the king's coro- 
 nation is fixed for the feast of Saint Matthias,^ fourteen 
 days hence, and that cannot go forward without the 
 Champion of England, which is none other than thyself ? 
 Pardie ! the mercers and craftsmen have but scant time 
 to prepare your housings and equipment. Sir Maurice 
 de Bulkeley, who concerns himself greatly about your 
 affairs, it seems, was speaking about that at noon-meat 
 this very day." 
 
 "I did hear word of the death of my kinsmen at 
 Carlisle, but in truth. Sir Hugh, my illness and other 
 business drove that matter out of my head. Will your 
 valiancy instruct me how I should proceed now to the 
 accomplishment of my duties?" 
 
 "Your first duty is to stow some prime beef and a 
 
 pint of Gascony under your belt. Sangdieu ! you look 
 
 more fit for the leading part in a funeral than for 
 
 the office of king's champion. Nephew," continued Sii 
 
 * 2 1st December. * 25th February. 
 
it: 
 
 The King's Champion. 
 
 257 
 
 Hugh, turning ,„ Gaspard, "you know well ihe way. of 
 h,s house, you rascal-away to the buttery hatch and bW 
 hem serve w,thout delay; and, see ! bid the butler si. 
 a measure of old burgundy-say I want the r.nc Ita^e 
 -that of the Lion d'or-^r the old niggard will'br,"" » 
 he anchor brand of .303. What ! the day is young ye" 
 .me enough to advise with Clarencieux Kingof Arms' 
 
 5stou°r; Trr^ '°" ™" P'^'="' yourself at th 
 kmgs Court and claim privilege to challenge all comers 
 on his Grace's behalf. Men say you have earned the eI 
 of Cornwall's displeasure, but let be-he dare no. touch a 
 hair of your head till you have discharged your office"' 
 
 iir Hughs prescription was precisely what Marminn 
 s|.od most in wan. of. The yo'ung lc4htt blooTC 
 tho oughly purged of the fever poison, bu. he was sffl 
 weak and lacked nounshmen, which .he splendM^pe 
 of a convalescen. made him qui.e ready .0 enjoy. Wh e 
 he was discussing the good provender of the Lead n 
 Hall, corses to him the Clerk of .he Council S^r 
 
 hoXL lo^'^tr' """ ''" '°*'"« ""'- Nt;iii ; 
 
 Mend wh„ ™"'" "^'""S "P '" P'" his agad 
 
 fnend, whose eyes swam with tears as he put his arms 
 round the younger knigh.'s neck. 
 
 "Oh, my boy, my boy!" said he, "so you have come 
 back .0 us a. las., glory be .0 God ! You are 7m Z 
 you are alive; and in .ru,h I had almos. lost hoi o 
 seeing you again. Oh, my boy ! my boy ! » and the old 
 man wept quieily for very joy. 
 
 Maurice 'tT ^"" T" '° «'"" y™ '™"Me, Sir 
 -adys gift IS famous, I believe, bu. I am in sore nJ 
 W^ty^«nd my lady herself. Can you give"mr.idC 
 
 T .i 
 
 iff 
 
 y^:.'. 
 

 258 T/ie Chevalier of the Splendid Crest. 
 
 ** Alas ! no, Sir Walter," replied de Bulkeley, " herein is 
 some dark mystery. Nay, be not alarmed ; no evil can 
 have come to Mistress Challice ; only we know not where 
 she is. You have powerful enemies, Sir Walter, such as 
 it takes a bold heart and a wise head to encounter ; be 
 alert and wise, and I doubt not you shall prevail against 
 them. Listen ! When I returned from France, I found 
 a short letter from Mistress Challice advising me of her 
 coming to the house of Saint Mary Rouncivale, and desir- 
 ing me to go thither and take counsel with her. Now this 
 letter bore date upon the eve of Saint Hilary,^ whereas 
 I returned not to London until the Purification.^ Never- 
 theless I hastened to the house in Charing ; there found 
 I Father Ailwyn, grievously cast down, and, as you know, 
 it needs something of weight to lower his spirit. He told 
 me how he had ridden with Mistress Challice when she re- 
 paired to Westminster on Saint Hilary's day in obedience 
 to the Viceroy's summons ; how she passed into the 
 palace alone, Father Ailwyn being commanded to re- 
 main with her retinue in the great hall ; how they waited 
 by the space of two hours without word from their mis- 
 tress ; and how, towards midday, the Viceroy's Dominican 
 secretary came to them and, drawing the Father aside, 
 informing him that Mistress Challice, being about to 
 take noon-meat with the Viceroy, desired that he and 
 the rest of her retinue should return to Saint Mary 
 Rouncivale and there await her coming. ' By what token 
 am I to know this command is from my mistress ? ' asked 
 Father Ailwyn, bluntly enough, as I can believe. *By 
 this,' answered the Dominican, ' that if it is not obeyed 
 without delay, the body-guard have the Viceroy's com- 
 mands to put you all in ward.' Now the palace swarmed 
 ^ 1 2th January. 2 2nd February. 
 
I' 
 
 The King's Champion. 
 
 259 
 
 with archers and men-at-arms— to offer resistance was 
 hopeless; therefore Master an le Ryder, after hearing 
 from Father Ailwyn the state of matters, set his party in 
 march and returned to Charing. It is three weeks since 
 then, yet no tidings have come from Mistress Challice, 
 nor hath any man knowledge of where she is." 
 
 " And her women," said Marmion, " Mistress Alison 
 and Mistress Gillian — what of them ? " 
 
 "They abide in Charing," replied de Bulkeley, "wait- 
 ing their lady's command, yet wotting nothing of her 
 whereabouts." 
 
 "But this is an outrage!" exclaimed the other. "Is 
 this a free country and such things be done in open day ? 
 I will go before the king on the moment and demand the 
 privilege of his lieges." 
 
 " Nay, my friend," quoth Sir Maurice, " but methinks 
 here is more occasion for the wisdom of the serpent than 
 the courage of the lion. See ! Mistress Challice is the 
 king's ward; the law gives him power over her until 
 she be married ; that power he committed to the Earl of 
 Cornwall, who has exercised it wantonly— cruelly— but 
 still not unlawfully. Do not put your own liberty in 
 jeopardy, else how will you restore hers to the Lily ? Of 
 one thing we may be assured, her life is safe. Even if 
 Cornwall were wickTed enough to attempt that, it would 
 not serve his interest to do so, seeing that the Kendal 
 lands, the which he chiefly covets, would pass from his 
 grasp to the Lily's cousin, the Nevilles." 
 
 " But she may be persuaded— she may be driven by 
 despair to marry that caitiff," groaned le Marmion. 
 
 " Out on you, Walter, for a faint heart ! " retorted Sir 
 Maurice. "Nay, I have had occasion to know men— 
 and women too— in my time, and can judge shrewdly 
 
 ! ' i 
 
 / 
 
26o The Chevalier oj the Splendid Crest. 
 
 i! 
 
 % 
 
 upon whom to rely. It were a small tlung for me— pjor 
 as I am in this world's goods— to declare that I would 
 hazard all my possessions upon my judgment ; hut this I 
 declare to you solemnly, that I will stake all my hopes in 
 the world to come on the i)erfect constancy of Challice 
 de Roos." 
 
 " To me ? " asked le Marmion doubtfully. 
 "Aye, to thee— to whom else but thee, oh thou of 
 little faith ! Remember, I have seen her and talked 
 to her about you long after you and she parted. The 
 only object I retain in life is to bring you and her 
 together again." ■ 
 
 How easy it is to persuade young hearts of that about 
 which they would fain be convinced! Sir Maurice's 
 manner carried conviction : his assurance brought vigour 
 to le Marmion's spirit as Sir Hugh's beef and burgundy 
 had done to his frame. His eye brightened, his despon- 
 dency disappear. !, doubt and perplexity : irank to insig- 
 nificance unde' restored radiance of hope. 
 
 "The first ., :.,/' continued Sir Maurice, "is to find 
 out where the Li:y is detained. I am but these five days 
 back in London, yet have I not been idle. I have set 
 secret inquiry on foot in every part of the realm. You 
 see, the Order of Saint Francis, of which I am a humble 
 lay brother, is numerous and powerRil ; we have houses 
 in every city and alm.ost every shire, and it would take 
 more than even Cornwall's subtlety to throw dust in the 
 eyes of the brotherhood. Already I have ascertained 
 that on the very day when Mistress Challice had audience 
 of the Viceroy, a barge left the Watergate of the palace 
 conveying a hooded lady, and landed on the shorr^ of 
 the Battersea marsh. If this was the Lily — and I can 
 scarcely doubt it— one of two things,— she is either in 
 
T/i King ntampion. „ 
 
 ward in one of the King's castles in the south of England 
 or she has been conveyed into Anjou « ^"8''^"^, 
 
 disLt'"'" '■"'''"'' '^ ''""'°" *■" --"^^ Of 
 " ^es, possibly Anjou ; and what if that he so ? Vnnr 
 
 ~r, T' '™."'^'' ""'"" ""= f°- - " ,.ereso: 
 
 to succour her. BuC I greatly hope th.-., t 1, ha 
 
 surely come before the Privy Council." 
 , "Aye, possibly," replied Sir M.iuiice; "albeit I fW„t 
 .« more nicely .ha. Cornwall has the kin'g, n ien n 
 keeptng upon certain affairs. Bu, even were i. othe wi " 
 -even were the L.ly detained by an Order in Councl-I 
 should be none the wis.r as to where her prison is, s ing 
 that I hold no longer the office of clerk " 
 
 other™"' '"'" '"' ^'™ "P *^ ="'^'" -^'---ed .he 
 
 "That have I, and to my greater ease of mind The 
 truth .s, that ever since Edward of Carnarvon came' to Ae 
 throne matters have gone contrary to my liking. Thi g 
 have been done of which I canno. ,n. „rove, whe.her I 
 have regard ., .he welfare of the realm or the peTc of 
 my own conscenee. If I .poke my mind in Council a, 
 my old „,aster used to encourage n,e to do Conwal 
 would remmd me sharply that my office was to clerk Tnd 
 
 cm fo F ^^-T '"""'''"'■ ''""^ "^ '"-^ *e ng set 
 out for France, I gave no.ice .hat upon his return I should 
 
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262 The Chevalier of the Splendid Crest. 
 
 crave leave to retire. Marry ! they made little ceremony 
 m grantmg it. They have appointed Walter Reynolds 
 in my place, though I vacated it only yesterday before 
 noon." 
 
 "What ! Reynolds the gambler, that sleek rogue whom 
 men call Cornwall's pimp?" exclaimed Marmion. 
 
 "The same, although the worst I know about him is 
 that he is Cornwall's creature. As for me, I am a 
 free man now— the readier and abler to serve your 
 turn. I do but wait to .ee your affair in a right 
 posture before I retire from this weary world, and 
 prepare m my cell for the next." 
 
 "What would you counsel me to do?" inquired Mar- 
 mion thoughtfully. 
 
 " To do ? why, your plain duty. Make all preparation 
 for your part in the coronation, and leave me to gather 
 mformation. I will keep you duly advised, but I must 
 walk warily. I bear too many secrets about with me to 
 allow this old head to be very safe upon my shoulders. 
 Go you and bear yourself gallantly ; let the nobles at 
 Court believe that time has cured you of your love for 
 the Lily, as it has cured many of themselves of the like • 
 so shall you best lull the suspicions of Cornwall." 
 
 
 pa 
 
 
 th( 
 
 • * 
 
 wa 
 
 i 
 
 1 
 
 
263 
 
 !. 
 
 m t\jt Cro&jnfng of (EntoarK of (larnarbon at mt&U 
 mimttt, mti at tfjc part 6arn€ m tfje game ftp Sir 
 Salter U Maxmion, 
 
 j^ 
 
 f| 
 
 In the year 1309 the feast-day of Saint Matthias came 
 with warm sunshine, blue sky, and a gentle west wind, 
 and well k was so for the crowds who, long before 
 daybreak, thronged into the little red-roofed borough 
 of Westminster. Banners, evergreens, and coloured 
 drapery flaunted everywhere— on the grey palace walls, 
 the fresher tinted towers and buttresses of the abbey, 
 as well as on the humbler house-fronts of the common- 
 alty—for the burgesses of Westminster were nothing 
 if not effusively loyal, and concerned themselves little 
 about the discontent with which the country districts 
 had been seething ever since the death of the late king,— 
 always provided that nothing interfered with their profits 
 as purveyors to the Court, and so long as their senses 
 were agreeably titillated from time to time by mihtary 
 pageants and royal processions. 
 
 It was different in the northern and midland parts of 
 the realm, where the disastrous conduct of the Scottish 
 war had filled all classes with distrust of the kins an'i 
 
 # 
 
 I ii. 
 
 1 5 J. 1 1 
 
 .Hill 
 
264 The Chevalier of the Splendid Crest 
 
 impatience with his councillors, and where every county 
 every aty, almost every hamlet was mourning the loss of 
 the:r best and bravest. Englishmen have never been 
 mchned to flmch from sacrifice in purse or person fo" 
 the naional cause, but once let them have reason to 
 connect misfortune with inwrmity or maladroitness in 
 their rulers and their stubborn indignation is quickly 
 aroused and not easily allayed. Therefore outside the 
 metropolis and its neighbourhood discontent and dis- 
 affection were spreading from county to county like a 
 smouldenng fire, and had been prevented bursting into 
 conflagration solely by reason of the powerlessness of the 
 masses, except when acting under their feudal superiors. 
 Had these been kept in good humour Edward II. might 
 have reigned with undisputed, if inglorious, authorit •, all 
 the more securely because of jealousy and want of "con- 
 cord among the barons themselves. But this was not to 
 be. As If possessed by some malignant demon, the king 
 took the only course which could unite his most powerful 
 subjects m resistance to his ruie. By extravagant favours 
 lavished upon Pierre de Gaveston, he caused the Earl 
 Marshal, the Earls of Warwick, Lancaster, Hereford, 
 Lincoln, Leicester, Arundel, and many other- > '^ 
 
 all their internal jealousies in making cor , cause 
 against the Gascon intruder; while Cornwall u ited all 
 his peers in a common enmity to himself by reckless 
 personal insolence towards these dignified individuals, by 
 filling all the fattest offices with foreigners, and by the 
 shameless avarice he displayed in enriching himself at 
 he expense of others. The nobles, in short, discerned in 
 he course which affairs were taking the speedy subjuga- 
 tion of England to continental rule, while the national 
 honour was brought into contempt by the wasteful and 
 

 T/ie Coronation. 
 
 265 
 
 negligent operations in Scotland. Acting under the influ- 
 ence of the wise old Earl of Lincoln, they assented to the 
 king's journey to France to conclude his marriage with 
 Princess Isabella, but as soon as Edward had brought 
 home his bride, they took decisive steps to put an end to 
 the prevailing misrule. Very early in the morning of the 
 day fixed for the coronation, a meeting of prelates and 
 ..obles was held at Westminster, whereat a petition was 
 drawn up for presentation to the Council, when it should 
 assemble immediately before the public ceremony, demand- 
 ing the immediate dismissal of Cornwall from his offices 
 and his removal from the realm. The peHtioners agreed 
 among themselves not to allow the coronation to proceed 
 unless they received a solemn pledge that the king would 
 fulfil their demands. 
 
 The queen, attended by the Duchess of Brabant, wa« 
 present at the Council, all unaware /. what was brewing 
 Most of the privy councillors present were in the secret • 
 not so Cornwall and his friends, who were completely 
 taken by surprise. The king also was unprepared, but 
 his easy phlegmatic nature received no shock He had 
 alvvays found the barons troublesome, and this was only 
 a fresh instance of the rude manner in which they were 
 accustomed to interfere with his comfort 
 
 "What shall we say, Pierre?" said he; "I suppose we 
 must give them some kind of answer." 
 
 "Only one kind of answer, an it please your Grace" 
 quoth the stout Earl of Lincoln, who had presented the 
 petition; "and that must be to grant the petition forth- 
 with, and in all its terms." 
 
 The king paid little attention to Lincoln, whose advice 
 he had always found highly inconvenient and contrary to 
 his inclination. He turned again to Cornwall, who was 
 
 ■III: 
 
 
 ' f i 
 
 L 
 
 i 
 
266 
 
 The Chevalier of tlu Splendid Crest. 
 
 wh.spenng earnestly m his ear. The queen had been 
 ma r,ed JUS. a month, but that had proved long enough 
 to .nsp,re her with a hearty dislike for Cornwall whose 
 
 resented. Her dark eyes flashed as she turned to speak 
 low a few words to the Duchess of Brabant, then laJn. 
 her^jewelled hand on the king's sleeve, 'she "sa!/ if 
 
 Mvi'terd i7r "' "-r"'" "'^"^ >'°" G«ce's attention. 
 My lord of Cornwall will be pleased to reserve his com- 
 munrcauon till your Highness has made known his mTd 
 regardmg the petition of the prelates and barons " 
 
 J hen the king .spoke with dignity and firmness as he 
 was well able to do when Cornwall put words kto his 
 mouth, which thing greatly vexed those wh^tv dth 
 coun ry, ,efleet,ng what a noble ruler he had been had he 
 lent his ear to sober counsels. 
 
 "My lord of Lincoln," said he, "you may tell those 
 whose petition you bear that we have well weighed th! 
 matter thereof, albeit the season and the matter we hv' 
 presently ,n hand be unmeet for considering the gover 
 nance of the realm. We cannot entertain the prayer of 
 these our heges, which infringes upon our royal pre 
 rogatne m the appointment of our ministers, and we 
 regard those who plot against my lord of Cornwall Is 
 resisting our authority, and guilty of rebellious and un 
 natural conduct." 
 
 A loud murmur broke out upon these bold words • 
 everal of the nobles present sprang to their feet and 
 began to speak angrily; but Lincoln, who bore great 
 authority among them as the trusted councillor of fhj 
 late kmg stepped forward and quelled the tumult by 
 simply raismg his hand. ^ 
 
..m!M^': 
 
 The Coronation. 
 
 267 
 
 in 
 
 "Softly, my lords," said he, "softly. It is now mv 
 duty to ,„fo™ ™y lord .he king, with aU loya, revel^e 
 of the resolve of the prelates and barons who have ^i 
 pointed me bearer of this petition, and also of some of 
 
 no. tho, T"' "*°' ''""'^ °' *^ '"'"S'» Cou,,..., have 
 
 and ' ea^ T" '° t" '° *^ "^^ P^'"»" "" "ands 
 and seals Forasmuch as the king cannot be crowned 
 
 vtthout the assent of the lords spiritual and temporal and 
 
 o oZ"""^ ? "" "''"'■ "■= ^° '"^■•'by d-l"'*a. .he 
 coronatton shall not go forward this day unless and until 
 P erre de Gave.ton, Earl of Cornwall, be removed from 
 
 realm. We be no rebels, but honourable lieges of his 
 Grace the k.ng and we do entreat our sovereign lord to 
 hearken ere .t be too late, for we be resolved fo enforce 
 our lawfu demands by arms, if need be, for which pr! 
 Stance?™ " "" '""^ ^"'«™"' '° -ercome' all 
 "Oyez, oyez." cried the other barons in approval 
 Cornwall hstened without change of colour, but Lh a 
 bitter smile upon his handsome face 
 
 tiol'^sJdl*' '''"^ ?*'" •'"^ 'P"'^'^ ""= *'s humilia- 
 lon, said the queen bitterly .0 Edward, whom she had 
 
 earn already .0 despise for his subserviency to the favour 
 
 ite Harkye, my lord " and she leant towards him so 
 
 1^ o speak privately with him ; but Cornwall, sitting on his 
 
 lef hand, pulled the king's sleeve, so that yielding to long 
 
 habit Edward turned away from his queen and listened to 
 
 filled the chamber as with perfect temper he made reply- 
 My lord of^ Lincoln, you demand what is impossible 
 (Murmurs) Nay, but hear us out ! Our coronation, as 
 you well know, hath been appointed this day at one hour 
 
 
268 The Chevalier of the Splendid Crest. 
 
 before noon. You demand that before tha. hour our 
 trusted councillor the Earl of Cornwall should be removed 
 from his offices and put forth of the realm. My lords 
 how can these things be? It wanteth now but three 
 hours of noon. The clerks, it is true, might prepare the 
 instruments for the dismissal of the earl from the offices 
 he holds, but as for the rest-our realms are wide, and 
 there be not horses in our stables fleet enough to carry 
 him to a seaport and thus remove him from the realm 
 But, my lords, we are not so tyrannical as to retain in 
 office a servant, however dear he may be to us, whom our 
 other councillors, and certain prelates and barons high in 
 our esteem, do hold in disfavour. Therefore our will is 
 that ye allow the appointed ceremony to proceed without 
 let, we on our part undertaking and passing our royal 
 word that upon the next meeting of Parliament we will 
 accept the decision of the three estates of our realm upon 
 this matter." 
 
 This adroit speech, though inspired by the object of the 
 barons' animosity, was delivered with all that persuasive 
 charm which was natural to Edward when he was once 
 roused to an effort, and it took immediate effect. Pro- 
 bably none of the lords present, least of all the loyal 
 Lincoln, desired to array themselves in arms against the 
 king; and although they had learnt by experience that 
 Edward's promise was not exactly the same thing as per- 
 formance, yet they felt that the assurance that the removal 
 of Cornwall would be left to the decision of Parliament 
 gave them no alternative but to proceed with the corona- 
 tion or go into open rebellion. There were men present 
 at the Council board who were ready for any extreme so 
 deeply did they feel the dishonour which was gathering 
 upon the kingdom. Of these were Warenne, Warwick 
 
The Coronation. 
 
 269 
 
 Lancaster, and perhaps Arundel ; but once more the wise 
 authority of Lincoln prevailed, and the king's pledge was 
 accepted. 
 
 Nevertheless, even Lincoln's moderation was severely 
 strained by a fresh affront put upon the baronage that day. 
 The king and queen were to pass in procession from the 
 palace along a carpet laid down to the abbey. Claren- 
 cieux Herald with his pursuivants were busy marshalling 
 the order of march, a hazardous task, which he could only 
 perform without offence by strict adherence to precedence. 
 The king and queen were to walk under a canopy of 
 purple silk, supported upon four silver spears, carried by 
 the barons of the Cinque Ports. Immediately in front of 
 these the crown was to be borne, as all men supposed, by 
 the Earl Marshal, according to use and wont. But no ! 
 a thrill of indignation ran through the courtiers when the 
 Earl of Cornwall stepped forward, magnificently habited 
 in silvered mail, wearing a green silk surcoat embroidered 
 with the golden eagles which he bore for arms. The king 
 signed to him to take the crown and place himself in front 
 of the canopy, hence it came to pass that the cheers with 
 which the populace greeted the gay procession as it wound 
 its way to the abbey on that bright February morning 
 were hushed in ominous silence, and even turned to hoots 
 and groans, when the crown and its bearer came in view. 
 
 While the ceremony was proceeding inside the ab' ;v, a 
 remarkable company drew up outside the western entiai oe, 
 and formed a body-guard for the king on his return. First 
 walked two trumpeters, followed by the sergeant-trumpet 
 carrying a silver mace; next followed two sergeants-at- 
 arms in front of the champion's esquires, behind whom 
 Norroy Herald marched alone, clad in a gorgeous tabard. 
 Then came the champion himself, Sir Walter le Marmion, 
 
 III 
 
 Iff- 
 
270 The Chevalier of the Splendid Crest 
 
 Lord of Fontenaye, mounted on a splendid white destrier 
 magnificently caparisoned. He no longer carried the 
 armorial bearings, blue and white vairey, to which hi" 
 exploits had brought so much fame ; his silken surcoat 
 was black, with a sword embroidered thereon in silver the 
 official bearing of the hereditary champion. But he wore 
 also^ that which men had learnt to reckon famous, the 
 Lilys golden helmet with its soaring falcon crest All 
 the chroniclers are agreed that the cheers which followed 
 this famous knight exceeded in fervour any that were 
 accorded to any other individual that day. Behind the 
 champion walked four pages in cloth of gold broidered 
 with scarlet, bearing up the sable and silver housings of 
 his horse. The king marched next, wearing his golden 
 crown ; twice the array halted and twice the champion 
 issued his challenge. Then the king having entered the 
 great hall of Westminster, his champion remained outside 
 until Norroy Herald coming out cried, -Doth any man 
 champion the cause of our lord the king?" 
 "I do," quoth Sir Walter in a loud clear voice. 
 "And who be you, sir knight, who would be champion 
 to the King of England ? " 
 
 " I am the Lord of Fontenaye in France, and I claim 
 my hereditary right as champion." 
 
 "Enter then, my lord of Fontenaye, and perform your 
 devoir." 
 
 Then Marmion, spurring forward and checking his 
 steed with the curb, caused him to caracole up the hall 
 the lofty roof resounding with the trampling of the hoofs' 
 and halted before the stairs whereon stood the king 
 Wheeling round he proclaimed in a loud voice— 
 
 "Oyez, oyez! If any person of what degree soever 
 high or low, shall deny or gainsay our sovereign lord King 
 
 I 
 
The Coronation, 
 
 271 
 
 Edward to be right heir to the Crown of England, or that 
 he ought not to enjoy the same, here am I, Walter le 
 Marmion, Lord of Fontenaye, to tell him he is a liar and 
 a false traitor. I am ready in person to combat with him 
 and to adventure my life in this quarrel, and there lyeth 
 my gauntlet— let him raise it who list." 
 
 Then there was silence in the great hall for the space of 
 three paternosters, the gauntlet lying on the pavement and 
 no man coming forward to lift it. After the pause Norroy 
 Herald stepped out, lifted the gauntlet and restored it to 
 the champion, who, wheeling his horse round upon his 
 haunches, dismounted and advanced on foot to make 
 obeisance to the king. Next, the cupbearer brought up a 
 covered cup of wine, in which the champion pledged the 
 king, who in his courtly and kindly way said to him— 
 
 " We thank you, my lord of Fontenaye, for the good ser- 
 vice you have done us this day, and in token of our favour 
 and goodwill do bid you keep the cup as your guerdon." 
 
 Then all the assembly shouted Vive le Roi ! and gave 
 English hurrahs for the champion, and su the coronation 
 was complete according to the old manner. Yet so indis- 
 creet was Cornwall— so impossible it seemed for him to 
 bridle his insolent tongue— that he succeeded in bringing 
 about discord when all men wished only to do honour to 
 the new king, for was he not the son of the old one whom 
 they had loved ? Marmion's foot was in the stirrup to 
 mount when these words smote his ear, spoken so loud 
 that all who stood roun^: e king might hear, and followed 
 by a laugh which made die champion's blood tingle. 
 
 " Body of God I Behold our Gautier Sans-avoir in such 
 fine plumes. Surely all beggars may hope to ride, an the 
 Scottish war last long enough." 
 
 It was Cornwall who spoke. Marmion, maddened with 
 
272 The Chevalier of the Splendid Crest, 
 
 the insult so that he forget what was seemly in the presence 
 
 strode up to him and said— 
 
 "Sir earl ! you shall answer to me for this affront " 
 Cornwall laughal again, and mack, a sign to the captain 
 
 O .,e body-guard, who ordered two of his men to arrest 
 
 Marm.on. Hut Thomas of i...aster, the king's c u n 
 
 sprang lorward, exclaiming— 
 
 "Nay. by our Lady! this shall not be. There be fifty 
 
 swords m this hall to defend the honour of knighthood 
 Sire, turnmg to the king, "'we have brooked this Earl of 
 CornNvvdl so far, because it is your Grace's pleasure to have 
 huT, about your person ; but if he is suffered to live 
 wuh gentlemen he must behave like a gentleman, and all 
 of us here msist that he makes amend to my lord of 
 l*ontenaye. 
 
