** *'* Ji'Wi^Ui Ht J 
 
 ,- Q 
 
 nia
 
 BRAKESPEARE; 
 
 OR, 
 
 THE FOETUNES OF A FREE LANCE. 
 I 
 
 THE AUTHOR OF " GUY LIVINGSTONE." 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON :] 
 TINSLEY BEOTHEES, 18, CATHEEINE ST., STEAND.. 
 
 1868. 
 
 \_TJie Right of Translation is reserved.}
 
 
 LONDON : 
 BRADBURV, EVANS, AND CO., PRINTERS, WHITEFRIAKS. 
 
 
 
 v
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAP. PAGE 
 
 I. TWENTY YEARS BACK. ..... 1 
 
 II. MATCHED, NOT MATED 14 
 
 III. THE WORKING OF THE RESCRIPT ... 28 
 
 IV. THE BREEDING OF THE BASTARD . . 4't 
 
 V. AN HAGARENE 54 
 
 VI. HOW RALPH FITZWARENNE MET A HOLY PRIEST 
 
 BY THE WAY, AND WOULD NONE OF HIS BLESSING 71 
 
 VII. HOW RALPH FITZWARENNE TOOK FROM AN HONEST 
 
 MAN HIS GOOD NAME 87 
 
 VIII. OF THE COMPANY THAT RALPH, SURNAMES BRAKE- 
 
 SPEARE, MET UNDER THE SIGN OF THE SPUR . 105 
 
 IX. HOW RALPH TOOK SERVICE UNDER SIR JOHN 
 
 HAWKWOOD 123 
 
 X. HOW RALPH BRAKESPEARE RODE AFTER SIR 
 
 JOHN HAWKWOOD TO SANDWICH . . . . ] 46 
 
 2207031
 
 VI CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAP. PAGE 
 
 XI. BEFORE CALAIS . . . . . .156 
 
 XII. HOW RALPH BRAKESPEARE RAN A COURSE WITH 
 
 A TRENCH KNIGHT, AND SLEW HIM . . . 168 
 
 .XIII. HOW RALPH BRAKESFEARE DONNED SILVER SPURS 188 
 
 XIV. HOW CALAIS WAS WON 199 
 
 XV. THE BATTLE ON THE CAUSEWAY. . . .213 
 
 XVI. HOW RALPH FARED AT CASTING THE DICE . . 226 
 
 XVII. HAUTE JUSTICE AT ST. OMER .... 241 
 
 XVIII.- AT BORDEAUX 265
 
 BRAKESPEAKE; 
 
 OR, 
 THE FORTUNES OF A FEEE LANCE. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 TWENTY YEARS BACK. 
 
 BIGHT in the shadow of the wooded hills 
 that fringed the border of the Kentish Weald, 
 stood the ancient castle of Bever so ancient, 
 that, before the thirteen hundredth year of grace, 
 it had begun to show signs of decay ; crevices 
 bare of niortar gave rare holding ground for 
 moss and wallflower, and the coigns where 
 wind, and weather beat sharpest had already 
 mouldered. 
 
 Moreover, it had the evil chance to be sacked 
 and burned in two civil wars. After the first of 
 these disasters it was partly restored ; but in the 
 
 VOL. I. I?
 
 8 BRAKESPEARE. 
 
 second, mining powder helped fire and battering 
 train, and the enemy's work was so thoroughly 
 done, that scarce a semblance of the dwelling was 
 left amongst uncouth heaps of rent, blackened 
 stone. No wonder that Dynevor, coming to 
 his own again, should turn aside from the un- 
 lucky site, and choose to build a more modest 
 mansion on the nearest hill-spur, where he found 
 a fairer prospect and healthier air. Long after 
 that, the country folk came to the spot, as to a 
 quarry for such rude repairs as needed not 
 fresh mason-work; and the ruins that were left 
 crumbled fast under their dank shroud of ivy and 
 lichen, till at last the sward closed smoothly over 
 all. Fifty years ago, a careless wayfarer might 
 have passed by, without ever noticing the low 
 broad mounds swelling over the foundations of 
 flanking tower, barbican, and keep, and the faint 
 irregular hollow that traces the circuit of the 
 castle-ditch. Nevertheless, the husbandman 
 guesses that there is masonry enough, not a 
 cubit below the sod, to turn the edge of the 
 stoutest plough-share : and the antiquary
 
 TWENTY YEARS BACK. 3 
 
 witting well that with this spot neither Briton, 
 Koman, nor Anglo-Saxon has had aught to do 
 cares not to delve in soil barren of treasure- 
 trove in clay, metal, or bone. So the old 
 pasturage remains unbroken ; neither is it likely 
 that for many a year the South Down wethers 
 will be troubled in their enjoyment of the 
 short, sweet herbage on which they thrive so 
 marvellously. 
 
 But it was a fair castle enough in its day 
 over-large, in truth, for the demesnes which were 
 its appanage; and these had been greatly nar- 
 rowed early in the fourteenth century by the 
 grant of lands made by Sir Charles Dynevor to 
 the Cistercian Abbey of Haultvaux. 
 
 The causes of which munificence, and other 
 matters pertaining to this tale, shall now be set 
 forth. 
 
 Men of a certain mould must needs leave their 
 mark on their time, even if they achieve therein 
 no great dignity or honour ; and the cool, crafty 
 schemer is most dangerous in an age where 
 rapine by the strong hand prevails, and the mass 
 
 B 2
 
 4 BRAKE SPE ARE. 
 
 have neither patience to wait, nor providence to 
 plan. Such an one was Giles Dynevor. Violent, 
 sensual, and rapacious by nature he kept anger, 
 lust, and covetousness in fetters, till it was safe 
 or profitable to let them loose ; and, though his 
 favourite sin was avarice, he would scatter gold 
 broadcast without murmur or regret, if thereby he 
 hoped to compass some end worthy the cost. He 
 was possessed by that thorough-going ambition 
 which is not devoid of simple unselfish grandeur, 
 insomuch that it aims rather at the advance- 
 ment of posterity than at profit, private and per- 
 
 
 sonal, for oftentimes the schemer can no more 
 
 hope to reap the ripe fruit of his policy than the 
 planter of an acorn could hope to sit under the 
 full shadow of the oak. Nevertheless, he throve 
 not after the measure of his merits ; and, when 
 long past middle age, his advancement would 
 have fallen far short of his desires, had they been 
 tenfold more moderate. Nor would the causes of 
 this ill-fortune be hard to find ; though Dynevor, 
 with all his subtlety, perceived them not. The 
 very qualities that might reasonably have made
 
 TWENTY YEARS BACK. 5 
 
 him powerful, made him both misliked and 
 mistrusted. The rude barons and unlettered 
 knights, that were his fellows, felt that there was 
 one in the midst of them whose thoughts were 
 not as their thoughts, and shrank from the 
 quiet, taciturn, clerkly plotter as they would have 
 shrunk from an intruder of alien blood. Few 
 cared openly to avoid his company, much less to 
 provoke his enmity ; but none cared to court his 
 friendship ; and many would have been well 
 pleased to thwart his purpose, even though it 
 clashed not with their own. 
 
 To this dislike, covert or avowed, there was 
 one singular exception. Ivo Malpas and Giles 
 Dynevor had been not neighbours alone, but 
 sworn companions, from boyhood upwards. They 
 had followed the chase through the same woods; 
 had caroused at the same table when the hunting 
 was done ; and, if all the tales were true, had 
 wrought more evil deeds in common than need 
 be recorded here. 
 
 In public quarrel, or in private feud, these two 
 had ever espoused the same cause ; and their
 
 6 BRAKESPEARE. 
 
 vassals fought, naturally, side by side, when the 
 battle was set in array. Once, in the Scots 
 wars, when Malpas had blundered into an am- 
 bush, like a wild bull into the toils, Dynevor 
 had ridden in gallantly to the rescue, and brought 
 off his brother-in-arms scathless, at the cost of a 
 shrewd lance-thrust in his own side ; for the 
 Black Douglas, when overmatched, gave ground 
 slowly and sullenly, turning, every now and 
 then, to gore. 
 
 In all this close companionship, it would 
 have been strange indeed had the weaker nature 
 not been enslaved by the stronger ; and Ivo 
 Malpas was noted for witlessness, in a witless 
 age. Moreover, he was given to strong drinks, 
 to an extent rare among the Normans, who 
 despised drunkenness as a vice of a conquered 
 people. As time passed on, the subjection grew 
 more complete, till at last Ivo was no more a 
 free agent than if he had been born a villein on 
 the fief of Bever. Two solitary virtues, honesty 
 and courage, abode with him still ; but, in despite 
 of these, he would have turned his hand to any
 
 TWENTY YEARS BACK. 7 
 
 work, howsoever base or cruel, had his comrade 
 so willed it. 
 
 It may be that Giles Dynevor liked the poor, 
 faithful sot, as much as it was in his nature 
 to like any living being not of his own blood. 
 Yet, had it served his ends, he would scarcely 
 have scrupled to mix for the other such a 
 posset as should have made his slumbers last 
 till the judgment day. Through long years, 
 Dynevor had kept one purpose steadily in view ; 
 and matters had not yet come to the point where 
 Ivo's death could profit any one. 
 
 That purpose was the alliance of their several 
 houses. 
 
 For many roods their lands marched together-; 
 but, at a certain angle where the boundary stream 
 trended eastward, the fief of Dynevor ended, 
 whilst that of Malpas stretched its fertile length 
 a full league beyond his neighbour's landmark. 
 Sir Giles could scarce remember the time when 
 he first cast covetous eyes on the broad inherit- 
 ance that seemed to dwarf, by contrast, his own 
 domain. Certainly, before boyhood ended, he
 
 8 BRAKESPEARE. 
 
 had sworn to attach it to himself by fair means 
 or foul. For a while, the course of events seemed 
 to run strangely in unison with his design. 
 
 After the hirth of one son his own marriage- 
 bed was barren ; and, of four born to Ivo Malpas, 
 one daughter only remained, some years younger 
 than Dynevor's heir. True it was, that at the 
 death of its lord without issue, the fief of Tyring- 
 ham would revert to its suzerain. But, for years 
 to come, the Crown must needs be worn by a 
 driveller, or an infant ; and Sir Giles had faith 
 enough in his own sagacity and knowledge of 
 court tides, not to fear the result. 
 
 The husband of Malpas' only daughter, being 
 of suitable degree, might reasonably ask for the 
 renewal of her father's seisin ; and, by the time 
 it was wanted, there should be gold enough in 
 the family coffers to secure the intercession of 
 any favourite by glutting his greed. So, let Ivo 
 only live till the night of the day that should 
 make their houses one. Afterwards 
 
 At this stage in his musings Sir Giles' cruel 
 face would harden and darken. Of a surety he
 
 TWENTY YEARS BACK. 9 
 
 did not reckon on his friend's enjoying great 
 length of days. 
 
 Before Edith Malpas was well into her teens, 
 she was solemnly betrothed to Simon Dynevor ; 
 and the plighting, by proxy, of hand and glove 
 was celebrated at Tyringham by a mighty carouse, 
 whence the lord of the castle was borne senseless 
 to his couch, whilst the other contracting party 
 walked slowly and steadily to his chamber, where 
 he sat pondering late into the night. 
 
 The affianced pair grew up through boyhood 
 and girlhood, meeting very seldom. Neither did 
 this rare intercourse ripen their liking. The 
 damsel was anything but pleasant to look upon j 
 being, in truth, somewhat deformed in shape, and 
 afflicted almost from her birth with fits of the 
 falling-sickness. Of these defects, when he sent 
 his son a-wooing, Sir Giles made account of no 
 more than, in choosing a war-horse, he would 
 have objected to a coarse neck or heavy crest, 
 where all other points were perfect. In bare 
 justice to him it should be averred, that he would 
 not have been a whit more delicate had the case
 
 10 BRAKESPEARE. 
 
 been his own. The broad lands of Tyringham 
 must needs be taken with an incumbrance ; and 
 he would as lief have laid the burden on his 
 own shoulders as on those of his heir. But 
 Dame Alice Dynevor cared for her body's health 
 no less than for her soul's ; and shewed no signs 
 of presently quitting the world whose sins she 
 was ever bewailing. So, since better might not 
 be, he prepared to sacrifice his first-born calmly, 
 if not complacently, as many fathers, Pagan, 
 Hebrew, and Christian, have done before and 
 since his time. 
 
 Now, though all the surface looked placid and 
 prosperous enough, there was an undercurrent 
 fraught with danger and wreck to these politic 
 plans. Though he inherited not his sire's ruth- 
 less strength of will, there was in Simon Dynevor 
 a slow sullen obstinacy, prompting him to run 
 counter to the bidding of any authority whatso- 
 ever, so long as he risked not open revolt. 
 Having no ambition, and but a moderate share of 
 avarice, he held that the fief of Bever might well 
 suffice his needs, as it had hitherto sufficed his
 
 TWENTY YEARS BACK. 11 
 
 father's ; and cared not to pay with his body for 
 the acquirement of wealth and power that he wist 
 not how to use, or for possible advancement to 
 baron's degree. 
 
 He had conceived an aversion for his child- 
 betrothed from the first moment he heard her 
 shrill, querulous voice, and set eyes on her white, 
 pain-stricken face and mis-shaped figure. As 
 the days drew on, this deepened into somewhat 
 nearly akin to loathing; and the unseen fetter 
 galled him more and more sorely. When he was 
 of age to ride in his father's train to distant 
 jousts, or other congresses of knights and barons, 
 it was strange to see how his mood would change 
 and lighten when once fairly out of sight of the 
 watch-tower of Tyringham, which was a land- 
 mark for leagues around. Sy the time they 
 reached their journey's end, Simon was ready to 
 join in revel or mischief with as keen a relish as 
 the maddest esquire of them all; albeit there 
 was ever a certain feverishness in his mirth. 
 When they turned bridle again, the cloud settled 
 down faster than it had lifted ; and there passed
 
 12 BRAKE SPE ARE. 
 
 in over the drawbridge of Bever the same sullen, 
 silent youth that had ridden forth a week agone. 
 
 When the lords of the Western Marches rose 
 up in revolt, Dynevor went not forth with Lan- 
 caster and his compeers. Further, he prevailed 
 on Malpas to bide quietly at home. Not without 
 difficulty for that brainless knight could never 
 hear of brawl or battle, without coveting his share 
 in blows and plunder. During their brief success, 
 Sir Giles never once repented himself of his 
 caution, neither did he deign to answer his 
 comrade's repeated grumblings. But, after the 
 disaster at Boroughbridge, when the best blood 
 in England was flowing under the deemster's 
 knife, said Dynevor with his surly smile 
 
 " Owest me no thanks for again saving that 
 big carcase of thine ? This last was a better 
 turn, than when I plucked thee out of Black 
 James's grip. Were it not for me, thou would'st 
 be feeding crows on the same gibbet with yonder 
 wittol of Badlesmere."* 
 
 * The refusal of the lord of Badlesmere to admit Queen 
 Isabella to Leeds Castle, Kent, was the immediate cause of the 
 revolt of the Barons, and Edward's stern reprisals.
 
 TWENTY YEARS BACK. 13 
 
 To all this Ivo gave ready assent, and thence- 
 forth believed more helplessly than ever in the 
 other's foresight and sagacity. 
 
 So the time for the fulfilment of the contract 
 drew nearer and nearer, till the espousals were 
 fixed for Edith's sixteenth birthday. 
 
 It was in the year that brought a weak and 
 wicked reign to a shameful ending the year 
 that saw a long debt fairly paid, when Isabella 
 and her liegemen gave monarch and minion 
 quittance in full. 
 
 Ere this, another feeling besides aversion was 
 at work in Simon Dynevor's breast.
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 MATCHED, NOT MATED. 
 
 IN those times, many discreet and pious ladies, 
 even of no great estate, were wont to take under 
 their charge one or more damsels of gentle birth, 
 whom death or other chance had deprived of 
 their natural protectors, for the purpose of edu- 
 cating them till they should be sought in mar- 
 riage ; such education being in most cases con- 
 fined to perpetual practice of tapestry work, and 
 the hearing of homilies and saintly legends read 
 aloud by the chapellan of the castle. 
 
 Maude Warenne's father was but a poor knight- 
 bachelor ; and spent well-nigh all the remains of 
 his worldly estate in the furnishing of a small 
 clump of lances, when the King set forth for his 
 last Scottish War ; hoping, doubtless, to recoup 
 himself by ransom of prisoners, if not by
 
 MATCHED, NOT MATED. 15 
 
 plunder. But by that ill-fated armament neither 
 wealth nor fame was to be won. When Michael 
 Warenne died gallantly in his harness at Ban- 
 nockburn covering the flight of the monarch 
 who knew him not by name he left his orphan 
 child nearly a beggar. 
 
 Dame Alice Dynevor was a somewhat distant 
 cousin; nevertheless Sir Giles made no objec- 
 tion when his wife proposed to take the maiden 
 in charge. The hangings in the great presence 
 chamber sorely wanted renewing ; and, for some 
 few years to come, a deft worker in tapestry might 
 be well worth clothing and maintenance. 
 
