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Las diagrammes suivants iilustrent la mithoda. 1 2 3 1 2 3 4 5 MICROCOPY RESOIUTION TEST CHART (ANSI and ISC TEST CHART No. 2) m |2.8 IM 1^ i^ 2.2 ^ m III 2.0 S^ 'B53 E^istMdn Street ' ^= (716) 288-5989 -Fax /1/6 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 MICROCOPY RESOIUTION TEST CHART (ANSI and ISO TEST CHART No, 2) 1.0 I.I 1.25 2.8 3.2 ^ IIIIM ■ so r 14.0 1.4 2.5 1 2.2 2.0 1.8 1.6 A ./IPPLIED IN/MGE Inc 1553 East Main Streft Rochester. New York 14609 (716) 482 - 0300 - Phone (716) 288 - 5989 - Fax USA (11 « '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. h 11 ^'* m MICROCOPY RESOLUTION TEST CHART (ANSI and ISO TEST CHART No, 2) 1.25 IS — 2.5 =^ ■ 63 2.2 |«o 2.0 BtUU 1.8 ^ APPLIED IIM/IGE 165J East Main Street Rochester, New York 14609 USA (^16) 482 - 0300- Phone (715) 288- 5989 -Fax 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 l|i I I 4 r^' !■ it MICROCOPY RESOLUTION TEST CHART (ANSI and ISO TEST CHART No. 2) 1.0 I.I 1.25 1^ 12.8 Z5 15.0 ' 1^ i^ liM 2.2 ■ 63 ■^ nil 3 6 liiiUU 1.8 1.4 1.6 ^ /IPPLIED IM/^GE Inc ^^ 16Lj3 East Wain Street rJS Rochester. New York 14609 USA ^= (716) 482 - 0300 - Phone = (716) 288 - 5989 - Fax 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 in B R ^:'Jt^ MICROCOPY RESOLUTION TEST CHART (ANSI and ISO TEST CHART No. 2) 1.0 I.I 1.25 IK5 ■ 5.6 2.8 3.2 IIM 1 4.0 1.4 2.5 2.2 II 2.0 1.8 1.6 ^ TIPPLED IIVMGE In c ^^ 1653 East Main Street ".S: Rochester. New York 14609 USA '-^ (716) 482 - 0300 - Phone = (716) 288 - 5989 -Fax 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,