 A murmur of approval went up from the bystanders 
 most of whom had smarted under Cornwall's bitter jibes • 
 but he was always at his grandest when his victims became 
 most vengeful, one of his qualities which did most to 
 secure h.m in the indolent Edward's affections. His 
 courage was so famous that he could afford to parry a 
 challenge, and with a wave of his hand he said Jth the 
 utmost good humour— 
 
 Sir Walter le Marmion strangely mistook my meaning I 
 do assure him that I meant nothing injurious to his honour 
 which stands beyond all question." ' 
 
 Marmion stood with lowering countenance, the more 
 wroth because he could not but accept such a handsome 
 amende. He could not bring himself to speak, but 
 turning away with a haughty inclination of his head' 
 mounted and rode out of the hall. ' 
 
 He went straight to the Leaden "nail; being relieved 
 
The Coronation, ,., 
 
 2/3 
 
 »pondc„.s and agenta in ll,c i„„tl,cr L'^ b° nl T' 
 Mnrmion Iws.enod to do Bulkcl.vC H i "' "'"■■" 
 
 ^".;uw.e,,n.dH,„,..H!ti:X^:ra^^^^^ 
 
 I'C of good cheer, my friend," he said ««fnr T . 
 ^ aj ,.., ,„ong„ no. .hro„«H •«. ch i^Lls ° ^ ^J.^ 
 tliem. 1 here— read that ! " «^^pt.cted 
 
 Therewith he handed Marmion a sheet of <5n • u 
 paper, folded and bound with thin rihht e fX 
 
 lately come m voL^ue "Sii- vVnif • , . fasnion 
 
 has l,c.n shown, t 'a tern So: ■T'"'" '""■'"«' '' 
 and difficult ,0 be transacted "'"T'"'':""--'"' "'" »l« 
 
 ^preading the docun;:7:r '; : j^ j ' ™^». r' 
 
 as follows :— ^ ^ '' tleeiphered it 
 
 ;;^?-^/ tnnty and valiant knight and assured friend 
 At last the saints have listened to my pralTL r 
 avail myself of the means which thev hrC ^ 
 
 IV th iudometiit An ^ , , ^'n'm may Cod visit 
 jua^ment/ All my people have been kept azvay /, >n 
 
 aey whom ,ny oppressors believe ,o ie straJer sfL, . 
 'kereis only one A,.„.o,.l„,, „„o, ..ojej^ ^.^ "Z"'' 
 confident by our Saint Herbert of n. 7 " 
 
 " -/- '"y -» >.ort, eo,.„t4' She <: z^:^,!!:'' 
 
 I 
 
274 The Chevalier of the Splendid Crest. ' 
 
 a yeoman in Northumberland, Robert Robson of Reeds- 
 -^o-th,andis wedded to an archer in the Bisko/s guard 
 ^he hath kinsmen living upon my lands of Kendal, and her 
 
 2TA f/T '"'^^'^-^'^ -^ ^-^ -- She hath 
 pledged herself to have this conveyed to you by a sure hand 
 I know not whether you can do aught for my succour, but at 
 the least you will not grudge to write to me a reply which 
 you may commit with confidence to the same hand which 
 beareth thtsto you. The good woman Joan of whom I have 
 spoken hath liberty to go to her house in the town, and will 
 securely carry to me anything which you may send 
 
 '\For the rest, they keep but slack ward in this house 
 saving only at the barbican gate, and it were easy for me to 
 pass the sentinels at night ^aere I sure of friends without. 
 But how should I pass to Westmorland without a guide and 
 alone ? Meanwhile, I have vowed should I get free to build 
 and endow a house and church of Saint Herbert in the 
 Stramongate of Kendal. 
 
 " Pray always on my behalf. 
 
 " C HAL LICE DE RoOS. 
 
 ''My lord of Cornwall hath declared that I shall not 
 pass hence except as his bride; but you know j/ sl 
 Maunce, that I will die rather than be the bride } any 
 nan save of one only. J pray you send me tidings If that 
 one, if tidings there be. ^ ^ 
 
 "From the Bishofs House of Wolvesey, in 
 
 the city of Winchester, upon this the 
 
 eve of the Purification of the Blessed 
 
 Virgin in the first year of the reign of 
 
 King Edward, second of the name." 
 
 i f" 
 
The Coronation. 
 
 275 
 
 , Know you this house of Wolvesev ■?,•. M ■ 
 nqu,red Mar„„o„ after he had read th fettt • ^"T ' " 
 It IS one from which il shnnW .T ' ™«'hmks 
 
 rescue." ' "'°''''' "°' be difficult to plan a 
 
 " I have stood within it," reoliM tl,. .k 
 on the Icing's business, and tool no 7' *"" ""'j" 
 
 plan thereof. Howbeit Z„ 'P'"''" ""''= °f the 
 
 know it well, and hath 'he llr" ™! "' '""" ''''° ''>™W 
 'oyallyat helrt as'Sth ^ifrf tr .?""'=^ '^^ 
 one of the chaplains of Saint Swaunt h""""^" "^ 
 days, and lived many years at Chester S '°™«" 
 now at the house of Saint lu, ™'^'^^^'^- He ,s even 
 here daily to learn f I h ,e ^d' r"™'^' ^""^ ™™« 
 
 ^. Next morning found t'rtwotnThtfd"" '"' ™^-" 
 tion with Father Ailwvn /"'«'''' '"'=«? 'n consulta- 
 
 «en. off to the pnW a. Wof '"'.•"' ™*" -"<» 
 f od Cheer, for tLt fri d wl "Tlnd't^ "'^ "^ "^ 
 for her escape. These measures Flttl f "« ""''"^«^^ 
 '0 explain to the VrnJ^tT T, father A.lwyn proceeded 
 
 should repair to Winchester u*'^"''"'''' *=** ^'^ ^^alter 
 he himself should rccomlrhi ' ^Z" '°"°"»8' *at 
 acquaintance with some of the ,-\ ."'"'' "^= <" "is 
 refresh his memory of the ie'f ^^"'.''P' ''°"^*°'d 'o 
 i" planning a nigh't esdpe ' '''™"^' ""d "-« 
 
 -ti!^;rt:tii:.tr°--:^^^^^^ 
 
 may still be of some poo "use w T''^''^ "'' ='=™ees 
 
 with my tongue which my ^doT S' ' T "'^ ^ ''"°' 
 undo with his teeth." Cornwall can never 
 
 Marmion's heart cave a hn„„.4 ^,_ 
 dangers before him shrink ,0 ■J'"' *'^"'"'<^5 and 
 
 how near he stood to the pri^e.'"""" " "^ ^'-d 
 !._ ,,,uixded a warning note. 
 
2;6 The Chevalier of the Splendid Crest. 
 
 rl 
 
 r- 
 
 "I pray you set to work warily. The penalty for 
 carrying off a king's ward is death ; you must not attempt 
 to ride through the land, or you will certainly be taken. 
 Tell me, Sir Walter, know you the city of Winchester ? " ' 
 " I have been in it but once," replied the other— "that 
 was when I passed with Sir Robert de Clifford to the 
 king's hunting-lodge at Itchenstoke, just two years ago." 
 
 " Well, look you, 'tis a city where a stranger may easily 
 find himself astray, by reason of the many watercourses 
 which are led through its streets, whereof they raise the 
 bridges at night, so that no man may pass. Survey the 
 ground well by daylight before you act at night— sound 
 counsel for every soldier planning an exploit. Leave your 
 horses in their stalls— you will lodge, I trow, at the George 
 tavern— and trust to the river, whereon you must have a 
 boat ready to convey you to Southampton, where you 
 must take shipping to the coast of France, and abide 
 there till we see how events shape themselves over here. 
 My own belief is that Cornwall's power is not for long,' 
 seeing how bitterly the lords are banded against him." ' 
 Thus they discussed the plan of campaign, till Mar- 
 mion's course had shaped itself clearly in his mind. 
 Suddenly the elder knight struck his hand on his brow. 
 "Dotard that I am," quoth he, "why did I not think 
 of that before ? " Going to an oaken cabinet, he searched 
 carefully among a mass of documents, till at length he 
 found a case of green silk, whence he drew out a strip of 
 parchment, blank, save for a signature, and with a seal in 
 red wax attached. 
 
 " Here," said he, " is something that may smooth many 
 difficulties. My lord the late king gave me his whole 
 cc.ifidence, as you know. He was careful that I should 
 always have in my scrip a blanksegn or two, to be filled 
 
The Coronation, 
 
 277 
 
 up if an> • ergency arose, and to be used only in his 
 service, oee ! there is his sign-manual—EDvvARDus Rex 
 —and his privy seal depending therefrom. Heaven be 
 my judge ! I conceive that I shall violate no faith if I fill 
 this up as a passport in your favour; for well I know how 
 my old master detested the Gascon, and did he not pass 
 his royal word that Mistress Challice should choose a 
 husband for herself?" 
 
 He sat down and wrote upon the parchment ; then 
 drying it, folding it, replacing it carefully in the silken 
 cover, said to Marmion as he handed it to him— 
 
 "There. If any of the king's servants challenge or 
 oppose you, flash that out upon them, and see if it does 
 not act like a charm. Le rot est mort—vive le rot/ My 
 master is m keeping of the saints, but his gracious favour 
 IS with us still." 
 
 V\ 
 
 HI 
 
2^z 
 
 % 
 
 ©f tfje tlou0P bjl^eretn distress dj^alltce Ke 3aoas lag in 
 iuarlr, anb of ^er cunntnu Irelihcrs from itnpri00ntn£nt. 
 
 It may well be imagined that Marmion tarried not long 
 in London after the intelligence he had received on 
 coronation day. He had the greater reason for hasten- 
 ing his departure, because he knew not how soon or how 
 sharply Cornwall might interfere with his freedom. He 
 felt that he had incurred the direct animosity of that all- 
 powerful lord, and although he might easily have obtained 
 protection from Lancaster, Lincoln, or one of the other 
 earls who loved not the Gascon, such a course would have 
 involved loss of time and restriction upon his liberty, and 
 complete liberty he felt to be of as much importance as 
 time to the success of his scheme. 
 
 His first care was to rei lenish his purse, hitherto in a 
 chronic condition of tenuity. Although he was now in 
 fact a very rich man, none of the revenue of his broad 
 lands of Scrivelsby and Lutterworth had come to him as 
 yet, and he was actually worse off for cash than he had 
 ever been before, having had to make heavy payments for 
 his outfit for the coronation. Sir Maurice showed him 
 an easy way out of this embarrassment, taking him to the 
 
The Chevalier's Last Quest. 
 
 V9 
 
 Jewry in the parish of Saint Laurence on the north side of 
 the Cheap, where a money-lender was found willing to 
 make him advances to almost any extent for the moderate 
 consideration of fifteen per centum. 
 
 This matter having been satisfactorily concluded, he 
 took leave of kindly Sir Hugh de Neville at nightfall, and 
 rode with his squire Gaspard, Dickon le Dechu, Father 
 Ailwyn, and Michael the Fenman, from the Leaden Hall 
 through the city to London Bridge. None were per- 
 mitted to cross this bridge after sunset without a pass 
 from the Constable of the Tower, a somewhat futile pre- 
 caution, except against such as travelled post, seeing that 
 any man might hire a wherry at the Tower stairs to set 
 him across to the Surrey shore. Marmion found the gates 
 closed, and the bridge-guard demanded to see his pass 
 before opening to his party. Luckily he remembered the 
 blanksegn, which he handed to the sergeant, who took it 
 to his officer. Neither of them could read, it is true, 
 whereby they missed the imperious terms of the royal 
 mandate ordering " all our good subjects, English, French, 
 and Scots, to suffer Walter le Marmion, Lord of Fonte- 
 naye, etc., to pass at his pleasure at all seasons, and 
 without let or hindrance in all parts of our realm, and 
 in all cities, towns, hamlets, castles, and fortalices of 
 the same, all wards, passwords, and countersigns not- 
 withstanding " ; but the well-known privy seal acted like 
 a charm: the gates swung open, and the guard saluted 
 as the knight's party issued forth free into the shire of 
 Surrey. 
 
 Marmion rode as a knight, with esquire and attendants, 
 and armorial bearings displayed. It may well seem that 
 he had done better to separate his party and travel with- 
 out symbols of rank, seeing that he was bound upon a 
 
 ";l 
 
28o 
 
 The Chevalier of the Splendid Crest. 
 
 secret expedition; but that course would have exposed 
 him to nsks which he avoided by travelling openly 
 Sohtary travellers in those disturbed days were liable 
 o detention by curious officials as well as to attacks from 
 robbers, for the period of misrule which the land had 
 suffered since the death of Edward L, although short as 
 kmgs reigns are reckoned, had been long enough to 
 destroy the public security established under the firm 
 governance of the late monarch. Speed was essential to 
 he success of Marmion's scheme, nor could Marmion 
 afford the chance of being interrupted on his journey to 
 Winchester. Neither was it mere ostentation that caused 
 him to proclaim his identity by the armorial bearings on 
 his surcoat and upon the shield borne by Gaspard de 
 Neville. According to the custom of that time a knight 
 passing through the country with his retinue, but without 
 displaying the arms whereby he might be known to all 
 men, would have excited as much suspicion as a ship 
 m our days which should refuse to show her colours 
 Nevertheless, circumstances had given Sir Walter the 
 advantage of incognito, inasmuch as he had been obliged 
 to discard, not without some regret, his family bearings 
 and assume the sable field and silver sword which 
 distinguished the hereditary champion. Although well 
 enough known in London, these arms passed without 
 recognition in the southern counties, and when he who 
 bore them w-as announced in the towns through which he 
 rode as Lord of Fontenaye, the title was as u'nfamiliar as 
 the shield, and men believed him to be a French noble 
 about to pass into his own country. 
 
 One precaution Marmion was mindful to take So 
 well and completely had he fulfilled his devoir to Challice 
 de Roos, that the country in every part of it rang with the 
 
The Chevaliers Last Quest. 28 1 
 
 fame of the golden helmet. Gleemen sang virelays telling 
 
 of his prowess ; mummers had made the affair at Norham 
 
 their favourite theme in the Yuletide revels ; children had 
 
 learnt the tale of the Chevalier of the Splendid Crest from 
 
 their mothers, as an older generation had listened to 
 
 stones of the last crusade. Wherefore Marmion, knowing 
 
 that, if he went forth in the famous basnet with the falcon 
 
 crest, he would be recognised wherever he went, doffed 
 
 It and wore a plain chapelle-de-fer, ornamented only with a 
 
 fillet of what had once been red and yellow silk. Thus 
 
 he arrived with his companions without hindrance at the 
 
 fair city of Winchester. 
 
 Wolvesey House, originally the palace of the kings of 
 Wessex, and named from the tribute of wolves' heads 
 imposed by King Eadgar upon all holders of land, had 
 become the residence of the Eishop of Winchester. It 
 stood upon low ground in the south-eastern angle of the 
 walled town, which still retained the rectangular form and 
 space of the Roman legionary camp upon which it had 
 risen. You may see to this day the outer wall of Wol- 
 vesey enclosure, forming part of the ancient defences of 
 the city, as it was built by ^thelbald, son of ^thelwur 
 King of Wessex, under the personal advice of wise Bishon 
 Swithun, more than a thousand years ago. Nay, the/e 
 remain in the structure remnants of a still earlier occupa- 
 tion in the shape of Roman bricks, which speak of the 
 original settlement of Venta Belgarum. 
 
 Wolvesey House was built within a spacious walled 
 enclosure, next to that of the great minster of Saint 
 Swithun, which closed it in upon the north-west, as that 
 of the Nunnaminster— the abbey and convent of Saint 
 Mary— did upon the north-east. To the east again, the 
 abbey mill and the church of Saint Peter Colehmnkp 
 
282 The Chevalier of the Splendid Crest. 
 
 filled all the ground down to the river. This river, the 
 lucid Itchen, well-beloved of all good trout-fishers, was 
 suffered no longer to run in its old wayward course, for 
 Bishop Godfrey Lucy had erected a series of locks upon 
 it in the reign of King John, so that it should be 
 navigable all the way from Alresford to the sea. Accord- 
 ingly, outside the southern and eastern walls of Wolvesey 
 it lay in a broad and deep canal, known as Our Lady's 
 Lake, lo that the only public access into the defences 
 of Wolvesey was the great gate opening upon the West 
 Soke. Furthermore, above the town, in the Danemark 
 mead, this patient stream had been dammed and diverted 
 into a score of channels in which it flowed through the 
 town, and one of these stone-built courses ran swift, clear, 
 and waist-deep through the enclosure of Wolvesey. 
 
 Marmion found suitable lodging in the George tavern, 
 a famous house of entertainment in the ancient capital of 
 Wessex,! and early on the morning after his arrival set 
 about reconnoitring the ground and making dispositions 
 for his enterprise. Father Ailwyn was busy also. As a 
 priest he obtained easy access from the minster to Wol- 
 vesey House, where he found an old crony in the cellarer 
 Cyprian, and received such a welcome as was meet from 
 the holder of so important an office. Artfully he led the 
 conversation to his experiences in the north, spoke of the 
 people there, and then remarked casually — 
 
 "There was a woman here not long since, Joan by 
 name, married to one of the bishop's archers. If she be 
 still in Wolvesey I would fain speak to her in private, for 
 she belongs to the north country, and I bear tidings to 
 her from her kinsfolk." 
 
 ' It is said that Winchester has never been without a "George" 
 since the fourteenth century. 
 
■m»^mm 
 
 The Chevalier's Last Quest. 
 
 283 
 
 "Joan," replied the cellarer; "yea, verily there is such 
 an one, the wife of Raymond of Romsey. She attends 
 upon a lady we have in ward here; who or what she is 
 I know nothing, save that she is passing fair, as I have 
 seen when she takes the air of a morning in the outer 
 bailey. It was rumoured when they brought her here 
 that she was a witch, and that she was presently to be 
 put to trial of the hot ploughshares in the Minster ; yet 
 she hath been here a matter of six weeks and nothing 
 done thereanent. For my part I set small store by these 
 tales. If a woman be fair, say I, it is rank wastefulness 
 to mar a pretty piece of goods ; all out as bad as if I 
 were to allow this cask of good Gascony to run into 
 the ground. Take another cup, father; 'tis a famous 
 medicine for this windy March weather." 
 
 "Well, just one more for old fellowship's sake, 
 Cyprian," quoth the jolly priest, "and then I pray you 
 bring me to this woman Joan, and let me discharge my 
 business with her, for I have other pressing matter in the 
 Cyp." ^ 
 
 Off went the cellarer, suspecting no guile, and returned 
 after some lapse of time to say that Joan would attend 
 presently. Father Ailwyn firmly resisted his invitation to 
 "yet another cup," and soon obtained his desire of a 
 private interview with the archer's wife. To her safe- 
 keeping he committed a missive from Marmion to the 
 Lily, of which the grave defects in caligraphy and spelling 
 were amply atoned for by expressions of confidence and 
 devotion. He told Joan that she must warn Mistress 
 Challice to be ready upon any night when the plans for 
 her flight had been perfected; he made her show him 
 
 ^ The Cyp, now High Street, from the Anglo-Saxon cedp, barter, 
 trade, as in " Cheapside " and " chapman." 
 
284 The Chcualiey of the Splendid Crest. 
 
 ni 
 
 the window of the captive's chamber— alas ! it was too 
 narrow to admit the passage even of her slender figure, 
 and so high up in the donjon tower of Henri de Blois 
 that such passage, could it be accomplished, would expose 
 her to frightful danger from a fall. 
 
 "But never fear for that," said Joan cheerfully; "the 
 guards here arc slack enough, God wot ; a cup o'f sack 
 or a '-ilver florin will tempt the stiffest of them from 
 his post, if he can but get a comrade to take his turn. 
 Bless you, father, they do that often and often, and 
 the sergeant is generally half drunk when he goes the 
 rounds, and never sees the difference between one man 
 and another. Give me but six hours' warning, and my 
 man Raymond shall be on guard at the p?',tern below 
 my lady's stair." . 
 
 " H'm — you can trust Raymond, I suppose." 
 "Trust him!" said Joan, with a gleam in her black 
 eyes; "he knows better than to play me false, I trow. 
 Not that he would ever try it, father ; he's a dear, good 
 lad is Raymond, and would do aught that I bid him." 
 
 So far so good; there seemed to be no great difficulty 
 in bringing the Lily out of her tower ; but it was clean 
 another affair how to convey her beyond the outer works 
 of Wolvesey. The minster and the nunnery barred 
 the way effectually on two sides, the third side being 
 closed by the great wall which defended the city, flanked 
 outside by the Lady's Lake. All this Father Ailwyn 
 noted with furtive eye as, having dismissed Joan, he 
 paced the courts, breviary in hand, mechanically re- 
 peating psalms and prayers. His presence attracted 
 no attention from the custodians of the house : m no 
 city in England were there collected so many of the 
 religious orders; the streets swarmed with them— 
 
The Chevalier's Last Quest. 
 
 285 
 
 mcmbc -^ of the great Benedictine minsters of Saint 
 Swithun within the gates and of Hyde without the 
 gates, priests of a score of churches, Franciscan, Do- 
 minican, and Augustinian brethren, black friars, white 
 friars, and grey friars — they thronged every lane and 
 passage, every ambulatory and mart ; it had been strange 
 had Father Ailwyn's presence been the only one to 
 rouse suspicion. Thus by the space of half an hour he 
 paced to and fro on the smooth sward like a great swart 
 raven in the joyous spring sunshine, eyeing askance 
 every baluardo and banquette that broke the even sur- 
 face of the great curtain wall of the fortress, calculated 
 the height of the rampart, and marked the beats of the 
 wall sentinels. Small solace he drew from his survey. 
 The warlike bishop, Henri de Blois, had planned his 
 stronghold on scientific principles ; the enceinte and 
 inner defences offered equal impediment to prisoners 
 within and foemen without. 
 
 Yet as he took his way slowly towards the Soke gate, 
 which occupied the blunt apex of the triangular enclosure 
 towards the south-west, the priest's eye brightened as he 
 noted an open conduit flowing in a straight line along 
 the city side of the enceinte. Still muttering his psalms 
 and paternosters for the better baffling of any inquisitive 
 archer or servant who might take note of his proceedings, 
 stopping now and again as if engaged in earnest prayer, 
 the sly old fellow retraced his steps along the bank 
 of the current. Turning once more, he followed it 
 down to where the water rushed under a low arch, 
 disappearing in the culvert which conveyed it under 
 the city wall and the causeway beyond. One glance 
 was enough : where that stream found escape it were 
 fitranae if fifsh and blood and brains could not find 
 
286 
 
 The Chevalier of the Splendid Crest 
 
 f 
 
 ^ like. Trossing himself with a fervent «' I.aus Deo ! » 
 Father Ailwyn pac*.d slowly to the «ate. bestowing a 
 k ^ cpnventional " Pax .ccum tuisque ! ' upon the warder 
 than that functionary w»s accustomed to receive ftorn 
 the bishop's visitors, and hastening his pace as soun 
 as he was outside, hied away to the George tavern to 
 impart to Marmion the valuable intelligence that he 
 had gleaned. 
 
 Meanwhile the amphibious experience of the Fenman 
 had been put to use by his master, who had despatched 
 him to Southampton to engage a galley, if possible • 
 If not then any kind of craft capable of crossing to the 
 French coast. This he was to retain at some convenient 
 anchorage near Itchen, until such time as there should 
 be occasion to employ it. As for Gaspard de Neville 
 and his man Dickon, they had become wellnigh in- 
 separable by this time; Gaspard seldom went abroad 
 without his henchman ; the inequality of rank b.^tween 
 the esquire, a scion of one of the proudest families in 
 the north, and the nameless Scots spearman of unknown 
 origin had not sufficed to prevent the growth of such 
 confidence and intimacy between master and servant 
 as nearly obliterated all social difference. But it was 
 well understood, as indeed had been plain to see from 
 the first, that Dickon came of no clownish race, although 
 for the nonce fortune or freak had caused him to figure 
 in masquerade. Chattering, then, with the irresponsible 
 freedom of a couple of college comrades, these two 
 spent the day reconnoitring the canal into which the 
 river was fashioned between Winchester and the sea 
 They brought back the report that there were fiv^ Ir ks 
 upon It, besides that one u^ the foot of the La'^y' l -• 
 that these were closed at sundown, and ti.ut nj vessel 
 
Tlu C/ievaliers Last Quest. 
 
 287 
 
 might pass through them hereafter until su i"^ 'unless 
 under the express order ot one of the four powers which 
 ruled in Vinchester — the king, the l)ishop, the mayor, 
 and the Prior of Saint Swithun's, as Principal of the 
 Manor of Codhiete. Hi .'in was an unforeseen obstacle 
 to nocturnal flight by water, for to sue the king for a 
 iaissez -passer was to put thems( Ives at the mercy of 
 Cornwall; the bishop was the gaoler of the prisoner 
 they wished to set free ; and as for the other two 
 authorities, it would be difficult to find a plausible ex- 
 cui,e for preferring a journey by night to one by day. 
 However, Marmion had tested already the virtue of the 
 blanksegn, and upon this he would rely to secure a 
 free passage. 
 
 One thing remained to be done, nor did it escape 
 the watchful attention of Father Ailwyn. He had seen 
 the upper end of the culvert conveying the water from 
 within the Wolvesey enceinte ; all men might see the 
 lower end where the stream issued from below the cause- 
 way and flowed away through the Soke to the river 
 it had still to be proved whether there was clear passage 
 for human beings through the outlet. 
 
 This could not be done till next day, for it would 
 have to be undertaken from outside the wall, and there 
 was no free exit from the city gates after dark. Father 
 Ailwyn, therefore, Gaspard and Dickon, took their supper 
 the following evening at the hospital of Noble Poverty 
 at Saint Cross, where the brethren of Saint Swithun 
 offered free entertainment to travellers, and no quecMons 
 asked.^ It was a gusty, starlit night, and very cold, 
 as they took their darkling way across the meadows 
 
 * Bread and ale are given free at Saint Cross to all who care to ask 
 hospitality, even at thi > day. 
 
 iil 
 
 
I f 
 
 288 The Chevalier of the Splendid Crest. 
 
 to the spot where the water gushed forth from its prison 
 under the city wall. Luckily there was no moon, and 
 therefore httle chance of their being perceived. 
 
 " Speak not above your breath," whispered the priest 
 as they crouched low beside the stream, "the sentinel's 
 walk is just above our heads. Now, my old bones 
 rehsh not cold water; strip. Master Gaspard, and see 
 how far you can pass up yon conduit." 
 
 But Gaspard fancied the enterprise as little as did 
 Father Ailwyn, seeing that there was little glory to be 
 gained thereby. 
 
 " Nay," said he. - but here is a Scots otter that will 
 do It more featly than I. There is more water than 
 land m the country he comes from. Dickon, here is 
 a task after your own mind." 
 
 The Scot made no objection, and was moving stealthily 
 down the bank towards the dark current, when his master 
 pulled him back. 
 