 Maude "VVarenne was a fair, delicate girl fair 
 enough, at least, to draw to herself whatsoever of 
 heart the heir of Dynevor had to spare. It was 
 the old story over again, that never lacks a new 
 phase the story of the labyrinth as ancient as 
 Time, wherein any one of ten thousand thousand 
 paths may lead to the same fatal goal. Dame 
 Alice, albeit the austerest and most vigilant of 
 matrons like other dragons saw no danger in 
 her own brood ; and set little check on the com-
 
 16 BKAKESPEARE. 
 
 panionship of those two. Simon Dynevor grew 
 wondrously duteous in attendance of his mother, 
 and fond of listening to the chapellan's long- 
 winded readings. Then, there came about meet- 
 ings brief at first, and seemingly by chance, 
 soon of design, and perilously prolonged in 
 some lonely echoing corridor, through which few 
 of the household would have cared to pass alone 
 after nightfall ; then, stolen trysts by moonlight 
 in some shady nook of the castle-garden. 
 
 One morning, just a month before the day for 
 which the Malpas espousals were set, those two 
 strolled forth into the plaisance beyond the bar- 
 bican, innocently enough ; but they came not 
 back to the nooning : and, before vespers, all at 
 Bever wist that they had fled together. 
 
 When Sir Giles returned he had ridden forth 
 to a neighbouring town soon after dawn he 
 found his household in great turmoil ; and Dame 
 Alice ill at ease, tended only by her bower- 
 woman and mediciner. That imperious lady 
 stood in mortal fear of her husband, albeit her 
 worst treatment at his hands had been cold
 
 MATCHED, NOT MATED. 17 
 
 neglect, varied by some brutal jest or savage 
 sneer ; and she preferred that he should hear bad 
 tidings from any other mouth than hers. 
 
 But Dynevor received them with singular calm- 
 ness, only grumbling under his breath 
 
 " A murrain on the hot-blooded fool ! Could 
 he not have waited for his leman till he was 
 wived?" 
 
 He thought his son was but repeating one of 
 the profligate adventures for which his own youth 
 and early manhood had been evilly renowned ; 
 and guessed that the seducer would not tarry 
 long with his victim after his phantasy was sated. 
 Also, he knew that Ivo Malpas would be more 
 like to laugh than be wroth at such a freak of his 
 future son-in-law ; and that the child-bride even 
 if it came to her ears would not dare to murmur. 
 So that the espousals need not necessarily be de- 
 ferred. The good knight had ever a politic 
 horror of open scandal or uproar ; therefore he 
 caused no hue and cry to be made after the 
 truants, and for a while seemed content to let 
 things bide,
 
 18 BRAKESPEARE. 
 
 But, on the fifth evening, one of Dynevor's 
 foresters, coming homeward through the twilight, 
 was accosted about a league from, the castle by a 
 stranger of mean exterior, who thrust into his 
 hand a sealed packet, with charge to deliver it 
 instantly to his lord; and then dived into the 
 woodland without abiding question. 
 
 The missive, penned by Simon Dynevor 
 himself the youth had no mean clerkly 
 skill was simple enough. It told of his 
 marriage to Maude Warenne according to the 
 rites of Holy Church ; besought his father's 
 forgiveness ; and, further, prayed that answer 
 should be sent to the house of a certain obscure 
 scrivener dwelling in the borough of Southwark. 
 
 When Sir Giles had read the letter through, 
 there came over his face a change such as no 
 man had ever seen there ; and there broke forth 
 betwixt his grinded teeth a curse and an oath 
 that made the chapellan, who alone chanced to 
 be present, shiver and cross himself as though he 
 stood in the visible presence of the fiend. The 
 curse was levelled at the heads of both the
 
 MATCHED, NOT MATED. 19 
 
 rebels : in the oath, Dynevor swore that, come 
 life or come death, his will should yet be wrought 
 out, by foul means or fair. After that first out- 
 break, he gave no sign either of grief or anger ; 
 only he bade the priest keep his tongue from 
 wagging, if he would keep it in his head ; and 
 so he took himself to his chamber, where, for 
 years past, he had been wont to sleep or watch 
 alone. 
 
 In those times of rapine and misrule, few 
 knights or nobles scrupled to thrust any obstacle 
 out of their path with the strong hand. More 
 than once during his long night musings, Dynevor 
 meditated violence against the life or liberty of 
 the new-made bride. Even if she were not done 
 instantly to death, prisons might be found 
 scarcely less s.afe and secret than the grave. But 
 the penniless orphan was of gentle birth, and it 
 might not be wise to crush her like a churl's 
 daughter. Certain of her kinsfolk might be both 
 able and willing to exact heavier were-geld for 
 their cousin's blood than it would be convenient 
 to pay. Notably, there was Hugh Warenne, who 
 
 c 2
 
 20 ' BRAKESPE.ARE. 
 
 had won great renown in the Scots and Irish 
 wars, and had taken part with the King in the 
 rebellion of the Earls a good knight and true, 
 but very choleric and rancorous, apt to draw 
 sword in quarrels far less just than the redressing 
 of a kinswoman's wrong. So, malpractice behoved 
 to be managed warily. 
 
 Sir Giles thought within himself "Anent 
 such matters, good counsel is often found under a 
 monk's cowl. I will ride to the abbey, ere I carry 
 these news to Tyringham. It is ill-talking with 
 Ivo, while his wits are flooded with yester-even's 
 drink. The abbot is naught; but Hildebrand, 
 the Sub-prior, bears a subtle brain. I would fain 
 have his aid in this strait, though I wis it will 
 cost no mean fee." 
 
 Early on the morrow Dynevor went forth, 
 without communing with any of his household, 
 attended only by one ancient esquire whom he 
 specially trusted, and lighted down under the 
 porch of Haultvaux, when matins were newly 
 done. 
 
 He was sure of welcome there, were it only for
 
 MATCHED, NOT MATED. 21 
 
 his wife's sake ; for the name of that devout lady 
 was a password to priestly favour throughout the 
 country-side ; he himself, too, had somewhat 
 amended his ill ways of late; paid all church dues 
 regularly ; and showed courtesy, if not reverence, 
 to frock and hood. The monks might have had 
 many a worse neighbour. Thus, when he had 
 told his errand, he was not bidden to wait ; but 
 the lay brother brought him into the presence of 
 the man he sought, who chanced to be walking in 
 the convent-garden alone. 
 
 The Sub -prior was tall and spare of frame, with 
 a face far more careworn and deeply-lined than 
 was warranted by his forty years. He had a 
 swift, restless glance, and the curt, decisive 
 manner of one who cares not to waste time in 
 idle speech. It was not the first time that these 
 two had conferred together, though never on 
 matter of such grave import ; and each had con- 
 ceived a certain respect for the other's saga- 
 city, even if between them there were not perfect 
 trust. 
 
 While Dynevor told his brief tale, Hildebrand
 
 22 BRAKESPEARE. 
 
 walked on silently, his head bent upon his breast ; 
 but at the last words, he halted and looked up 
 with a glitter in his keen black eyes. 
 
 " This comes of showing charity to beggarly 
 cousins." 
 
 "It is ill repenting any charity whatsoever," 
 the churchman said. "And to whom should 
 alms be given, if not to a man's own kin ? Yet I 
 knew not the damsel was of your blood." 
 
 "Neither is she" the other answered; "but 
 a far-off kinswoman of my dame, who must needs 
 befriend her when the Scots slew her father; 
 albeit, there were others whom the charge better 
 became." 
 
 " A far-off kinswoman, sayest thou ? Near 
 enough, perchance, were her lineage heedfully 
 looked into, to be within the degrees forbidden to 
 wed, unless by special license of the Church. 
 There hath been loose observance of such rules 
 of late by many godless laymen ; but, I mind 
 me, these matters were much spoken of at the 
 last Council ; and our Holy Father averred that 
 order should be taken with such as occasion
 
 MATCHED, NOT MATED. 23 
 
 sball serve. Thus much I know of a surety, 
 from a near kinsman of mine, who hath long been 
 high in trust with our Holy Father, though he 
 wears cardinal's hat but newly." 
 
 Seldom, indeed, had Dynevor's well-trained face 
 betrayed so much emotion as disturbed it then. 
 His voice was unsteady as he made answer ; and 
 the fingers that griped the priest's sleeve shook 
 with a fierce emotion. 
 
 " By Christ's body ! I did well in seeking thee 
 in this my strait ! Thou canst give good help, no 
 less than good counsel here. I wot well such 
 service is costly ; for each door at Avignon must 
 be unlocked with a golden key. Now, good father 
 Hildebrand, say what thou requirest. I will not 
 stand a-chaffering, though I have to give bond on 
 the half of my possessions to Longobard or 
 Jew." 
 
 The monk's restless eyes grew steady, as 
 though they had been carved in jet, as they 
 settled on the other's face. 
 
 " For myself I require nothing," he said, very 
 coldly. " And, it may be, my kinsman will take
 
 24 BRAKESPEARE. 
 
 no guerdon for serving me or mine : yet were it 
 shame if I let pass a chance of profiting mine 
 Order. Lo, I will deal plainly and roundly with 
 thee. In our chartulary there lies, as thou may'st 
 see, a map of the lands wherewith this Abbey 
 was endowed by the first Henry, our pious 
 founder. Our limits are narrower now by many 
 a rood than there set forth. Wottest thou why ? 
 Thou hast heard of the troubles in King 
 Stephen's time, when those that sat in high 
 places waxed so stubborn in their guilt, that 
 Theobald, the Archbishop, was constrained to 
 lay all this fair realm under ban? In those 
 dark and evil days, many quarrels arose betwixt 
 clerk and layman. Taking vantage of one of 
 such, and, perchance, of some faint uncertainty in 
 bounds, thine ancestor, Oliver Dynevor, violently 
 ousted our vassals from all our lands lying west- 
 ward of the streamlet men call the Neme; and 
 held them ever after by the strong hand. This 
 iniquity King Stephen did manifestly coun- 
 tenance and approve ; for which misdeed, and 
 many others, may God assoilzie him ! All these
 
 MATCHED, NOT MATED. 25 
 
 things are set down in our chronicles, not with- 
 out dolour and something of self-reproach by 
 Ingilram, our then-time Abbot a godly man, 
 and of tender conscience albeit scarce made of 
 martyr's stuff. Now should I place in thine 
 hand our Holy Father's rescript, utterly anul- 
 ling this, thy son's marriage, wilt thou make 
 amends for the sins of thy fathers, and restore to 
 the Church her own ? If this please thee, it is 
 well. With the good leave of my Superior, I 
 will aid thee to the uttermost of my power. 
 Neither do I fear but that we shall compass 
 our ends. If otherwise let there be no further 
 words betwixt us : but go thy way in peace ; being 
 assured that I will not bewray. thy counsel." 
 
 Whilst Sir Giles stood silent, his brows were 
 ominously overcast. Yet was the frown rather 
 of thought than of anger. He knew none 
 better the length and breadth of each acre 
 he was asked to resign ; the hanging woods 
 holding many oaks and beeches ripe for fell- 
 ing; the fair corn lands sloping to the south- 
 east, so as to miss no gleam of morning and
 
 26 BRAKESPEARE. 
 
 noonday suns; the fat meadows, where the 
 herbage hid the hocks of browsing kine. But, 
 fairer and broader and richer yet, stretched 
 before his mind's eye the domains of which one, 
 standing on Tyringharn Keep, could scarce see 
 the ending. His choice was not long a making. 
 
 " Thou art a shrewd bargainer, Sub-prior" he 
 said, with a short, sullen laugh. " But I blame 
 thee not for making good terms for thine order ; 
 especially since its advancement may, one day, 
 be thine own. 'Tis a heavy venture and a 
 perilous : I am even as a merchant, who sends 
 forth his mightiest argosy to trade in unknown 
 seas. Only, chances of life and death are harder 
 to reckon than hazard of wind or waves. 
 Nevertheless, as I said afore, I will not chaffer 
 with thee. Do thou engage that this matter 
 shall be managed, at thine own cost and risk, 
 should it miscarry : on my part, I will cause to 
 be prepared a gift-deed of every acre whereof 
 thou hast spoken. This will I exchange with the 
 rescript that shall leave my son free to wed 
 again."
 
 MATCHED, NOT MATED. 27 
 
 On this compact, without more ado, the priest 
 and the knight struck hands ; and presently, 
 after it had been approved by the abbot, each 
 swore to perform his part therein faithfully, on 
 the most precious of the many reliquaries for 
 which Haultvaux was famed that enclosing a 
 veritable morsel of the holy scourge. 
 
 Then, with heart and brain somewhat lightened, 
 Sir Giles set forward to tell his tale at Tyring- 
 ham.
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE WORKING OF THE EE SCRIPT. 
 
 * ON hearing the news, Malpas*fell at the first into 
 great wonderment and wroth ; but soon sank into 
 his wonted sullen acquiescence in his comrade's 
 will : swearing, with a grisly oath, that " it would 
 do the wench no harm to wait ; and that, if she 
 wedded not Dynevor's son, she might, for aught 
 he cared,die a maid." 
 
 So the runaways dwelt for awhile, in great 
 peace and content, in a lonely hostel without the 
 skirts of Southwark ; subsisting on moneys taken 
 up at heavy interest by Simon Dynevor from 
 certain Hebrews who were ready to pleasure the 
 heir of Bever; never dreaming that doctors 
 learned in Church-law were even then busy with 
 their names and lineage, and that the highest, if
 
 THE WORKING OF THE RESCRIPT. 29 
 
 not the wisest, head in Christendom had been 
 disquieted with their matters. 
 
 They began by being very timid and wary ; 
 keeping always their chamber by day, and only 
 venturing forth after nightfall to take the air, 
 but as time went on, bringing no answer to 
 Simon's letter, and yet no further cause for 
 alarm, they waxed bolder, and crept further 
 a-field ; though tbey ever shunned open street or' ' 
 frequented highway. 
 
 Of a truth, caution was utterly wasted. In 
 the very month of their flight, the cunning 
 hunter whom they both so dreaded had har- 
 boured his game; and could afford to bide 
 quiet till the fitting time came foi* loosing 
 his gazehounds. Fettered in one of his own 
 dungeons, Simon would scarce have been a 
 safer prisoner, than where his goings out and 
 comings in were never unwatched by his father's 
 spies. 
 
 The Sub -prior had not over- rated his 
 kinsman's authority or goodwill ; and fear or 
 favour wrought more potently at Avignon than
 
 30 BRAKESPEAEE. 
 
 even at Rome. Before the summer was far 
 spent, the ^Pope's rescript came, making utterly 
 null and void Simon Dynevor's marriage, and 
 bidding him put away his wife, under pain of 
 Church's ban. 
 
 One evening, in that same week, Simon walked 
 forth along the river-side alone ; for Maud's 
 failing health did not suffer her to go often 
 abroad. Passing through a coppice, he was sud- 
 denly beset and overcome before he could make 
 a show of resistance. When the mantle which 
 both blindfolded and gagged him was removed, 
 he found himself set in saddle in the midst of a 
 clump of spears. None of those horsemen bore 
 badge or helmet, or blazon on shield ; but, as 
 they sped swiftly through the summer night, the 
 youth recognised the burly figure of Philip 
 Kemeys, the ancient esquire who carried ever 
 Dynevor's banner. He asked no question after 
 that; and kept sullen silence till they brought 
 him, some few hours later, into his father's 
 presence. 
 
 Sir Giles was, as has been aforesaid, a man of
 
 THE WORKING OF THE RESCRIPT. 31 
 
 few words. If he gave the runaway no kindly 
 greeting, neither did he waste time in reviling. 
 When they were alone together, he set before 
 his son a copy, fairly engrossed, of the Pope's 
 rescript, and gave the youth time to digest it 
 thoroughly. But, when he spoke, each slow 
 syllable carried with it the weight of a pitiless 
 purpose. 
 
 " Hearken ! " he said ; " we have well-nigh 
 done with boys' play. I have paid for yonder 
 parchment, ten-fold the price that might have 
 saved thy fool's head from gibbet or block 
 marry, it might have ransomed a belted earl ! 
 Shall it be for naught that I have let pass away 
 the lands stout Oliver Dynevor won ? I tell 
 thee Nay. Thou art free, as thou seest, to woo 
 and 'wive again. Either this night thou shalt 
 swear, with hand on altar, to wed Malpas' 
 daughter as soon as he and I shall deem it be- 
 coming never stirring meanwhile beyond his 
 domains and mine own or, before another sun- 
 down, by Christ's body ! it shall have fared with 
 thee, worse than ever it hath fared with malapert
 
 32 BRAKE SPE ARE. 
 
 vassals. I wis, thou hast seen me deal with such 
 ere now." 
 
 Simon Dynevor could be obstinate enough in 
 his own saturnine way ; but he had not the savage 
 self-will and dogged courage of the old wolf who 
 begot him. No marvel, that at those last words 
 he shivered. He felt they carried no vain 
 threat that he was utterly in the power of one 
 who feared not God, neither regarded man. 
 Moreover, it was possible that satiety had begun, 
 though he knew it not, to sway his brutal nature. 
 He might have been content to dwell on for ever 
 with Maude ; yet she no longer seemed worth the 
 risk of life or liberty. So, without more ado 
 stipulating only that fair maintenance should be 
 insured to his divorced wife and her child, should 
 it be born alive he expressed himself ready to 
 follow in all things his father's will. 
 
 That same day Philip Kemeys rode forth 
 again, bearing a letter, writ in Simon Dynevor's 
 own hand, and a gipsire crammed with bezants. 
 The ancient esquire had served his master not 
 less faithfully for evil than for good, and had taken
 
 THE WORKING OF THE RESCRIPT. 33 
 
 part ere now in some black misdeeds : but lie 
 went on this errand with a great loathing and 
 heaviness of heart, and never cared to speak of it 
 in after-times. 
 