 "Nay, but you must strip to it, man," said he. "I will 
 not have my serving-man destroy his livery." 
 
 "Suffer me to go as I am. Master Gaspard," replied the 
 youth, "for so we always use in my country. My jerkin 
 and hose are of better stuff than to be spoilt by fair 
 water." 
 
 Gaspard persisting, Dickon declared roundly he would 
 do the business as he was or not at all. It was not a time 
 to punish the serving-man for insubordination. 
 
 "Go, then, and a murrain on thee for a contumelious 
 knave ! " hissed Gaspard savagely, for he cared not to 
 have his pleasure disputed, and gave Dickon a vicious 
 shove with his foot, which sent the lad with a splash up 
 to his middle in the icy stream. 
 
 "Have a care, my master," whispered the priest, "or 
 
The Chevalier's Last Quest 
 
 289 
 
 we shall have a crossbowman buzzing a bolt at us from 
 the rampart." 
 
 Dickon, thus unceremoniously dismissed, lost no time 
 about his business, but stemming the strong current, dis- 
 appeared under the low arch where, as Gaspard observed, 
 it was as dark as a wolfs mouth. Progress was extremely 
 difificult, for there was just room between the roof of the 
 conduit and the water to enable Dickon to carry his head 
 clear of the surface, and this he could do only by immers- 
 ing his whole body. The cold was intense; the strong 
 current seemed as if it was flowing off a snow-field, and 
 the lad felt his very marrow freezing, but he pushed 
 gallantly forward some thirty paces, when his head struck 
 hard against some obstacle. With his hands he ascer- 
 tained that this was an iron grating, once strong, no doubt, 
 but now greatly weakened by corrosion. Still it resisted 
 all his efforts to dislodge or break it, and, turning round 
 with some difficulty in the narrow passage, he made his 
 way out and was helped upon the bank by the others in 
 a sadly numb condition. Having made his report — 
 
 " Mother of mercy ! " ejaculated the priest, " then is 
 there no more to be done to-night, and another day is 
 lost. We must return to-morrow with files to remove the 
 grating. But the lad will die of cold — here, wrap thyself 
 in that, and let us back to our quarters with what speed 
 we may," and taking off his cloak he threw it over 
 Dickon's shaking shoulders. 
 
 " Qui vive ! " shouted a loud voice from the ramparts 
 above them, for Father Ailwyn in his agitation had for- 
 gotten the necessity for silence. Luckily, it was too dark 
 for the sentinel to see anything ; " begone ! " he cried, 
 "lest I drill a hole in your jackets for ye." 
 
 They lay still till all was quiet ; then hurried back to 
 
 T 
 
290 The Chevalier of the Splendid Crest, 
 
 the King's Gate, astride of which the little church of Saint 
 Swithun sits so quaintly, and being in possession of the 
 countersign, were admitted without further parley within 
 the city. 
 
 Dickon's young blood was proof against the effects of 
 severe exposure. At first he exhibited signs of collapse, 
 and Gaspard was full of compunction for the heartless way 
 he had dismissed him on such a perilous enterprise ; but 
 a cup of hot spiced hippocras which Father Ailwyn made 
 the lad swallow as soon as they got him back to the tavern 
 sent the blood coursing and tingling into his numbed 
 limbs once more. 
 
 "Atid now to bed, Dickon," said Gaspard; "I will be 
 your valet this time, and strip those dripping clothes off 
 you." 
 
 " Nay," cried Dickon, roused apparently by the shock- 
 ing solecism of a sprig of nobility waiting upon a serving- 
 man, " but that may never be, my master. I should die 
 of shame, which were worse than dying of cold. Prithee 
 suffer me to depart, and I shall slip off my slough in the 
 winding of a crossbow." 
 
 After a few hours between the blankets, Dickon was 
 himself again ; nevertheless Gaspard would not permit 
 him to repeat the attempt to penetrate the culvert. 
 Accordingly when the three conspirators, duly armed 
 with files, rasps, and chisels, repaired to the same spot 
 the following night, it was Gaspard himself who under- 
 took the unpleasant task. Stripped to the skin, but 
 keeping on his shoes, and with the tools in a satchel 
 over his shoulder, he gUmmered one moment in the 
 starlight like an ivory statue, and then disappeared in 
 the tunnel. Making his way to the grating, he judged 
 by the twilight beyond that it was within a few feet of the 
 
The Chevalier's Last Quest. 
 
 291 
 
 feet uf the 
 
 upper and inner end of the culvert. Imagine that his 
 position was as painful as it was unusual. Naked, unable 
 to stand upright, and immersed to his neck in a strong 
 current not many degrees above freezing, he began to 
 doubt whether his endurance was sufficient to enable him 
 to work his tools effectively. Could the grating not be 
 torn down? Dickon had tried its strength and failed, 
 though he had reported the metal as being much rusted 
 away ; but Dickon was a slender stripling scarcely fit to 
 wield a full-sized spear. Gaspard seized the corroded bars 
 in his strong grasp ; the fabric shook ; another wrench — 
 it yielded perceptibly ; a third tug and away it came. The 
 squire was half drowned in the effort, but it was success- 
 ful ; a quantity of unsavoury objects, which had been held 
 back by the bars, rushed past his ears and nose, but the 
 passage was clear, and, if fortune favoured them, the dis- 
 appearance of the grating would not be noticed, seeing 
 that it had been fixed a few feet within the mouth of the 
 conduit. 
 
 Next day was a busy one with the whole party. Gaspard 
 and Dickon were despatched at daybreak to obtain intelli- 
 gence how it had fared with the Fenman in his quest for 
 a ship. They returned in the afternoon with the welcome 
 intelligence that he had secured— not a galley, indeed, 
 for there was none to be had — but a German carvel laden 
 with wool and hides for Hamburg. The captain under- 
 took to land passengers at a French port for the exorbitant 
 hire of thirty gold bezants, and his craft would be held in 
 readiness for them from one hour before dawn, at which 
 time the Flemish skipper reckoned that the flood-tide 
 would have reached her as she lay on the mud at Itchen 
 mouth, where she was to show a red light and a white one 
 to guide her passengers. Father Ailwyn had held daily 
 
4r 
 
 ,11 ; 
 
 Mi 
 
 in 
 
 II 
 
 ,1 f,.j 
 
 
 292 The Chevalier of the Splendid Crest. 
 
 interviews with the archer's wife Joan at her house in the 
 Soke : he now told her that the plan must be put in 
 execution that very night ; that one hour after the second 
 watch was set, Mistress Challice must leave her postern 
 and make straight for the culvert, through which she 
 must pass alone. 
 
 "Alone ! " cried Joan ; " nay, but that cannot be. When 
 they find the bird flown they'll hang Raymond and drown 
 me, just as sure as there be geese on the green. Nay, 
 Father Ailwyn, if Mistress Challice is to flit, we must flit 
 with her ; and that's the plain truth." 
 
 Here was unforeseen difficulty. It was true enough that 
 upon Raymond and Joan would fall the penalty of allow- 
 ing a prisoner to break ward. Better not inquire too 
 narrowly which consideration weighed most with the good 
 father — the prospective fate of his instruments, or the 
 certainty that these instruments could only be had upon 
 their own terms. 
 
 " Nay, nay, your reverence," reiterated Joan, " Wolvesey 
 House will be no place for me and Raymond after this 
 night's work. We are servants of the Lily of Kendal 
 henceforward, and where she goes we go." 
 
 Father Ailwyn carried a good clear brain under his 
 white hairs ; circumstances had become unpleasantly 
 complicated, but he perceived the imprudence of raising 
 any objections at the last moment. 
 
 " You have no children have you, Joan ? " he inquired. 
 
 "Never a one," answered Joan. "Your reverence 
 must know that the saints have ordered it this way. 
 Raymond is as likely a lad as ever mounted a bunch of 
 ribbons at St Giles's fair, and as for me, I was one of 
 thirteen in a family, so nobody can lay the blame at my 
 door; but " 
 
The Chevalier's Last Quest. 
 
 293 
 
 The priest ruthlessly cut short what promised to be 
 an interesting chapter in domestic history. 
 
 " Anan," said he, " we can provide for you and 
 your man ; but, mark you ! not a word must you speak 
 from the moment you leave the Lily's chamber, or the 
 knight will cut your throat in a moment. He is a 
 terribly resolute man, I can tell you." 
 
 " Depend on me, your reverence," said Joan, who 
 was in truth a most sensible woman ; " there is none 
 will wag her tongue faster than I when occasion serves ; 
 but I know how to observe times and seasons better, 
 maybe, than some that are finer scholars." 
 
 That night for the third time the adventurers gathered 
 at the appointed spot. Marmion was outwardly calm, 
 but inwardly he was torn with a terrible anxiety. Be- 
 sides the ordinary risks attending an attempt at escape 
 from prison, there was the dread of effects upon a deli- 
 cate lady from the wetting and exposure. He would 
 have gone to the other end of the culvert to await her 
 coming, but Gaspard assured him that no man could 
 stand long immersed in that cold current and live. 
 Store of warm, dry clothing for the fugitives was laid 
 up in the wherries, of which a couple lay waiting below 
 the lock in the meadows, with four stout rowers in 
 each. 
 
 Clear and sweet rang out upon the windy night the 
 bells from the cathedral tower, announcing the ninth — 
 the appointed hour. Eagerly Marmion applied his ear 
 to the stone-work that he might catch the first sound of 
 the expected coming. They were very punctual. It 
 was but few minutes past the hour when a slight splash- 
 ing was audible in the tunnel, and next moment appeared 
 at its mouth, not the countenance of his beloved, but 
 
\, 
 
 
 I 
 
 if 
 
 ill 
 
 294 T/ie Chevalier of the Splendid Crest. 
 
 the round, scared visage of Joan. Behind her followed 
 the Lily, rising from the flood like a pale, dripping naiad, 
 and bringing up the rear came stalwart Raymond— surely 
 as strange a trio as ever stood together in the Soke of 
 Saint Swithun. 
 
 A few whispered words and all set off at sharp speed 
 for the boats. There remained still the anxiety about 
 getting through the locks, how to rouse the lock-keepers, 
 and how to persuade illiterate officials of the validity of 
 a passport signed by a dead king. However all went 
 well with them ; Hampshire lay far from the seat of war ; 
 Marmion, having experience of life on the Scottish 
 border, congratulated himself upon the ease with which 
 all inquiries were satisfied in this sleepy land and upon 
 the facilities afforded for clandestine excursions. He 
 little suspected that, even as they passed through Twy- 
 ford, barely one-third of the distance between Winchester 
 and the sea, their flight had been discovered — that, but 
 for the noise of the rowlocks, they might almost have 
 heard the great bell of the minster ringing the alarm, 
 and that armed pickets were being sent out to scour the 
 highways in every direction. Nevertheless such was the 
 case. Even the lax discipline observed by the garrison 
 of Wolvesey House received a shock on the first relief 
 going round, when the sentinel's post at the postern of 
 the keep was found deserted and the prisoner's chamber 
 empty. Luckily, the night was far spent before it be- 
 came known that the fugitives had escaped by the river, 
 by which time the wherries were gliding down to meet 
 the tide between the muddy shores of the estuary. 
 
 They neared the little jetty where it had been arranged 
 that they should meet the Fenman. A shrill whistle 
 .rom Raymond was answered out of the giooiu by a 
 
 t 
 
The Chevalief's Last Quest. 
 
 295 
 
 similar signal from the shore, and they pulled in con- 
 fidently. 
 
 "Where is the ship, Michael?" inquired Marmion. 
 
 " She has not lit up her lamps yet," replied the Fen- 
 man, " which signifies one of two things — either that she 
 is not yet afloat, or the lazy lubbers are keeping no watch. 
 Either way, we must bite on our bridles for a while." 
 
 " What's ado then ? " asked the knight. 
 
 " Why, nothing, my master, but to lie by till she makes 
 a signal." 
 
 The two boats pulled into the jetty j the boatmen 
 shipped their oars, and all resigned themselves with 
 what patience they could summon to a period of anxious 
 waiting. Anxious — because if their skipper had played 
 them false, recapture was almost certain, for they were 
 still within the limits of the bishop's jurisdiction. It 
 were hard if in a chain so well forged the last link should 
 snap. Eagerly their eyes swept the dark estuary, looking 
 for the signal which was to lead them to liberty. None 
 came, and aloft the night began to melt into dawn. The 
 eastern sky was grey before they could distinguish objects 
 in the channel, but at last Michael touched Marmion's 
 arm, and pointing seaward said — 
 
 "Yonder is our craft, my master, a matter of three 
 bowshots out; and afloat too, by the bones of Saint 
 Benedict. It is as I thought ; the knaves are all asleep." 
 
 Even as he spoke a white point of light kindled on 
 the ship, followed by a red one, sending wavering reflec- 
 tion across the flowing waters of the bay. The rowers 
 who had betaken themselves to slumber were immedi- 
 ately roused, the boats were pushed off" and the oars 
 dipped, but at that moment the clattering of hoofs 
 sounded upon the causeway which ran close along the 
 
 ^ 
 
 ii . il 
 
t 
 
 f I 
 
 si II 
 
 •I ^ 
 
 '■\ ^ 
 
 296 T/ie Chevalier of the Splendid Crest. 
 
 river-bank and behind the jetty. A party of horsemen, 
 dimly visible in the twilight, halted at the pier-head, and 
 a loud command was shouted by their leader. 
 
 ** Halt there ! in the name of my Lord Bishop of 
 Winchester." 
 
 The boats by this time were but a stone-throw from 
 the shore, and the boatmen ceased rowing, awestruck by 
 the name of the potentate whom most greatly they had 
 learnt to dread. Marmion in one boat, Gaspard and 
 Dickon in the other, drew swor^i and dagger, and by 
 threats compelled them to proceed. They complied 
 unwillingly enough, till danger of another sort forced the 
 fellows to give way with a will. The horsemen on the 
 bank, half a score of the bishop's archer-guard, had dis- 
 mounted and bent their bows ; the boats were still within 
 range of the shore, and, although their aim was uncer- 
 tain in the half light, yet the cloth-yard shafts starred the 
 water all around ; one stuck quivering in the gunwale 
 within a few inches of Marmion's hand. His boat carry- 
 ing the Lily, Father Ailwyn, Raymond, and Joan was 
 leading by a few yards ; it was just about out of bowshot 
 when a sharp cry of pain was heard in the other wherry, 
 in which were Gaspard, Dickon, and the Fenman. The 
 pace was too hot to stop and inquire who was hit ; the 
 boatmen were now tugging at their oars, sending the 
 light craft hissing through the dark water towards the 
 friendly light. Soon Marmion's boat was within hail and 
 shot alongside; the skipper and his crew of three lent 
 rough but kindly hands to help them aboard, and Challice 
 was invited to go into a little fore-cabin — the only one 
 in the ship, for the cargo filled all the hold. 
 
 "Nay, Walter," said she with the ringing laugh to 
 which his heart knew so well how to thrill, " but I have 
 
The Chevalier's Last Quest. 
 
 297 
 
 been prisoner long enough. Let me enjoy my liberty 
 and look about me. I have never been on the sea 
 
 before." 
 
 A proud lover was Marmion when he saw how little 
 the adventures and fatigues of that trying night had 
 lowered the free spirit of his lady-love, but she was soon 
 to have her attention diverted from the novelty of a sea 
 voyage. The men in the first wherry had been well paid 
 and had shoved off, declaring their intention of making 
 for Southampton, where at least they would be outside 
 the jurisdiction of the dreaded bishop, whose anger they 
 had incurred unwittingly. The second boat now came 
 alongside. Gaspard handed Joan aboard the carvel, and 
 stepped up himself; but the others still tarried in the 
 stern-sheets. 
 
 "Haste tbee, Michael !" cried the squire. "What the 
 devil, manl d'ye think we're going to lie here till the 
 galleys come out of Southampton to catch us?" 
 
 «' Here is one, my master," replied the Fenman, " who 
 must needs go aboard feet foremost, and I doubt he 
 carries his death-warrant without need of clerking." 
 
 Raymond and he were stooping to raise a dark, limp 
 form which lay on the bottom boards. A low groan 
 broke from it as they bore it unsteadily over the thwarts. 
 Then they laid it upon the deck, and in the cold grey 
 light Marmion and Gaspard recognised the wan features 
 of Dickon le Dechu. 
 
 Gaspard was on his knees beside him in an instant, for 
 he loved his serving-man. 
 
 " How now, Dickon, lad," said he, raisin^ the wounded 
 man's limp arm, " art hurt ? Speak, man ! where is it ? " 
 But Dickon was past speaking ; he had swooned away 
 with the pain of moving. An arrow had pierced him 
 
 \\\\ 
 
 1 n 
 Til 
 
 ll 
 
!;' 
 
 ,H 'hf 
 
 : ;> 
 
 298 T/te Chevalier of the Splendid Crest. 
 
 just under the shoulder-blade; the shaft had broken 
 short off as he fell in the boat ; but the cruel iron point 
 had pierced the lung, and the life-blood gathered in a 
 crimson pool about him on the deck. 
 
 There was no time to spare. They bore Dickon into the 
 humble little cabin ; Challice, with a true woman's readi- 
 ness in trouble, claimed the right to tend the wounded 
 lad. She and Joan tore up bandages and began gently 
 to remove his steel cap, gorget, and cloth doublet. While 
 the women were thus occupied, the other passengers bore 
 a hand in hoisting the sails and weighing anchor. The 
 carvel began to ripple through the waves, leaning over 
 before a stiff easterly breeze, and soon she was fair on 
 her course in broad daylight, hauled as close as she 
 would lie, though indeed that was not very close. T.ien 
 Gaspard found time to go to the cabin door to ask afier 
 his humble friend. Challice came out to him with grave 
 horror written upon her features. 
 
 "Not dead?" asked Gaspard, dismayed by the Lily's 
 expression. 
 
 "Nay, not dead, but wounded unto the death, as I 
 greatly fear," was the reply. " Oh, Ga.-- pnrd ! how could 
 you do this, my cousin whom I trusted?" 
 
 " I ? this is none of my doing, Challice. What do you 
 mean ? 'Tis but the fortune of war, and I swear to you 
 I had liefer that shaft had struck myself than Dickon, for 
 I love the lad, cousin Challice." 
 
 "The lad!" repeated Challice coldly; "so you love 
 the lad, do you?" 
 
 "Aye, do I, and with good cause, albeit he is a Scot. 
 But I am well assured that he is not what he seems. 
 He is of gentle blood, or else I am a rebel Scot myself. 
 Prithee let me pass to him." 
 
■WW' 
 
 in a 
 
 t -I 
 J aen 
 
 as I 
 
 
 T/w Chevaliey's Last Quest. 
 
 2( ) 
 
 Gaspard's simple frankness and distress could not 
 consist with guile. 
 
 "Then you know not?" exclaimed Challice, barring 
 the narrow door with her arm ; " nay, Gaspard, you have 
 never deceived me. Hark in your ear,"— and she drew 
 him towards her,—" Dickon is a girl— a woman." 
 
 There was no make-believe in the horror in Gaspard's 
 face as he started back. 
 
 " A woman ! oh my God ! " 
 
 " Leave her to us. 'Tis a sorry case, I fear ; yet Joan 
 and I will do what in us lies to save her. Tell nobody 
 meanwhile. Now go." 
 
 Gaspard went, pacing the deck apart. The carvel 
 
 held her course a little to the east of south, for her 
 
 clumsy square sail would hardly allow her to lie within 
 
 six points of the wind, but she bowled along at a fair 
 
 speed, throwing the short waves off her bluff bows in 
 
 gallant style. With such a craft and the wind setting due 
 
 east it was hopeless to weather the Foreland ; therefore, 
 
 as soon as they opened the Solent, the helm was pushed 
 
 a-weather and the Boniie Esperance bore away for the 
 
 Needles. Thence with the wind as it stood, the master 
 
 reckoned on making Barfleur before sunset. But it was an 
 
 anxious time for Marmion and Father Ailwyn till the blue 
 
 water was fairly under the keel. They knew not whether 
 
 the alarm had been given in Southampton, nor at what 
 
 moment the Bonne Esperance might not be overhauled 
 
 by a king's galley. 
 
 They were not kept long in suspense. Hurst Castle 
 had just been sighted on the lee-bow, when a war- 
 ship issued from Southampton Water, close-hauled on 
 a course which would bring her right across that of 
 tb« oQri/f^i Thp nrpssure of her canvas and the steady 
 
 mi 
 
300 The Chevalier of the Splendid Crest. 
 
 swing of her sweeps, flashing in the morning sun, 
 gave her great speed, and there seemea no doubt of her 
 hostile intention. Marmion held a hurried consultation 
 with the priest. Fighting was almost out of the question ; 
 the Flemish skipper and his men, four in all, could not 
 be reckoned upon to resist such superior force. The only 
 chance was to hold their course and to avoid incurring 
 suspicion. Marmion made his party lie close under the 
 weather bulwark. The red cross of Saint George flew 
 out from the main of the warship ; the Flemish skipper 
 ran up the red, white, and blue flag of the Hanseatic 
 League in response. There was an interval of breathless 
 suspense while the carvel's helm was put a-weather so as 
 to take her clear of the galley's stern. The warship held 
 her way steadily, evidently beating up channel, and took 
 no further notice of the merchantman. That danger 
 was safely past; a little later, and the lee-braces were 
 hauled in and the Bonne Esperance luff"ed up into the 
 smooth water in shelter of the Needles, and set a fair 
 course for the coast of Normandy. 
 
 Joan came aft with woe depicted upon her counte- 
 nance, and whispered a summons to Father Ailwyn to go 
 to the fore-cabin. Soon afterwards she came again to 
 call Marmion and Gaspard. They found the priest per- 
 forming the extreme unction to the wounded Dickon, 
 who reclined on the narrow berth supported in the arms 
 of Challice. The dew of death stood upon the sufferer's 
 brow; a beam of glad sunshine came dancing through 
 the larboard port, and fell on the simple deathbed. 
 Never before had the Scot's features seemed to them 
 of such unearthly beauty. The eyes were closed, the 
 heavy lashes deepening the dark tint under the lids; 
 but when the priest finished his office thev onenp.d gnH 
 
 ''^m.m 
 
The Chevalier's Last Quest. 
 
 301 
 
 looked forth us from another world. Eagerly they passed 
 from face to face till they rested upon daspard's. Sybil 
 of Linhope put out a feeble hand to seek the hand of him 
 she loved. 
 
 '•Gasparil,' she whispered, and he knelt beside her to 
 catch the faint accents, while all the others but Challice 
 withdrew from the little cabin, " Gaspard, forgive me. I 
 could not go back to the old life. I felt I must be with 
 you, dear. But if I had lived you should never have 
 known. I would have been your servant always — 
 always." 
 
 Then the truth broke in upon Gaspard. He saw it 
 all in one of those momentary flashes of illumination and 
 memory which come to us at supreme moments, of which 
 we can no more trace the mechanism than we can doubt 
 the truth. If the soft passages with Sybil during that 
 awful night in the border tower had ever come to his 
 mind since they occurred, they had but taken their pUve 
 among the experiences of a precociously worldly boy; it is 
 doubtful if he could have repeated even the names of 
 Sybil and Linhope. But he remembered all now ; how 
 blindly, how callously he had accepted the devotion 
 which had been so freely lavished upon him. His was 
 no hard heaic, and as he raised the dying girl's hand to 
 his lips, hot tears coursed down his cheeks. 
 
 "Speak to her, cousin," said Challice gently. "She 
 wants to hear your voice again." 
 
 "You forgive me, Gaspard," spoke Sybil, in stronger 
 accents than before, and with intense anxiety shining in 
 her dark eyes. 
 
 " Nay," murmured Gaspard, " but what have I to for- 
 give ? How could I know ? Oh, why did I not know ? 
 
 ? : 
 
 IfTt' 
 
302 The Chevalier of the Splendid Crest, 
 
 •i- 
 
 — for being hasty and rough with you at times. Oh, but 
 how could I know, Dickon ? " 
 
 Sybil smiled faintly. 
 
 " Nay, I am Dickon no longer. Call me Sybil, dear 
 boy, and kiss me once before I go." 
 
 Gaspard was too much overcome to speak. He kissed 
 tenderly her brow and lips; then the girl smiled again, 
 saying — 
 
 "I am happy now; I would fain sleep. I am very 
 happy — very happy." 
 
 Poor, troubled, guileless spirit ! It passed peacefully 
 to its rest, while Challice's warm embrace supnorted the 
 drooping head, and the small, cold hands rested in 
 Gaspard's firm clasp. 
 
 At noontide the sorrowful company assembled on deck 
 to commit the body of Sybil of Linhope to its rest. The 
 fair morning had become overcast ; an easterly haar hung 
 low on the leaden waves, and there seemed a special 
 significance in the penitential psalm which opens the 
 burial-service of the Church of Rome — 
 
 " De profundis clamavi ad te, Domine." 
 
 Over many a brother and sister had Father Ailwyn 
 chanted the solemn rite, yet his voice broke more than 
 once before the burden was committed to the deep and 
 the concluding versicles were sung — 
 
 " V. Eternal rest give unto her, O Lord. 
 
 R. And let perpetual light shine upon her. 
 
 V. Requiescat in pace. 
 
 R. Amen." 
 
 . 
 
303 
 
 III- 
 
 X3e. 
 
 m tfje watrfase of t!)e 3Lotli of Jontenage antj 
 tfje 3Lils at Itential. 
 
 In all the brakes about Barbeflot (which in modern 
 fashion we write Barfleur) throstle and merle were sing- 
 ing that summer was at hand, as confidently as if they 
 had never experienced the treachery of northern spring- 
 tide. Daisies starred all the meads, dandelions the way- 
 sides ; under the hedges the cuckoo-pint had shot up its 
 quaint green hoods ; the hazel boughs were splashed with 
 crimson; willow catkins burst their silvery casing and 
 feathered out in sulphurous plumes. All the land was 
 palpitating with life and growth and promise ; only in the 
 crooked streets of the old seaport, things took much their 
 
 accustomed way. 
 
 There was some little stir even there this morning, as a 
 small procession— five men and two women— climbed the 
 steep causeway towards the mairt'e or town-hall. Fisher- 
 men, busy baiting lines and mending nets under the 
 sunny harbour wall, looked up and speculated lazily what 
 business might have brought the tall fair-bearded knight 
 and the bonny English maiden to their quiet town; 
 t..... ,11 .^o f^ri"" fQ\^ ^irp men of the world, and these 
 
 J" 
 
 ii '-■■ 
 
 It 
 
 
304 The Chevalier of the Splendid Crest. 
 
 were well used to seeing foreigners, for as yet their fine 
 harbour and respectable trade had not been ruined, as 
 both were forty years later, in the English war. But the 
 women about the house -doors found ample matter for 
 whispered conversation in the dress of the strange lady, 
 which, simple as it was and somewhat the worse for travel, 
 was of fine material and fashionably cut. Even the more 
 homely garb of her female attendant drew forth comment, 
 for that was an age when every country — almost every 
 county — boasted its characteristic costume. 
 
 The Bonne Esperance had landed her passengers safely 
 in the Norman port. Marmion, with his companions in 
 travel, was now on his way to the mairie, to satisfy the 
 maire as to his own identity, and to get his papers visis 
 so as to enable him to pass in safety to his lands of 
 Fontenaye, which lay in Poitou, two hundred miles to 
 the south. Strange as it may seem, an English gentleman 
 landing in Normandy six hundred years ago felt and was 
 regarded much less as a foreigner than he would be 
 now. French was then the official language in both 
 countries, spoken as habitually by the ruling classes in 
 one land as the other. Furthermore, it was not very 
 long since Normandy had passed from the English Crown 
 to that of France ; the ancient memory of how the Duke 
 of Normandy had become King of England by conquest 
 had not been obliterated when the dukedom was united 
 to Anjou, and its more recent annexation to the kingdom 
 of France inclined its people to turn towards West- 
 minster rather than to Paris as the seat of their legiti- 
 mate rulers. 
 
 Therefore, although Marmion was furnished with no 
 regular passport, he anticipated no difficulty in persuad- 
 ing the chief civic functionary of the town to accept the 
 
What happc :d at Barhejlot. 
 
 305 
 
 signature of Edwardus Rex as his warrant to pass them 
 
 free. 
 
 All went smoothly in the interview. Hedged with the 
 awful dignity of his office, and conscious thereof in every 
 fibre of his five feet four inches, the fat little maire received 
 the English knight with a coldly official bow, and haughtily 
 demanded how he could be of service to " his valiancy." 
 Upon the rest of the party, who remained behind when 
 Marmion advanced to the table, the maire at first bestowed 
 no attention. Not until he had run his eye over the papers 
 submitted to him did he say — 
 
 " I observe that your valiancy has a laissez -passer for 
 your party. It is necessary that I should be informed of 
 their number and designation." 
 
 " They are all present, monsieur," replied Marmion, and 
 Challice, in compliance with a signal, placed herself at his 
 
 side. 
 
 Instantly the little man was transfigured. The sur- 
 passing loveliness of the Lily, by no means impaired, but 
 rather enhanced, by the sea winds, seemed to dazzle him. 
 Never had the magic of beauty more immediate and over- 
 powering effect. The maire's official slough fell from 
 him ; he rose to his feet, he twirled his moustache ; he 
 beamed and smirked and bowed like a mountebank. He 
 shuffled the papers aside and began to ogle Challice in a 
 manner which made it difficult for her not to laugh in his 
 face. But she was clever enough to encourage the little 
 man with sundry bright glances of intelligence, and to 
 return his compliments with interest. 
 
 "Mademoiselle has been in Barbeflot before? No? 
 Ah then, let us hope that she will not hasten away from 
 us. We have many beautiful buildings in our town, which 
 I sh"uld esteem it .^n honour to display to mademoiselle. 
 
 ; 1' ■ 
 
 
]• ;> 
 
 
 i 
 
 . 
 
 
 
 
 
 \ 
 
 
 , 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 ^ 1 
 J 
 
 
 
 
 
 ] '. 
 
 
 
 
 i 
 
 
 H 
 
 t 
 
 ' 
 
 306 T/ie Chevalier of the Splendid Crest. 
 
 So ! you have never been in Normandy before. Would 
 that mademoiselle would come to reside there — to make 
 her home in our hearts." 
 
 And the maire clasped both hands upon the spot where 
 his doublet of black Genoese began to swell into the 
 ample convexity it acquired above the girdle. 
 
 " Indeed, monsieur, you almost persuade me. There is 
 I know not what of charm to be found on this side of the 
 Manche. As a woman, I cannot fail to be attracted by 
 the exquisite bearing of the men. Perhaps you do not 
 know that in our land, albeit the men are brave and even 
 handsome, they lack polish, which we women value per- 
 haps more than we ought to do." 
 
 She shot a mischievous glance at Marmion as she spoke, 
 who, while he understood the game, yet, lover-like, felt 
 daggers towards anybody who encroached upon his mo- 
 nopoly of Challice's looks and conversation. Still he could 
 not but be tickled when the little maire, straightening 
 himself from a low obeisance towards the Lily, glared 
 contemptuously at the English knight, who, it was 
 obvious, did not understand the way to gain a lady's 
 favour. 
 
 "Everything I possess shall be at the disposal of 
 mademoiselle," said he, "if she will but prolong her stay 
 in our romantic neighbourhood. It is true I have a wife," 
 he continued, conscientiously scrupulous about raising 
 false hopes in the English maiden's breast, " but for the 
 rest — I devote my time, my energy, my resources for the 
 entertainment of mademoiselle." 
 
 " Alas ! that I must postpone the pleasure till I return 
 this way," said Challice, observing signs of growing im- 
 patience on the part of Marmion. " At present we are 
 pressed to travel with speed \ perhaps monsieur k maire 
 
What happened at Barbeflot. 
 
 307 
 
 will graciously examine our papers and grant us the neces- 
 sary facilities to proceed on our journey." 
 
 "Assuredly; that shall be done, but immediately. 
 Mademoiselle will not, then, forget the faithful heart that 
 beats for her in Barbeflot. Ah ! " and he sighed deeply 
 as he looked languishingly over the bristles of his mous- 
 tache, "mademoiselle will certainly make her impression 
 wherever she goes. For me, there is but to retain her 
 hallowed memory." 
 
 At last he was persuaded to attend to the business in 
 hand, and began perusing the papers, but continually 
 broke off to resume a conversation which was so much to 
 his taste. 
 
 " Mademoiselle will favour me with her name, that I may 
 enter it in the register of voyagers. She is doubtless the 
 sister of his valiancy — no ? — the niece, then, or perhaps 
 the cousin ? " 
 
 " Nay, but I am not of kin to the Lord of Fontenaye," 
 said Challice mischievously. 
 
 " How ? not of kin ? but it seems strange then that she 
 should be travelling in company with his valiancy. She is 
 not then his wife ? " 
 
 "No, monsieur," answered Challice, "I have not that 
 great honour." 
 
 " But I comprehend not," exclaimed the maire, sniffing 
 a scandal. " Mademoiselle will pardon me, but to me is 
 committed the duty of research into such matters. I 
 would spare her feelings ; if she will withdraw into my 
 private apartment I will there put to her the necessary 
 questions." 
 
 Marmion's patience was not proof against any more; 
 his blood was at boiling-point when, stamping his foot on 
 the tiled floor, he cxciaiiiicd — 
 
 I ■11 
 
 \ 
 
308 The Chevalier of the Splendid Crest 
 
 "It is not necessary, monsieur. This is Mistress 
 Challicc de Roos, seignorial lady of Kendal in the county 
 of Westmorland. She is indeed not of kin to me, but she 
 is my affianced bride, and as soon as it is your pleasure to 
 restore my papers, we propose to go to the church of 
 Saint PhiHp, to be wedded by this reverend father here." 
 
 It was Challice's turn to feel confusion now. Burning 
 blushes mounted to her brow, which she sought to conceal 
 by turning to speak to Joan, who was watching the whole 
 scene with quick, intelligent eyes, although quite unable 
 to understand the language. 
 
 The maire of Barbeflot was a great man, but the Lord 
 of Fontenaye was even greater ; municipal authority was 
 at that time but in its infancy, and shrank from the 
 punishment which territorial lords might bring upon those 
 who exercised it indiscreetly. The maire obsequiously 
 complied with the knight's demand, and before the party 
 withdrew Challice recovered composure to assure him that 
 she looked forward with eagerness to revisiting Barbeflot 
 and its 7nairie at no distant date. 
 
 " And now, Challice, we go to make all this irrevocable," 
 said Marmion, smiHng proudly as they stood once more in 
 the sunny street. " There are not many moments of liberty 
 left to you, dear." 
 
 Challice spoke no word — only pressed his arm closer. 
 Strange was the difference wrought within two years upon 
 these two natures. Walter le Marmion, once shy, taciturn, 
 and devoted only to the chase and the chances of war, 
 sensitively proud, but with the pride that is nourished on 
 poverty, unknown to rumour, and thinking less of the rose 
 on a cheek or the turn of a figure than of the shapes of 
 a horse or the fit of a hauberk, had now been trans- 
 formed by circumstances into one of the notable figures in 
 
W/iai happened at Barbejlot. 
 
 309 
 
 chivalry, self-possessed, courtly, commanding, and about 
 to sacrifice a great inheritance for the sake of a penniless 
 maiden. Yes ; Challice de Roos, once the wealthiest ot 
 the royal wards, had incurred by her own act forfeiture ot 
 all her possessions, a penalty which Cornwall might be 
 trusted to see enforced ; Challice, once so hard to please 
 that she vowed s^e would live and die a maid — and meant 
 it too — was now blushing and shrinking like any yeoman's 
 wench, and was surrendering all she possessed — her lands, 
 her name, her own sweet person — for pure love of the 
 knight who had won her. 
 
 In such random fashion fly the shafts of the rosy god, 
 and such is the topsy-turvy he works in the affairs of 
 mortals. 
 
 - ii 
 
 ill 
 
310 
 
 • 1 
 
 m tfje peaceful l^ousefjolti of JFontenage, anti of momcntoua 
 titiinsg from ©nfllantj. 
 
 The chronicles reveul little of the lives of Walter and 
 Challice during three or four years after those lives had 
 become one, for chroniclers ever dwelt most diligently 
 upon battle and tumult, fire and sword, march and siege. 
 Not that they are to be blamed for so doing, seeing how 
 their readers yawn most surely over annals of domestic 
 peace, and that vendor is a fool who persists in offering 
 wares of which no man stands in want. 
 
 Long summers shone and brief winters glowered over 
 the towers of Fcntenaye ; each autumn the wheat whitened 
 over the plain and the vintage blushed upon the slopes, 
 and still the Chevalier of the Splendid Crest lingered in 
 his southern home, leading a life strangely in contrast with 
 its stormy, adventurous outset. The peasantry, who, until 
 his coming, had never known the presence of their feudal 
 lord, had dreaded his first coming among them ; for their 
 grandsires had handed down traditions of the bad old times, 
 when the Seigneurs of Fontenaye had wielded iron rule 
 over their tenantry, enforcing the cruel penalties of the 
 forest laws with heartless rigour, and when no man dared 
 
M arm ion's Eden. 
 
 3" 
 
 ' tnamentoua 
 
 to £sld comfort to his hovel or increase the yield of his 
 land, lest such be made the excuse for further exactions. 
 Tales there were about one oieur Godfrey de Fontenaye 
 too terrible, one had said, to be believed, yet believed they 
 were. Wives listened trembling to their husbands as they 
 told how this Sieur Godfrey, returning one bitter night 
 from the forest, complained that his feet were cold as 
 marble, and ordered up from the dungeon two miserable 
 captives— of his own people, in durance for deer-stealing 
 —and cause '. them to be ripped before his eyes. Then 
 thrusting his feet into their quivering entrails, he laughed 
 as he felt the warmth creeping back to his frozen limbs. 
 The horror of this deed had been too strong for the 
 stomachs even of those dark days, when no man might 
 call a seigneur to account for the punishment he meted 
 to his own malefactors ; wherefore the king had enacted 
 that thenceforward no seigneur should be entitled to slay 
 more than one peasant in a single day to warm his feet 
 
 withal. 
 
 More fearful stories still were current about this Sieur 
 Godfrey and his nine sons — so fearful that they were 
 whispered only between man and man or man and wife, 
 for careful mothers would not suffer it to be known by 
 their daughters that the good God allowed such wicked- 
 ness to be wrought upon earth. Enough cause, therefore, 
 had people on the lands of Fontenaye to apprehend the 
 return of a seigneur among them as an immeasurable 
 calamity, forasmuch as during the long life of Sir Philip 
 le Marmion he had lived upon his English estates, as his 
 father had done before him, and had set never a foot 
 within his inheritance in Poitou. As long as the oldest 
 of them could remember, the rents had been collected 
 without alteration bv an exact, but not over - exactmg^ 
 
 \\\ 
 
3 1 2 The Chevalier of the Splendid Crest. 
 
 
 1 
 
 chamberlain ; industrious peasants had bestowed their 
 best labour upon the soil, confident of reaping the fruits 
 of their industry, and had housed themselves comfortably, 
 so that in all the land of France there was no such fertile 
 champaign, no such prosperous and happy people, as those 
 which owned the sway of the absent Lord of F ntenaye. 
 Nay, even the rigour of forest law had fallen in abeyance ; 
 verderers and rangers, appointed from among the people 
 themselves, knew how to turn a blind eye upon Jacques 
 or Pierre if they met them in the woodland paths ; and 
 often in passing some farmhouse of an evening one might 
 perceive the savour of roe venison from the forest or wild 
 pork from the sounder, as the housewife prepared the 
 bread-winner's supper, .x community enviably peaceful 
 and well-to-do, over whom, if shadow fell, it fell from afar ; 
 yet mothers, with the ancient terror bred in their blood, 
 did still chide refractory children—" Beware lest the seig- 
 neur catch thee ! " and men whose business led them near 
 the chateau would cross themselves and mutter a pater- 
 noster as they hurried past the silent towers, mindful of 
 the bones which were said to moulder in the vaults below. 
 Small matter, then, were it for wonder if dismay and 
 gloomy apprehension of the unknown spread among 
 villagers and countrymen when it was bruited that their 
 seigneur was coming to dwell in their midst. It was the 
 season when the vines begin to push and the rye to 
 sprout, and men went about their work with heavy hearts, 
 almost wishing that the year's promise should be ill kept, 
 whereby they might not seem too prosperous in the eyes 
 of their lord. But long before the rye was garnered and 
 the clusters came to the press, they had learnt that there 
 was nothing to fear from the kindly EngUshman with the 
 
 luddy 
 
 sjiicc 
 
 rks. 
 
 c hac 
 
 cracious wo' 
 
 •d for all, as he 
 
Marmton's Eden, 
 
 313 
 
 ed their 
 the fruits 
 ifortably, 
 ch fertile 
 , as those 
 
 ntenaye. 
 beyance ; 
 le people 
 
 Jacques 
 ths ; and 
 )ne might 
 5t or wild 
 )ared the 
 
 peaceful 
 rem afar ; 
 i\x blood, 
 
 the seig- 
 hem near 
 r a pater- 
 lindful of 
 Its below, 
 smay and 
 .d among 
 that their 
 It was the 
 tie rye to 
 Lvy hearts, 
 »e ill kept, 
 1 the eyes 
 nered and 
 that there 
 n with the 
 all, as he 
 
 tode along the slopes with the beautiful dame at his 
 bridle-ar.Ti, showed an eager interest in methods of agri- 
 culture novel in the eyes of a gentleman of Lincolnshire, 
 ard won ready esteem by paying good prices for such 
 young horses as took his fancy or suited his purpose. 
 Nothing did so much as the last to reassure the people, 
 for in this matter it was not upon tradinon that their 
 knowledge of the ways of seigneurs was bciscd, but upon 
 daily observation of the custom upon neighbouring estates, 
 where the droit du seigneur was still enforced, securmg to 
 the lord of the manor not only the privilege of taking the 
 best horse and the best cow for himself, but of other 
 easements and services whereon it profits not to dwell at 
 
 this season. 
 
 Golden, too, was the meed of favour, warming as the 
 summer went by into real love, which Challice won by 
 what she conceived to be the duties of her high degree. 
 The /ast chasm which in those days separated gentle 
 and simple, lord and clown, still yawns at our feet, but 
 kind hearts and w\se heads have succeeded in throwing 
 many a bridge across it. If rich and poor in modern 
 times do not always see eye to eye, they seldom forget 
 to regard each other as human, with similar desires, hopes, 
 
 fears, and failures. 
 
 Challice belonged to a class— the Norman baronage- 
 lifted by intellectual ascendancy and prowess in arms so 
 far above the necessity for labour as to cause labour to 
 appear in their eyes inseparable from indignity. By 
 the code of chivalry four motives for exertion only 
 were reckoned honourable in a baron— namely, love, war, 
 wealth, and prayer ; nay, these might even be reduced to 
 three seeing that if wealth could but be come by, prayers 
 might always be bought. Toil in any other fields was 
 
 t. . 
 
 
I 
 i 
 
 t . ! 
 
 ■'!' i 
 
 3 14 The Chevalier of the Splendid Crest 
 
 the lot of serfs and craftsmen. And so, as the cen- 
 turies rolled on and riches increased, generation after 
 generation of these privileged mortals grew into being, 
 conceiving of the villeins and carles as of an intelligent 
 kind of domestic animal, to be used for their lord's pur- 
 poses, and entitled to just so much consideration as 
 would keep them fit for work and warfare. 
 
 Now it so had happened that the disposition and in- 
 fluence of two great kings ruling simultaneously in Britain 
 — Edward I. in England and his cousin Alexander III. 
 in Scotland — had gone a great way to modify a social 
 condition which must appear to us at this day unnatural 
 and altogether evil. Both of these kings were large- 
 hearted men first, and resolute monarchs after. They 
 had set the example of frank, considerate treatment of 
 their inferiors and dependents, speaking to them as to 
 free men and not slaves. The fashion had spread, as 
 from example in the highest places fashion always must 
 spread, and when Edward I. died England and Scotland 
 stood far ahead of all other European nations in recogni- 
 tion of the rights of all men to equal justice and due 
 consideration. Far different it was in France, and already 
 much evil had been wrought in England since the death 
 of the great Plantagenet by the French nobles and scions 
 of nobility whom Edward II. permitted to swarm in the 
 wake of Pierre de Gaveston, and whom he appointed to 
 many of the chief executive offices in the realm. Harsh 
 and rigorous > xercise of seignoria'i rights had begun to 
 supplant the soldierly fellowship of which the greater 
 Edward had set the fashion, and which his former subject 
 Robert, King of Scots, still cultivated ; whereby it came 
 to pass that, not only was the difficulty of reclaiming Scot- 
 land enormously increased, but in England also, where 
 
Marmion's liden. 
 
 315 
 
 the older barons were in almost open revolt against the 
 king and his foreign favourites, disaffection spread fast 
 among the commonalty. These might have taken little 
 willing part in the quarrel of their lords, had their own 
 withers not been wrung and their just pride wounded by 
 return to the old oppressive and humiliating conditions. 
 Let but a people once taste of liberty and gain self- 
 respect, and, if they are men, they will never go back 
 into bondage and contempt. 
 
 We have seen the Lily of Kendal in her own northern 
 home, and we have noted the mutual bonds of affection 
 which bound the dalesmen to her service. Challice was 
 now an exile from the friends of her girlhood ; her broad 
 lands had been forfeited, and, like those of her husband, 
 had been added to the plunder which the insatiate Earl 
 of Cornwall amassed during the years of his power. But 
 habits of well-doing are as hard to throw off as evil ones, 
 and she practised in her new home the innocent arts which 
 had won the devotion of the Westmorl yeomen. It 
 was not in her nature to know of suhci.ng without at- 
 tempting to relieve it, or to perceive happiness, and honest 
 industry without rtuig iierself to increase and encourage 
 them. Tlv was awkwardness at first, and stammer- 
 ing scrvilii , - she dismounted from her palfrey and 
 entered humble dwellings ; but lie people soon iorgot to 
 be susi'icious ; none could withstand the sunny, smiling 
 countenance of this great dame, the frank courtesy ot her 
 greeting, the respectful tenderness of her inquiries. It 
 was not long before, instead of hiding themselves from 
 their seigneur and his lady, as they did instinctively at 
 first, the people learnt to look for their coming, crowdmg 
 to the house-doors or running down between the vine-rows 
 to greet them as they passed, hawk on wrist, and reproach- 
 
3i6 TJie Chevalier of the Splendid Crest. 
 
 W ' 
 
 fully complaining that they did not come often enough. 
 Children began to associate the good madame's visits 
 with comfits and sweetmeats of indescribable succulence ; 
 brides proudly displayed ornaments which had come as 
 wedding gifts from the chateau ; and many a weary sick- 
 bed was soothed, many a scanty store eked out, by timely 
 attention from the Lady of Fontenaye. They had been 
 a happy and prosperous community, the people of that 
 valley lying so fair to the sun — happier than other people 
 in this, that they had neither seen nor known their lord ; 
 but a year had not passed since that lord had brought his 
 lady among them, before they added to their happiness 
 and prosperity a new and ennobling sentiment — one of 
 devotion to a superior the like of which could not be 
 found in all the realm of France. 
 
 The first summer passed away, and the second, and the 
 third was mellowing to the fall, when Challice became 
 aware by certain outspoken village dames of a cause of 
 reproach that was rising against her. "What!" ran the 
 tenor of their complaint, " madame has wealth and lands 
 and a fine chateau, all of which are good to be enjoyed ; 
 she has also a husband, which, God knows, is sometimes 
 a gift to be accepted with precaution, yet have the saints 
 befriended madame in this respect. But what of all 
 these ? Madame will grow old like one of ourselves ; she 
 will die one day and be forgotten, unless she has children 
 to bear her name. Ah ! madame must be good to us ; 
 she must give us a young seigneur to love and to worship. 
 It is not right that so great a house should be without a 
 child." 
 
 Challice laughed with the old overflowing mirth of her 
 maidenhood. 
 
 ILT 
 
 
 that 
 
 i--,f«ii ;„ 
 
 may uctaii iii 
 
 ii-„ ,j 
 
 LllC UUOU 
 
Marmion's Eden. 
 
 317 
 
 God's time, which I, at least, am quite content to await. 
 Let us enjoy health and happiness while we may my 
 friends, for neither of them come at our command 
 
 -Nay, but madame has much in her power. She is 
 rich; she ought to go at once upon a pilgrimage to the 
 shrine of our Lady of Verdelais, and make there a hand- 
 some offering." ^ i „r 
 Then the gossips closed round her, each with a tale of 
 the marvellous effects of a pilgrimage to thisshrme or to 
 that, together with much homely advice which it boots 
 not to set forth in detail. Challice laughed in their faces, 
 teUing them that they were an ungrateful set of crones, 
 and ought to be content with things as they were. Ihen 
 she rode off, leaving them wagging their heads and disput- 
 ing among themselves as to the precise saint whom child- 
 less wives should most profitably propitiate. 
 
 The Lady of Fontenaye made no special oblation at 
 anv of the shrines recommended by these experienced 
 mothers, and as for her husband, I doubt whether he 
 considered any addition essential to the happiness of his 
 wedded hfe. If any such thoughts ever troubled his 
 head, he dismissed them summarily, and certainly would 
 have grudged to motherhood the measure in which it 
 must have interfered with his delight in that charming 
 companion who rode with him, read with him, hunted 
 with hh.:, hawked with him, and shared with him all the 
 varied if simple, interests of a country gentleman. This 
 childless couple were as well content with their lot as any 
 mortals have been since Auam lost his bachelorhood ; the 
 share each had in the other was enough to ensure their 
 Eden • and if Challice, as the village matrons murmured, 
 was culpably neglectful of invoking the aid of the saints to 
 that end which is assumed to be first in the wishes of all 
 
 
318 The Chevalier of the Splendid Crest. 
 
 . Nevertheless, Loons eome unsousht . t f' 
 ■n answer ,o the most ardent Sful '' ""^ '^'' 
 
 fulness of time Chalhce, who hid ^ • • ^T ' '" ""= 
 wants, and smoothed the piHow of l"'" '° "='">' 
 round the chateau. herself'llTd „ Te:;„ -'''^ ™*r 
 wsest of the village dames. For "he fi« ^ °™ *= 
 
 birth of bad Sieur Godfrey's ninth ! u "' """" *= 
 
 before, the feeble cry of !!• r ' '^ ^""''^'^^ ^^^^ 
 
 aolem^ walls, and Z^wL tlf ■ '°™''' "■'■*'■" *ose 
 Of Fontenaye' whenTwa™; ^rS;?/™ ^" '\^ '»* 
 that house, once so detested and felred b t ™' '°™ '^ 
 beloved and profoundly honoured """■ "" '"''" 
 
 "Walter," said Challice when thi. im„ . , 
 about a fortnight old "1 12 ''°"'"" '""=« ™^ 
 
 your arms. U isfdisgrace .vTat'"" f '"« " '^ 
 done so yet; it is high time that ^u elJeTn "•"'" 
 you will be sure to drop the darling when you TT' " 
 
 .tXo Lr^ ^^— • --:irerwr,t: 
 
 nof™rintre.t.«^^^^^^^^ 
 .slander's eontempt for foreigners TnH ^"^ "" ^" 
 
 .0 learn their lang'uage, wS:C;~f '^'"^^'' 
 deal into society with th^ nni, .u i ^^'^ ^ ^''eat 
 
 in the establishLn Vront^lC L^ ''"'^"''^"'^ 
 
 bis wife Joan, and Michae" thrF7ntr°"N:' t"^^' 
 was far advanced in years and IT ■ ^ **"^''ael 
 
 less often than of voreThf f- ^"'^"'"P™'^'' bis master 
 came to pass that timlh ? t, * '=''P^*"™». whence it 
 
 but morta' aft r a, 7n spUe'o t" ' ™ "'' '^"''=' «^ "'- 
 1", in spite of his constant disnipv pf p.. 
 
"^^ % 
 
 Marmion's Eden. 31Q 
 
 verbial wisdom, and Gillian's black eyes found a soft place 
 
 in his old heart. "An empty hand is no lure to a hawk," 
 
 he said, and, counting up the little store he had laid by in 
 
 his long service, he came to the conclusion it would serve 
 
 to take a small farm withal. His wooing was peculiar, 
 
 but it was brief and successful. « AH meats to be eaten! 
 
 all maids to be wed," was the exordium with which he 
 
 opened the siege ; and Gillian proving not unkind, they 
 
 were soon established in a snug little stone house on the 
 
 bank of the Vendue, with as much land as would keep a 
 
 pair of oxen in work and feed a small herd of cows. But 
 
 as soon as the great occasion came, Gillian deserted the 
 
 Penman's fireside and was installed as nurse for the 
 
 nonce. 
 
 Sir Walter took his firstborn out of Gillian's arms and 
 held it in the shamefaced, awkward way habitual with 
 you'^ 'athers. 
 
 ■^4 at him, Gillian!" exclaimed the pretty mother 
 from ner couch with a fine show of indignation. " Was 
 there ever a creature so clumsy as a man ? Don't clutch 
 it like that, Walter," she added, laughing in her old way ; 
 "it can't bite you, for it has no teeth yet. There, spread 
 out this hand comfortably — so, and put the other to 
 support its legs." 
 
 "I feel sure it will fall," protested Marmion, "or I 
 shall damage it somehow, and then you will be angry." 
 
 " Betise I " quoth Challice, " now sit down quietly beside 
 me— there— isn't it a perfect angel, and are you not proud 
 of it ? " 
 
 "Not particularly," replied the Lord of Fontenaye 
 foolishly; "to tell the truth, it seems to me a very ugly 
 little creature. But I am proud of you, dear, and think 
 you more Ijeautiful than ever." 
 
 ! - fl 
 
 ■*4 
 
5 
 
 18*5 
 
 320 The Chevalier of the Splendid Crest. 
 
 ''Le premier embellit, they say," Challice observed, 
 "but this is no time for compliments. We must agree 
 upon a name to be given to our son, and I may tell you 
 at once that there is only one name I will consent to, so 
 vou may consider that as settled." 
 
 " You will call him Thomas, I suppose, after the good 
 knight your father. Well, Thomas is an honourable name, 
 and you shall have your way." 
 