 During all the hours of her husband's absence, 
 Maude had been well-nigh distraught with terror ; 
 nevertheless, she took the news of her deser- 
 tion and shame with singular calmness. Only, 
 as she deciphered, painfully, the curt, cold, cruel 
 letter, with its set forms of remorse and formal 
 farewells, the blood ebbed out of her cheeks : 
 while she lived, it came back no more. She 
 made no loud moan or lamentation ; neither did 
 she send back one word or message to the man 
 who had done her such deadly wrong. But she 
 bade Philip Kemeys " begone with his gold ; for 
 that her own kinsfolk, she doubted not, would 
 henceforth grant her food and shelter ; and that, 
 were it otherwise, she would go forth into the 
 highways, and ask alms of passers-by, rather 
 than trust to a Dynevor's bounty." She said this 
 without any display of passion or bitterness; 
 yet there was a look in her bright, tearless 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 34 BRAKESPEARE. 
 
 eyes that made the esquire right willing to escape 
 from her presence. 
 
 Sir Ralph Warenne chanced to be then tarry- 
 ing at his lodging near the Abbey Church of 
 Westminster: and before nightfall he had con- 
 veyed his cousin thither, and given her into the 
 charge of his own sister, a discreet and charitable 
 widow who governed his household. 
 
 The choleric old soldier espoused his kins- 
 woman's cause with great heat and rancour : nor 
 could Maude's piteous entreaties withhold him 
 from sending cartel to Bever, wherein he spoke 
 of both father and son as disloyal faitours; offer- 
 ing to prove the same on both or either of 
 their bodies. To which Dynevor made answer, 
 that 
 
 " Those two had bound themselves together 
 without leave or licence from him; and that, 
 though he was well pleased to see them asunder, 
 the work was not his doing, but the will of 
 Holy Church, against the which he trusted a 
 Christian knight would not array himself. Yet 
 were it otherwise, neither he nor his would draw
 
 THE WORKING OF THE RESCRIPT. 35 
 
 sword in such a quarrel, save to guard their own 
 lives or goods, and would be content to under- 
 lie Sir Ealph Warenne's challenge." 
 
 This politic reply made the other chafe more 
 savagely; but just then arose such a public 
 turmoil, as left no man leisure for private brawls. 
 In that September set sail from Dordrecht, Isa- 
 bella the Queen, with Mortimer her paramour, 
 and John of Hainault, her true knight ; and, with 
 three hundred men-at-arms, marched westward 
 from Orwell Sands, till she besieged her husband 
 with a mighty host. 
 
 Now Ralph AVarenne had grown aweary of the 
 king's caprice and favourite's insolence ; so he 
 joined the advancing army readily enough, with 
 all the lances he could muster ; and, after Bristol 
 leaguer, went northward on the queen's behest, 
 only returning to Westminster in January to see 
 the third Edward crowned. 
 
 He had not been so moved for years as when 
 they told him, on dismounting at his own 
 door, that Maude "Warenne had died in child- 
 bed but a week before, leaving a health}' 
 
 D 2
 
 36 BRAKESPEAHE. 
 
 boy. The bluff soldier felt very keenly 
 the loss of the pale delicate woman, whose 
 existence he had never heeded till of late. 
 He caused the child to be christened after 
 his own name, and swore a great oath, that 
 he would some day adopt it as his own; for up 
 to three-score Sir Ralph had found no time to 
 Aved. 
 
 Before that year's leaves were brown the 
 good knight's wars were ended. When they 
 inarched northward to chastise the Scots ma- 
 rauders, Warenne was already greatly trusted by 
 the young king, and attached to his household. 
 One hot August night, as they lay on the banks 
 of Wear, Sir Ralph had lain down to rest in 
 his tent touching the royal pavilion it was 
 not his turn to keep watch when a familiar 
 war-cry mingled with his dreams : struggling 
 up from under the folds of canvas and tangled 
 tent ropes, he found himself face to face with the 
 Douglas. Black James, in many points, was the 
 very mirror of chivalry ; yet he spared not to dis- 
 charge on the bare head of his old antagonist
 
 THE WORKING OF THE RESCRIPT. 37 
 
 one downright niace-stroke, which settled for 
 ever their long and doubtful balance of hard 
 blows. 
 
 The great pendulum is often swinging steadily 
 and evenly enough, when such as read not the 
 dial aright, deem that it keeps uncertain time. 
 Before the motherless baby lost his second pro- 
 tector, there was heavy counterpoise of retri- 
 bution. 
 
 When Sir Giles caused his son to swear that 
 he would wed Malpas' daughter so soon as it was 
 thought becoming, he knew well that there were 
 many, even in that unscrupulous age, who would 
 have cried shame, had the espousals been pressed 
 on with indecent haste. He was well content to 
 let things bide for a full year ; for he did not fear 
 that the bridegroom would again try to break 
 trammels. So, when Dynevor who took no 
 part in the troubles of the autumn deemed it 
 politic to make a late display of loyalty by at- 
 tendance at the anointing of the young king, 
 Simon rode to Westminster in his father's train, 
 a free man to all outward seeming.
 
 38 BBAKESPEABE. 
 
 They tarried there not long three nights only 
 yet long enough for the youth to hear (one of 
 his fellow 'squires had a cousin in Warenne's 
 household) of the birth which brought him a son, 
 though not an heir, and of the death which made 
 him doubly free. He received the news without 
 any show of scrrow or surprise ; only, for some 
 days afterwards, he was silent and morose even 
 beyond his wont, and there was a deeper gloom 
 on his downcast face. 
 
 But all this while a certain frail life- thread, 
 on which many hopes hung, was parting strand 
 by strand. Edith Malpas seemed to wither 
 as the wild flowers began to bloom ; her cheeks 
 were almost livid at times in their paleness; 
 and she pressed her thin hand often on her 
 heart with a low moan of pain. But of these 
 signs none took heed, unless it were perchance 
 the girl's nurse and foster-mother, who stood in 
 too great awe of Ivo's drunken furies, even to 
 whisper her fears. 
 
 It was within one week of the espousal day. 
 Already preparations were far advanced at
 
 THE WORKING OF THE RESCRIPT. 39 
 
 Tj'ringham for a banquet that should cast past 
 carousals into the shade. The morning meal at 
 Bever was done, and Sir Giles was just starting 
 for the neighbouring town, where he was to con- 
 fer with certain cunning artificers concerning the 
 bridal pageant : he stood waiting for his palfrey, 
 stirrup-cup in hand. As he raised it to his 
 lips, a man-at-arms rode into the courtyard at 
 headlong speed. The great silver hanap fell 
 clattering down, and the good liquor flowed out 
 far and wide ; for the horseman's visor was up, 
 and Sir Giles guessed from his face that he 
 brought evil tidings. 
 
 Before the messenger had faltered out half 
 his tale, the purposes and plans of so many 
 years were as though they had never been. 
 Edith Malpas must have died soon after she lay 
 down to rest the night before for that morning 
 they found her stiff and cold. 
 
 Sir Giles answered never a word ; but 
 stood swaying slowly to and fro, like a 
 drunkard, whose will still struggles against 
 strong wine. Then the blood rushed up brow-
 
 J BKAKESPEARE. 
 
 high in a dark crimson surge; leaving cheeks 
 and lips ashy white, when it ebhed again as 
 suddenly. He cast his hands aloft, clutching 
 the air as men clutch at the water in their 
 last drowning pang ; and, with one choking 
 gurgle in the throat, fell down right under the 
 horse's hoofs a helpless distorted heap. As 
 they bore him away, the least learned in leech- 
 craft, of all who stood by, guessed that their 
 lord had been stricken down by swift and deadly 
 palsy. 
 
 He never spoke intelligibly after that; and 
 showed token of absolute consciousness once 
 only. In this wise 
 
 The Abbot of Haultvaux, anxious that so large 
 a benefactor to the Church should not lack her 
 last good offices, and being himself ill at ease, 
 sent the Sub-prior in his stead with profuse 
 messages of condolence. Father Hildebrand's 
 nerves were not easily moved by pity or fear; 
 yet on the threshold of the sick-chamber he 
 shrank back appalled. Over so much of Sir 
 Giles' writhen face as the palsy had spared, there
 
 THE WORKING OF THE RESCRIPT. 41 
 
 swept an awful convulsion of hatred and loathing ; 
 and his one uncrippled hand was clenched and 
 outstretched in feeble menace or warning. The 
 monk read those signs of passion aright. He 
 guessed how the memory of the broad acres, 
 sacrificed utterly in vain, was rankling then ; 
 and felt his priestcraft powerless to grapple 
 with the thwarted devil of avarice that glared 
 out of those bloodshot eyes ; so, with scant 
 ceremony or excuse, he departed out of the evil 
 presence like a baffled exorcist ; leaving the 
 chapellan of Bever to deal with the grisly 
 penitent. 
 
 So died Sir Giles Dynevor scarcely in the 
 odour of sanctity. Nevertheless, his bones were 
 laid with great reverence and honour under the 
 chancel at Haultvaux ; and over them was built, 
 at the sole charge of the House, a stately tomb 
 of Sienna marble, bearing the effigy of that 
 good knight with hands duly folded in prayer ; 
 whereon, till the eighth Henry made havoc with 
 the abbey and all appertaining thereto, might 
 have been read an epitaph in fair monkish Latin,
 
 42 BRAKE SPE ARE. 
 
 of the which the last two versicles may serve 
 for an ensample : 
 
 S&axtt : itraj: : in : yatt : tfaflaj: : Ijutc : tile : Sxtctta 
 < : fit tate : ua : muncra : larjja : Irctftt.
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE BREEDING OF THE BASTARD. 
 
 THE heir of Bever bore the loss of his father 
 and his own accession to the family honours, 
 with singular calmness, not to say indifference. 
 Neither did it seem likely, that his house would 
 he much advanced by his care for its honour and 
 dignit} T . In truth, had Simon been endowed 
 with all the energy and ambition of his sire, both 
 must needs have been cramped by the unhappy 
 disaster which befel him, before he had been 
 three full years in possession of his inheritance. 
 Returning home one frosty evening, his horse 
 floundered on the slippery stones before the 
 barbican; and Dynevor was carried in with a 
 broken thigh, and hip so sorely strained, that 
 a better chirurgeon than the unskilful leech
 
 4i BRAKESPEARP:. 
 
 who tended him, wouljj scarce have saved the 
 patient from halting thenceforth. "Whilst still 
 in the spring of life, he was cut off from all 
 share in the wars and sports of his peers ; for 
 neither in tourney, chase, or melee, can place 
 be found for one who may not sit saddle-fast : 
 from courtly pageant, or pastime, he was yet 
 more estranged, for out of such metal never was 
 moulded squire of dames. 
 
 The bearing of that heavy cross might per- 
 chance have warped a kindlier and more patient 
 nature ; so it is no marvel if Dynevor grew up 
 to middle age a soured and morose man not 
 absolutely a domestic tyrant or brutal despot; 
 yet over apt to vent his evil tempers in a slow, 
 sardonic fashion, on such as were bound to 
 endure them. 
 
 Some short while before his mishap, Simon 
 Dynevor had sent sufficiently courteous messages 
 to Ralph Warenne's surviving sister; thanking 
 her for her charitable care, and proffering thence- 
 forward to take the child in charge. To this 
 Dame Margaret assented very readily : she was
 
 THE BREEDING OF THE BASTARD. 45 
 
 left something straitened in means, and had 
 no mind to keep needless incumbrances. The 
 little Ralph was brought home -to Bever, along 
 with Gillian, his fostermother ; whose husband 
 was slain, hard by his lord, in that night- surprise 
 on the % banks of Wear. The same Gillian 
 was very comely to look upon, and still in her 
 early prime : by the time her nursling could be 
 trusted alone, she was married again to one of 
 Dynevor's foresters, and settled in a cottage of 
 her own, some few bowshots from the castle. 
 
 In that cottage Ralph Fitzwarenne (thus the 
 boy, by the will of his dead godfather, had been 
 christened), spent much of his early boyhood. 
 
 The conscience of Simon Dynevor seems to 
 have been satisfied so soon as his son was fairly 
 in his charge ; and, after that one act of grace, 
 the meanest of his household was not treated 
 with more utter neglect. While she lived, Dame 
 Alice Dynevor showed no small kindness to the 
 child; for she had liked his mother well, in 
 her own staid austere way, and despite her 
 belief in the deceased Sir Giles' sagacity, and
 
 46 BRAKESPEARE. 
 
 her reverence for Holy Church's behes k t she 
 could not but fear that Maude had been hardly 
 dealt with. Neither could she ever wholly put 
 aside certain vague self-reproaches for negligence, 
 in not having stood more heedfully betwixt the 
 dead and her own son. She did her best to 
 instruct the boy in such simple lore as she her- 
 self had attained : but she could scarcely spell 
 over her own missal ; whilst monkish legends 
 made up her history. To these long-winded 
 discourses Ralph would sit listening gravely for 
 hours, never once indulging in a yawn of weari- 
 ness ; in those days he was too grateful for any 
 loving word or look, not to be ready to repay 
 such by a harder self-denial than this. 
 
 The orphan for such in very truth he was 
 had one other ally at Bever. 
 
 Rheumatism and many old wounds had so far 
 told on Philip Kemeys, as to make him more fit 
 for home service than foreign wars ; though be- 
 twixt the pains that ever and anon crippled him, 
 he could wield axe, or sword, or lance, as starkly 
 as of yore. The ancient esquire, from the day
 
 THE BREEDING OF THE BASTARD. 47 
 
 when at his dead master's bidding he carried 
 that message to Maude Warenne, had been pos- 
 sessed of a vague remorse the more strange, 
 because his conscience carried, with much ease 
 and comfort, the burthen of many seemingly 
 blacker deeds. He never told this to his con- 
 fessor, and, perchance, would not have owned it 
 to himself. But if Kalph had been his favourite 
 son, he could not have ministered more sedu- 
 lously to his caprices, or trained him more care- 
 fully in each manly sport and martial exercise 
 for which he himself was renowned. 
 
 Before the boy was sixteen, he was left once 
 more utterly lonely; for, in the same winter, 
 the devout lady and the godless old soudard 
 went to their several accounts ; and their pupil 
 regretted the sinner far more than he did the 
 saint. 
 
 Some three years earlier a great change had 
 come over Bever. Though Sir Simon Dynevor 
 cared little for the advancement of his house, he 
 knew that it behoved him to wive again, if only to 
 purvey himself with heirs-male. His choice fell
 
 48 SHAKESPEARE. 
 
 on the Lady Ursula Montacute a damsel, 
 neither fair, young, nor richly dowered; but of 
 morals unimpeached, and stainless descent the 
 sister of a neighbouring baron. 
 
 The Lady Ursula was born with a quick tem- 
 per and shrewish tongue ; and long waiting for 
 tardy wooers had helped to sour the one and 
 sharpen the other. She chose to rule her 
 new household less by love than" by fear being 
 careful only to never thwart her sullen lord. 
 Ralph Fitzwarenne, for reasons not hard to 
 guess, she held in special aversion, and lost no 
 chance of stinging him with bitter words, or of 
 bringing him under his father's displeasure : 
 twice or thrice she caused the boy to be severely 
 scourged by the castle chapellan ; for Sir Simon 
 himself never laid his hand upon the boy in 
 anger. Once, in early marriage days, she 
 ventured to hint that his very presence and 
 maintenance in the castle was a grievous insult 
 to herself ; but she was bidden to " hold her 
 peace, and not presume to meddle ; " whilst an 
 ominous look from under her husband's brows
 
 THE BREEDING OF THE BASTARD. 4U 
 
 warned her she had gone too far. She broached 
 that matter no more. 
 
 But Ralph was wondrously hard and stubborn. 
 Of taunts, or reproofs, or stripes, he took no 
 more heed than of an April shower : if he was 
 chary of smiles, and seldom laughed aloud, 
 neither man nor woman since his early childhood 
 had heard him wail or seen him weep. When 
 the chiding or chastisement was over, he would 
 betake himself straight to the cottage of his 
 foster-mother, and bide there till curfew. Even 
 to her he made no complaint ; only at such times 
 he was most eager to hear the only story of which 
 he never wearied the story of his dead mother 
 and her wrongs. As he listened to the simple 
 tale, varied only by some trifling incident, that 
 most would have thought not worth recording 
 the boy's face, that had never changed during 
 his own punishment, would lower and darken 
 strangely. His big brown eyes would gleam with 
 a malignant fire, and there broke from his lips 
 certain muttered words that made Gillian cross 
 herself, and aver that she would speak of these 
 
 TOL. I. K
 
 50 BRAKESPEAKE. 
 
 things no more. But she did speak of them 
 again and again, and thus, unwittingly, kept alive 
 the embers of a bitter enmity. 
 
 So the years went by, till Ralph grew into a 
 tall sinewy youth, overtopping his sire by a full 
 head, and looking gigantic beside the puny 
 fractious urchin, the sole issue of the second 
 marriage. 
 