 "An honourable name in truth," said Challice, "and 
 dear to me for my father's memory ; but know this, Walter, 
 that I would as lief have the son christened Rominagrobis 
 or Mohammed, as Thomas. No ; there is but one name 
 he shall bear, and that is your own, my Walter, or 
 nothing." ' 
 
 " Nay, but I set little store by Walter," Marmion said, 
 "seeing the course affairs have taken with us. Walter 
 comes from Scrivelsby and Tamworth ; these lands have 
 been taken from us ; we have neither lot nor part with 
 England now; better to forget that we ever had, and 
 begin a new page in a new land." 
 
 Challice laid her white hand upon Marmion's shoulder, 
 
 and looked earnestly in his eyes as she replied 
 
 "Nay, there spake not my true knight. Forget 
 England! forget that it was in England we first met! 
 forget my kindly dalesnen and the yellow coats of the 
 Kendal horse ! That may never be. Walter, deeply as 
 I love you— sharp pain though it would be to see you 
 ride forth to battle again— yet had they not stripped you 
 and me of all power of serving against the king's enemies 
 —were it not certain that you would be cast in prison if 
 you returned to our country— you know that I would not 
 keep you here in the hour of England's need. I never 
 took much pleasure in Father Ailwyn's story about Her- 
 
observed, 
 must agree 
 ay tell you 
 sent to, so 
 
 the good 
 ible name, 
 
 lice, "and 
 lis, Walter, 
 ninagrobis 
 one name 
 tValter, or 
 
 nion said, 
 . Walter 
 mds have 
 part with 
 had, and 
 
 shoulder. 
 
 Forget 
 irst met ! 
 ts of the 
 deeply as 
 
 see you 
 )ped you 
 
 enemies 
 prison if 
 ould not 
 
 I never 
 )ut Her 
 
 Marmion's Eden. 
 
 321 
 
 cules and Omphale. Nay, sir," she went on in a lighter 
 tone, " so far from letting you harbour here and grow fat 
 —you are a little fatter than you were, Walter, already"— 
 putting her slender fingers into the slack of his girdle—" I 
 would put you to the door as I did in the old days at 
 Kendal." ^ 
 
 "And I would go," said he, "to do your bidding as 
 proudly as it was once my fortune to do ; but there were 
 no writs of arrestment out against me in those days. My 
 poor Challice ! see what I have brought upon you : we 
 should both be laid by the heels if we ventured across the 
 Manche. In England we are houseless, landless ; surely 
 we are better off in Poitou, and not to be blamed if we 
 enjoy what we have, without repining for what we have 
 lost." 
 
 " Yes, I am ungrateful, Walter, to the good God and to 
 you. I would not have it otherwise ; and it is only when 
 I am weak like this— you know I never had a day's illness 
 till that little brat came on the scene— it is only when I 
 feel weak and impatient to get strong, that I long for a 
 breath of the north wind from Fawcett Forest or a whiff 
 of salt air blowing over Morcambe Bay." 
 
 Need it be told that Challice had her own sweet will, 
 and that the illustrious babe was duly christened in his 
 father's name. 
 
 Something in ChaUice's words had pricked the con- 
 science of the Lord of Fontenaye. He certainly found 
 life to be a pleasant thing in that fat southern land, and, 
 like every true Englishman, he felt no aversion from ease 
 and leisure. But, after the manner of Englishmen, his 
 conception of ease and leisure was not one of bodily 
 indolence. The hunting was excellent, and the time he 
 did not spend In that was fully occupied with the duties 
 
 I >,i 
 
i i 
 
 322 The Chevalier of the splendid Crest, 
 
 of a great landowner, the administration of justice, the 
 improvement of land and farms, the introduction of 
 choice strains of horses and cattle— all the manifold 
 mterests which early training had fitted him to find in 
 country life. 
 
 He was barely in his early prime — not yet turned 
 seven -and -twenty— and bore what Gillian termed "a 
 pretty figure of a man "; still there was some foundation 
 for Challice's warning about growing fat. Possessed of a 
 magnificent appetite and the Englishman's tendency to 
 put on weight, Marmion undoubtedly would have found 
 it inconvenient to draw the buckle of his hunting-belt to 
 the hole which fitted him the morning he followed the 
 great boar of Waltham Chace. He had parted with Light- 
 heart m parting from England, and, in the choice of suc- 
 cessors to that good horse, he found it expedient to look 
 rather to bone and back ribs than to capacity for great 
 speed. He was well content with life as he found it, 
 having associations of penury and disappointment with 
 his memories of Shakingdon, and no experience whatever 
 of the more liberal resources of Scrivelsby and Lutter- 
 worth. Kendal he had loved and delighted to remember, 
 and the yellow jackets of the squadrons he used to lead,' 
 but these were dear to him chiefly for the Lily of Kendal's 
 sake— and was not the Lily with him for evermore ? He 
 winced as he called to mind the former humiliating sense 
 of the disparity between her wealth and his own poverty; 
 he could not repine that the position was altered now, and 
 that it was he who laid his possessions at her feet, bidding 
 her take and dispose of them all. 
 
 Yet as he mused, it pained him to think that he, and 
 he only, had brought this heavy loss upon his wife; he, 
 and her love for him, had been the occasion 0/ her 
 
Marmion's Eden. 
 
 323 
 
 princely station being forfeited and bestowed upon Corn- 
 wall; she had stripped herself of all without a sigh or the 
 droop of an eyelid. He knew that it was sheer love for 
 her native dales and hills and for the people among them 
 and not regret for the loss of power and riches, that had 
 found momentary expression in her hour of bodily weak- 
 ness ; and it was a revelation to him, because it was the 
 first trnie, in all the unbroken intercourse of those three 
 golden years, that any hint of home-sickness had escaped 
 her lips. 
 
 Marmion felt a glow of shame— shame that he had been 
 so happy, that he had made no plans, taken no thought 
 for the redress of the grievous wrong wrought upon his 
 wife. True, it was not easy to see what good would come 
 of worrying himself about it. He and Challice had broken 
 the law by marrying without the king's consent— a law 
 which was held to be one of the most sacred foundations 
 of the monarchy, and for the breaking of which exceed- 
 ingly severe penalties were exacted. Whether Edward I 's 
 promise to Challice de Roos could be repealed by Edward 
 II. was a point which only the law judges could deter- 
 mine; and what chance was there of even justice so long 
 as Cornwall kept the king's conscience and manipulated 
 appomtments to the Bench? Marmion, indeed, had 
 contemplated pressing a suit for setting aside the for- 
 feitures, but the Earl of Lincoln and Sir Robert de 
 Chfford both warned him of the hopelessness of such 
 an attempt, told him plainly that the king's writ was out 
 for his arrest and that of his wife, and implored him, if he 
 valued his liberty, not to return to England. 
 
 But of late home letters had assumed a different tone. 
 Great changes were impending in England, and Marmion 
 was bidden to be of good cheer by reason that the Par^ 
 
324 Tlu Ckevalier of the Splendid Crest. 
 
 was a. length about to meet. Its chief work would 
 assuredly be to deal with the Earl of Cornwall, and o 
 depnve h™ of the wealth he had so unscrupulo sly won 
 Never was there a man so universally detested by his 
 peers as th,s Gascon adventurer. It was not his succes 
 h,s anrburon, or his avarice which had set the tide of 
 hatred so powerfully against him; the cause was that 
 ».th all h,s undoubted talents, he lacked the wisdom to 
 perceive that those heedless personal jibes which he wis 
 accustomed to pass upon his inferiors in intellect must in 
 the end p le up such a n.ountain of cumulative resent. 
 men.wh.ch one day should topple over and crush him 
 He had not a smgle friend in the land except the king- 
 sycophants and flatterers he had in plenty, attached by' 
 hopes of favours to come; partisans and dependents 
 secured by scraps and doles from his enormous weal ! 
 but of fnends who should endure adversity with him, not' 
 one; even the queen, never over-scrupulous in bestowing 
 her favour, could not tolerate de Gaveston * 
 
 And now the storm was about to burst. The barons 
 had ,,unk their private jealousies and difi-erenees for the 
 nonce, making common cause against the common enemy 
 Parliament met, ostensibly for the purpose of taking meas: 
 ures to put an end to the disastrous Scottish war, which 
 alternately forced forward without proper concert between 
 commanders and allowed to subside into affairs of out- 
 posts and isolated attack and defence of castles, had gone 
 uniformly in favour of the vigilant King of Scots ; but Lm 
 the opening of the first debate it was clear that the barons 
 were far more eager to make an end of the Earl of Corn- 
 wall than to quell the rebel Scots. In fact, Lincoln, 
 Hertford, and Lancaster plainly declared that so lo„a as 
 
Mannwn's Eden. 335 
 
 Cornwall was suffered to remain in the realm not a man 
 would they put in the field against the king's enemies. 
 And the barons prevailed. Sentence of perpetual banish- 
 ment was passed upon Pierre de Gaveston, and the Primate 
 issued a solemn warning of excommunication as the doom 
 of any person that should hold any intercourse with him 
 and afford him any relief. Forfeiture of all the Gascon's 
 English possessions followed as matter of course and 
 restitution or -for the barons were not wholly disin- 
 terested-redistribution. Among the lands of which 
 Cornwall was divested were those of Kendal in the 
 north, and of Scrivelsby, Lutterworth, Tamworth, and 
 Shakmgdon m the midlands. Such spoil had not been 
 Uirown down for division since the estates of Robert de 
 Brus and his followers had been shared among the Eng- 
 lish nobles. These had been for the most part Scottish 
 estates but here were some of the fairest domains in 
 England to be scrambled for, and, all things considered, 
 a smgle acre of English soil was well worth ten of Scots 
 Nevertheless, there were high-souled men among the 
 leaders of the barons, men who had received and cher- 
 ished the principles of rule and justice bequeathed by 
 Edward L, and were powerful enough already to sink 
 private considerations in maintaining them 
 
 Waiter le Marmion, not long since an obscure squire 
 of Lincolnshire, could number no great personages 
 among his intimate friends. De Valence and de Clifford 
 who knew him best, were absent on service in Scotland' 
 and the good old Earl of Lincoln was dead.^ The Earl 
 of Gloucester, who had succeeded to the office of Chan- 
 
 derll" ' "'"'"' ^""' f°™^rly known as .heOld Temple, 
 
 derives its present name. 
 
 
 3 ""tl^^H 
 
 ■ 
 
 vM 
 
 
 
 
 I^^^^HH 
 
 ^ 
 
 
 ^ 
 
 '^^HH 
 
 i 
 
 ^■^^H 
 
 ^ 
 
 
 f 
 
 ' H^^^^l 
 
 
 lil^H 
 
r m 
 
 326 The Chevalier of the Splendid Crest. 
 
 cellor, was Cornwall's brotherin-law, for Cornwall, after 
 Chalhce and her wealth had eluded his grasp, had 
 married the Lady Margaret de Clare. But Gloucester 
 was a fine-spirited young knight, deeply corcemed for 
 the welfare of his country, and soon lent all his influence 
 to curbing the power of the Gascon. Moreover, he was 
 ardently enamoured of deeds of chivalry, and Marmion's 
 exploits, performed when Gloucester was on the eve 
 of manhood had powerfully impressed his .magination. 
 Therefore when Cornwall's disgrace brought a fresh 
 disposal of Marmion's forfeited estates under considera- 
 tion, Gloucester vehemently urged their restoration to 
 the rightful owner. In this he was supported by the 
 many powerful kinsfolk of Challice de Roos-the 
 Nevilles Percys, and de Vaux-who naturally espoused 
 her husband's cause. Therefore, seeing that it was 
 matter of common knowledge that, although disobeying 
 the reigning king in marrying without his consent, they 
 had acted on the faith of the late king's promise, Mar- 
 mion was by common acclaim reinvested in possession 
 of his great estates. The same principle applied, of 
 course, to the Lady of Kendal; nor did the king make 
 the slightest difficulty about signing a free pardon to 
 both the dehnquents. He had acted all along in this 
 matter solely in the interests and at the instigation of 
 Cornwall; now that the object of his infatuation had 
 been reft from him, he cared nothing about what should 
 become of h.s spoils, for he was of a generous nature, 
 wholly free from avarice. 
 
 The heir of Fontenaye had convulsed the sphere of 
 which he was the undoubted despot by cutting four 
 teeth in succession, each one of which was hailed by 
 his admiring court as an unparalleled achievement Of 
 
rest, 
 
 ornwall, after 
 grasp, had 
 It Gloucester 
 3rcerned for 
 his influence 
 iover, he was 
 i Marmion's 
 on the eve 
 'magi nation. 
 ;ht a fresh 
 r considera- 
 storation to 
 rted by the 
 Roos — the 
 ly espoused 
 hat it was 
 disobeying 
 )nsent, they 
 >mise, Mar- 
 possession 
 applied, of 
 king make 
 pardon to 
 •ng in this 
 ligation of 
 iation had 
 hat should 
 •us nature, 
 
 sphere of 
 tting four 
 hailed by 
 nent. Of 
 
 Marmion's Eden. 
 
 327 
 
 all the inhabitants of the chateau, Marmion was the only 
 one who withheld abject homage from its latest inmate; 
 Challice pronounced her husband heartless and ungrateful, 
 because he showed himself far more solicitous for the health 
 of herself than the welfare of her son, and betrayed a 
 little impatience when the constant calls of the nursery 
 took her to the turret where her jewel was enshrined. 
 Hitherto in the years of their exile, Challice had been 
 his one companion and confidante; as active and fond 
 of exercise as a boy, she had hunted with him, ridden 
 from farm to farm with him, and shared all his schemes 
 for building and improvement. Now it was otherwise : 
 for six months maternal duties had kept her within a 
 very brief radius of the cradle; and the leagues seemed 
 long indeed to the chevalier when he had no longer 
 that charming face to respond to his commonplace — 
 that queenly figure mingling its shadow with his own 
 as they paced along the dusty white roads or galloped 
 across the windy upland. During the whole of that 
 winter, one of the severest that ever befell in Poitou, 
 Challice had forsaken the saddle, which she had once 
 pronounced to be the only place where life was worth 
 living ; and it was one of the happiest hours of Marmion's 
 experience when he persuaded her once more to mount 
 her palfrey and ride forth with him along the river- 
 banks. 
 
 It was sweet April weather; the noplars dropped 
 their purple catkins thickly on the ways; the meadows 
 atoned for their winter dishevelment by wrapping them- 
 selves in extravagant green ; and bullfrogs, immersed 
 to the very corners of their wide mouths, croaked per- 
 petual guttural content in the abundau. sunshine. They 
 were lovers still, the Chevalier of the Splendid Crest 
 
 mk 
 
328 
 
 The Chevalier of the Spleudid Crest. 
 
 far-off look, which Marion LZr 7" "' 'T' " 
 of co„„3hip and early ....M yTZTZj: ^^' t'l 
 he had small part, and could no , I '" "''""' 
 
 neither pai„.,J not chafed hi„, b t "" " '"^ " 
 of it, and at firs, it puzzled hta "" """"'''"'' 
 
 wise through a networ/^aeni *;:;""'"' '"" ''-''"^'■ 
 
 oner\:;,Ld'"c:i:: CiHeVr ;''""'■ °'^-'- 
 
 in her eyes. " Finelv th. ,7 ""^"^'"evous glean, 
 
 nobody took thougrexeep. Z f.?"'" ™*' "'""« '^ 
 your horse's ears." ^ ''"' ^°" '^"" =^e over 
 
 shapely wai's, "anrZefen'",' ",""■, ™""^ ^- 
 'eft behind; that was aU 7 ™''^ ^' ''^'"S 
 
 -pi.ngtobebaeraL^;rtl: -^;^,.;u 
 
 .his S, ^aXr^Mv the "■;:'"" ^™ '-' *''"^i" 
 .hough i .onts theV oS rarthl'' "'t"""'"""' 
 alone. Think how gly the !.„':',:-' ''" 
 
 Bo^^tth^e me sometimes ror\avi;t:Xrs: 
 
 lesJtp^rrj'b^us: r''-^' "■'■^ '-"x^. "- 'he 
 colour Ld mounted to .hrL-;'"""""'' """^ ^ «- 
 >'^.h a very tender lig ^shf^Id:-:' l^" ^™» 
 
Marmion's Eden. -^ 
 
 "Von know better than that, my Walter- inH T 
 
 Bu. I will ,eU ycu .he „lr o/™ ■■■"•'■ """ ""="= ''"'^■ 
 which has come ofJ„ ;t; 1° o7,:r'"^■ ■' ■■' ""^ 
 
 ««M 1 . "'^ °°y growing up » 
 
 into ":x™;::,r-^ ^- - "«- -tHV' 
 
 up to know that h, i ,° "'' '''^ '"■"%'!" 
 
 .0 learn Z when h\:c sTT"' "" '"" '^ ^= 
 our own cou„.,:e„''p l^-haT ^f ^^ L^^^^^ '""r 
 he sees you huntinL^ nnrl fo i °^ y°"' '^ 
 
 at a h-m/ K V^ t" ""'"""^ ^'^^'d t'iking your ease 
 
 at a time when England has need of all the wL hp^H 
 and strong arms she can muster ? " ^''^' 
 
 -^^"l^^f ?:i:-^-^^-^ -^ valuable service," 
 
 -nderstandrt'lstld'ber-nr^^^^^^^ 
 
 very uclv non<;p if t «, . . ° ^ ^" '"^o a 
 
 "True Z r !' '° '"' ^°°' "P°" her shores." 
 irue most true," said Challice earnestly "and nil 
 I mean is that our bov musf n.f '^'^"esny, and all 
 
 I' is not the lands I .a L" ' " Go/"." ^'■'""■ 
 have enough here fot all our needs h i '""? T 
 power that goes with the land sav ~ h" 
 
 -ybe used to deliver our JC::idlrte"r 
 
 I i 
 
 1* 
 
I I 
 
 ^i 
 
 im r; 
 
 330 The Clievaliey of the Splendid Crest, 
 
 But I want to see you in a position to do your duty 
 as a Christian knight and an Englishman. You under- 
 stand me, I am sure." 
 
 «' Indeed I do," answered Marmion, " and I praise the 
 saints for giving me a wife who saves me from falling 
 into indolence. I confess that at this moment I do 
 not see my course clear. You speak of duty : the first 
 duty I recognise is to keep a home for you, dear 
 Challice; but as soon as our friends in England give 
 any sign for my return, you will not find me slack to 
 do my part. Meanwhile, they do nothing but warn me 
 
 to keep away." 
 
 «Yes, and as long as that is so you must remain 
 here," said Challice with a sigh of happiness. " AH I 
 ask is that you should not forget, and never be quite 
 content till you are able to serve king and country once 
 
 more." , r ^ i.u 
 
 By this time they had ridden clear of the forest ; the 
 chateau was in view at the end of a shining reach of the 
 river Vendee, the sable banner of the King's Champion 
 flapping idly on its staff in the morning breeze. On the 
 far bank of the river ran the northern road, distant not 
 three bow-shots from where they rode, and upon it they 
 could see three horsemen making for the chateau. 
 
 "Unless the sun deceives me," said Marmion, "I 
 ought to know those liveries. If they are not those of 
 the King of England, they are a very close imitation. 
 Let us spur forward, Challice, and meet them at the 
 bridge. News comes so seldom in this quiet land that 
 we may as well get the first of it." 
 
 They cantered on and reached the bridge before the 
 strangers. Marmion's eyes had told him true : the white 
 . y.,.^A ,„;fV, ^r-xr\c-\ of the esauire who rode fore- 
 
•*»» 
 
 yest. 
 
 do your duty 
 You under- 
 
 id I praise the 
 
 le from falling 
 
 moment I do 
 
 duty : the first 
 
 for you, dear 
 
 England give 
 
 d me slack to 
 
 ; but warn me 
 
 u must remain 
 
 )iness. *' AH I 
 
 never be quite 
 
 d country once 
 
 the forest ; the 
 ng reach of the 
 ing's Champion 
 tjreeze. On the 
 oad, distant not 
 nd upon it they 
 chateau. 
 
 I Marmion, *' I 
 ire not those of 
 
 close imitation. 
 :et them at the 
 
 quiet land that 
 
 iridge before the 
 I true : the white 
 i who rode fore- 
 
 Marmion's Eden. 331 
 
 most showed him to be a king's messenger, attended by 
 two spearmen wearing the same liveries, with the well- 
 known broom badge in their steel caps. 
 
 "Good morrow, sir!" cried Marmion; "you have 
 ridden far, it seems; may I bid you to alight and refresh 
 at our poor house of Fontenaye ? " 
 
 "It is for Fontenaye that I am bound," replied the 
 squire, "on the king's service, with letters for the lord of 
 that place." 
 
 "Then here is the lord thereof, fair sir, at your service 
 I trust your tidings be of good. How fares it with my 
 lord the king .? " 
 
 "Better than for this many a day past," returned the 
 other. "As for the letters I bear for your valiancy, I 
 may not presume to know the purport, but this I know 
 that they were issued at the instance of my kinsman the 
 Earl of Gloucester and Sir Hugh de Neville, and that 
 I was bidden to ride hither with all speed. Sir, there 
 have fallen great changes in England within these past 
 months. Sieur Pierre de Gaveston having been de- 
 prived of his earldom by Parliament and banished forth 
 of the realm, had the great hardihood of returning 
 thereto. My lord the king received him back to favour 
 and appointed him governor of Scarborough Castle. But 
 the Earl of Lancaster would none of him, nnd summon- 
 ing the other barons, advanced in arms against my lord 
 the king. Sieur Pierre then surrendered to my lord of 
 Pembroke, who, as some do affirm, gave him assurance 
 of his life if he would submit to the will of the earls 
 My lord the king was then at York, and did condescend 
 to intercede with the earls for the life of Sieur Pierre • 
 but they would not, vowing that they had been deceived 
 in this matter ovpr nff/^n q.lrf^r'u . an-! i- > ^i _ 
 
 rtircaoj- , ana lu ; men my loru 
 
 !l 
 
 ! !| 
 
■ ■ 
 
 1 
 
 n 
 iff 
 
 1 Ml 
 i Iff 
 
 w 
 
 iii ! 
 
 :fi il 
 
 332 T/is Chevalier of the Sfilcidid Crest. 
 
 of Warwick came with an armed force to Deddington in 
 
 aeur PieTre ■ r"; "'"^ "^ ''""^ "^ ^™^™ke ^ ^ 
 bieur Pierre m keepmg, and despite my lord of Pern- 
 
 broke's remonstrance, bore Sieur Pierre away wlh him 
 
 to his castle of Warwick. Nevertheless my lord™ wl? 
 
 wck would not shed the blood of the said Pierre wUhn 
 
 hs ow„ f b„t delivered him into the hands of my"o^ 
 
 of Lancaster. Arundel, and Hereford, who had him awav 
 
 oacertam place called Gaversyk between Warw°k a"d 
 
 vemlworth wuhout my lord of Warwick's fee and within 
 
 ha of my lord of Lancaster, and there caused a ril ain 
 
 We shman to str.ke the head of the said Sieur Pierre fro" 
 
 of barons, gentry, and commonalty, who made loud re 
 o.c,ng, crytng aloud 'God save the King of Enind 
 ^^m an fore,gn traitors,' and again, .Jod sfve" th 
 K.ng ! And now my lord the king hath taken abou 
 h.m a new set of counsellors, chief of whom are mv 
 lords of Lancaster, Gloucester, Hereford, and Arundel 
 w.th whom hath lately joined my lord of Warenne ^ 
 
 tl7" ^°^'^\^^^ *at the kingdom will no^ b 
 settled, and honest Englishmen come by tiieir rights » 
 
 The king's letter formed a remarkable sequel to the 
 conversation of Walter and Challice. It called up™ all 
 good men ,0 take note that the King of England tn 
 fulfilment of the promise made by his father ofue d 
 
 ba'nT"'' *''/^^°S™- -<• ^'ify the choice of a aus 
 band made by his ward Mistress Challice de Roos 
 Lady of the Honor of Kendal, confirmed and app/oved 
 her mama, to Sir Walter le Marmion, Lord ^^0- 
 tenaye Scnvelsby, &c., did absolutely revoke and a!™! 
 the forfeiture made of the lands of both of them, and 
 
H 
 
 Marmwn's Eden. 
 
 333 
 
 extend to them a free pardon for all crimes and misde- 
 meanours done by or imputed to them in the past 
 
 In a second letter the king summoned and enjoined 
 his faithful hege knight to attend at Wark on the feast 
 of Saint Barnabas next-to-come/ with five hundred Lin- 
 coln archers and two hundred fully equipped horsemen 
 drawn from his lands in mid-England, also with forty 
 men-at-arms and three hundred light horsemen from the 
 lands of Kendal, which he had acquired by his wife all 
 to form part of the forces with which the king was about 
 to effect the submission of Scotland at niidsummer 
 
 " Voilh, ma belief observed Marmion quietly to his 
 wife when the reading of the letters was finished, "there 
 is the accomplishment of your wishes. It shall be my 
 blame if you have any reason to complain of my slack- 
 ness now that the king has seen fit to accept my service " 
 Chalhce smiled proudly and said nothing ■ but in- 
 wardly she felt that she would gladly have resigned all 
 her English possessions as the price to be paid for assur- 
 ance of that tranquil companionship with her husband 
 which, an hour earlier, she had been so bravely anxious 
 to interrupt. 
 
 * nth June. 
 
 ' i 
 
 
334 
 
 m t'fjt pact fietfeeen Sfr emnxti He Bras anti Sfr ^fjiltp 
 He Motahxa^, anU of tfjt steat arms W^ ^m 
 (Smaiti amtmblzti for t^z tielitretance of Stirlmfl. 
 
 11 ''I, 
 
 ' 
 
 The sun of early June cast its broad radiance over a 
 magnificent scene upon the undulating plain round 
 Wark. Spread far and wide over the rich verdure the 
 >\'iiite tents of the English were ranged in regular ranks ; 
 brilliant banners floated over the pavilions of the barons 
 — pavilions which those of some of the wealthier knights 
 rivalled in size, though the lesser degree of their owners 
 was denoted by the pennons befitting their order. The 
 glitter of steel might be seen afar as fresh contingents 
 continued to march in from the south, while the troops 
 already in camp were constantly at exercise, marching, 
 counter-marching, and making mimic charges, preparing 
 for the expedition which no man doubted was to decide 
 the fate of the King of Scots and his misguided people. 
 The activity by sea was as fervent as that on land. The 
 watchmen at Bamborough lost ali count of the sails 
 which, filled by the light land breeze, passed northward 
 to Berwick, carrying stores for the greatest army that had 
 ever been led across the Scottish border. England was 
 indeed putting forth her force, and not a man in that 
 
 i 
 
-:<.^^m^m¥^^ 
 
 The Eve of Saint John. 
 
 335 
 
 Sir ifjtlfp 
 jtri) Utng 
 •tirltng. 
 
 ce over a 
 in round 
 rdure the 
 lar ranks ; 
 he barons 
 ;r knights 
 iir owners 
 ler. The 
 )ntiiigents 
 tie troops 
 narching, 
 preparing 
 to decide 
 d people, 
 id. The 
 the sails 
 lorthward 
 that had 
 [land was 
 1 in that 
 
 I 
 
 mighty host had any misgivings as to the result. King 
 Edward's scouts, organised by that vigilant prelate, the 
 Archbishop of York, had brought sure intelligence of 
 the nature and position of King Robert's troops. Hardly 
 one-third of the force which lay waiting for attack on the 
 banks of the Forth were of the quality to be reckoned as 
 soldiers. That third, it is true, were of good material, 
 seasoned, disciplined, and well armed, but they numbered 
 not more than seven thousand at the utmost, and could 
 boast of only five hundred horse among them, which it 
 were contemptible to reckon as able to operate against 
 the twenty thousand English cavalry under the most ex- 
 perienced commanders in Europe. The remainder of King 
 Robert's army made the total force up to about twenty 
 thousand, but they were Lothian peasants. Highland 
 clansmen, Galloway hill-men — a motley throng, individu- 
 ally brave and hardy, no doubt, but unused to discipline, 
 so it was said, or to act in large organised bodies. One 
 consideration only, and it was an important one, damped 
 in some degree the enthusiasm of Edward's commanders 
 — namely, that in their coming triumph they could not 
 expect to make any prisoners who would bring much 
 reward in the shape of ransom. The Scots, including 
 the King of Scots himself, were ridiculously poor ; for 
 years they had been laying waste their own land in order 
 to destroy the subsistence of English expeditionary forces 
 and garrisons ; and although they had certainly indemni- 
 fied themselves to some extent by exacting levies from 
 English towns in continual raids during the recent 
 anarchy, the funds thus obtained had all been expended 
 in munitions of war. The English knights, therefore, 
 could only look to the forfeiture of Scottisli lands to 
 reward them for their exertions. 
 
.?36 The Chevalier of the Splendid Crest. 
 
 By the eve of Spint Barnabas there were upwds «f 
 fifty thousand horse and foot encamped in ,he ne -h 
 l«„rhood of VV,rk, and orders had been :.s.,4 for ' 
 
 ne™hr„ T' ""'" *•= ^^^'' "^ '^'-- ^'^ •" -a 'h 
 one horn after si.nnse on the mor,„w. ( ;iouce,ter had 
 
 been de hghted to welcome Marmion i,»ck. v. h.s been 
 
 shown already, this gallant youn, earl ha.: been el," 
 
 agen rn obtaining ..e k„igM= restoration, and he „ w 
 
 a"eher. and T TTl "" ""'"^^ "" ""'' "^'^ "ncoln 
 archers and Kendal hor.e, under l,is own com.n.nj In 
 
 addtfon to .,at. he made up a brigade for Sir M-Mter. by 
 
 elri'-' hu t T"r*'"' "' "' ^^" °f ^-"-k-namely; 
 egl . h>i,.dred stci: bowmen from the Forest of Arden 
 Clad ,.. !,gai„ g,ee„ than the Lincoln men. with corbuvle 
 caps^ ,u,d the Lmous badge of the bear „ d 4ed "'aff 
 w,>rHo ,„ worsted upon their sleeves, an i fourTutd ed 
 Hamp..h,re horse sent by the Earl of Aru.d.l. Warwick 
 nor Arundel had not fully made up their quarrel wi'h 
 
 the three had sent a strong force of levies. Marmion's 
 
 aS :;;tr ■ ^"o™'^" '» - *--<> - '>™c:::d 
 
 the'k'nfehT "d" h't"' "' °'" ""= ^""'^ °f ^'^Sham as 
 me kntght rode back into camp after finally inspecting his 
 
 men, weU pleased with their spirit and behav.our unde 
 
 arms. Drsmounting, he entered his pavilion, and bade 
 
 ht^firn^""'''"^'^ «--"----'- 
 
 «JT "?. ^"^ '"'"«' '"""'^ °f "y '°'d °f Lancaster?" he 
 asked; ..,t rs not his fashion to hang back when the 
 k.ng's drums are beating the point of war," 
 
-rest. 
 
 re up'.vards of 
 in i)ie neij:>h- 
 I'siMd for the 
 -5ter to inarrh 
 iouce^ter had 
 As has been 
 >een the chief 
 aiici he nov- 
 
 his Lincoln 
 nuncnd. In 
 ii" ^i alter, by 
 cic — namely, 
 St of Arden, 
 ^ith corbuyle 
 
 ragged staff 
 >ur hundred 
 l. Warwick 
 luarrel with 
 l>iit each of 
 
 Marmion's 
 wo hundred 
 
 Birgham as 
 ipecting his 
 iour under 
 and bade 
 I, to relieve 
 
 aster ? " he 
 when the 
 
 ^ough as to 
 
 The Eve of Saint John. 
 
 337 
 
 "There be tidings, Sir Walter," replied the squire, 
 " but not of a sort that is good to hear. Men say that 
 he hath sent an insolent letter to my lord the king, com- 
 plaining that certain promises made before the Westmin- 
 ster Parliament have not yet received effect, and refusing 
 to muster his full levy until these be fulfilled. Then 
 those beggarly Scots have been taunting our people, 
 shouting ribald verses across the river. See! here is a 
 scroll which one of our cavalry pickets found nailed 
 against the church door of Coldstream at sunrise this 
 morning. Read it, my master, and say if aught but fire 
 and sword will cure this people of their malignity." 
 
 Marmion took the ragged scrip and read as follows :— 
 
 •' Long beardes, hartelesse, 
 Paynted hoodes, witlesse, 
 Gaie cotes, gracelesse, 
 Make Englande thriftlesse." 
 
 "Bah!" quoth he, tossing it aside, "banter such as 
 that breaks no bones. But there is a sting of truth in it 
 withal. I love as much as any man to see soldiers go 
 seemly clad, with their jerkins of one colour and cut, and 
 their harness sightly burnished. Also I have noted in my 
 time that the knights who spend most care on the fit of a 
 jupon or the painting of a shield are not seldom first in a 
 mellay. Yet, sangdieu ! I had fain seen a lighter baggage 
 train and fewer of the camp rangail, each one with a pair 
 of jaws for gnawing into the provender of fighting men." 
 
 " That is what I hear some of the old soldiers grum- 
 bling about," answered Gaspard. "They speak of the 
 manner of King Longshanks in his campaigns, when 
 knight and serving-man fared much alike. As for wine, 
 say they, it was not to be found even on the king's table 
 —only nut-bio wn ale for gentle and simple; neither was 
 
 V 
 
 11 
 
 
I ir < 
 
 Mfl 
 
 * !(■' i 
 
 338 T'^^ Chevalier of the Splendid Crest. 
 
 there so much as a groat dispended upon singing-wenches, 
 spices, wax, comfits or other delicacies, such as make this 
 camp like a Bartlemy fair. However, my master, the 
 men are of high courage and disciplined spirit ; they ask 
 no better than to close with the Scots once for all, and to 
 be dismissed thereafter to their harvest." 
 
 " Both of which boons they are like to attain," said 
 
 Marmion, ««if King Hobbe will keep his word and meet 
 
 us in fair field before Midsummer Day. And as for you, 
 
 my poor Gaspard, you will look to it that you miss not 
 
 this chance of winning your spurs. Many a time have I 
 
 blamed myself for suffering you to tarry all these years at 
 
 Fontenaye, while your beard grew and no chance opened 
 
 for your knighthood. Now, I'll wager a hide of my best 
 
 Lincolnshire pasture that, once across the border, you 
 
 stand not again upon English ground save as Sir Gaspard 
 
 de Neville ! " 
 
 " Amen say I to tliat, Sir Walter ; yet I would not have 
 you think that I have wearied in your service. These 
 have been years when people of my way of thinking were 
 the better of a strip of salt water between themselves and 
 mischief." 
 
 It is scarcely necessary to remind the reader of the 
 peculiar circumstances under which King Edward had 
 undertaken a fresh invasion of Scotland. During the 
 miserable years following upon his marriage and corona- 
 tion, Edward's energy, at no time easy to arouse or 
 concentrate, had been wasted in the vain attempt to 
 maintain the ascendency of his favourite Cornwall, and 
 to combat the increasing hostility of barons and people 
 towards that mode of rule. In the meantime, the King 
 of Scots had gone from strength to strength ; one English 
 
The Eve of Saint John. 
 
 339 
 
 succour, 
 
 garrison after another, despairing 
 
 rendered to his forces, until by Pasktide in 1314 of all 
 the chief castles of Scotland the English flag remained 
 flying only over those of Berwick, Bothwell, Lochmaben 
 and Stirling. Of tb. last-named city, which for many 
 years disputed with Perth and Edinburgh which should 
 be capital of the kingdom, it was of prime importance for 
 each party to gain or regain possession ; because its great 
 natural strength, added to its position upon that narrow 
 land where north and south join bounds, secured for its 
 holder the command of central Scotland. To Stirling 
 then, Edward de Brus had laid leaguer in Lent 13 13 
 and held it so closely invested till midsummer that the 
 governor. Sir Philip de Mowbray, was fain then to sue for 
 an armistice. 
 
 Now Sir Edward de Brus was a dashing and able com- 
 mander, and had proved scarcely second to Sir James of 
 Douglas himself in conduct of the prolonged campaign 
 He was scarcely inferior to his brother, the King of Scots 
 in the art of winning devotion from men serving under 
 him and of inspiring them with courage, but the warm 
 heart and generous sympathy which gave him this peculiar 
 power, rendered him also especially liable to yield to the 
 extravagances of chivalry. None knew better how to 
 appeal to this weakness than wily Sir Philip de Mowbray 
 who had been his intimate friend in old days at the Court 
 of Edward I. Accordingly, he persuaded de Brus to 
 agree to a suspension of arms for the space of a year 
 pledging his knightly word that he, Sir Philip, would 
 surrender unconditionally if he were not relieved by Mid 
 summer Day, 13 14. It was a foolish act on the part of 
 the Scottish knight, but he was neither unwilling to spare 
 
 the lives of his own mpn K,7 o,t^;j: 4.U- 
 
 - - ..J .wv^.uiiiy tile necessity of 
 
 1* 
 
 I 
 
 ! il 
 
 I 
 
 is 
 
 i I 
 
n I 
 
 :( i* 
 
 I 
 
 340 The Chevalier of the Splendid Crest. 
 
 storming the place, nor to humour his ancient brotherin- 
 armsbys-' i.rablc courtesy. 
 
 'I he i;:,w c n.s was exceedingly angry when this 
 piece of fohy was made known to him. It evidently 
 pledge 1 him to that which he had of si • purpose con- 
 sistently avoided— a pitched battle with the English— his 
 strategy being to harass the enp»>-v by incessant raids over 
 the border, and by shii ..ug up their garrisons in isolated 
 strongholds. However, he was not a man to shrink from 
 maintaining his brother's honour, and [le set about muster- 
 mg the somewhat meagre resources of his realm to en- 
 counter the overpowering force which the King of England 
 could set in the field against him. By the utmost efforts 
 of his lieutenants, a Httle more than twenty thou^ md men 
 came true to tryst in the skirts of the great Tor Wood. 
 Then were brought into play the qualities of the consum- 
 mate soldier. He would not be lured to attack, as his 
 ancestor had been lured at the Battle of the blundard, 
 nor would he expose his columns to the murderous en- 
 filadii.g of English archery, as U^allace had done and rued 
 It at Falkirk. To bar the invaders' path to Stirling was 
 his only game, which game he must - n. or with it lose 
 his crown. He was weak in numbers, he mu. t be strong 
 in position. 
 
 The ti -Her visiting - rling fo the first time may 
 leave that lair town and, walking somewhat less than 
 a couple of miles along the great south road, cast his 
 curiou , eye-^ .igi.c and left, : i detect nu decisive features 
 such as generally mark a defensive position. Standing 
 upon a gentle eminence such those with which the plain 
 undulates befoie him d on ither hand, he pen ives a 
 brook— at midsummer er vulet— windii - among the 
 i.loping fields and flat oaduws on its way to the forth 
 
i 
 
 i 
 
 The Eve of Saint John. 341 
 
 Is he a trout-fisliLi ? he will hardly take note of a stream of 
 such puny dimensions, where there Ices not seem depth 
 to cover a fingerling ; a lover of landscape ^ he has crossed 
 a score of such in many a morning's stroll; a soldier? 
 there is scarcely enough in such an obstacle to cause 
 horse or foot to break their ranks. He can hardly believe 
 when he is told that this runlet of water ranks in history 
 with such historic floods as the Jordan and the Rhine, 
 the Douro and the Berezina, that this unassuming channel 
 formed a circumstance as cardinal in the destiny of the 
 Scots as the Red Sea . , that of the Israelites. Yet so it 
 is ; for this is none other ti ji the Bannock Burn, whereon 
 and whereby the very e.xistence of a nation was determined. 
 But, although the Bannock Burn was not larger in 
 volume six hundred years ago than we see it now, it was 
 different in character. The drainer's craft has altered 
 levels and quickened the flow ; yet still, when the March 
 dust is flying and the iiarrows are combing the fields, you 
 may note by the darkened soil where the waters of the 
 Srook once soaked through the hollows, forming danger- 
 jus morasses. Straight as arrow -flight h^^tween these 
 ancif bog an the Roman causeway, marking one of 
 the h.. by which the English might march to raise the 
 siege of Stir 1, -5. 
 
 The only other line by which they could come lay to 
 the east of the Roman way, where the great cars(^ spread 
 for many miry miles a the crawling Forth ; t tiii 
 
 was more difficult, owing to numerous morasses and [.,<,, 
 of water, wherefore King obert did most earnestly hope 
 and pray that his enemy would be tempted to choose the 
 upper and firmer ground. 
 
 In following the fortum; of Sir Walter le Marmion 
 from this point, the reader will do so t'.e morp paciN, 1 
 
 II > 
 
i I 
 
 i 
 
 i 
 
 
 1 
 
 1 
 
 1 ! 
 
 V 
 
 1 ' 
 
 342 T/te Chevalier of the Splendid Crest, 
 
 placing himself, as it were, in the neighbourhood of the 
 Scottish king's quarters; because, in proportion as the 
 English army approached Stirling, it was obliged to reduce 
 its front, owing to the natural features of the ground, so 
 that the difTcrent columns fell into much confusion, and 
 the press was so great that it became iinpossilile for 
 those in the rearward divisions to obtain any right view of 
 the course of events. 
 
 The King of Scots, then, chose his ground in view of 
 
 ther alternative. If the English came by the carse, he 
 would attack them in flank under the very walls of Stir- 
 ling, where a sharp sweep in the Forth leaves but a 
 narrow space between its muddy bank and the upland. 
 But if, as King Robert desired, they should advance in 
 one body alon^^^ the upper line, then he would simply 
 await their attack, trusting to the natural obstacles to 
 throw it into confusion. A third alternative there was, 
 which, though he thought it most probable, he scarcely 
 dared to contemplate, namely, that King Edward should 
 divide his army and advance by both lines. To oppose 
 such a manceuvre the King of Scots was well aware he 
 had not sufficient force. It would oblige him to retire 
 westward into the Tor Wood, and thence into the Lennox, 
 leaving the siege of Stirling to be raised, and driving him 
 to have recourse to his old and laborious strategy of 
 avoiding great encounters. 
 
 Having made his dispositions for the first and second 
 alternatives, the King of Scots bivouacked his army in the 
 Tor Wood, where shelter could be had from the heat by day 
 and the dew by night, and calmly awaited the approach of 
 King Edward's host. 
 
 Saint John's dayi was that appointed for the encounter j 
 
 ^ a4thjune. 
 
St 
 
 The Eve of Saint John. 
 
 343 
 
 lood of the 
 ion as the 
 d to reduce 
 ground, so 
 I fusion, and 
 •ossihle for 
 ght \ iew of 
 
 in view of 
 ic carse, he 
 alls of Stir- 
 ives but a 
 he upland, 
 advance in 
 uld simply 
 bstacles to 
 there was, 
 le scarcely 
 ard should 
 To oppose 
 I aware he 
 n to retire 
 le Lennox, 
 Iriving him 
 strategy of 
 
 md second 
 rmy in the 
 leat by day 
 ppruach of 
 
 encounter; 
 
 if the siege of Stirling could be raised upon that day. Sir 
 Philip Mowbray might go free, and the King of Scots 
 must seek refuge in the Lennox hills. King Robert's 
 scouts brought him word daily of the progress of the 
 English. On Friday, 21st June, they lay at Edinburgh, 
 whereof the castle had been laid in ruins after its capture 
 by Randolph in the foregoing summer. Next day they 
 were heard of on the road to Falkirk, and the morrow's 
 sun would disclose the line of King Edward's attack. The 
 King of Scots moved out from his lair, taking up the 
 position designed to bar approach along the upper line, 
 from which position he could easily move into that com- 
 manding the line of approach by the carse, as he could 
 fall back upon the Tor Wood in the unhappy event of an 
 attack being delivered along both these lines. 
 
 It was daintily chosen. In the case of the attack 
 coming along the upper line, there were only two points 
 where it could be delivered upon the Scottish front — one, 
 towards the centre where the Roman way threw a firm 
 but narrow spine between and across the marshes, the 
 other opposite his right flank, where a space of hard and 
 fairly even ground, some two hundred paces in width, 
 stretched between the thickets of the Tor Wood and the 
 western verge of the morass. The latter was undoubtedly 
 the point of greatest danger, because here the enemy 
 could deliver his attack upon a far wider front than upon 
 the Roman way, where there was no room to manoeuvre. 
 Accordingly King Robert caused this portion of his front 
 to be protected by digging a vasi number of pits, deep 
 enough to take a horse to the knee, and cunningly cover- 
 ing them over with turf resting upon branches. To hold 
 this part of the position he appointed his brother Edward, 
 deemin? that the post of honour was his due whose 
 
 
 .ri 
 
i ' .: 
 
 i * 
 
 1 
 
 344 77ie Chevalier of the Splendid Crest. 
 
 over -zealous chivalry had brought about the cominc. 
 combat. ^■' 
 
 To young Thomas Randolph, Earl of Moray, the king 
 assigned the centre of the line. Moray's division was to 
 be several paces in rear of Edward's, but clear of its inner 
 fiank, so as to form that disposition known among soldiers 
 as the &helon, or ladder; and in like manner the left 
 division, under good Sir James of Douglas and young 
 Walter the Steward, was made to prolong the line till its 
 flank rested upon the hamlet and church of Saint Ninian's 
 Of the reserve, King Robert charged himself with the 
 command, upon the superior eminence of Coxet Hill 
 whence he could move to one or another part of his line 
 as occasion should require. Never was more sagacious use 
 made of simple and inconspicuous resources of ground • 
 the entire front was protected by the marshes, save at 
 two contracted points ; the left flank was unapproachable 
 except by a wide detour through the difficult carse land 
 by reason of a precipitous ravine through which the 
 Bannock falls at this part of its course ; the right flank 
 rested upon the Bannock where it issued from the im- 
 passable defiles of the Tor Wood. 
 
 In two respects King Robert was greatly conscious of 
 the inferiority of his forces to the English. In his whole 
 army he only possessed five hundred cavalry under Sir 
 Robert de Keith, whereas the English horse numbered 
 nothing less than ten thousand ; and, saving a hundred 
 and fifty good marksmen from Ettrick Forest, his archery 
 was contemptible as opposed to the finest bowmen in the 
 world. The issue must be decided by the ashen pikes of 
 his Lowlanders, the swords and targes of his Highlanders 
 and the favourable features of the ground. ' 
 
 It was glorious midsummer weather. Roses, red and 
 
The Eve of Saint John. 
 
 345 
 
 white, spangled the thicket with their gracious sprays; larks 
 carolled in the lift ; a pearly mist veiled, but did not hide, 
 the soaring summit of Dunmyat, as the sun rose in a 
 cloudless sky bringing in the morning of Sunday, the vigil 
 of Saint John. Its earliest rays shone on the Scottish 
 soldiers, kneeling in their ranks, as the Abbot of Inchaf- 
 fray celebrated mass and offered the immemorial Scottish 
 prayer—" God schaw the right ! " No sign of the enemy 
 was visible upon the plain to the south, although the 
 Scottish commanders were well informed that he had lain 
 at Falkirk overnight, barely three leagues distant. It was 
 nearly high noon before the scouts brought word that the 
 English were in full march upon Stirling, and nearly two 
 hours later their advanced guard could be descried upon 
 the rising ground about Plean. None doubted that the 
 attack would be delivered that day, and Gloucester's glit- 
 tering array drew near and ever nearer, till the Scottish 
 knights could distinguish the bearings on the banners, 
 and began reckoning in jest the price of ransom they 
 would ask from their owners. 
 
 While all eyes were bent upon the coming foe, an 
 untoward event took place. The Scottish picket in the 
 village of Saint Ninian's, the extreme left of the line, gave 
 the alarm that a clump of spears had ridden as if from 
 Stirling, under the brow of the rising ground, and so cut 
 across the carse to meet the English advanced guard. 
 It was Sir Philip de Mowbray, the governcr of besieged 
 Stirling, who, well informed by spies of the nature of the 
 Scottish king's dispositions, had escaped in order to urge 
 King Edward not to press his attack. 
 
 " My lord of Gloucester," he said, when he was brought 
 before the commander of the English vanguard, " I do 
 ^eseech you to advance no farther liii you have taken 
 
 1 <i 
 
 *l 
 
 I 
 
 3 ,1 
 
k I 1 
 
 346 T/ie Chevalier of the Splendid Crest. 
 
 advice with my lord the king. The Scots position cannot 
 be approached by cavalry. I am well persuaded that if 
 you pursue your present line, you will encounter disaster." 
 "What! would you have me turn tail before the 
 rangail on yonder hills?" asked the proud young earl. 
 "Sir Philip, Sir Philip, such is not the kind of counsel 
 that will prevail with me at this hour. We shall brush 
 them aside, and you shall ride with me to sup in 
 Stirling." ^ 
 
 "I am not one to counsel turning of tails, my lord" 
 retorted Sir Philip, «'but I tell you a cavalry attack by 
 the Roman way must fail. My lord the king must send 
 his cavalry by the carse, making a diversion while the 
 divisions of foot press their attack in front." 
 
 "You may carry your advice to the king himself, then," 
 said Gloucester, taking fire, " for I am not one of those 
 who turn aside when the enemy is in sight. God's 
 blood ! Sir Philip, have a care that the king does not 
 chide you for abandoning your castle at such a moment 
 as this." 
 
 "At another time, my lord, you shall answer for this 
 affront. Meanwhile, please God that your folly does not 
 cost us a defeat," and Sir Philip drew his horse aside and 
 said no more words. 
 
 Gloucester held his way, but Mowbray, long versed in 
 Scottish warfare, was so strongly convinced of the only 
 kind of tactics which might overcome King Robert's 
 opposition, that he spurred on to meet the king. From 
 him he got a more patient hearing. A council of war 
 was summoned, and the majority of voices were given 
 for delaying the attack untix next day, seeing that both 
 horse and foot were greatly exhausted by the sultry heat. 
 Gloucester paid no heed to the summons recalling his 
 
The Eve of Saint John. 
 
 347 
 
 J must send 
 n while the 
 
 advanced guard. The school of chivalry was a bad 
 academy of discipline ; he was nettled at Mowbray's 
 attempt to delay his advance, and thought to settle the 
 whole affair by a brilliant coiip-de-7nain. 
 
 "If Stirling is so loosely beleaguered that Sir Philip 
 can ride out at his pleasure, what hinders but that we 
 should ride in?" 
 
 He halted his division upon the green hillside of 
 Charters Hall in plain view of the Scottish array, distant 
 not more than two bowshots, the brook running between 
 them. Although rash to a fault, Gloucester had the 
 talents of a skilful tactician, and perceived that, in order 
 to throw a body of horse into Stirling, he must divert the 
 attention of the Scottish army from their left flank by a 
 demonstration in their front. He chose a device char- 
 acteristic not only of himself, but of the times and of 
 the whole ceremonial character of the campaign. He 
 sent Sir Henry de Bohun, one of the most redoubted 
 champions of the lists, riding forward alone, to challenge 
 any Scottish knight to single combat. Then he ordered 
 Sir Robert de Clifford, commanding the cavalry of the 
 advanced guard, to take three squadrons of his best 
 horse and lead them under the brae of Saint Ninian's, 
 and so into the besieged town. 
 
 Clifford, a dashing and intrepid commander, found this 
 duty exactly to his liking. He chose for the work Sir 
 Henry de Beaumont, Sir Thomas Gray, and Sir Walter 
 le Marmion, and these formed their squadrons upon the 
 right of the English line, waiting for the signal to march. 
 
 Meanwhile Sir Henry de Bohun, glittering in silver and 
 blue, his horse splendidly caparisoned with blue cloth 
 housings, embroidered with silver lioncels, rode forward 
 alone uuon the Roman wav^ This ltd thrnuQ^h the 
 
 
 i ' 
 
348 The Chevalier of the Splendid Crest. 
 
 marshes upon an amphitheatre of firm pasture, in the 
 middle of which he halted and winded a defiant blast 
 upon his horn. The challenge was well understood. 
 1 he King of Scots, who had been riding up and down 
 the ranks exhorting his men and correcting their position, 
 remed up his palfrey. To him galloped up Sir James o 
 Douglas on a splendid black war-horse 
 
 " A challenge, my lord ! » said he ;«' I crave the favour 
 of accepting it in person for the honour of Scotland " 
 
 p 7!"' u '^'"'P^°" '°"^^ "° ^'"S d^^i^^'" returned 
 Robert, but I have a mind to renew my old acquaint- 
 ance with Bohun in person." 
 
 "Surely sire, you will not expose yourself mounted 
 and armed as you are. Bethink you what issues hang 
 upon your life; for all our sakes, I beseech you to let 
 another take up this challenge." 
 
 "Never fear for me," answered the king. <'God hath 
 given me a head as well as hands, and I am accustomed 
 to rely upon the one as much as upon the other. Ride 
 you back to your people, and I will speak to you 
 anon Nay, go, Douglas," he added firmly, as he saw 
 Sir James hesitating, "for such is our pleasure at this 
 time. 
 
 Then was enacted a wonder '"'il scene before the soldiers 
 of both nations-a scene which none who witnessed it 
 would ever forget. The King of Scots had left aside his 
 surcoat by reason of the heat; he was plainly clad in 
 shirt and cuisses of mail, which had gathered some rust 
 in the bivouac. He carried no shield; the only indica- 
 tion of his rank was a light diadem of gold encircling his 
 simple cap of coibuyle; neither held he a spear, only a 
 battle-axe, of such weight as few but himself could wield 
 Bestriding a hill-pony, he looked almost mean as he 
 
-rest. 
 
 The Eve of Saint John, 
 
 349 
 
 asture, in the 
 defiant blast 
 
 I understood. 
 
 up and down 
 
 their position, 
 Sir James of 
 
 ve the favour 
 cotland." 
 fe," returned 
 aid acquaint- 
 
 ielf mounted 
 
 issues hang 
 
 li you to let 
 
 "God hath 
 accustomed 
 )ther. Ride 
 eak to you 
 , as he saw 
 sure at this 
 
 the soldiers 
 witnessed it 
 sft aside his 
 nly clad in 
 i some rust 
 only indica- 
 icircling his 
 •ear, only a 
 ould wield, 
 ean as he 
 
 trotted down the gentle slope in the broad sunlight to 
 meet the English chevalier, who seemed to tower above 
 him on his noble destrier. 
 