 Sir Simon's bearing towards his first-born was 
 somewhat perverse and inconsistent. He rather 
 encouraged than otherwise the pursuit of those 
 bodily exercises, in which the youth showed 
 already a rare excellence. Ralph had always 
 horse and hound ready to his hand, and coin 
 enough to enable him to mingle, after a modest 
 fashion, in the amusements of the country-side. 
 But, when Dynevor sent forth his vassals to war, 
 under command of the Lord Montacute, his 
 brother-in-law, Ralph was constrained to tarry 
 at home, and practise at the quintain with blunted 
 lance, while his comrades were shivering grinded 
 spears. How he chafed under such idlesse how 
 his spirit burned within him when, in the long
 
 THE BREEDING OF THE BASTARD. 51 
 
 winter evenings, youths not older than himself 
 boasted or jested of what they had done in spring 
 or summer beyond the narrow seas how the 
 flaunt of banner, the sound of trumpet, and the 
 rattle of steel, haunted his waking and sleeping 
 dreams may be more easily conceived than told. 
 But he was too proud and stubborn ever to 
 require the reason of his father's caprice much 
 less to pray him to change it. It may well be 
 that Sir Simon only waited to be entreated : but 
 he waited in vain. So betwixt these two ripened 
 day by day an evil crop of distrust and dis- 
 content, and the harvest-time could not be long 
 a-coming. 
 
 All this while the wars were waging in Flan- 
 ders and Normandy with varying fortunes ; till 
 at last the heart of broad England leaped up as 
 the heart of one man at the news of Creey ; when 
 grinding taxes, rough exactions, and broken 
 promises were all forgotten in the first great 
 success of the brave, patient king. In the same 
 autumn, too, was won a notable victory ; the 
 like whereof hath seldom been seen, since on 
 
 E 2
 
 52 BRAKESPEARE. 
 
 Rephidim the Lawgiver's hands were stayed up 
 till Amalek was smitten hip and thigh about the 
 going down of the sun. Nor is it wonder if at 
 Neville's Cross, where queen and noble, knight 
 and j r eoman, gained large store of honour, to the 
 Church Militant was given the chiefest share. 
 For, to sound of matin-song, chanted from 
 Durham tower, the annies were set in array ; 
 monk's frock fluttered side by side in the ranks 
 with archer's gipon; and, in the very fore- 
 front of the fight gleamed bishop's rocket, 
 though Mowbray, Dacre, and Percy laid their 
 lances in rest. 
 
 To the tidings of these feats of arms, when 
 they came in due course to Bever, Ralph Fitz- 
 warenne gave attentive ear. He spoke little at 
 the time; but thenceforward day by day grew 
 more taciturn and reserved, and withdrew him- 
 self from the sports and pastimes in which he 
 had heretofore delighted; going forth alone to 
 hawk or strike a deer ; and in all ways rather 
 avoiding than seeking the company of his fellows. 
 
 The change in the youth's demeanour escaped
 
 THE BREEDING OF THE BASTAED. 53 
 
 not Sir Simon Dynevor, and his sharp, suspicious 
 glance dwelt more often than was its wont on his 
 son's face, while the other's eyes would flash 
 back something akin to defiance. 
 
 So through winter and early spring the pair 
 lay watching each other; like wary commanders, 
 each within his own entrenchments, waiting, 
 perchance, the opportunity to make sally.
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 AN HAGARENE. 
 
 EAKLY on a breezy March day Sir Simors 
 Dynevor sat in his judgment-seat a huge arm- 
 chair, drawn into the embrasure of a window 
 looking westward from the dais of his hall. 
 Close to his shoulder stood the Lady Ursula 
 shrill and voluble in accusation clasping to her 
 side a sallow, hard-featured boy, some ten years 
 old, the very image of herself, whose grief was 
 yet more clamorous than her own invective. 
 Only two others were in presence the chapellan 
 of the castle and Ralph Fitzwarenne. 
 
 Whilst the lady's eloquence was in full tide,, 
 her husband raised his hand impatiently : 
 
 " I prithee hush, ma mie ; thou art too dis- 
 tempered to tell thy tale. And, Oliver, still that 
 fool's tongue, or thou shalt have good cause for
 
 AN HAGAKENE. 55 
 
 whining. Father Clement, it seems thou hast 
 witnessed such and such things. Speak on, in 
 the fiend's name ! " 
 
 Thus rudely adjured, the other gave his testi- 
 mony with some haste and tremor. Yet in his 
 tone there was a bitterness scarcely dissembled. 
 Plainly the priest owed Fitzwarenne an ancient 
 grudge, and was right ready to pay it. He 
 averred that, reading his breviary in his 
 chamber, he had been disturbed by a great 
 outcry and by the baying of the sleuth-hound 
 bitch chained in the base-court below ; that, 
 looking forth, he had seen his young Lord 
 Oliver haled along, not without violence, by 
 Messire Ralph, and finally flung under an arch- 
 way, where, some moments later, he (Father 
 Clement), descending in haste, found the child 
 making piteous moan. But the door leading 
 into the base-court was shut and barred, and 
 Messire Ralph had gone he knew not whither. 
 
 Then for the first time Sir Simon Dynevor's 
 sullen glance lighted on the accused. As that 
 youth shall be the hero of this our tale,
 
 56 BKAKESPEARE. 
 
 it may be well to set down here his outward 
 seeming. 
 
 Though his features were neither coarse nor 
 ignoble, they were too strongly marked and 
 roughly-hewn for beauty. It was a quiet reso- 
 lute face ; far too grave and stern indeed for his 
 years, even when his brows were not bent in 
 thought or anger. His head fringed with short 
 crisp hair, some shades darker than his eyes, 
 where a reddish tinge mingled with the brown 
 was well set on a short clean-cut neck, and 
 looked smaller than it really was, from his great 
 breadth and squareness of shoulder. Though 
 only in his twentieth spring, his joints seemed 
 already set, and with each careless movement of 
 the long sinewy limbs, the coils of hardened 
 muscle showed themselves under his close 
 hunting-dress. There was little of culprit or 
 penitent, indeed, about the demeanour of Ralph 
 Fitzwarenne, as he stood there haughtily erect ; 
 seeming to dwarf every other figure in that 
 group. 
 
 "Thou hast heard" Dynevor said. "Hast
 
 AN HAGARENE. 57 
 
 t 
 
 aught of excuse or denial to urge ; or speaks the 
 priest truth?" 
 
 " Truth, after the fashion of his order " the 
 youth answered. " That is, half truth, or so much 
 as suits him to tell : yet, maybe, he saw not all. 
 He saw not yonder pretty poppet, goading F&y 
 with a steel- shod hunting-pole, till her muzzle was 
 all a-gore. Rare sport, i' faith : but it well-nigh 
 came to bitter earnest. He held himself safe 
 * beyond the sweep of her chain ; but, when I 
 came, the staple was dragging from the post. 
 Yet another minute, and Fay had avenged her- 
 self in her own fashion. This runs in her 
 blood : when fairly wode they will turn on him 
 that feeds them, if he come betwixt them and 
 their wrath. Would'st have me dally, when I saw 
 that the brache hearkened no more to my voice 
 than to the voice of a stranger ? Marry, when 
 I hied back, not without ado got I leave to drive 
 the staple home : she left her marks on me ere 
 we were friends again." 
 
 And drawing up his doublet sleeve, he showed 
 a little above the left wrist, a deep row of fang
 
 58 BRAKESPEARE. 
 
 v 
 
 marks; already black and swollen, though the 
 skin was not broken : they were plainly the 
 traces of a hasty chance snap, not of a gripe 
 given in pure malice. 
 
 Had the sleuth-hound's fangs been on her 
 darling's throat, the Lady Ursula could scarce 
 have raised louder outcry, than she did, hearing 
 of his danger. But her husband hushed her 
 again with his hand; and in his tone, as he 
 made reply, there was a calm more ominous than 
 passion. 
 
 "Whence gottest thou yonder hound? And 
 since when hast thou licence to keep under this 
 roof of mine brutes from whom there comes peril 
 of life and limb ? Had harm come to yonder 
 child, thinkest thou amends had been made by 
 the throttling of a score like thee ? " 
 
 The young man's face began to darken ; and 
 that evil light, before spoken of, came into his 
 bright brown eyes. 
 
 " She was Philip Kemeys' last gift to me. 
 He travelled many a league to fetch her, 
 when his mortal sickness was upon him; for
 
 AN HAGARENE. 5'J 1 
 
 from that day he sate never in saddle again. 
 There is not her match as all thy foresters 
 know betwixt Thames and the narrow seas. 
 Moreover, she is the only thing that ever I 
 owned, for which I was not beholden to thy 
 charity. Her food and kennel-room she hath 
 fairly earned: she hath saved thee many a 
 deer. I had been right sorry had harm hap- 
 pened to the child ; and I wot well that my life 
 against his is, in thine eyes, like a cinder from 
 the furnace against fine gold. Yet were it scant 
 justice to demand of me the blood-price 
 seeing that for his sport he put his neck in 
 peril." 
 
 " The brache dies by the halter ere noon " Sir 
 Simon said. "And now I will speak of thine 
 own matters. Lo ! I approve not what the boy 
 hath done : but he hath been more than punished 
 by the rough treatment he got at thine hands. 
 Hadst thou no more reverence for him who, if 
 he live, shall one day rule here in my stead, than 
 to cast him aside like a mangy cur ? Didst 
 thou forget that thou, whose beard is well-nigh
 
 60 BRAKESrEARE. 
 
 grown, \vert dealing with a weakling child ? Ay 
 more. Hadst thou forgotten that, what is but 
 petulance in the heir, is mere out re -Guidance 
 in " 
 
 With all his cynicism, he hesitated over the 
 last brutal word. 
 
 But the other took up the broken thread of 
 speech quite unconcernedly. 
 
 " In the bastard. 'Tis a simple name, 
 
 and soon said: I wot not, why thou didst draw 
 second breath over it. Nay, sir, my father, I 
 have not forgotten ; neither am I likely to forget. 
 I have heard the tale often enough to tell it 
 without halting. I know how thou didst sit with 
 folded hands, while others wrought shame to thy 
 wedded wife ' wedded,' I say, in the teeth of 
 monks and schoolmen and wrong to thine 
 unborn child. I have been bred up by thy 
 bounty for what purpose of thine own I may 
 not guess ; since hitherto it hath not pleased thee 
 to send me where honour or wealth is to be 
 won, nor even to raise me to esquire's estate. 
 Wert thou as weary of giving, as I am of eating,
 
 AN HAGARENE. 61 
 
 the bread of idlesse, thou wouldst let me fare 
 forth to the wars, were it only as a mounted 
 archer. It should go hard, but I would one 
 day repay thee the charges thou hast been put 
 to for me." 
 
 Once more Sir Simon's eyes this time rather 
 pensively than angrily rested on his first-born's 
 face. 
 
 " Thy speech lacks net reason " he said, after 
 a long pause : " though, like thy demeanour of 
 late, 'tis something masterful and over-bold. 
 Grievous wrong was done before thy birth; 
 though, by Mary's truth, I plotted it not, and 
 would have stayed it had I been able. More- 
 over, I have been in fault for keeping thee in 
 paresse here : but I cared not, by setting thee 
 amongst mine esquires, to breed in thee hopes 
 which might not be fulfilled ; and I was some- 
 thing loath to send forth thy mother's son as a 
 simple man-at-arms. These things shall be 
 mended, and that speedily. Either, thou shalt 
 ride among my lances that are bonne to France 
 under my kinsman of Montacute's banner, and
 
 <>2 BEAKESPEARE. 
 
 win advancement according as he shall report of 
 thy deserts ; or thou shalt go forth this day alone, 
 with coin enow to purvey thee a stout horse and 
 armour of proof, and some bezants to boot. But 
 mark thou me. If this last be thy choice thou 
 hast thy portion. Whether thy fortunes be made 
 or marred, thou comest back hither no more ; for 
 I and mine shall be held quit of thy maintenance 
 for ever." 
 
 The blood flushed up in Ealph Fitzwarenne's 
 cheek, as he made prompt reply : 
 
 " Sir, my father, the choice is soon made. 
 I care not greatly to ride under my lord of 
 Montacute's banner, or to win his good word; 
 neither hoped I better hap, than to carve mine 
 own road to honour. I trust not to misuse thy 
 bounty, for the which I here render duteous 
 thanks. Give me such portion as seemeth to 
 thee good; and let us part in peace. Thus 
 much I dare aver from this day, unless at thine 
 own express behest, thou shalt look on my face 
 no more, whether in life or death." 
 
 Whilst his son was speaking, Dynevor's hand
 
 AN HAGARENE. 63 
 
 was laid on the silver bell that stood beside 
 him : at the last words he rung it sharply. 
 
 " Go thou to rny chamber" he said to the 
 page who answered the summons " and fetch me 
 hither the steel-wrought coffer that stands near 
 my bed's head. And bid the seneschal assemble 
 me here mine household, and such others as 
 chance to be within the castle, whether vassals or 
 villeins : it is my pleasure to speak with them 
 presently." 
 
 Sir Simon unlocked the coffer with a key he 
 wore under his doublet on a thin silver chain, 
 and from amongst certain leathern bags of coin 
 chose out one the heaviest. Then he drew 
 from the fourth finger of his left hand a chased 
 gold ring, wherein was set a balass ruby ; and laid 
 ring and bag on the table before him. 
 
 " There is thy portion " he said. " Take it 
 with my good leave ; and may God and our 
 patron saint prosper it to thee. Yon ring was thy 
 mother's only jewel; she willed that I should 
 wear it the night we were wedded : it hath never 
 left me till now."
 
 6 i BRAKESPEARE. 
 
 Kalph Fitzwarenne came near ; thrust the bag 
 unopened into his gipsire ; and drew the ring on 
 his finger, speaking never a word. At that 
 moment he liked his father better than he had 
 ever before done ; for his quick ear had caught a 
 certain tremor in the other's measured tones, 
 and his own heart was fuller than he cared to 
 show. 
 
 By this time the body of the hall was filling 
 fast with the numerous household, amongst whom 
 were mingled not a few dwelling beyond the 
 castle walls, who chanced to be within them 
 that morning for business or pleasure. In front 
 of these, marshalling them into something like 
 orderly ranks, stood the ancient seneschal, bearing 
 his chain and wand of office, while the squires 
 and pages gathered in a knot by themselves just 
 below the dais. The Lady Ursula, somewhat 
 overawed, albeit not displeased by the turn 
 matters had taken had withdrawn herself further 
 into the deep embrasure, whither her child and 
 the chapellan followed. Then Dynevor arose and 
 came forward, till he stood full in front of his
 
 AN HAGARENE. 65 
 
 retainers. His gait was slow, and his figure, 
 even before the mishap which crippled and bowed 
 him, had been somewhat ungainly : nevertheless, 
 his bearing was not devoid of a certain dignity, as 
 he made his brief, earnest oration. 
 
 " Good friends and liegemen, and servitors of 
 mine, whether free or bond ; I have called ye here 
 this day, to be witnesses betwixt myself and this 
 youth, whom ye all know to be my son, born in 
 wedlock albeit in wedlock which Holy Church 
 saw fit to disallow. Ye know, too, how, up to 
 this hour he hath been nourished and trained at 
 my charge if not with such honour as would 
 befit mine heir, at least with such tendance as is 
 not unworthy of my blood. And what I have given 
 I have given, the Saints wot, not grudgingly; 
 nevertheless, he goeth forth this day having 
 received such a portion as contenteth him of his 
 own free will, not driven by me. Now, I hold 
 all ye here present to wit, that, even as I dis- 
 charge him of all duty and fealty to me, so do I 
 hold myself quit of all claim and clear of all duty 
 towards him for ever. Furthermore, if any man 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 60 BRAKE SPEARET. 
 
 
 
 here present, beneath esquire's rank being of 
 sound mind and able body shall choose to bear 
 him company, he shall do this with my free leave. 
 If such an one be villein, I will enfranchise him 
 here before you; if he be free, he sh'all carry 
 with him the full wages of a foot-archer for a 
 year and a day." 
 
 There was a sway and a stir in the little crowd' 
 that filled the body of the hall ; and one came to 
 the front who, after making obeisance, waited, as 
 it seemed, to be questioned. 
 
 He was a short, thick-set man, with an honest, 
 heavy face, imperfectly lighted up by two pale 
 grey eyes, and scarcely relieved by hair of the 
 lightest flaxen, cut square across his low fore- 
 head, and close round his bull's neck. His 
 double joints and deep chest gave promise of 
 vast, though, perchance clumsy, strength ; and 
 as he stood there, his brawny bow-legs were 
 planted, naturally, in the posture of a practised 
 wrestler watching for the grip. 
 
 On him Sir Simon looked with some surprise. 
 
 " How now, Will Lanyon ? " he said. " Corner
 
 AN HAGAKENE. 67 
 
 
 
 the grist so slowly to thy father's mill, that thou 
 must needs seek fortune by wandering thou 
 knowest not whither ? I warrant that before a 
 week is past thou wilt be homesick and wearying 
 for the clack of the hopper. Moreover, I guess thy 
 father would scarce approve this venture of 
 thine." 
 
 The other made answer in slow, sententious 
 fashion, like one who, having few ideas to spare, is 
 chary of their utterance. His voice was strangely 
 deep and gruff for his years, which might have 
 numbered some five-and-twenty. 
 
 " I thank your worship, trade thrives apace. 
 Nevertheless, if he will endure my company, I 
 am minded to go forth with Messire Ralph this 
 day ; and if I have your worship's good leave, of 
 my father I will crave none. For his own plea- 
 sure he brought home Cloudesley's shrewish 
 widow before my mother's grave was green ; and 
 I purpose to do mine own pleasure now, whether 
 it like him or no. If I miss the clack of the 
 hopper, I shall also miss the clatter of my step- 
 dame's tongue : mayhap I shall sleep the sounder. 
 