 De Bohun appeared to hesitate for a moment, as if 
 disdaining such an unequal opponent ; then dropping his 
 spear-point to the charge, he set spurs to his horse and 
 drove straight against the king. Not a sound stirred 
 among the thirty thousand spectators ; the destiny of the 
 two kingdoms was at stake. Next moment a great roar 
 crashed along the Scottish line. The English knight's 
 charger was careering back towards Gloucester's columns, 
 his rider lay on the greensward with a great cleft through 
 helm and brain-pan, and the King of Scots was riding 
 quietly up the northern slope, eyeing the broken shaft of a 
 battle-axe in his hand. His pony, answering nimbly to 
 the bit, had swerved when his adversary's spear-point was 
 within a cubit of its mark ; true was the eye and tough 
 the sinew that sped a back -handed blow. Brave de 
 Bohun had ridden his last course. 
 
 Gloucester's ruse to divert attention from de Clifford's 
 movement had been perfectly effective. King Robert 
 had specially charged the Earl of Moray to watch the 
 road through the carse to Stirling, of which his higher 
 position gave him a better view than could be had from 
 other parts of the Scottish line. But almost the first 
 thing which met King Robert's eyes as he reached the 
 crest where his standard was planted was the glitter of 
 English spears and steel-caps in rear of his own left flank. 
 The road to Stirling lay open to these squadrons ; in a 
 few minutes the gage would be redeemed by King 
 Edward, and the garrison would be relieved. A bitter 
 curse rose to hi? iips. 
 
 "Randolph, Rarn'oloh! could vou not watch one hour? 
 
 n 'A 
 
 
ir 
 
 350 The Chevalier of the Splendid Crest. 
 
 Go tell our nephew that he has let 
 
 fall 
 
 from 
 
 lis 
 
 „, , " ""■ '"^ "its lei rail a r 
 
 chaplet, and bid him keep surer watch » 
 
 kept his e raClr" ""'''" ^°"'''''^- 
 •he plain?' The Zng e'l h,d IT"'?" """'"' '" 
 after de Cifford. 1,1:^^ .^fantT TeUd ^f n ' 
 enterpnse ; yet he did it. There was no h e se ,o"d^ 
 By keeping along the firm ground his li.h, L , 
 
 wet-foots" C Rndhofn n^ ."^ ,k™ "'°"""<' "^'""'^ 
 diately in ho. pursuit '"'''''^' "= "'=' '"-«- 
 
 Vain attempt ! By the time thay cleared the sl,iru „e 
 the forest at Torbrex the irn„i;.i, j '^ "^ 
 
 as far as Wester LMhnI*',/'"""'''""'' "'"= "'^'^dy 
 in impotem wrlth ; e ;!" ^°'»y gnashed his teeth 
 
 NeverLiess, tht^ll^rdZTfr L%S^^ 
 restored to him the chance he had forfdted Sir h' 
 de Beaumont, riding with de Clifford at he head ffT 
 column, happened to cast his eyes toward. It 
 
 P^on. and descried Ka„dolphr:p—ui*;^r 
 
 of Christ ' dp mrfr^rA minutes. By the wounds 
 
 v^nnsc . ae Cliliord, we must read these M]nvuo o i 
 
 Ui/Tord had been trained in a school which heM fe- 
 me lay the dearest boon that could befall a n.gh nl 
 
 "We are in luck," quoth he ,0 Marmion, as he passed 
 
'est, 
 
 ose from his 
 
 shall blame 
 5 could have 
 
 combat in 
 ; to set out 
 med a futile 
 
 else to do. 
 )oted spear- 
 Tis as they 
 md "gillie- 
 was imme- 
 
 le skirts of 
 
 !re already 
 
 his teeth 
 
 oversight. 
 
 sh knights 
 
 Sir Henry 
 
 ad of the 
 
 5 Scottish 
 
 from the 
 
 >es; they 
 - wounds 
 a lesson 
 md then 
 iteel." 
 held fair 
 ht. He 
 oyed m 
 
 pa.^^d 
 
 The Eve of Saint John. 
 
 351 
 
 down the ranks 
 
 the Kendal horse. "I see the white 
 star of Moray on yonder banner. Well would I love to 
 take the young traitor, were it but to pay him off for his 
 masquerade on the Water of I.ync." 
 
 But Marmion, for once, was indisposed for adventure. 
 He had heard de Clifford receive his orders, which were 
 that he should ride straight into Stirling, and thus fulfil 
 the King of England's pledge, and he knew the Scottish 
 pikemen too well not to foresee hazard to the mission in 
 thus going out of their way to encounter them. 
 
 " I crave your grace, Sir Robert," said he, " but were it 
 not well to push on to Stirling while the road is clear ? I 
 reckon there are nothing less than two thousand pikes in 
 yonder column." 
 
 "Look you, Marmion!" interposed de Beaumont 
 roughly, " if you are afraid, we can do this bit of work 
 without you and your yellow jackets. Away with you! 
 and get behind the walls as quickly as you please," 
 
 " Sir," replied Marmion quietly, " you know me better 
 than to suspect me of ^ear. My whole jealousy is fc- the 
 king's service." 
 
 By this time the Scots were out upon the level ground, 
 advancing in that solid "schiltrom" formation which 
 Wallace had borrowed from the Flemings. It was one of 
 the traditions of chivalry that foot-soldiers could not hold 
 their own upon even ground against good cavalry : but it 
 was a tradition which was doomed to be washed from the 
 record in much blood. When Randolph heard the 
 English trumpets sounding the advance he halted his 
 schiltrom: the men faced outwards, the outer ranks 
 kneeling with their pike-butts firmly planted on the soil, 
 the inner ranks, with longer pike -shafts, holding their 
 weapons liorizontallv below thf; hrMQt • «Imic r.,.^of.„ *,-.,,. 
 
 I ; 
 
 I 
 
 1 : 
 
 I * 
 
 "<•---•« - 
 
El 'I 
 
 si I 
 
 Imp 
 
 352 TAe Chevalier of the Splendid Crest. 
 
 hedge bf steel to all assailants, in.pregnabie as Ion. as 
 those who held the pikes did not flinch 
 
 I.-n!rr "'. "° "'"''™« ™™8 Moray's men. The 
 tnghsh squadrons launched themselves again and agal 
 .n va n agamst the dauntless Highlanders, then circled 
 round about the schiltrom, yet found never a weak snot 
 S r Wdham d-Eyncour. fell at Marmion's side inthe first 
 charge^ .n the second, Marmion's good horse was fjil 
 
 tasted "k """■ """ " "°"= "' "-"" hands 
 
 wltle-preir ^"' '''" '"'■ '""'''"^ "-'"-'^ 
 Gaspard de Neville, burning to win his spurs and 
 chargmg at h,s master's side, met a more cruel fate. S^h 
 was the speed and force with which he drove his horse 
 agamst the fence of bristling points, that he crushed , he 
 kneehng rank to the ground ; but the pikeman stand ng 
 behmd received the gallant squire upon his weapon as he 
 was thrown forward with fearful violence. The t^.h 
 ashen shaft bent like a reed, yet the point wen l2e 
 percmg the ma,l of proof as though it had been parchment' 
 He fd at Marmio,.s feet, as his brother had fa'len irthe 
 Glen of Trool; and even in the stress of that awful com 
 bat, when h.s comrades were dying on every hand and h" 
 own phght was a maddening one, the knight's though 
 flew oack .0 the days when Challice had sent him first one 
 then another of her kinsmen ,0 win their way to fame ' 
 It was p,t,ful to see those fine horsemen dashing ,hem 
 selves npon .he cruel points and unable to eJZZ 
 d^h and wounds with those who dealt them so secu ely 
 CMord saw the game was up; hurling his heavy mice 
 w.th all h.s might and with such good aim that i Tore h^ 
 brooch from Moray's shoulder and felled a rear-rank „ an 
 on the far s,de of the square, he bade his trumpet round 
 
"^est 
 
 e as long as 
 
 men. The 
 n and again 
 then circled 
 
 1 weak spot. 
 
 2 in the first 
 ie was fairly 
 own hands 
 ng fiercely, 
 
 spurs and 
 fate. Such 
 2 his horse 
 rushed the 
 n standing 
 tpon, as he 
 rhe tough 
 ent home, 
 )archment. 
 lien in the 
 wful com- 
 id and his 
 
 thoughts 
 
 first one, 
 > fame, 
 ing them- 
 exchange 
 
 securely, 
 ivy mace 
 ; tore the 
 ank man 
 er sound 
 
 PAR 
 
 
 ,» t. 
 
 / 
 
 ISIDE 
 
 90 
 
 \^ 
 
f m 
 

 THE BATTLE OF BANNOCKBURN, 
 Ith June 1314. 
 
 "Wt I'lic King of Scots command- 
 
 ing Reserve. 
 
 ■^ Scottish Division ,. 
 
 Edward de Brus. 
 
 Randolph. 
 
 Doiifjlas and Walter the 
 Steward. 
 
 Kd Sir Robert de Keith's Horse. 
 
 Hai^gage and camp-followers. 
 
 Randolph's Engagement on 
 
 2.:iifl June. 
 
 X-ij' 'I'he King of ICngland. 
 
 ■■■ English Columns advancing. 
 
 A English Archers playing on 
 
 Edward de Hrus's Hank. 
 
 G Gloucester's Heavy Cavalry 
 
 charging. 
 
 C De Clifford and De Beaumont's 
 
 Ride with Light Cavalry on 
 23rd June. 
 
 1 
 
 n 
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 '-^ (716) 482 - 0300 - Phone 
 
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h I 
 
 ■*pr" 
 
*' 
 
 The Eve of Saint yohn. 3^3 
 
 the ''retire," and drew off his shattered squadrons, just as 
 Douglas was approaching with a reinforcement ^ He ef 
 more than fourscore dead horses round the fatal schiltrom 
 and as many of his knights and soldiers either slain "; 
 taken prisoners, 
 
 Marmion's golden helmet marked him out as a .reat 
 prize; mdeed he was easily recognised thereby, for the 
 fame of the splendid crest had not been forgotten in 
 Scot^sh camp-lore. For the second time he stood before 
 the Kmg of Scots, a prisoner taken in open mellay 
 
 Ha, sir knight!" quoth King Robert, when he saw 
 him, «'so Che fortune of war has unfriended you onci 
 agam. Blame us not if your ransom stands at a higher 
 figure than when we last fixed it in the Glen of Trool It 
 is your own valour which has enhanced its value " 
 
 "Your troops have taught us a lesson, sire, this day" 
 saidMarnnon, '' which I trust King Edward's commanded 
 will lay to heart. They are the only foot-soldiers I eve 
 saw that could withstand a charge of de Clifford's horse" 
 Ihat IS a matter, sir knight, which we will gladly dis- 
 cuss w,th you at a time of more leisure," replied the king. 
 Meanwhile, in order that your captivity may be as Httf^ 
 irksome to your valiancy as may be, we will accept your 
 parole, if you care to give it, not to go beyond our out- 
 posts, and to surrender to us at sundown to-morrow" 
 
 ^Cl 'I^'^Ar"' ?''" ''^^ ^'™'°"^ "^"^ ^^^'"g that 
 the Earl of Moray has taken many prisoners, we must put 
 
 him to the trouble of guarding us till such time as fair 
 rescue appears." 
 
 1 Two large stones, set up about a hundred yards west of the hiHi 
 road ead:ng south from Stirling, mark the position of R^'fph 
 
 .*! 
 
 i 11 
 
« 
 
 ^ 
 
 ■m- 
 
 4 
 354 Tie Chevalier of the Splendid Crest. 
 
 "There spoke a true soldier," exclaimed King Rober- 
 
 "I, too, may claim the honour of acquaintance with 
 S.r Walter le Marmion," lisped Sir James of Dou2 
 "beanng as I do in lively remembrance his skill f^ 
 
 ,y.^v Tu^ "■'"' ""'■ '''"^'^ «"<== ^^ ^mediately won 
 the Enghsh kmght's favour. War is shorn of much of "." 
 ngour when opponents in the mellay meet without L 
 after the fray, without rancour 
 
 It was easy for the Scottish leaders to be of gentle 
 humour that night. Their spirits and the spirits of 1h 
 thetr men had been greatly cheered by the event J^^t 
 day. Gloucester, on the other hand, fell back in the 
 evemng ,o jom the bivouac of the main body oJ he 
 
 brsLrrisf:srani *^-" r- ^ 
 
 Marmioi^, too, was cast down in spirit, not so much 
 because of hrs imprisonment,-he had learnt enou" "he 
 soldier's iodu m,hi, eras tibi philosophy to desoa^- H 
 
 upon that account,— but beL,^ „r ,^ ,f " ^^ 
 ;„ r-k IV . , oecause of the gallant fell ws 
 
 in Chalhces squadron who had fallen before the crud 
 Scottish p,kes. He knew how sorely their ladv woTd 
 mourn for the honest blue eyes closed' for v«more and 
 for the mourning that would darken many a WeZoria^d 
 grange, and all because of de Beaumont's headstrong foly 
 But more than all was he filled with apprehension b^ 
 something that occurred while he sat in DougWs booth of 
 branches, discussing salmon-steak, broUed'mut.on, and 
 
d Crest. 
 
 ned King Robert 
 e esteem you not 
 'est to your own 
 
 ^quaintance with 
 
 Ties of Douglas, 
 
 :e his skill as a 
 
 forget the braes 
 
 mmediately won 
 1 of much of its 
 without rancour 
 
 be of gentle 
 >e spirits of all 
 e events of the 
 :I1 back in the 
 
 1 body of the 
 I omens which 
 
 that next day 
 ?on the Scots. 
 
 not so much 
 : enough " »;he 
 despair ,tly 
 gallant fell ws 
 ^ore the cruel 
 ir lady would 
 evermore, and 
 
 Westmorland 
 idstrong folly, 
 vehension by 
 [las's booth of 
 
 mutton, and 
 
 '^^ie Eve of Saint John. 
 
 355 
 
 had delivered ll^e^o h^ro^wrh""^"^^ ''''''' 
 and desired to be brought befllul" ^^^^^^^ 
 be admitted at once To hifho /. ' ^^"^ ^'^' ^'"^ 
 Sir Alexander drSeton a Scot "":' ^T"" "^°^'^^^ 
 consistently served the Engl 1 sn:d held"^ ''"^ ''' 
 ant command in Gloucester's divUbn " '"^P^^^" 
 
 Ed^ardrnT''' "' ''' "^° ^^" ^°" ^^^^ ' - King 
 
 InTn/wh: rheT;he ""i 'T ^"^°^^ ^ ^^^^ 
 e wxien 1 ncard the pibroch of Morav onri t 
 
 w.sh .0 take service under the King T^^^J" ^™ 
 
 deseieT "" "i "' J;t\f ^ P'^^^^'" --™<' '-e 
 I am ready to do f alyTo t^Sr. '°r ^'"^ ^'™'''^ 
 -e..,e.„,,,,„l;^tfrX^rt,^^^^^^^^ 
 
 submu .0 .e disarmed, and your fo,.!;"" t ™ 
 
 str:„rerSLtr.:nrnid^^^^^^^^^^^ 
 
 our humble board .mHi iT *^ y°" ^'^ at 
 
 freshment under the stars." " ^^ '^ 
 
 "I understand," repHed Seton bitterlv • "»„„ 
 are certainly against me. But if 1 ''. 'PP^'""^" 
 before the king this night, at least gChf^ thlTd "" 
 Say to h,m, that if he would beW^f S:::,::'dt • 
 
 In 
 
356 The Chevalier of the Splendid Crest. 
 
 hour has come. He must strike, ar>d strike home, on 
 the morrow. Tell him there is dismay in the English 
 camp; that my lord of Gloucester is at issue with de 
 Valence and the other lords, who blame him for the 
 disasters of this day ; that all the nobles alike are mur- 
 munng at the favour shown to Sir Hugh le Despenser 
 the kmg's new favourite ; that the common soldiers are 
 dispirited and dreading an attack. I would counsel the 
 king to lead the assault upon them where they lie, and not 
 wait until another sun revives their spirit." 
 
 Something in Seton's manner, added to what Douglas 
 knew of his honourable character, more than half-convinced 
 him that he was sincere. He took Seton before the king 
 who listened attentively to his tale, and then bade him 
 withdraw. 
 
 "Now look you, Douglas," said he, when they were 
 alone together, " think you this knight is either a spy or 
 a common renegade ? " 
 
 "Spy he is none," replied Douglas, " for no good knight 
 would venture his credit m that dirty traffic. As for 
 renegade— sangdieu ! that cap fits him well who deserts 
 his colours on the eve of battle; but common Seton 
 never was nor will be. Sire, 1 believe he has told you 
 the whole truth." 
 
 "I am of the same mind," said the King of Scots, "and 
 1 am determined to shape my plan accordingly. The 
 night is young yet, but our people sleep sound. It had 
 been my purpose to wake them before daybreak and to 
 strike into the Lennox, leaving the road to Stirling open 
 to the English king. Hunger would soon work as great 
 havoc m his ranks as I could hope to do at great cost to 
 my own subjects. Yet even now, at the eleventh hour 
 I am not too proud to change my counsel. If Edward 
 
' Crest. 
 
 strike home, on 
 in the English 
 t issue with de 
 le him for the 
 alike are mur- 
 i le Despenser, 
 on soldiers are 
 lid counsel the 
 hey lie, and not 
 
 > what Douglas 
 I half-convinced 
 before the king, 
 :hen bade him 
 
 The Eve of Saint John. 357 
 
 is so simple as to attack us in front only, I shall hold my 
 ground. If he threatens our left flank also, there will 
 
 w A ''T- 1° '"°'' °^ ^y °"^ "^^^' ^"d «o into the Tor 
 Wood; whither I cannot wish him a worse doom than to 
 follow us. 
 
 .vi7''p''?^"; '""'" """^'^'""''^ Douglas, wiU, blazing 
 eye " By the five wounds ! but that is a hearing refreshes 
 me like a cup of good wine." 
 
 And thus it was settled that the great issue should be 
 deternimed in the open field. 
 
 len they were 
 either a spy or 
 
 no good knight 
 ■affic. As for 
 II who deserts 
 common Seton 
 has told you 
 
 3f Scots, "and 
 rdingly. The 
 und. It had 
 break and to 
 Stirling open 
 ^'ork as great 
 great cost to 
 eventh hour, 
 If Edward 
 
 ' fl 
 
358 
 
 
 XXMh 
 
 m t&e meeting of tj^e Einsg Matt S>tixlins, aiilr of tfte 
 calamtts tfiat ffiotJ sent upon tfie Eeoparta of 3En|jIanli. 
 
 Upon that night, the shortest of all the year, profound 
 stillness wrapt all the Scottish bivouac. The watch-fires 
 were allowed to burn down to ash-heaps ; scarcely a breeze 
 stirred the warm air; light-shod reliefs moved silent and 
 ghost-hke across the moonlit turf, and all was silent, save 
 for the challenge of the rounds and sentries. Marmion 
 after sharing Douglas's simple fare, had been removed to 
 join his fellow-prisoners upon a wooded hill i in the King's 
 Park, a mile or so in rear of the Scottish position, where 
 the baggage and camp-followers lay in a separate camp 
 strongly guarded. Despite his fatigue, despite the com- 
 parative comfort of the bed of heather prepared for him 
 he could not sleep for anxiety as to the fortunes of the 
 coming day. Seton's description of the discord among 
 his brothers-in-arms filled him with apprehension; his 
 experience in war, and the sample he had witnessed 
 already of the steadiness of King Robert's levies, con- 
 vinced him that, even with his immensely superior num- 
 bers. King Edward must not throw away a single point in 
 ^ Known to this day as the Gillies Hill. 
 
The Meeting of Kings. 
 
 359 
 
 the game if he would rise a winner-could not afford anv 
 
 errors ,n tact.cs if he would avoid a terrible disaster ' 
 
 King Robertas strategy was far too wary and well thought 
 
 from th'""'. "k' "^''" '° '^^^"'^ ^^^'^ ^° -ove ou 
 from the position he had so carefully planned in order to 
 
 Samt John the Scottish troops stood to arms : once more 
 he good Abbot of Inchaffray celebrated mass and carried 
 the host in procession down the entire front, followed 
 by a priest carrying the silver shrine of Saint Fillan 
 enclosing a rehc of peculiar sanctity. Then the camp! 
 fires were rekindled; the great kettles began to steam, 
 
 manv of T" '" "' "'"' "" ^° ^^ ^ '-'' '"eal fo 
 many of them. 
 
 The sun was not very high before the English advanced 
 guard appeared in sight for the second time, and the 
 Scottish scouts began returning within the outposts 
 Eagerly King Robert questioned them about the enemy's 
 hne of march, and gladly flashed the light from his eyes 
 when each one declared that the English were moving 
 along the hne of the Roman way in ten divisions, formed 
 in two parallel columns, with Gloucester's single division 
 as advanced guard, and that of the Earl of Angus as rear- 
 guard. There were no signs of a parallel movement by 
 the carse, of which the surface was seamed by innumer- 
 able water-courses, deeply cut in the clav, and broken 
 by marshes and water-pans, exceedingly embarrassing to 
 heavy cavalry. ^ 
 
 "Douglas," exclaimed the King of Scots, turning to his 
 trusted lieutenant, "God and Saint Fillan have not failed 
 us. We have but to hold our ground, and the day must 
 be ours ! ' "^ 
 
 From his position in the baggage-camp on Gillies Hill 
 
3<5o The Chevalier of tlie Splendid Crest 
 
 ground about Pl.an. -Ihe sto "i K ! "P™ "•■= "P»" 
 fell bnck before the advLced .„. tT "' "'^''"'^^ 
 the previous day, by tie Earl of n"' """ ''"■ ^^ °" 
 gonft,o„, with -at.e'; chit: Ll^:;-;:;-^,^; So'fen 
 morninL' 1 eht A nnr,rr u . J '^"""g atar in the clear 
 as he LrS a yeDco'atd' r" fl ^^""'^ *-« 
 nant of his own cLnld CmSk „dT~*; ^™- 
 w,th whon, he .ight not cL^ge "^ d^;"'"' ''l"^''— 
 
 'evies. •he'^co^;::." ;rrt:^ °^ '^■■"^.^-'-'■^ 
 
 have felt little doubt as t^wh it sTouTdl"""". "'"^' 
 coming strife Kin^ fh, T 7 conquer in the 
 
 ing d4on aitostt^ii'irti^gXirr "'r.*""^'- 
 
 ■ng upon tens of thousand, nf., '""''«'" "'''=''■ 
 
 ^P .he gloty Of .yriargtfal^rp Cr a^d T"? 
 Powerful as the annr^^n^K- , t-cimono, and pencils. 
 
 outnu.beri„g'':h:'"^;th"^C":; 7:. T '-"-'' 
 
 great strength of the English cavaty Ltsed ^he"'' "' 
 ■ng disparity, and lent them an ,Z '"*"'■ 
 
 which should make their onset irresSrT °' T'^"" 
 possible to believe that of ° "'"'='''"'''«■ I' «'as hardly 
 
 drawn up on the 1' sM tf"*™?"' ''"''"''''"■'■■' 
 but shattered fragments coM sur v^ T°''' '"''"'"^ 
 steel-clad torrent. There was 1 ft I^ ^ '^' °^ ">'' 
 gay clothing in the Sc: isHa f 'rhe' ^"''"'^ "' 
 ."deed-the sanguine lion w thin the fr! ' '°'"''™' 
 golden field-flamed from it lofty ta7r T *^ 
 planted in the midst of Randolph Moll -hllf "" 
 
 few other banners ther^ „„ u ""'^^^ s-hiltrom. A 
 
 -*e stars and chlef^f D t aTZ T'^r ''''^ 
 
 ^ougias, the fess chequy of the 
 
(i Crest. 
 
 English array, as 
 ' upon the open 
 :ets and vedettes 
 :h was led, as on 
 ister, his golden 
 afar in the clear 
 r Walter's heart 
 horse — the rem- 
 idal squadron — 
 
 ish warfare, and 
 King Ro!)ert's 
 g armies must 
 conquer in the 
 3 like a glitter- 
 sunlight flash- 
 es and lighting 
 3, and pencils. 
 , and actually 
 - to one, the 
 ed their seem- 
 ice of weight 
 It was hardly 
 "schiltroms," 
 5ck, anything 
 issage of that 
 •f heraldry or 
 yal gonfalon, 
 re upon the 
 e a beacon 
 hiltrom. A 
 own devices 
 equy of the 
 
 The Meeting of Kiv-^s. 35, 
 
 Fr^'^'.'^'n ''''''' '*^'"^°" °f Carrick, displayed by 
 Edward de Brus-but the general effect was son b 
 Ihe dews of many nights had dimmed the brightness o 
 arms and harness; the principal chevdiers wore ' y 
 
 ranks Hodd""'^ ^"' " '^^^^'^ '" ^" '^^ ^n jish 
 ranks. Hodden grey was the dominant tone in the 
 
 wesdand levaes of the Steward; the king's ow men 
 
 o Carnck wore the same; while the Islesmen undlr 
 
 Angus Og were dark with ill-burnished steel and brown 
 
 athern doublets. Even the tartan of Moray's High- 
 
 were in green. The only dainty display in the whole 
 Scott^h hne was made by Sir Robert de Ke th's Iktle 
 bngade of horse-five hundred strong-findy dad ov 
 th^r mad in white doublets lined with scarlet 
 
 But to a soldier's eye there was something ominou. in 
 the steadmess and silence of the Scottish columns Ma" 
 m.n who ad proved more than once the mettle of ^L" 
 Roberts pikemen, and who noted the skill with wt ch 
 he masses had been placed, foresaw that it would Te no 
 ch Id s play to dislodge them. Gloucester he loved and 
 valued as an intrepid leader, but he could norconceal 
 ^rom himsdf that the reconnaissance of the previous day 
 had been conducted rather in bra -^o «nrf T . ^ 
 for .he fray *a„ wie., seriou. pu' le o" Z^:^ 
 
 .7n T^ """"^ '"" '"""^'"^ ">•= approaches ,0 
 
 Now- God grant," quoth he to old Sir Thomas Tr v 
 
 s.a„d,„g beside him, a prisoner like himsd' " hafmy 
 
 ord the k,„g wil, no. he so ill advised a. to del ver I 
 
 frontal attack, unless he sends a strong turning foce 
 
 round their left flank." ^"™ing rorce 
 
 "Faith! our captains have little liking for that low 
 
362 The Chevalier of the SpUndid Crest. 
 
 ground with its runnels and pools," answered the oeher 
 
 Kach man hugs .he hard ground, and .hose of ou," oop 
 
 who escaped yesterday will carry a sorry descrip .'0^0' 
 
 the going in .he plain." ='-npuon 01 
 
 "Bahl" exclaimed Marmion impatiently, "if our lords 
 ar afta.d of soiling .heir silk Jupons and h ,rse-hoLings 
 there ,s no more to be said. But mark you thri ; 
 r omas ,f the whole advance comes wher/ my b'd o 
 Gloucester ,s now leading, there will be sore trouble ove 
 
 .on^between .hose bogs, nor room to form for attach Sr 
 
 of the stream, delaying their attack while Kilg Edw ' 
 
 at Charter s Hall, opposite the centre of the Scot.L li„. 
 and .0 the west of the Roman road. There had he' 
 deputes and heartburning about the or er f .hose"" 
 a endance upon him. as there were disputes and hLt 
 
 Ed3 I ;', T' '"^""^ ^"^"™"8 this unhappy k?ng 
 Edward had laid commands upon his new favourite tr 
 
 Eari o% rr'- '" '"-^ ^' "'^ "8"' -i"; but .he 
 Earl of Pembroke claimed his right to that post of 
 
 honour as premier baron of England after the absent 
 
 Henry of Lancaster; neither would Sir Giles de lr«^ 
 
 tme suffer the Despenser to ride at the lef rein Xh 
 
 kn 8„t m Christendom. So the Despenser had to ride 
 
 uSlt """ ""* *' «"■" "'O -"- «" I~e 
 
 King Edward presented in his person the very ideal of 
 
 Christian knighthood. Tall, handsome, athletic, he sat 
 
f Crest. 
 