 F 2 
 I
 
 68 BRAKESPEARE. 
 
 Marry, if her tongue were all but this morning 
 I had taste of her five fingers, and my cheek is 
 red-hot yet. I care not to take hard blows with- 
 out chance of paying them back in kind." 
 
 " Ay, and is it so ? " Dynevor said, with his 
 hard laugh, so like his father's; in which was 
 much of gibe, little of mirth. " Light cause, 
 methinks, to make a man leave hearth and home 
 behind : yet doth a gad-fly chafe a war-horse 
 quicker than a sore wound. I will not cross 
 thy purpose, specially as thou art of full age, 
 and free of aught save vassal's service ; come 
 near, and take the year's wage whereof I spoke. 
 If thou bearest thyself as starkly under shield as 
 thou hast done at the wrestling and cudgel-pla} r , 
 the king hath gained a stout archer, though I 
 lose a trusty liegeman." 
 
 When the silver marks had been counted out in 
 due tale, and Lanyon had fallen back into his place 
 again, Sir Simon turned, and beckoned to Ralph 
 Fitzwarenne. As the youth drew near, and bent 
 one knee, Dynevor's dark face softened more 
 than, surely, it had ever done since the days of
 
 AN HAGARENE. 69 
 
 his first wooing; and he was fain to clear his 
 throat twice or thrice, before he could speak 
 steadily. 
 
 " I bid thee farewell in all kindness ; and do 
 thou think of thy father as little hardly as may 
 be in the after-time. If the blessing of a right 
 sinful man may avail thee, thou hast it freely : 
 counsel I have none to give. I know thee to be 
 honest ; and to one born of our blood there is no 
 need to say ' Be bold ! ' I say only ' Be patient, 
 and prosper ! ' In the name of the most Holy 
 Trinity, and of St. Giles, our patron saint, so 
 mote it be ! " 
 
 Ralph Fitzwarenne laid his lips on his father's 
 hand scarcely with a son's devotion, but rather 
 like a vassal paying homage to his liege lord. 
 As he rose to his feet, there was a mist over 
 his own eyes, that for a second or two made the 
 figures in the body of the hall look blurred and 
 dim : yet in his bearing there was never a sign 
 of weakness or regret as he strode swiftly to- 
 wards the great doorway ; looking neither to the 
 right hand nor the left and changing with
 
 70 BRAKESPEARE. 
 
 "none either word or sign. Close to his shoulder, 
 just so silently, followed Will Lanyon. Not a 
 few, as the pair passed through their midst, 
 wished them "God speed" with bated breath. 
 But neither squire nor servitor, vassal nor 
 villein, presumed to stir frtfm his place till, some 
 minutes later, Sir Simon Dynevor seemed to 
 wake from a reverie, and with a wave of his 
 hand gave them licence to depart.
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 f 
 
 !HOW RALPH FITZWARENNE MET A HOLY PRIEST BY 
 THE WAY, AND WOULD NONE OF HIS BLESSING. 
 
 So, out of the crowd and shadow, those two 
 passed through the sunlight of the empty court ; 
 till, under the outer archway, Fitzwarenne halted 
 and spoke, looking earnestly into his follower's 
 eyes 
 
 " Honest Will, I pray thou mayst never 
 .repent having cast in thy lot with mine. 
 Hearken now, if thou be minded to say farewell 
 to thy father, or any other, do so quickly ; I 
 will tarry at the cross-roads till thou come; 
 mine own leave-takings are well-nigh said, and 
 I shall not draw free breath till Bever is a league 
 behind us ; but cumber not thyself with change 
 of garment, and such like. Here is gold enow 
 for both our furniture, if we win safe to South-
 
 72 BRAKESPEARE. 
 
 wark ; till we know whither we wend, and with 
 whom, 'tis hard to tell what we may need." 
 
 " I thank thee, Messire " the other answered 
 gruffly : " I care for leave-takings no more than 
 thou. If Gaffer Lanyon be vexed by the news 
 he will hear this day, he will drink another 
 pottle or two to-night, and to-morrow it will 
 be all one ; and should Cicely, the tanner's 
 daughter, be moved to shed some few tears, there 
 are fools enow left in Bever hamlet to dry the 
 jilt's blue eyes. I wot well that London is 
 thy mark ; so let us forward, as soon as thou wilt. 
 The roads are heavy with the late rains : yet thou 
 and I have compassed harder journeys, than shall 
 bring us this night to Tunbridge Town." 
 
 " Then do thou set on forthwith " Kalph said. 
 " I have yet another errand to do here ; and I 
 would speak a word to my foster-mother, whose 
 cottage lies not a bowshot out of the way. I will 
 overtake thee before thou comest to the cross- 
 roads." 
 
 Lanyon nodded his head, and went forth with- 
 out further question; while the other turned
 
 CHANGE OF SCENE. 73 
 
 aside into a vaulted passage leading to the base- 
 court where the sleuth-brache was kennelled. 
 
 Fay was lying outstretched in a broad bar of 
 sunlight that fell within the sweep of her chain. 
 She was still looking somewhat sullen and grim ; 
 but at the sound of her master's steps she lifted 
 her head, and greeted him with a low whine of 
 pleasure; she was quite conscious of having 
 done amiss, and longed to show penitence in her 
 own way. 
 
 Ralph knelt down by his favourite and caressed 
 her : murmuring in her ear the while 
 
 " Thou mayst not bear me company; and for 
 one of thy temper homes are hard to find. Lo ! 
 I come to do thee the last good office. ' The 
 halter' did he say ? Nay cold steel whenever 
 our time shall come; but no cord for me or 
 mine. Brave Fay, staunch Fay kiss me once 
 more." 
 
 Slowly and half-reluctantly, as though she 
 understood the words, and guessed what was 
 a-coming, the great bloodhound reared herself, 
 till her tawny jowl and black muzzle rested
 
 74 BRAKESPEARE. 
 
 against his shoulder and cheek. Ealph's eyes 
 were not misty now, but glistening wet ; yet 
 he faltered not in his purpose a whit. With 
 his left hand thrown around Fay's neck, he 
 felt for the pulse of her heart, whilst his right 
 drew the dagger stealthily from its sheath, and 
 drove it home so surely that, without a howl or 
 moan, the hrache slid down out of his grasp, 
 
 and, after a single convulsion, lay stone-still. 
 - 
 No drop of blood followed, till Ralph very gently 
 
 and heedfully drew forth the blade ; then, 
 despite of his care, some three or four heavy 
 gouts spirted on his wrist, leaving broad dark 
 stains on the green sleeve of his hanseline. 
 
 And these things were so quickly done, that the 
 foremost of those, who just then came streaming 
 forth out of the great Hall, barely caught the 
 flutter of Ralph Fitzwarenne's short mantle, as 
 it vanished under the arch of the barbican. 
 
 Over the youth's interview with his foster- 
 mother we here need not linger : in truth, 
 though fond even to foolishness, on one side at 
 least, it was soon ended. Long before Will
 
 CHANGE OF SCENE. 75 
 
 Lanyon had fully gathered his sluggish wits out 
 of the maze into which they had wandered, he 
 had been overtaken by the other; and the two 
 strode on swiftly side by side, each with hunting- 
 pole in hand. 
 
 They might have gone some league or so, 
 when a sharp turn in the road brought them face 
 to face with three travellers, one of whom was 
 mounted, whilst the other two followed a-foot. 
 At sight of these Fitzwarenne halted, looking 
 to the right and to the left, as though he would 
 fain have avoided the meeting. But the banks 
 on either side rose steep and woody, and there 
 was scarcely foothold on the slippery clay ; so he 
 waited with brows clouded and overcast, whilst 
 the others drew near. 
 
 The foremost personage has been painted 
 before. It was no other than Hildebrand, some 
 time Sub-prior of Haultvaux now, its mitred 
 abbot. Twenty years had worked little change 
 in his keen face and lean frame; only some 
 deep lines had grown into furrows, and the 
 strong black hair round the tonsure had waxed
 
 76 BRAKESPEARE. 
 
 thin and iron-grey; but the braced lips were 
 resolute, and the glance restless as ever. The 
 very mule under him was characteristic of the 
 man. Not a sleek pampered ambler such an 
 one as hath been affected by all saintly dignita- 
 ries since the days when Jewish rulers rode upon 
 white asses but a gaunt, sinewy beast, with a 
 red, vicious eye, whose rough action would have 
 suited none but hardened bones a beast that 
 would have tired down many knightly coursers 
 between sunrise and sundown ; its long stride 
 though the pace was scarce beyond a swift 
 Avalk sorely tried the wind and limb of the 
 two sturdy lay-brethren who, with frocks girt up 
 knee high, followed closely as they might. On 
 high and solemn occasions few surpassed the 
 Abbot of Haultvaux in pomp or parade ; but, 
 when borne on his own affairs, he cared for none 
 of such vanities; and now, with his simple 
 riding garb, he looked rather like some staid 
 franklin, than a spiritual peer. 
 
 Lanyon made low obeisance as the Abbot 
 drew nigh; but Ralph barely touched his cap,
 
 CHANGE OF SCENE. 77 
 
 as he stood aside out of the narrow roadway. 
 Yet the churchman spoke with his wonted cool 
 courtesy, never noticing, as it seemed, the irre- 
 verence of the youth's salute. 
 
 "We give thee good-morrow, fair son. On 
 whose business art thou and honest Will Lan- 
 yon faring forth ? On pleasure ye can hardly be 
 bent; since 'tis no weather yet for wrestling- 
 match or quintain-play ; and thou hast with thee 
 neither hawk nor hound. Nevertheless, thou 
 wilt be home ere nightfall, we wot. Wilt thou 
 save us time and trouble by delivering to our 
 good friend, Sir Simon Dynevor, a brief message 
 which we will presently teach thee ? For we 
 have far to ride, and much to do, ere even-song." 
 
 Fitzwarenne looked full in the speaker's face 
 always with the same lowering on his own. 
 
 " I am forth on mine own business " he an- 
 swered " and for junketing, I have had little 
 heart of late. Also it will be long ere I hollo 
 again to hawk or hound. But your lordship 
 must seek some other messenger to Bever than 
 Lanyon or myself; for thither do I return
 
 78 BRAKE SPE ARE. 
 
 no more ; neither will he, I think, for many a 
 nionit to come." 
 
 " Is it even so ? " the Abbot said, bending his 
 brows. " Truly, we boded no good of the stub- 
 born temper we have noted in thee of late. 
 Hath some unhappy brawl Sancta Maria, what 
 mean those dark stains on thy sleeve ? " 
 
 " There hath been no brawl" the other replied: 
 " only the clatter of some shrill shrewish tongues ; 
 and my doublet is stained with no redder blood 
 than that of a trusty sleuth-hound, whom I slew 
 but now to save her from the halter. Also, I go 
 forth with Sir Simon Dynevor's good leave if 
 that may advantage me and we parted, not in 
 anger. But, I marvel that your reverence's 
 mind should cumber itself with my matters. 
 We, too, have far to go ere we sleep, and 
 under your favour, we have dallied here too 
 long." 
 
 " Nay, then, we detain thee not. Draw nearer, 
 my son, and bow thine head. Though it were 
 more seemly for thee to crave, than for us to 
 proffer it, thou shalt not lack our blessing."
 
 CHANGE OF SCENE. 79 
 
 And, as the Abbot spoke, he stretched forth 
 his right hand. + 
 
 Then Ralph Fitzwarenne drew himself yet 
 more erect; whilst through the darkness of his 
 face flashed out enmity, open and defiant. 
 
 " Some six times " he said, in a low, bitter 
 voice " have I come to Haultvaux, since I knew 
 evil from good always in Simonr Dynevor's 
 company, or on his errands but I never broke 
 bread nor drunk water there. I would liever 
 bear the burden of mine own skis, than have 
 them lightened by thee. Do I not know how 
 and where the plot was hatched, that robbed my 
 mother of her good name, and me of my birth- 
 right ? Twas not for naught, that the landmarks 
 were shifted in that same year. Marry seeing 
 the manner of man he was, and how he was 
 outwitted at the last 'tis wonder that my 
 grandsire should rest quietly in his grave. Lord 
 Abbot, I owe thine order a shrewd turn; and 
 maybe, I shall repay something thereof ere I 
 die. Albeit, the heaviest accompt may never be 
 cleared the accompt betwixt me and thee."
 
 80 BBAKESPEAEE. 
 
 The lay brethren crossed themselves in 
 devout horror, and Will Lanyon's ruddy cheek 
 paled : it seemed as though all three expected' 
 that such blasphemy would draw down some 
 instant manifestation of Heaven'svvvrath. But 
 the Abbot's countenance betrayed neither anger 
 nor surprise ; and his lip curled in a cold, dis- 
 dainful smile. 
 
 
 
 " Thou art fctraught utterly distraught in 
 thy folly. Granting such and such things were 
 done in those days, how darest thou impute either 
 the shame or the honour to me ? Did not Abbot 
 
 m. , 
 
 Anselm God rest his soul ! rule at Haultvaux 
 then ? And was not I the simple Sub-prior ? " 
 
 " Go to-.! " the other retorted. " D-O not all 
 men know that the holy man's heart was soft as 
 his brains ; but that, when it behoved to grind 
 the poor or to oppress the weakling, there stood 
 a wise counsellor ever close to his ear ? Good 
 father; I wis the change was more in seeming 
 than in truth, when thou didst don alb and 
 mitre." 
 
 The monk bowed his head, in real or affected
 
 CHAN'GE OF SCENE. 81 
 
 humility. " Truly, well," he said, " is it writ- 
 ten Beati sunt mortui. 'For not alone do those 
 blessed ones rest from'*their labours, but they 
 garner all the grain they have^bwn, whilst others 
 must needs gipther in the tares. Over the lintel 
 of the fair almshouses yonder^Abbot Anselm's 
 name is graven; and in the prayers of twelve 
 devout widows it will be 'remembered for ever. 
 Yel none guessed how patiently ghd long I strove 
 with my sainted superior, till I wrought upon 
 him so to dispend the surplus in our treasury ; 
 rather than set another rose-window of painted 
 glass in our church, where daylight hath troublfe 
 enough to come steady. But, if aught was done 
 in needful- severity and the Church must needs 
 smite sometimes as well as heal against whom 
 murmurs all the country side ? ' Out on the 
 Sub-prior ! ' they say ; ' May God requite him 
 this ! Doth not his face bewray that his heart is 
 as the nether millstone ? ' Had Hildebrand been 
 a portly priest, with a moist eye and a cheerful 
 countenance, perchance he had lacked no man's 
 good word. But let these things pass. It is not 
 
 TOL. I. O
 
 82 BRAKESPEARE. 
 
 'well that thoti and I speak further together; for I 
 can profit thee naught. Nay more thou mightst 
 be provoked into uttering what might hardly be 
 atoned for. So pass on in peace. I would say a 
 few words to this stout follower of thine, which I 
 trust thou wilt not hinder." 
 
 * 
 
 As, with another slight salute, Fitzwarenne 
 strode slowly away, the Abbot urged his mule 
 some ten paces forward, so as to be beyond ear- 
 shot of the lay brethren, and beckoned Lanyon 
 to his side. " Look not so scared, good fellow "- 
 he said " nor think that the rash speech of 
 yonder misguided youth hath chafed us; or that 
 we bear malice thereat. Truly, an evil ensample 
 were we to our flock if we could not suffer pa- 
 tiently a greater wrong. Nay, I would serve thy 
 master for such must he be henceforward in 
 despite of himself; and of this shalt thou pre- 
 sently have proof. Do thou hold the mule's 
 bridle : 'tis a skittish beast, and may not be left 
 to its own devices." 
 
 With that, the Abbot undid a pouch hanging 
 at his right side, in which were several compart-
 
 CHANGE OF SCENE. '88 
 
 ments for different kinds of coin ; and, further, 
 in the inner lining a small pocket so cunningly 
 concealed that it might have escaped even se care- 
 ful scrutiny. In this were four or five broad 
 thinnish pieces of gfcld ; evidently bezants beaten 
 out with a ' hammer, till no trace was left of 
 effigy or legend. On one of these, with a 
 sharp penknife drawn from another case holding 
 writing implements, the priest proceeded to 
 grave certain lines and dots, till the result was 
 something resembling an ancient musical score, 
 except that the dots were in the spaces instead 
 of upon the lines, as thus : 
 
 While these things were a-doing, a certain 
 distrust mingled with the wonder of Lanyon's 
 
 G 2
 
 8-1 BRAKESPEARE. 
 
 broad grey eyes, as though he had been watching 
 some wizard at his work. 
 
 " It is no charm, thou simpleton " the Abbot 
 said scornfully, though not unkindly, as though 
 aware of the other's suspicions. " Know that the 
 Holy Church dealeth not in such matters, leaving 
 spell and talisman to the misbelieving magicians. 
 Nevertheless, do thou hang this token around 
 thy neck ere thou sleep, and keep it secretly as 
 thou mayst with no less care than if it were 
 relic of saint or martyr ; for much may it advan- 
 tage thee in foreign lands, to which, I guess, ye 
 both are bound. Thou comest of the right bull- 
 dog breed, and will never be far from thy master's 
 heel in weather fair or foul ; so that, if he lie in 
 sore peril, thou thyself mayst be in as evil case. 
 Now, mark. If ye be come to such a pass 
 that there is no hope of help from man, and ye 
 have brief time to make your peace with God, do 
 thou show this gold piece to the priest that shall 
 shrive thee ; adjuring him, by his vow of charity, 
 to carry it straight to his superior, or the church- 
 man highest in authority, that shall chance to be
 
 CHANGE OF SCENE. 85 
 
 near. If the token be discerned by one who hath 
 the power of life and death, or whose intercession 
 may avail, I dare aver that ye shall both go forth 
 for that once scot-free. Ay, though which 
 Heaven in its mercy forfend ! there be holy 
 blood on your hands, or the guilt of sacrilege 
 upon your souls. But use this warily, and only 
 at uttermost need ; for thou canst not use it 
 twice. 'Tis but a chance : it may be that thou 
 wilt fall in brawl or battle before thy master; 
 and yonder coin may swell some camp-follower's 
 plunder. But all this life of ours is made up of 
 what men call chances. What we have said thou 
 mayst carry to thy master, if thou wilt : yet 
 thou wilt keep thine own counsel for awhile, if 
 thou art wise ; it may be, in his stubbornness 
 he would reject our good offices. Should he 
 speak of these things with better understand- 
 ing in the after-time, thou mayst tell him all; 
 and tell him, moreover, that he hath not been 
 forgotten in Hildebrand's prayers. Thou art 
 not too proud to receive our benison ; take it, 
 and go thy way with good hope and courage."
 
 00 BRAKE SPE ABE. 
 
 With a few muttered thanks, Will Lanyon 
 took his humble leave, and made haste to over- 
 take his master ; whilst the Abbot also set forward 
 at a much slower pace than he was wont to ride 
 musing, it seemed, as he went. 
 
 " What said the shaveling to thee ? " Ralph 
 asked, as the other came up. 
 
 " He gave me much good counsel, and one 
 piece of gold " Lanyon answered. 
 
 None could have guessed at any secret behind, 
 that simple stolid face ; and Ralph forbore any 
 further question. Indeed, right little was said 
 during all that long day's journey; for of those 
 wayfarers one was by nature exceeding taciturn, 
 and the other busy with his own thoughts. 
 But they reached Tunbridge town ere sunset; 
 and were on their road again early on the morrow, 
 without aught having befallen them worthy of 
 record.
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 HOW EALPH FITZWARENNE TOOK FEOM AN HONEST 
 MAN HIS GOOD NAME. 
 
 HOUR after hour those two journeyed on, com- 
 passing hill and dale, rough and smooth, with the 
 same swift, level pace, and breaking silence only 
 at rare intervals with some trivial question or 
 answer. Long before noon they had risen the 
 crest of the Westerham downs, and were deep in 
 the beechwoods that fringed then as now the 
 steep chalk-hills. At mid-day they made brief 
 halt by a wayside spring, to refresh themselves 
 with the provender Lanyon carried in his wallet. 
 
 Like most other Normans of pure descent, 
 Fitzwarenne was sparing both in his eating and 
 drinking : his meal was finished before his com- 
 panion's appetite was half appeased. After bath- 
 ing hands and lips carefully in the running 
 stream, he said
 
 88 BRAKESPEARE. 
 
 " Will Lanyon, two things have I noted in thee, 
 not without some wonder. Since we crossed the 
 drawbridge yestermorn, never once hast thou 
 turned thy face backwards, were it but for a 
 single glance over thy shoulder; and, further- 
 more, thou hast never questioned me concerning 
 mine intents, or whither we wend when we set 
 forth again from London town." 
 
 " Good faith, messire " the other answered, 
 gruffly, without breaking off the play of his busy 
 jaws "there is little cause for wonderment. 
 Wherefore should I look back, when I leave 
 naught behind but trouble ; and wherefore pester 
 thee with questions as to our road, when all are 
 alike to me, so they lead not homeward again ? 
 My good lord, your father, hath bestowed on me 
 certain wage, which I would fain work out 
 honestly. I wot well, it will not please you to 
 tarry idling long : beyond the narrow seas there 
 is most a-doing ; therefore I guess we shall cross 
 them anon." 
 
 " Thou art wiser or hardier than I " Fitz- 
 warenne replied. "If mine eyes travelled not
 
 CHANGE OF NAME. 89 
 
 backwards, my thoughts did so oftener than I 
 care to own. Also, thou hast guessed rightly 
 that I am heart-sick of tilt-play, and would fain 
 hear shivering of grinded spears. There will be 
 naught stirring yet awhile in Borderland; for 
 the Scots wolves lie licking their wounds, and 
 will scarce make sally whilst they are stiff and 
 sore. But King Edward still holds Calais in 
 leaguer : from thence down to Languedoc there 
 is work enow for all such as cry, ' St. George 
 Guienne. There were shrewd gaps made in 
 many companies at Crecy ; and, if we attain not 
 to serve under Chandos or Manny, other good 
 knights may well lack an archer and a man-at- 
 arms. Hearken, now. I have pondered on many 
 things during this our journey, and thus far my 
 purpose is fixed. If thou goest to the French 
 wars, thou goest not thither with Ralph Fitz- 
 warenne." 
 
 Lanyon's light blue eyes opened to their 
 widest : the blankness of utter discomfiture over- 
 spread his bluff face ; then it began to lower, and 
 his tone was hoarse and sullen.
 
 90 BEAKESPEAKE. 
 
 " You will do your pleasure, inessire. I force 
 myself on no man's company ; neither do I fear 
 but that I shall be hired readily enow. Yet 
 would I hear what fault of mine hath brought 
 me into this quick disfavour." 
 
 Fitzwarenne laughed a low genial laugh the 
 pleasanter, perchance, because it came so rarely 
 as he smote the speaker lightly on the shoulder. 
 
 " I take shame to myself for paltering with 
 thee, were it but for an instant. Am I a priest, 
 too, that I should speak in parables ? Thou hast 
 cast in thy lot with mine, and we sink or swim 
 together, so long as thou carest to follow my 
 fortunes ; they will be neither made nor marred 
 by what I purpose to do. Ealph Warenne was a 
 good knight and a charitable God rest his soul ! 
 Had he lived on, I had been other than I am, 
 and well content to wear till death the name he 
 gave me ; but to none other of that kith and kin 
 do I owe even a careless kindly word. There- 
 fore, I care not to carry longer the surname that 
 keeps alive my mother's wrong and mine : I will 
 change it, so soon as I come across a better. If
 
 CHANGE OF NAME. 91 
 
 this displease tliee, speak thy mind frankly and 
 fairly : if I rede thee aright, thou followest not 
 the title, but the man." 
 
 The cloud cleared from Lanyon's countenance 
 more rapidly than it had settled there, and he 
 grinned in broad simple glee. 
 
 "I was wittol not to guess thou wert jesting, 
 niessire. Take what name thou wilt, so it be one 
 that Christian may bear, or English lips speak 
 without stumbling : I warrant I soon shall like it 
 as well as the old one, or better. Yea, if it please 
 the saints, others shall know it too, an' they like it 
 not, before our beards are grey. 'Twould be rare 
 sport should we ride through Bever hamlet in the 
 aftertime thou a belted knight, and I thine 
 esquire, leading a stout clump of spears." 
 
 " Tush " the other answered, half angrily; yet 
 he smiled as he sprang lightly to his feet 
 " Pratest thou thus to one who hath never seen 
 colour of blood shed in anger ? Old Dynevor 
 spoke sooth 'Cravens come not of our stock:' 
 nevertheless, I profess to thee, I would my first 
 stricken field were over, that I might know how
 
 92 BRAKESPEARE. 
 
 I shall bear myself under shield. But wishing, 
 no more than fearing, brings the proof-time near. 
 Let us forward : thou art ready, I see ; for, if 
 thy stomach be not full, thy wallet is empty : I 
 would be in Southwark ere sunset." 
 
 Lanyon bent down and drank deep of the 
 stream, lapping quick and noisily, like a thirsty 
 hound; then he, too, arose, shaking the drops 
 from his bushy beard, and followed the other, 
 who had already moved some paces away. 
 
 Thenceforward, without let or stay, the way- 
 farers marched steadily on ; but the day was 
 waning fast as they entered the outskirts of the 
 suburb. A chill, gloomy March evening with 
 threat of wilder weather yet, in the sharp, sudden 
 gusts that brawled round gable and chimney, and 
 whistled through the masts and cords of shipping, 
 breaking the brown water into foamy wavelets as 
 it met the strong ebb tide ; and in the lurid 
 western sky, against which the towers of the 
 great Abbey stood out black and frowningly an 
 evening that would have caused most travellers 
 to hurry on towards roof-bield.
 
 CHANGE OF NAME. 93 
 
 Yet Ealph Fitzwarenne, who had slackened his 
 pace gradually during the last hour, loitered 
 more and more, as though loath to reach his 
 journey's end. It was not the awkward uncer- 
 tainty of finding himself in a place utterly 
 strange that caused him thus to dally; for he had 
 ridden once forwards and backwards through 
 Southwark in his father's train, on their way to 
 and from the herbegage beyond Thames, where 
 Dynevor was wont to abide ; and Kalph pos- 
 sessed, to a rare degree, the quick eye and tena- 
 cious memory for passing objects, which in some, 
 form as it were, a sixth sense. He had already 
 settled that they should lie that night at the sign 
 of the Spur, a modest hostel of no mean re- 
 pute : so he walked on slowly ; heeding not the 
 clamour, hoarse or shrill, of the wayside vagrants, 
 who had crawled forth from purlieus round the 
 Clink to ply their trade of theft or beggary, till 
 night should send them with less unclean beasts, 
 to lie down in their dens. Neither did Fitz- 
 warenne seem to notice the keen malevolent 
 glances lighting on them as they passed certain
 
 94 BRAKE SPE ARE. 
 
 alehouses, round the doors of which evil looking 
 men were lounging, with " cut-purse," or " cut- 
 throat," written on every line of their villanous 
 faces ; though from these groups, more than once, 
 two or three detached themselves, following 
 stealthily in the track of the strangers, till a look 
 out of Lanyon's wary eye, and a yet more significant 
 movement of his quarter- staff, made them slink 
 back hastily : the game was fair, but too fierce 
 and big for such curs to meddle with. 
 
 The travellers might have advanced some three 
 hundred paces up Kentish Street so the main 
 thoroughfare into Southwark from the country 
 was then calle'd when Ralph, who, despite his 
 reverie, had not ceased to glance to the right and 
 to the left, came to a full halt where the red light 
 from a forge streamed across the already darken- 
 ing roadway. 
 
 A low two-storied house, with more lead than 
 glass in the diamond panes of its upper windows, 
 but wealth of wood in the projecting beams and 
 broad brown eaves, under which there was shelter 
 from sun or shower ; whilst a sort of pent-house
 
 CHANGE OF NAME. 95 
 
 shielded the forge from the full in-draught of the 
 outer air ; against the wall over this was nailed 
 a helmet of a fashion out of date so dark with 
 rust that one could only guess of what metal it 
 was wrought ; and above the lintel were carved, 
 in rough straggling letters, these three words : 
 
 jjnljn 3Srafccpearr, Armourer. 
 
 There was the cheeriness of light and warmth 
 that has made the smithy the favourite resort 
 for idlers since the time of Tubal Cain; and 
 cheery sounds, too, came from within, as two or 
 three voices chanted snatches of a rude ditty that 
 chimed in pleasantly enough with the ring of 
 hammers. But not in these sights and sounds 
 seemed to lie the attraction that kept the youth 
 standing there, with his eyes fixed steadfastly on 
 the legend over the lintel. 
 
 Just then the master-armourer glanced up 
 from his work, and guessing with quick trader's 
 instinct at a likely customer in one, at least, of 
 the pair that were lingering without, thrust the 
 half-forged steel into the water-trough, and came
 
 96 BKAKESPEARE. 
 
 quickly to the front. He was a broad, burly 
 man, something past middle age, with a merry 
 eye, and full, moist mouth, whose smile ready, 
 yet not a whit servile twinkled through soot 
 and grime. 
 
 "Give you good even, fair sir" he said, in 
 a deep, mellow voice, the first sounds of which 
 made one think involuntarily of the good liquors 
 that make glad the heart. " Doth your worship, 
 or yon stout follower of thine, lack aught in 
 which John Brakespeare can serve ye ? These 
 are not times in which such thews and sinews 
 as yours lie idle. Mine own fighting days are 
 done ; yet can I tell a right man-at-arms within 
 a bowshot marry, 'tis no marvel; I have taken 
 measure oft enow of such I know naught of 
 my craft, if ye both are not bound to the wars. 
 I deal not in the cunning work of Milan, yet 
 can I give ye honest ware. Prove bascinet or 
 hauberk with axe or sword-dent ; if ye can make 
 more damage than mine hammer can amend 
 within the hour, our bargain is naught, and I 
 am a lying cozener."
 
 CHANGE OF NAME. 97 
 
 The direction of Ealph Fitzwarenne's eyes 
 was changed ; for the last minute or so they had 
 rested thoughtfully on the speaker's face. He 
 seemed pleased with what he saw there, for he 
 answered with more courtesy than was his wont 
 he was generally rather cold and reserved with 
 strangers. 
 
 " Truly, good armourer, thou hast guessed 
 partly aright, albeit thou doest us both over 
 much honour. It shames me to aver that neither 
 I nor this my comrade have as yet drawn blade 
 in fair fight; nevertheless, it is our purpose to 
 take service in the French wars. In such a case, 
 I doubt not thou canst purvey me with harness 
 such as a man may well trust unto, whose life 
 is better worth the keeping than mine is like to 
 be. But of this ware we will speak anon ; I 
 have somewhat else to say unto thee now. Come 
 thou hither with me, without ; I have some score 
 of words for thine ear." 
 
 There came a great wonder, and perchance the 
 faintest shade of distrust, on the armourer's 
 jovial face. Yet he hesitated not to do as he
 
 98 BRAKESPEARE. 
 
 was bidden ; but laying his brawny hands on the 
 window-ledge, vaulted into the street with a 
 nimbleness surprising for his weight and years. 
 Fitzwarenne took him by the arm, and led him 
 some few paces backward from the spot, where 
 Lanyon leant on his quarter- staff in stolid 
 patience, as having concern with none of these 
 things. 
 
 " Thou seest that ? " Ralph asked, pointing 
 to the legend on which his own glance had lately 
 been riveted. " Yon is thy name ? " 
 
 " Surely I see it," the other answered still 
 with the same puzzled look ; " and have seen it 
 most days since first I crawled over yonder 
 threshold. My father carved it rest his soul ' 
 He and my grandsire marry, my great grand - 
 sire, for aught I know have borne the same 
 name. It hath brought us no great wealth, God 
 wot, and no greater honour than that of honest 
 craftsmen living by their toil ; but the good wife 
 hath never lacked a Sunday kirtle, and the brats 
 have meat enow to make them thrive, and I have 
 ever a pottle of ale for a neighbour, or a cup of
 
 CHANGE OF NAME. 99 
 
 sack of holidays. So I know not why I should 
 grumble or make moan. But wherefore is your 
 worship curious concerning that poor name of 
 ours ? " 
 
 " Because I am aweary of mine own " Fitz- 
 warenne answered, " and would fain change it. 
 Thou knowest naught of me, and may believe 
 or disbelieve, as thou wilt. But I swear to thee, 
 by the Holy Eood, that not for fear or felony 
 would I do this. Thy name caught mine eye as 
 I passed, and it pleased me well : 'tis a fitting 
 one to bear where hard blows are going. Lo ! I 
 proffer thee no guerdon such things are not 
 bought and sold yet I dare aver that, if I bring 
 no great credit to thy name, I will bring it to no 
 dishonour." 
 
 He drew himself up as he spoke, with a ges- 
 ture neither boastful nor defiant, but full of self- 
 reliance and loyalty. John Brakespeare, who, 
 in the course of his trade, had stood face to face 
 with many knights and nobles, thought that he 
 never had looked on a more gallant bearing : the 
 last spark of suspicion vanished from his honest 
 
 H 2
 
 100 BRAKESPEARE. 
 
 heart, but some simple wonderment still re- 
 mained. 
 
 " Tis a quaint fancy," he said, thrusting back 
 the thick, tangled hair that fell low over his 
 brows ; " nathless I wis it covers no malfeasance, 
 and I care not to baulk it. 'Tis a tough, work- 
 day name enough ; though, I warrant me, less 
 high sounding than what your worship has borne 
 heretofore. I am no wizard, to read the lines of 
 hands or faces ; yet would I wager a harness of 
 proof against an archer's hacqueton, that no drop 
 of churl's blood runs in your veins." 
 
 Ealph's brown cheek flushed a little as he 
 made reply. 
 
 " Gramercy for thy courtesy. Thou shalt hear 
 of my lineage the more readily that thou hast 
 asked never a question thereanent. My mother 
 was cousin to Sir Ealph Warenne ; who, in the 
 first year of this reign, died gallantly under 
 shield, by the hand, men say, of the Black 
 Douglas. She was wedded, with all due right, 
 to Dynevor of Bever, though that wedlock the 
 Church saw fit to disallow, on plea that they
 
 CHANGE OF NAME. 101 
 
 were within the degrees ; and from her death up 
 to this hour have I been nurtured at his charges. 
 But yestermorn set me free of all my duty to 
 Dynevor, and lightened him, I trow, of a weary 
 burden. I am adrift now, like a skiff on the 
 deep sea, and henceforward for ever I have neither 
 kith nor kin. So going forth to do my devoir, 
 as I hope, and fighting for mine own hand 
 I would fain carry a name bearing not the 
 brand of bastard}'. Hast thou my meaning, or 
 is there aught thou wouldst have made more 
 clear ? " 
 
 The armourer doffed bonnet, and made a 
 rough obeisance. 
 