 ^ered the other, 
 ose of our troop 
 I' description of 
 
 ly, " if our lords 
 horse- housings, 
 k you this, Sir 
 ere my lord of 
 )re trouble over 
 nceuvre a pelo- 
 for attack after 
 
 ^ot prolonged, 
 the south side 
 King Edward, 
 : up a position 
 ! Scottish line, 
 ere had been 
 r of those in 
 es and heart- 
 unhappy king, 
 favourite, Sir 
 ein; but the 
 that post of 
 r the absent 
 2S de Argen- 
 t rein, which 
 as the third 
 had to ride 
 ir Ingram de 
 
 very ideal of 
 letic, he sat 
 
 '^ he Meeting of Kings. 
 
 363 
 
 hi. magnificen, destrier »i,h all the power and grace of 
 h . s,re he wore no vuor, but a circlet of gold round his 
 
 sit: 1";;' ' ^f """ "■'" "^ -■' '"one nk" put 
 
 opposing heightrhHaX Ifd""'^ "'"" '"'°" " ^ 
 he".^„°r ''!'=';;«'"'',""•''" ''8''""8. 'hese clowns?" quoth 
 
 ou'r path 1 ": T\ '"" '^'" """ --^ 'hen^'froL 
 our path ? See I they knee. <br mercy already " 
 
 In truth they were kneeling, but to no earthly potentate 
 Ihe Scots bent the knee to the crucifix which at thf: 
 
 ZT"""f ^ ^'''"" "' '-"affray carried 7„' p o ^' 
 sion from flank to flank. 
 
 None made answer but Sir Ingram-one who never 
 spoke without purpose. 
 
 ,h." "'n™.' t"'"""^' '""'" '"^ '=''<' ; " I know these men ■ 
 they w,ll fight, and ,0 the death. Beseech you sire be 
 
 tr u:h '""'':'"' "-^ '••■°'' ^- » .hmiion 
 
 upon such ground, you cannot break them. There is 
 but one way to deal with them. If your Highness wi 
 order a retreat, the feint will lure them .0 pursuT- we 
 shal then turn and have them at our mercy." ' 
 
 king "We'f " ^' "^'"«' ''^ '"«''"'" -P'-d the 
 tang. We cannot even feign retreat before such a rabble 
 as ,s yonder. We will take a shorter way with Them 
 
 left to sktrt yon wood and play on the Scottish right 
 
 tllZuTr °' ^'"""^^"" *-»- *em in front' 
 Now let the trumpeters sound the assault, and our drums 
 beat the point of war." 
 
 Gloucester wanted no second bidding. Down the green 
 slope before .hem swept the stately squadrons ^ith Itte" 
 
 it 
 
364 The Chevalier of the Splendid Crest. 
 
 orook , they were within bowshnf nf fK^ 
 
 the shafts feu a,„ost hanXf IL g' e^X ^e^a'd' 
 
 horses were mail-clad. ' ^"'' 
 
 resfTrif"; ^ *''"'^"<' '^^ "-^ 'o-ered to 
 
 G rg'-tdrecha^'""""^ "'"■"' «^"«^ ' =-' 
 ,r„ T. , ' '«* "P™ Edward de Brus's -chi? 
 
 ^om Bm the ground was again,. hi„; the wdght of 
 armour o„ „,„ , ,„^^^ ^^.^^ ^ ^, e,ght of 
 
 to the mpact, told against the assailants charging up h 11 
 Ihe solid square never rocked or flexed Sing up hill, 
 completely failed; but Gloucle; tntt a^ tL m 
 -mage, rallying a few of his best 'round him au„cr d 
 them .n a supreme attempt. He succeeded 7n 7^,^^ 
 
 B^Tttratrr"™^^^^^^^ 
 pte^;:ir:ri:f;~\rbT'"id"™- 
 
 no quarter: a bruised and ^^o^o^lj^t TT, 
 
 remamed of the noblest of E„gJd>s cWv^r^" ^' '"" 
 
 Of all th.s Marmion beheld not the details from his 
 
rest. 
 
 g of banners. 
 :d the foe, a 
 in-at-arms fell 
 IS pitfalls did 
 'n, or, pulling 
 mired in the 
 fusion before 
 " Forward ! " 
 'ws ; by twos 
 ith, but leav- 
 ns reformed 
 side of the 
 tny now, but 
 for men and 
 
 lowered to 
 rge ! Saint 
 Jrus's rchil- 
 3 weight of 
 e lent force 
 :ing up hill. 
 The attack 
 t the mis- 
 j launched 
 fi breaking 
 rh'ng mace, 
 id Lanark 
 ^orse went 
 !■ he was a 
 uld accept 
 3n all that 
 
 from his 
 
 The Meeting of Kings. 
 
 36s 
 
 distant point of view; only he saw that the attack had 
 most grievously failed. Gloucester's men-at-arms straggled 
 back singly and in broken groups across the brook, 
 leavmg their course strewn with dead and dying beasts 
 and men; powerless for offence, yet sufficing to throw 
 into much confusion the foremost companies of infantry 
 which were now hurrying forward to support Glouces- 
 ter's attack. The pressure in the narrow ground be- 
 came terrible ; the air rang with commands which the men 
 could not move to obey; many went down, stumbling 
 m the pitfalls or sinking in the mire, never to rise again, 
 trampled to suffocation under their comrades' feet. 
 
 But in the meantime some impression was being made 
 upon the Scottish right, which had stoM the brunt of 
 heavy horse so well. The English arch... had extended 
 across the brook upon the bushy slopes of Graystale, and 
 as soon as Gloucester's horse fell back, began to pour a 
 heavy enfilading fire upon Edward de Brus's solid column 
 Men were dropping fast there — men who had never 
 flinched before the mailed men-at-arms, turned restless 
 under the stinging storm that hissed upon their flank. 
 The King of Scots perceived this ominous stir in the 
 grey-coated ranks, and moved Randolph's schiltrom along 
 the ridge to steady them with his support. Then he 
 galloped to where Keith held his white squadrons in 
 reserve. 
 
 "You see yonder hornets that have come out of the 
 wood: rid me of them! Take them in flank and drive 
 them to the devil I " 
 
 Keith wanted no second bidding. Swiftly, without 
 sound of trumpet, his light horsemen took ground to the 
 right ; then, wheeling left, swept upon the scattered bow- 
 
 men, who werP rnmnlf^t^Uj cHfr^r.V^^ \T--^- - 1 , , 
 
 J — . ^ .jUnyricn,a. iViuny u uravc lad 
 
!»■' 
 
 366 The Chevalier of the Splendid Crest 
 
 from Lincolnshire and Sherwood Forest fitted w i 
 notch to strini? nnH f«^i u- , ^^^^^ ""^d his last 
 
 King Edward" ^nlv . k '"'' ^"^'^ ^^ ^^^^ ^^^ ^orld. 
 
 wrecked bvth. > ^^° ''''^'' '^^' ^^^ ^^^ been 
 
 wrecjced by the vigilance of his rival 
 
 Of what befell thereafter it is pitiful to tell Th. . 
 
 ne nad no choice but to retire nr f^ ^u "cicuce. 
 
 troop, battalion upon batTal n^ ; "'' '""P "P"" 
 
 tell upon tleenemv 17' ™' 'P'"' °' ^'^ " »"" 
 -an'e.inen:e o/'the :::: 7,: ^'V'^^ ™'"^"- 
 P>ain stretching from Ho: It ;i^'^''„7f!- '"^ 
 Papelotte— the Scots .fnn/ " "^^^ ^^ ^aye Samte to 
 
 ing the entire hoi otb:irp::fM',r'r^'' '^^°^^- 
 
 Milton filling with I stl '1i f '"^ '^^ ^^^"« ^^ 
 
 men, better and stronger marksmen than the « t of ,h 
 nation, who nlavpri „t^«« *u , . ^^'^ °^ ^neir 
 
 effect.' It w^lTo trw^k T"' ?"' ^"^ ^^"^'^ 
 at-arms got through the Z'ng \X^tXC! T' 
 breasted the hill onlv *« u °^^ devotion 
 
 Horrible I but IsT'L Vrie "The' K- '^ '''''^'• 
 saw that the valley of death would h J ^"^ °^ ®<^°'= 
 
 could those wi>hi'n it r eat b cau "orth""" ^ ""'" 
 hind. Moving up the roya gonfa In and' T"'' ''" 
 reserve upon the divisions of R^T u ^''«"'"8 ''*« 
 
 rode before the whde °rne and hn ' "f °°"«'^^' ''' 
 ." the clear sunlight, heM h ^ ighrh::; IT: "^"""^ 
 
rest. 
 
 itted his last 
 lis fair world, 
 lay had been 
 
 11. The two 
 English king 
 tish defence. 
 
 troop upon 
 re was none 
 ver it could 
 ig eminence 
 vrinkles the 
 e Sainte to 
 led, behold- 
 'e Whins of 
 taring mass 
 
 formation, 
 elkirk bow- 
 -st of their 
 nth deadly 
 
 and men- 
 2 devotion 
 ital pikes. 
 I of Scots 
 '■, neither 
 lasses be- 
 gning his 
 3uglas, he 
 
 standing 
 s a signal 
 e was no 
 land. A 
 Hey tutti 
 
 The M^t i g of Kings. 
 
 367 
 
 taiti." and the dark wave rolled steadily over the crest 
 upon the helpless mass below, inen if was slay a 
 slay! upon the common men, and "Yield you tv 
 pnsoner!" between the knights. King Edwir" Z 
 father's sp.r,t afire within him, had ridden forward n 
 the mdlay. Edward de Brus's men had nearly takn 
 
 buTL T ^i;'^ ""^ "^"^"^ °" ^^^ horse-tra'pping 
 but he phed h,s mace and cleared his room TheV 
 
 tZVolsT""''' ''''/' ^^^^^"^-^' ^- -at 
 hTaboTe the rZ:^"^' ^" ''' ^^ ^° ^'^ ^^ -i^^t 
 
 for';!'; 1^^/^ ^"^' '^^ ' ^°" "^"^^ ^- -^h me and ride 
 
 like^'minr HTr^V'" """^ '^ ^^S^"^'"^' -- of a 
 »e'in sX ''' ^^"^ ''' - ^^*^' -^- he 
 "But I must resign your rein, sire. An Argentine ouits 
 not thus a stncken field. I commend you to'cod • "' 
 
 Then this famous knight turned his horse's head and 
 
 laying lance in rest, drove at speed into the presf There 
 
 was a crashmg sound, and such stir in the'multitude I 
 
 a bold swimmer makes when he plunges into the tide 
 
 Argentme transfixed a Carrick spearmfn, and ^ropp" 
 
 his lance, phed right and left with busy mace. This all 
 
 figure, clad m scarlet, closely semee with golden cup ani 
 
 crosslets towered for an instant over the Long then "e 
 
 ^went under, and .he hero of a score of batL w^ no 
 
 When the gillies and camp-followers beheld the Scottish 
 hne move forward, they could be restrained To We, 
 With loud cries of "Spulz.el spulzie!" and with b lanket; 
 and plaids set on poles in lieu of banners, they broke 
 through the baggage-guard and rushed H^.! ^L ,tl 
 
r 
 
 368 The Chevalier of the Splendid Crest. 
 
 eager Yor a share of booty. It marked the turning of the 
 tide. EngHsh commanders in rear of the fighting hne 
 thought they beheld the coming of a great reinforcement 
 to the Scots. Unable to advance a step because of the 
 throng in the valley, and pressed upon intolerably by their 
 own comrades farther to the rear, they sent back urgent 
 entreaties that the advance might be stayed. The messen- 
 gers enforced their words with such vehement gestures as 
 were interpreted as signals for flight. Here half-a-dozen 
 files broke away — there a whole company; like a fell 
 contagion the panic spread: battalions, brigades, divi- 
 sions, lost their fair array ; horse and foot, bowmen and 
 spearmen—green, red, white, and blue— wavered, swayed, 
 and melted into a shapeless horde; in vain knights and 
 captains pled and swore, and even smote their men ; soon 
 a vast swarm of flying soldiery filled the whole upland 
 from Foot-o'-Green to Plean. Never, since England was 
 a nation, had such ruin come upon her arms. 
 
 \ 
 

 Crest. 
 
 3 turning of the 
 he fighting h"ne 
 it reinforcement 
 
 because of the 
 Dlerably by their 
 int back urgent 
 L The messen- 
 lent gestures as 
 re half-a-dozen 
 ny; like a fell 
 
 brigades, divi- 
 t, bowmen and 
 avered, swayed, 
 in knights and 
 leir men ; soon 
 
 whole upland 
 e England was 
 rms. 
 
 369 
 
 ©f certafn jeate foi^ereof ft til pleasetfi an iEnsIfgf,man to 
 tiear, anti of otfjer matter &)&td^ f,e m\ fccoofe jnitf) the 
 Sreater patience seemg tj^at tt fg brief. 
 
 The guard upon the English prisoners in the Scottish 
 camp joined in the maddened throng that flew upon the 
 plunder thus^Marmion and his fellows found themselves 
 at liberty. A graceless, bootless boon for seven-and- 
 twenty unarmed men with the solid Scottish line of schil- 
 troms between them and their friends. 
 
 "Sir Thomas Gray," said Marmion to his chief com- 
 panion m misfortune, "there are but two courses for us- 
 either to go and die like sheep in yonder slaughter-yard, 
 or to make for the gates of Stirling and help Sir Phk' 
 defence. Say which you will and I am with you " 
 
 ' I hold little by life after this day," answered ^he 
 veteran, «.yet I care not to go to my dLh with not t 
 much as a misencorde in my fist. Here we cannot bide, 
 or It pleases rne not to look longer upon that ugsome 
 s^ife Methinks we will serve a better purpose by'go'g 
 to_ Starting; nay, it is our duty, de Mowbray's garrison 
 being the nearest of the king's forces to thil plL' 
 
 !„., ^r^y i,..:ving not so much spirit 
 
 2 A 
 
370 The Chevalier of the Splendid Crest. 
 
 The king!" exclaimed Marmion in . 
 he discerned the leonards on .K '^"^^^^n^ent, as 
 
 kinai K^ leopards on the royal surcoat. "The 
 
 King! how comes he here?" 
 
 troop of horse as esrort -rl '"' ™"' """^ ■> 
 
 horses strippS ^f T^^y I'^CZ T' "''' *"^ 
 all that could encu,„ber Led no" h^^ n "Tu"* '"'' 
 pany a g,a„ce 6r a word foHS ".""^ "' *^ '°™- 
 How comes he here ? " Marmion repeated ■ »n^ : 
 ^rin'llr "'*■■" *^ --'-*«' "he' 
 
 pta::nf-:;^:-^^^^^ 
 
 .r ' c erde^Va'elV' V^ ' ' ^^ ^ '-- of 
 Should noe^ijd ^Ir^-H; atd'te l^^I To^d T h"^ 
 a sure guide through the passes of th Tor Wood 1;"? 
 answered yea, but that he must leave one o/^t "" 
 m place of him, seeing that I was bound by "roA^^ 
 
 'he king wiulke s^Vfor E„;lr;k' '''"■ ""'" "^ '""^ 
 
rience in the 
 
 The Hour of England's Darkness. 37, 
 
 .t; .t:„ •.":; ■": ~" -»•■ »• ■» - - ™ 
 
 pools; crowds of men onH «r^ ^ ^ 
 
 Marmion made what 306^^; t '" ^"''^ ""'' '°"^' 
 sward, bur„i„g;:t:j;ltr^ -" *e ™™''"^'' 
 
 to meet a soldier's death """"^' ^-"^ 
 
 .0 K:„dZ!;°L?:i':r "^ rt -^-"-^ "'= --- 
 
 speedy succ he ^r Hoi 'l' "'" ^'" '" '"^ 
 
 i";rditt^:;:ne?rhr r it -^ 
 
 effort to persevere R« k ^ ^ '' "^"'^ ^^"^ an 
 
 fh. t- P^ f J^'^- He had done all that duty reauired • 
 
 -^u,d he r.t otrr.ne™:af:„r s:i^ 
 
 on .He .m,ht>; ^^Z. ^^72^ ^Z. It 
 cast aside as occasion suited. The ilUZl^^ 
 
 ' a'^ ^r ni3 vviie 
 
 I 
 
372 The Chevalier of the Splendid Crest 
 
 *an see .t shrorshtrne """'T ^ '■" "*" 
 look upon her again "'"■ ^^^' ^^ '"""'^ ^v" 
 
 pasMh^^frotrbefrie'tr '''t '-' - -^-^ 
 
 Surrounded by a troop S Kei* '"k-" '"°"'" "'"8- 
 .he King Of Lo.Z°S htt^r^';--™. 
 came. The pursuit had been a^ ri™ j f^ !?' 
 afoot could follow to any good purZse Th ?'" 
 was assured, and King Robert hJT "'='°'^ 
 
 •heir .en and „,arch \ael t X''= OntD/r 
 was allowed to persevere, with sixty of Kd^^ """f ' 
 hot upon King Edward's trarlr J , ''™''''' 
 
 was to charge' the W:^'s Todygt^dTu: h'"' '""'"'" 
 sense prevailed. Whal puZsT^^l ^" T""" 
 
 Ht^d;re?.f;-n£i-^^^^^ 
 
 ::e^^r£-E-r"- 
 
 feeiing it ,,ere ^1^:0^^^^^^^--'' 
 to such a king. nimself prisoner 
 
 King Robert was weary: lone vear<j nf 
 
 wasted the frame and sttf ned * he 1 Ls Zfh" ''' 
 
 had seemed of more than mortal end"«nc!tu.T 
 
 eye bnghtened as he recognised the Lord of FoJ^e ,^^ 
 
 Your fnends have met with a rude handHnT^r 
 
 vfff- 
 
■rest, 
 
 sr brave spirit 
 bid him seek 
 ther than lose 
 i; but rather 
 '■ would never 
 
 ^lalf a league 
 nother king, 
 id horsemen, 
 
 whence he 
 far as men 
 The victory 
 ptains recall 
 'ly Douglas 
 h's cavalry, 
 rst impulse 
 s common- 
 >rve but to 
 
 followers ? 
 ivas barred, 
 5ts coming 
 lis ground, 
 If prisoner 
 
 arfare had 
 !iich once 
 ; but his 
 ^on ten aye. 
 dling this 
 ve taken 
 wn share. 
 Come, 
 
 The Hour of England s Darkness. ^y^ 
 
 Then Marmion and his companions irave ,m ,h 
 they had borrowed from Mowbray bu, T ^ T" 
 would no. suffer ,he knighrtoL? all .hfT'°"r '""^ 
 of defeat. He caused %\r w , humihation 
 
 'he whole way bacT ,o s.i^ .'° ""' "' ''= "'" 
 earnestly the L™ it""/' ..ttou' "" •''■" 
 with p.fessional .eennL the IJX Edtl^drS 
 and beanng generous testimony to the ^^frjT 
 
 nJTv ,h '" ""f. disheartening conditions. 
 Next day there was laid before the king in Stirling 
 
 of Gloucester; also the enormous number of n.tf 
 .even hundred gentlemen of coat-armour Of L cm 
 mon men who perished no estimate could be madt 
 nor can any be made at this day by reckoning T. 
 ■n any proportion to those of rink,' i a muT af fn 
 
 orrcir„*ter't:° ^-^"^^ -- °"-^ '" 
 
 moneyless prisoner wert bu °? "^""'^^ '"" 
 
 whereas nobles and kTht. \, '""'' ^"'^•""''rance ; 
 
 carried a pri:: ^p™ TiSr bel"""^. 1,'^^'" b" 
 gathered from the English chronides °t"h^t of^h^rea: 
 
 .■%.' 
 
374 
 
 The Ouvalicr of Ike Splendid CeU. 
 
 irmy wliich marched from Wark on ,h. 
 
 Barnabas's day le« .h,n , . "°™" °^ ^aint 
 
 again besou.h fhe rteld Tl ''T"' "'" '^'^ 
 
 peasantry as they wanderek mismblv al ' .." ^°"'"' 
 on their way ^ack .„ ,he Border ' '^ *' ""'°'' 
 
 h.™ from taking prisoners Ch 4 row"""'" 
 assigned by lot a proportion of hp ■ '^' ™' 
 One prisoner, it has been L *e pnsoners taken. 
 King of Scots in lso„ f ° ' ."' ''''^'^ "■ ">« 
 to his share 'were hut °"* "" °*"^ '"'o fell 
 Twenge, and hi? r. t"ZTL '" ""T^'^'^ «<= 
 
 ;ea.thy knights Jo^uM^nt tHTg^: ^^^h "'' 
 a monarch could not desoise n,v . "^^ ^""^^ 
 
 a monarch .ight deem Z^Tnl^r: tf "^"^ 
 campaign. But tne Kin. ^^ enough for a whole yearns 
 
 his grac'e than trn^tX'rar Zr IT' "^ 
 prisoners at his own disposal L ° "«^ '""^'^ 
 
 before him, and addrtTt'he: 7Z°1'' *'^^ *- 
 
 own W^'L^rt: d'we '=™"^. "' '" ™' »'^^'-' °- 
 have not suffered hu'from o "'°'7'' '""''" *" ^O" 
 
 Kalph de Monthtmt.trXtMdtw'^'-';, ^'^ 
 bore yourself in the fielrl • . T u, " "'«'" ^o" 
 
 ancient comrade and t ied 'f /u ' "' ^"""^ *at our 
 ness of defeat we cannofhr™" '""'^ '""^ '''"<-- 
 it in our power to hoi : T"' "'' '°"""^ l-"^ P"' 
 Lord of Fontenave" t '™"' "'™"^= ^m. My 
 
 withasmi,:. « wcealtdTr":' """'"« " ^--™ 
 
 already you have refused to give us 
 
Crest, 
 
 'orrow of Saint 
 nd ever stood 
 rished between 
 by the hostile 
 »ng the moors 
 
 that the com- 
 eld prevented 
 prowess, was 
 5oners taken, 
 elded cc the 
 ers who fell 
 rmaduke de 
 >ir Ralph de 
 card's shield 
 these three 
 which even 
 which many 
 whole year's 
 e hearts by 
 r the twelve 
 these three 
 
 against our 
 d that you 
 
 fight. Sir 
 w well you 
 e that our 
 the bitter- 
 le has put 
 him. My 
 
 Marmion 
 o give us 
 
 The Hour 0/ England's Darkness. 
 
 375 
 
 -eive ,ou. swcCs a«ai^ 3' got 'Xn, f ""' 
 ditions whatsoever WhatPv^r .. 7 '^ ''°"- 
 
 again „pon ihe Kins of , " " . "'l''^ """"K"" "O" and 
 your innuonce ,o n,.f „„ f™' ' f"^ "^ P-^ y- "se 
 •ha. for ,„e ..es "of bl ouVn^a fo /'"'^T "^\^"'' 
 once more, as we have Cold h™ 7 he pa \Z !"' 
 our earnest desire that peace should be restored ' '^ 
 mainta ned between ii« f„r , '^^"red and 
 
 this, that he k els i^ '". ''"'"'!'"'' b"' tell him also 
 so long La hundred S^ ''""" "' P™^'' *« 
 
 we deem our right." ^^^ ''^^'^y 
 
 There remains little to be fnlH «f fu r ' 
 Lily Of Kendal and the Cheva of he' ^ZZ "' *^ 
 Marmion rejoined his wife at Kp^h i i '^'■'''• 
 
 King Edward made as ii^L^em; "thr 'imr^b*" 
 
 Border Trnlv /k^ ^ defence of the 
 
 oraer. iruly the years to come were busv and .,; ■ 
 
 iVitr;s^rthrdt:^;-rr?^^ 
 
 Mntself fell ...o ^^ ^^^^^^^Z.. .^ 
 Despensers and other mattpr«: p.. • , ^"^ 
 
 scots, and with th/t "Cf .he'^tlr^^r^^ 
 appeared the last hold upon the nZjU'TjT 
 
i/ 
 
 Th, Cin,..li,r of the Splendid Crest. 
 
 Dougl,, , 1 Moriy »ere ince,..,miv raiding .„^ ■ . 
 .n« Northumberland, Cu„,berl.„d, Ld ve„ W '"" 
 land; .he very Crow,, of England seen.ed " T" 
 
 anJ nothing saved it excent th! ? '"'°l'''"'''>'' 
 
 W.i.„ de Melton, Archbfh J of n """"^ "' 
 .'"". Nights and d^lcstnentlren ;:::::; Ed" "^ 
 
 Look,„g back over the records of tho'e d stanf 
 foray seems to follow so fast u„on f„r ' '"'"■'■ 
 
 burning upon burnin,, as t^ iTv o 13:7 ^"'" 
 to nnnd his affairs or enjoy the s.eet of ho LT"" 
 
 was not so. Men vahio thof , ^^* '^ 
 
 win and which it co::'^.^^ ^^ T'' '" 
 no bonds so cbse between man 1h ^" ^'^ ^'^ 
 
 •ntin^eofwar; no love beC tnTd " r""" '"'^ 
 and strong as that which is n:^.Zi;'^Zl ::'^^\ 
 tempered m the fire of mortal peril. ^ ^"^ 
 
 The very names of de Ron<! ^r.A ^ ^^ 
 passed away fron, Fawcett C s "and" st™? '"" 
 broad lands of Kendal Honor h": b com tt h''- *'' 
 of other lords ; English and ■:;.„,. i ''™''''S« 
 
 "P all different, and n e ; o ^o"dd *"" '"' '"^''^ 
 peaceful people- there arlno "■" " "° """''^ 
 
 than among 'those wtCd ".IslVr"" T"- 
 those who are not too busv ,^1 °'' ^" ''"'■ 
 
 to spare a though for the „ T T^' "" '°° "'^"-'"-do 
 or the chivalrrs'^^rfo IX^'^'tr-^^"'''^ 
 Lily of Kendal shall endure asTo^ as the Ket '"*" 
 the sea, ^ ^ ^^"t runs to 
 
 THE END. 
 
 "'N-u „v w„.u.M „.,e.«,oon ..„ ,,,, 
 
rest. 
 
 »g and invad- 
 'en Westmor- 
 Jn jeopardy, 
 exertions of 
 ster, and the 
 and Eden, 
 distant years, 
 
 - upon siege, 
 ^or any man 
 'me. Yet it 
 s hardest to 
 
 There are 
 5 those knit 
 'ife so deep 
 al strife and 
 
 mion have 
 Jrside; the 
 he heritage 
 have made 
 is no more 
 I homes — 
 Yet for 
 well-to-do 
 le memory 
 
 - peerless 
 It runs to 
 
 MERE 
 HA 
 
 IBERS 
 
 5. S 
 
 ice wh( 
 
* Piace where the Lady of 
 
 Ke 
 
' "'^"^*' *^^ Lady of Kendal madei;^ 
 
 escape,