 " I thank your worship, I have learned all 
 that I care to know. I mind Sir Ealph Warenne 
 well, and certain inklings of yonder sad tale 
 came to mine ears ; for I had dealings with some 
 of his household. I saw that armament set out 
 that fared so ill in the North ; and I mind well 
 how starkly the old knight reined his destrere, 
 as he rode close on our boy-king's right hand. 
 Marry, there was great dolour and moan when
 
 102 BRAKESPEARE. 
 
 men knew that he should come back no more. 
 ' Bastard ' said ye ? By Saint Benedict, there 
 lives not belted earl, betwixt Thames and Tyne, 
 that can boast of gentler blood. Take my name, 
 sith it pleases you, and the saints send you luck 
 therewith ! Never, I wot, since my great grand- 
 sire was enfranchised, had ' Brakespeare ' such 
 chance of coming to honour." 
 
 Ralph held out his hand, which the other, 
 though he drew back at first, took and wrung 
 heartily. 
 
 " Then so shall it be. I lie at the ' Spur ' 
 to-night : come thou thither at thy leisure, and 
 we will drink a stoup of right Bordeaux wine 
 over this our bargain, which in sooth will profit 
 thee but little. Tush, man" he broke in im- 
 patiently, seeing that the other was still oppressed 
 by some shy diffidence " knowest thou not that 
 I am ' Brakespeare ' for evermore, and have no 
 more to do with Dynevor and "Warenne than 
 thou ? Thou hast had many choicer boon com- 
 panions, than one who has far to climb ere he 
 reach esquire's estate. Furthermore, I would
 
 CHANGE OF NAME. 103 
 
 speak with thee concerning the matters whereof 
 I shall have need so soon as I have taken ser- 
 vice : it may be that I set forth at brief notice, 
 and with scant time for furnishing. No more 
 words : I shall expect thee anon." 
 
 "With a wave of his hand, Ralph turned on his 
 heel to rejoin his patient follower. The gesture 
 was friendly and familiar enough; yet slightly 
 imperious withal, as of one wont to see his 
 bidding done undisputed. And so the honest 
 armourer interpreted it, as he stood looking wist- 
 fully after the tall figure receding fast up the 
 dusky street. 
 
 "I may not say him nay," he muttered; " but 
 for all his fair words such company is not 
 for the like of John Brakespeare. I warrant me, 
 I shall feel as if they had set me down at our 
 good bishop's table above the salt. By Saint 
 Benedict, a proper youth! Bastard or no bastard, 
 one would have thought ne'er a father in Eng- 
 land but would have been proud of such a son ; 
 either the wenches are blind in the Weald, or 
 he must have left some sore hearts behind him.
 
 104 BBAKESPEARE. 
 
 If God will, I shall bear great news of him ere 
 I die. There is work enow done for the nonce : 
 I will go cleanse me of this grime, and don my 
 holiday doublet and hosen, so that I shame 
 yonder gallant as little as I may." 
 
 " Mark me well " Ralph said to his com- 
 panion, who walked close to his shoulder " I 
 am Fitzwarenne no more, but Brakespeare by 
 surname, to thee and all others whom it may 
 concern. Canst thou learn the trick of it, so 
 that thou keep thy tongue from slipping ? " 
 
 " I will take good heed, messire " the other 
 answered, betraying no whit of surprise. " 'Tis 
 a simple word enough; and my tongue wags not 
 so fast that it should babble astray." 
 
 Almost as those last words were spoken, they 
 came to their journey's end, and strode in through 
 a low -browed archway into the courtyard of the 
 Spur.
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 OF THE COMPANY THAT RALPH, SURNAMED BRAKE - 
 SPEARE, MET UNDER THE SIGN OF THE SPUR. 
 
 SUPPER was over in the common room of the 
 hostel, and the guests not numerous, as it 
 chanced, on that especial night had broken up 
 into groups ; some lingering at the board where 
 they had eaten, others clustering at small tables, 
 drawn nearer the hearth. The logs that burned 
 bravely were useful, otherwise than for warmth ; 
 or the great chamber, with its dusky walls and 
 blackened beams, would have looked gloomy 
 enough, lighted only by three or four of the 
 clumsy oil lamps called mortiers, and by the rude 
 torch-candles fixed on spikes on either side the 
 doorway, that swirled and guttered in the fre- 
 quent draughts. 
 
 In the nook formed by the outer angle of the 
 huge projecting chimney, and so somewhat in the
 
 106 BRAKE SPE ARE. 
 
 shadow, sat Ralph and his guest, the armourer 
 a mighty stoup of Bordeaux wine betwixt them ; 
 whilst on a settle hard by, Lanyon dozed in that 
 half stupor that, when no care keeps men wake- 
 ful, comes pleasantly to the hardiest wayfarer after 
 long travel and a hearty meal. The good liquor 
 had thawed the craftsman's shyness and unloosed 
 his tongue ; so he was ready enough in answering 
 to the best of his power the other's questions, and 
 in tendering his advice. 
 
 " An' ye would be ruled by me, messire, ye 
 would not be hasty in taking service with the first 
 that shall make proffer. There be some who ad- 
 venture themselves in these wars, overmuch for 
 plunder's sake ; and with such little honour is to 
 be gotten, even if they 'scape the shame. I have 
 accointance with certain knights and barons 
 always in the course of trade who might serve 
 thy turn bravely. But right few of such, I wot, 
 are now on the hither side of the narrow seas ; 
 for there is work enow in Guienne for all the 
 lances that our king can spare from Calais 
 leaguer. Truly, there is Sir Walter Rokeby a
 
 THE COMPANY AT THE SPUR. 107 
 
 leal knight and stalwart who is now at his lodg- 
 ing beyond Thames, scarce healed of the sore 
 hurt he gat at Neville's Cross. It may be he will 
 be setting forth ere long ; I warrant me he will 
 tarry at home, not an hour after he hath leech's 
 leave to sit in saddle. Peradventure, my good 
 word may profit you somewhat ; for Sir Walter 
 hath shown me no small kindness, and calls me 
 ever his trusty armourer." 
 
 Whilst Ralph thanked the friendly speaker, the 
 heavy door at the further end of the guest-cham- 
 ber swung open quickly, as though thrust inward 
 by a strong, hasty hand; causing the decent 
 merchants and franklins, who formed the greater 
 part of the company, to start from their grave 
 converse or quiet games of tables to look at the 
 new comer. In truth he was one to whom few 
 men, and fewer women, would have denied a 
 second glance, if only for his marvellous beauty. 
 
 His face was a pure oval ; with a complexion 
 of clear pale olive, features straight and finely 
 chiselled, a mouth nearly perfect in form, though 
 not in expression, and long, lustrous dark eyes,
 
 108 BEAKESPEABE. 
 
 naturally languid, but flashing out at times with 
 animal ferocity. He was tall and powerful of 
 frame, without the angular squareness which 
 usually accompanies great strength ; and one 
 would hardly have guessed at the stark muscle 
 and sinew hidden under the delicate rounding of 
 joint and limb. His dress of rich murrey cloth 
 was of foreign fashion, and not disfigured by 
 sleeves of preposterous length, or any other of 
 the fantastic fopperies in which the English gal- 
 lants of that time were prone to indulge ; while 
 the careful trimming and studied arrangement of 
 his silky beard and wavy hair both of an intense 
 blue -black showed that the possessor of such 
 rare personal advantages was disposed to make 
 use of them to the uttermost. 
 
 He was evidently not quite a stranger to some 
 present there ; for, as he entered, there was a kind 
 of flutter and murmur amongst certain of the 
 staid burghers, betokening distrust and dislike, 
 with perchance a shade of fear, just as you may 
 see a whole rookery thrown into tumult by the 
 sudden appearance of a sparrow-hawk.
 
 THE COMPANY AT THE SPUR. 109 
 
 It was manifest, too, that something had ruffled 
 the new comer's humour, as he swung up the 
 centre of the guest chamber ; glancing half inso- 
 lently, half defiantly, to the right and to the left ; 
 and cast himself down on the settle, in the corner 
 corresponding to that where Ralph Brakespeare 
 was sitting ; never deigning to notice the courtesy 
 of the meek artisan, who yielded place to him 
 hastily. Then he called for a stoup of Musca- 
 dine ; and, long before it could have been brought, 
 cursed the drawer for dallying in fair English 
 enough, though with a soft foreign accent : when 
 the liquor came, he fell to drinking, not in quick, 
 greedy gulps, but daintily and slowly, savouring 
 each drop as it glided over his palate. 
 
 The stout armourer glanced at the stranger 
 from under his brows with evident disfavour. 
 
 " Whom have we here ? " he grumbled. " One 
 of a marvellous goodly presence, pardie ; but a 
 ruffler, I warrant me, if no worse. Loath would 
 I be to drink with him in the dark, and yet more 
 loath to play with him at the dice. Yon may well 
 be the Italian who, as I heard but yester-even, won
 
 110 BRAKESPEAKE. 
 
 thirty silver marks of Josselyn, the Abbot's reeve, 
 and picked a quarrel with him thereafter. Marry, 
 had not help been near, the wittol besides losing 
 his year's savings would have brooked the stab. 
 By Saint Benedict, I like not such company ; and 
 if my gossip, our host, were of my mind, he would 
 have none such at the Spur." 
 
 " I am partly of thine opinion " Balph 
 answered, carelessly; " but I see not how he can 
 concern us. We are not birds for his net, I trow. 
 Go back, I prithee, to where thou brakest off talk 
 but now, and finish yonder stoup, which is well- 
 nigh drained. I have beckoned already to the 
 drawer to bring hither another." 
 
 The armourer complied, nothing loath. But, 
 as he wiped his beard and prepared to re- 
 sume converse he was slow and deliberate of 
 speech the outward door swung open once 
 more, this time timidly and cautiously, and there 
 entered a girl, leading by the hand a white-haired 
 man, somewhat bent with age or infirmity, who 
 walked with the faltering, uncertain gait peculiar 
 to the blind. There was no mistaking the pro-
 
 THE COMPANY AT THE SPUR. Ill 
 
 fession of the pair; the threadbare cote-hardie, 
 and the gittern, or rebecque, slung round his neck, 
 betokened the minstrel ; whilst from her raiment 
 of gay, contrasted colours, no less than from the 
 instrument carried in her right hand, all knew 
 the tymbestere. 
 
 " 'Tis Gilbert the glee-man " John Brake- 
 speare said, with a kind of gruff apology, seeing 
 his companion's brow overcast at the 'fresh inter- 
 ruption " with his granddaughter. It were 
 charity to let them play out their play, an' you 
 would have patience ; for they will take no alms 
 unless they seem to earn them. Marry, I mind 
 him as deft an archer as ever drew clothyard 
 shaft; in the Scots wars got he that axe-blow 
 which hath dazed his brain ever since, and left 
 his eyes darkling : he hath no mean skill on his 
 instrument, and she dances right featly, howbeit 
 in somewhat strange fashion. Moreover, 'tis a 
 good wench and a chaste, as I have heard true 
 folk aver ; though it may seem likelier to find a 
 pearl in Thames ooze, than virtue in a glee- 
 maiden."
 
 112 BRAKESPEARE. 
 
 Ralph's face softened in contrition, as he made 
 answer 
 
 " I take shame to myself that I should have 
 chafed but now. It fits me well a poor aspirant 
 in arms to grudge charity to one who hath come 
 by mischance, fighting manfully under shield. 
 Let them play on with a good courage ; I promise 
 that, when 'tis done, they shall not lack guerdon." 
 
 To higher and holier places than hostels, in 
 those days, minstrel, jester, and tregetour had 
 easy access. It was clear that the entertainment 
 about to take place was of no unusual occurrence 
 here ; and perchance, others of less reputable 
 sort were not uncommon. After the two had 
 made lowly obeisance, the girl led her grandsire 
 to a vacant bench, and moved forward herself to 
 a clear space left in the centre of the guest- 
 chamber, where no rushes were strewn. 
 
 She looked singularly picturesque as she struck 
 her first attitude her lithe, elastic figure, set off 
 by a trim blue bodice quaintly broidered, drawn 
 back, and poised firmly on the right foot whirl- 
 ing the timbrel on one finger of the hand raised
 
 THE COMPANY AT THE SPUR. 113 
 
 above her head ; the firelight gleaming on her 
 bright hair, braided with gay ribbons and glittering 
 coins, and on her pretty, mutinous face, whose 
 natural fairness of complexion had not altogether 
 yielded to the tanning of sun and wind ; while 
 the short, striped skirt gave liberal glimpses of a 
 neat ankle and shapely leg, cased in scarlet hosen. 
 After a brief prelude, the gittem-player broke 
 into a wild, fitful measure slow for the most 
 part, but sometimes quickened abruptly with 
 which chimed in the jingle of the bells sewn to 
 the dancer's dress, and at irregular intervals the 
 clash and rattle of the timbrel. 
 
 The performance differed materially from those 
 of the same class then in vogue, and rather 
 resembled those practised by the Moriscoes on 
 the continent, but little known in England, the 
 chief characteristics of which have probably been 
 preserved by the modern Gitanas. There were 
 none of the violent feats of activity, or displays of 
 posture-making, in which the tymbesteres were 
 prone to indulge ; and, though some of the ges- 
 tures were provocative enough, none were coarse, 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 114 BRAKESPEARE. 
 
 immodest, or unseemly. Such as it was, the dance 
 was a complete success : long before it was ended, 
 the soberest spectators were ready to applaud, 
 and to open their purse-strings. Before it had 
 fairly begun, the dark stranger, who sat drinking 
 alone, had roused himself from his reverie, and 
 was watching the performer with something more 
 than idle curiosity. As the last rattle of the 
 rebecque died away, the girl made another obei- 
 sance, lowly and gracefully, and went round for 
 such alms as it pleased the audience to bestow, 
 beginning at the lower end of the long chamber. 
 She passed on, her timbrel growing heavier with 
 silver esterlings and groats, till she reached the 
 angle of the chimney where the Italian sat. As 
 he thrust his hand into his gipsire, he glanced at 
 the heap of small silver coins, and laughed con- 
 temptuously. 
 
 " Is that all the largess thou hast gathered 
 hitherto from churl and trader, poverina mia? 
 Here is a new broad florence for thee ; and, if 
 thou wilt kiss me twice betwixt the lips, I will 
 e'en double the guerdon."
 
 THE COMPANY AT THE SPUR. 115 
 
 As he spoke, his right arm was thrown sud- 
 denly round the tymbestere's waist, and he half 
 drew her on his knee. She was no country-bred 
 wench, to start at a rude jest or innocent free- 
 dom ; and the shyness of maidenhood perchance 
 was gone before her cheek lost its bloom ; but 
 there was a look in those evil, handsome eyes, 
 that made her shrink back with an instinctive 
 dislike and fear. 
 
 " I pray you, set me free, fair sir," she said, 
 trying to veil her terror under a seeming of 
 mirth. " I deal not in such wares as you would 
 chaffer for, and it were flat robbery to take your 
 florence, sith a groat overpays our pains." 
 
 He smiled, half in amusement, half in scorn, 
 but his black, arch brows were bent till they 
 nearly met ; and, drawing her down by main 
 force closer and nearer, he whispered some few 
 words in her ear. The girl's sunburnt cheek 
 flushed up like flame ; she spoke never a word 
 now, but dashed down her timbrel on the table 
 near; and, bracing both her arms against the 
 shoulders of her assailant, fought hard to get 
 
 12
 
 lift BRAKESPEAEE. 
 
 loose, panting far more than she had done in 
 the heat of exercise, and casting over her 
 shoulders piteous looks of appeal. 
 
 The quick ear of the old minstrel caught the 
 sounds of struggle, and some suspicion of the 
 truth shot through his mazed brain ; he partly 
 rose from his bench, but sank back again with a 
 groan of helplessness, his lips quivering ner- 
 vously, and his thin horny fingers plucking at 
 the gittern -strings. Throughout the guest-cham- 
 ber there was a stir and murmur of disapproval, 
 and more than one cried " Shame ! " aloud : not 
 a few there knew the girl and her grandsire well, 
 and liked not to see her misused. The host of 
 the Spur himself a fussy, obsequious man, 
 with little or no authority under his own roof or 
 elsewhere so far overcame his awe of the terrible 
 foreigner, as to come forward and stammer forth 
 a timid remonstrance. But the Italian cut him 
 rudely short. 
 
 " Meddle with thine own matters, friend " 
 said he ; " and fetch me hither another flagon of 
 Muscadine, with no such cursed twang in it as
 
 THE COMPANY AT THE SPUR. 117 
 
 spoiled the last. Have I travelled all these 
 leagues to find Lucrece in shape of a glee- 
 maiden, and Cato in a knave host ? I will 
 deal with this damoiselle after my pleasure ; 
 and I would fain see who shall gainsay me ! " 
 
 His fierce eyes travelled round the guest- 
 chamber with a challenge which for a while 
 seemed to meet with no answer. Among the 
 staid citizens and" franklins there assembled 
 there were many who lacked not courage ; but it 
 suited them not to show it in a tavern brawl, 
 even in graver cause than the defence of a 
 tymbestere. Suddenly a clear, quiet voice spoke 
 
 " De par Dieu, that will I." 
 
 And, shaking from his arm the armourer's 
 warning grasp, Ealph Brakespeare strode out 
 of the shadow into the firelight. 
 
 The Italian sprang to his feet, griping the 
 girl's wrist still hard with his left hand, while 
 his right fell, as it were naturally, on his dagger 
 hilt. But he thrust the blade back before it was 
 half drawn, and broke again into that low, 
 mocking laugh, so intensely insolent.
 
 118 BRAKESPEAIIE. 
 
 " So the bona roba hath found a champion. 
 By the body of Venus, a likely youth ! And with 
 what arms wouldst thou do battle for thy lady 
 with estoc of lath, or a fool's bauble for mace ? 
 'Twere a good deed to let out some of the blood 
 that boils in thee too hotly ; but it suits me not 
 now to play the chirurgeon. Wilt thou try a 
 wrestle before this reverend company? Here 
 is space enow for a fair fall, and no rushes to 
 break it ; it may be that thy bones will carry 
 away to-night some memory of our meeting. 
 As for thee, thou peevish piece of harlotry ! sit 
 thou there behind me ; I will deal with thee anon." 
 
 Taunt or threat Ralph Brakespeare noticed 
 not, any more than he did the imploring glances 
 of Will Lanyon, who was broad awake now, 
 and manifestly eager to take the burden of the 
 quarrel on his own shoulders : he thrust his 
 follower hastily, though not unkindly, aside; 
 and, advancing yet a few steps, stood face to 
 face with his adversary. He was by some two 
 inches the taller of the twain, but far lighter of 
 frame; of all the bystanders Lauyon alone,
 
 THE COMPANY AT THE SPUR. 119 
 
 perchance, doubted that the result would be 
 other than they wished; for a mere youth was 
 pitted against one in the very flower of his 
 strength, arid from the way in which the Italian 
 took up his position, the judges of such matters 
 saw in him a practised wrestler. 
 
 Without another word spoken on either side, 
 they grappled. At first, as they swayed to and 
 fro, the foreigner's superior weight did tell, and 
 it seemed as though his opponent must needs be 
 borne down, or uprooted from the floor. But 
 not for naught had Philip Kemeys' pupil studied 
 under a master, whose name had been for a 
 quarter-century the boast and terror of the 
 countryside. At the very moment when Ralph 
 seemed to bend and yield under the other's 
 gripe, with a quick side-twist he brought his 
 own hip under the other's groin ; then, before 
 any could guess how it was done, the Italian's 
 feet, struck clean from under him, flew high in 
 air, and he came to the ground with a dull, 
 ominous crash, flung fairly over Brakespeare's 
 shoulder.
 
 120 BRAKESPEARE. 
 
 No wonder that for some seconds' space lie 
 should have lain there half stunned and motion- 
 less ; not twice in a lifetime will a heavy man 
 rise from such a fall on hardened ground without 
 scathe to life or limh ; but, before the murmur of 
 applause called forth by the unexpected feat 
 had died away, the Italian gathered himself up 
 slowly, and stood upon his feet. 
 
 His handsome face, deformed as it was by pain 
 and malice, had not wholly lost its beauty ; but it 
 was so fearfully transfigured that a painter, 
 limning some old saintly legend, might have no 
 apter semblance for tortured or baffled Belial. 
 The brutal lust that lately gleamed in his eyes 
 was supplanted by a keener desire the acrid 
 thirst for blood : he plucked from its sheath a 
 long, keen poignard, on whose dark-veined blade 
 there were stains not a few, and drew himself 
 together half-crouching, like a panther about 
 to spring. 
 
 And in Kalph Brakespeare's eyes there was 
 the evil light spoken of before ; and his face was 
 set as a flint stone, dark and pitiless, as he bared
 
 THE COMPANY AT THE SPUR. 121 
 
 his own hunting-knife, and, without giving a 
 hair's breadth of ground, waited warily for the 
 onset. All present there wist that none could 
 come betwixt those two, without sore risk to his 
 own life ; yet Lanyon started forward with some 
 such intent, whilst the armourer shouted lustily 
 for the watch, and the host wrung his hands 
 helplessly, and the tymbestere shrieked in her 
 terror, and many called on the combatants, in 
 God's name, to forbear. Intercession or inter- 
 ference must have been equally vain, and the 
 watch could only have come in time to carry 
 a corpse away, had it not been for an incident 
 on which none had reckoned. 
 
 A side door leading into a small inner cham- 
 ber opened, and, through all the bustle and 
 uproar, a single voice made itself heard. 
 
 " What ! brawling again, Gian Malatesta ? 
 Will those hands of thine never be quiet till 
 they are in the gyves ? " 
 
 A very calm, quiet voice not raised a whit 
 above its wonted tone yet marked with an inde- 
 scribable accent, like that of one fated some day
 
 122 BKAKESPEARE. 
 
 to hold authority over his fellows, even if his 
 turn for command hath not come yet. The first 
 syllables acted on the Italian's wrath, like a 
 necromancer's spell on a rebellious familiar : 
 he thrust back his dagger into its sheath ; and, 
 as he turned towards the speaker, the ferocity on 
 his face changed to the sullen confusion, which, 
 with natures like his, replaces shame. 
 
 The new comer deserves to be somewhat care- 
 fully portrayed, for that age, rife though it was 
 with names of mark, bred few more notable 
 worthies.
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 HOW RALPH TOOK SERVICE UNDER SIR JOHN 
 HAWKWOOD. 
 
 THERE stood on the threshold of the open 
 doorway this manner of man. 
 
 Something over the middle height ; of a com- 
 plexion rather florid than pale ; with hair and 
 beard of rich dark chesnut ; and features cast in 
 keen aquiline mould ; the face was too calm 
 and resolute to be ignoble, and marked by too 
 decisive a character to be vulgar ; yet certainly 
 it wanted the stamp of birth and breeding that 
 gives a charm to many more common-place 
 visages. His attire was plain even to meanness ; 
 consisting of a close jerkin, or cassock, of coarse 
 dark russet cloth, with nether garments and hose 
 of the same colour, all frayed and stained with 
 pressure of hauberk, cuissard, and steel boot.
 
 124 BRAKESPEARE. 
 
 Such an one at the age of thirty, or there- 
 abouts, was John Hawkwood ; son of the tanner 
 of Sible Hedingham, and whilom prentice to the 
 tailor in Chepe, then, a simple man-at-arms ; 
 till, within this very year, for wight service at 
 Cregy, he took from King Edward's own hand 
 the knightly accolade. He held in his right 
 hand, sheathed, one of the short swords, called 
 coutels ; and with the other beckoned the Italian 
 towards him. The other obeyed without a word, 
 though, as it seemed, rather sullenly and re- 
 luctantly ; and in another second the door of 
 the inner chamber was closed behind them. 
 
 Then there broke forth again a stir and 
 murmur in the guest-chamber, but now of merri- 
 ment rather than of fear ; for there was not one 
 present whose heart was not gladdened by the 
 sight of the foreigner's handsome head laid low. 
 Several gathered round the conqueror, pressing 
 on him their simple gratulations, whilst loudest 
 amongst them rose the voice of the honest 
 armourer. Lanyon, when he saw that help was 
 no longer needed, had cast himself down again
 
 HOW RALPH TOOK SERVICE. 125 
 
 on his settle, and had already relapsed into stolid 
 placidity. In the midst of the huhbub, none 
 noticed the disappearance of the glee-maiden and 
 her grandsire. Hastily, though not uncour- 
 teously, Ealph broke through his admirers ; and, 
 plucking him by the sleeve as he bustled past, 
 drew the host aside. 
 
 " I fain would learn the name and degree of 
 him who entered but now " he said, " if thou 
 knowest them, and there be no special reason 
 for thy silence." 
 
 " There is none such, fair sir " the other 
 answered readily. " Men call him Sir John 
 Hawkwood now ; though but a year agone, as I 
 have heard, he rode a simple archer in the Lord 
 Neville's train. I warrant him a good lance and 
 a bold, yet very straitened in his means, I fear 
 me. He hath been at no charges, save for need- 
 ful meat and drink, the three days he hath lain 
 in my private chamber. Marry, had it not been 
 for his follower yonder roysterer, with whom 
 your worship dealt so roundly but now the 
 Spur had gained little by their custom. Nath-
 
 126 , BRAKESPEAKE. 
 
 less, I grudge him not house room, God wot. 
 "Tis a fair spoken knight, and a kindly; and 
 mayhap he will tarry here some day, when he 
 hath gotten both wealth and honour." 
 
 As they spoke, the armourer had approached 
 unobserved, and struck in with scant cere- 
 mony. 
 
 " And is that Sir John Hawkwood ? I am 
 well pleased to have foregathered with him. My 
 good-wife hath kinsfolk in the parts where he was 
 born and bred. It was but the other day that 
 her cousin told us of the wonderment and glad- 
 ness at Hedingham, when they heard that their 
 neighbour's son had won his spurs. 'Tis pity that 
 the honest tanner lived not to look on his boy's 
 face again ; but he was in mortal sickness when 
 the news came, and the great joy may well have 
 hasted his end. The knight hath started fair, 
 certes ; yet he hath a brave long race yet to run, 
 and there will be prizes worth the winning for 
 such as keep him company. Had I to choose 
 my service, I swear by Saint Benedict, I had 
 liever ride under his pennon than under the
 
 HOW RALPH TOOK SERVICE. 127 
 
 broadest banner that flaunts in Flanders or 
 Guienne." 
 
 Just then the inner door opened again, and the 
 Italian re-entered the guest-chamber. On his 
 smooth brow there was no vestige of cloud ; and 
 none but a very keen observer would have de- 
 tected in his smile a covert sneer. 
 
 " I crave pardon of this goodly company " he 
 said, in a soft, slow voice, " for having broken off 
 their drink and troubled their mirth. I did but 
 jest with the damoiselle after my rough foreign 
 fashion; and, had she not fled so suddenly, I 
 had made her amends before you all. I will 
 take good heed so to offend no more. To you, 
 gentle sir " he bent low as he turned towards 
 Kalph Brakespeare " would I make special ex- 
 cuse in presence of Sir John Hawkwood, the 
 knight I follow, if it will please you to visit him 
 in his chamber." 
 
 Ralph bent his head ; and, with a sign of in- 
 telligence to the armourer, went out with the 
 Italian. 
 
 They came into a small chamber, dimly lighted
 
 128 BRAKESPEARE. 
 
 by a single oil-lamp, and scantily furnished with 
 a few rude lockers for arms and wearing apparel; 
 two bed places let into recesses in the wall, 
 after the fashion still prevalent in parts of Scot- 
 land ; and a heavy oaken table strewn with 
 parchments and writing material, near which sat 
 Sir John Hawkwood. As he arose to greet his 
 visitor, there might have been noticed in his 
 courtesy the stiffness and constraint of one who 
 has had little practice in social forms and cere- 
 monies : neither did he waste many words in the 
 preamble. 
 
 " It shames me much, fair sir," he said, " that 
 the ill-conduct of follower of mine should have 
 drawn you into unseemly brawl ; albeit you have 
 dealt him a sharp lesson, for the which I thank 
 you heartily. I know no more than it hath suited 
 him to avow ; but I guessed what happened, when 
 I saw the glee-maiden cowering there. Sathanas 
 needs but to take the shape of a dainty paramour, 
 and Gian Malatesta will wend lightly wherever it 
 lists the fiend to lead. Nevertheless, I have told 
 him roundly that, if he proffer not such excuse as
 
 HOW RALPH TOOK SERVICE. 
 
 it may fit you to receive, he and I part this 
 night. 'Twere a sorry jest if I, who but lately 
 stood bareheaded in presence of captains, should 
 suffer insolence towards their betters in such as 
 ride with me." 
 
 'Tis scarce worth while to set down at length the 
 Italian's apology ; more especially as it imposed 
 not altogether on him to whom it was addressed. 
 Indeed, a vague feeling of dislike and distrust 
 rather increased than abated in Brakespeare's 
 breast ; he cut the glib speaker short, so soon as 
 he could do so without manifest discourtesy. 
 
 " I pray thee be less liberal in excuse, messire : 
 enough has been said and to spare. Perchance 
 little harm was meant ; and, as it chanced, none 
 hath been done. 'Tis a fashion in my country, 
 to strike hands after a tough wrestling bout, in 
 token that no bad blood rankle ; here is mine, if 
 ye list to take it." 
 
 "With great show of eagerness the Italian 
 accepted the proffer ; but their fingers were 
 barely locked before they unclasped again, and 
 Ralph turned away somewhat hastily
 
 130 BRAKESPEARE. 
 
 " There are graver matters concerning which I 
 would speak to this knight, at his good leisure." 
 
 " There is no better time than now" Hawk- 
 wood answered. " Leave us, Gian Malatesta ; but 
 go not far away, and keep thy brain as cool as 
 thou canst ; I may need thy help with this scri- 
 vener work ere I sleep." 
 
 When they were alone, Ralph stated his wishes 
 briefly and bluntly; proffering for himself and 
 Lanyon to take service in the French wars as- 
 man-at-arrns and archer, whilst Hawkwood 
 listened; leaning his brow on his hands, and half 
 shading his face. 
 
 " How are ye called ? " he asked, without 
 looking up. 
 
 When he heard the answer, he dropped his 
 hand, and gazed steadily on the youth with his 
 small, piercing eyes. 
 
 " Brakespeare ? " he said, doubtfully. " "Tis an 
 honest yeoman name, certes, like to the one I 
 bear : yet right seldom worn by those of the 
 degree to which, if I err not, thou belongest by 
 birth, if not by fortune ? "
 
 HOW RALPH TOOK SERVICE. 131 
 
 Ralph met the fixed look without blenching. 
 
 " I say not that they christened me so " he 
 answered ; " but to none other name have I better 
 claim, and by none other will I henceforth be 
 known, whether I speed with you, sir knight, or 
 no. Also, ye do greatly err in imputing to me 
 higher estate than my name imports : there are 
 merchants and franklins not a few in yon guest- 
 chamber, who if right were done, might sit higher 
 at the board than I." 
 
 Sir John's lip curled with a quaint smile, sar- 
 castic, yet not unkindly. 
 
 " Good sooth, I marvel how the great folk of 
 thy country apparel themselves, and what manner 
 of grimmals they wear, when on the fingers of 
 yeoman's sons shine fair balass rubies ! Nay, be 
 not wroth " he went on, in a grave voice, marking 
 the quick flush on Balph's cheek ; " I have no 
 title to question thee. Eather take thou this my 
 counsel : if on light incitement thou hast left thy 
 home, repent thee in time ; so shall thy fortunes 
 not be marred in peevish fit ; but, if there be 
 weightier causes, and thou art in truth utterly 
 
 K 2
 
 132 BKAKESPEARE. 
 
 adrift, then take service with some knight or 
 baron of higher repute and larger means than I. 
 Ill will it suit such as from youth upwards have 
 lain soft, and lived delicately, to ride with plain 
 John Hawkwood, whose worldly wealth the ac- 
 compt of which lies under mine hand may scarce 
 suffice for the furniture of three men-at-arms." 
 
 " Let that be no hindrance " Ralph answered, 
 with eagerness unwonted in him ; " I bear gold 
 pieces enow in this gipsire to purvey myself and 
 my follower yonder, both with horse and armour. 
 Nay, for that special purpose were they given to 
 me. As for choosing another leader, the honest 
 armourer whose surname I bear albeit, I profess 
 not to be of his kin said, speaking of your 
 worship but now : ' He hath a brave long race 
 yet to run, and there will be prizes worth the 
 winning for such as keep him company. Had I 
 to choose my service, I had liever ride under his 
 pennoncelle than under the broadest banner that 
 flaunts in Flanders or Guienne.' Even so say I. 
 Yet will I thrust my service on none, and I may 
 not gainsay your pleasure ; so, if ye will have
 
 HOW RALPH TOOK SERVICE. 133 
 
 none of me and mine, I will cumber your time 
 and chamber no more." 
 
 Now, John Hawkwood, though imbued with 
 man)' of the high and generous qualities which 
 are part and parcel of the heroic character, was 
 by no means a hero of romance, either in disin- 
 terestedness or disregard of his own advantage 
 to which, indeed, as his later history shows, he 
 had a marvellously keen eye. Here was a rare 
 chance before him ; and he was scarce likely to 
 let it slip. Rising up, he laid his hand on the 
 other's arm, as it were with a sudden impulse, 
 which, if not natural, was excellently feigned. 
 
 " Nay, fair youth, we part not thus. It may be I 
 have been over nice in this matter specially since 
 the king, our master, stands in sore need of thews 
 and sinews like thine : thy follower, I guess, was 
 yon brawny carle I saw but now, so eager to 
 thrust himself between thee and harm at his own 
 life's peril. Sith ye will have none of my counsel, 
 I will take your frank proffer as frankly ; and ye 
 both shall be enrolled this night thou as man- 
 at-arms, he as archer. If ever I thrive, so as to
 
 134 BBAKESPEARE. 
 
 maintain a household, we may speak of thine ad- 
 vancement to esquire's degree. In such a case, 
 were it set to the proof, baseness of birth, I 
 warrant me, would not be thy bar ; though I 
 choose not to pry further into what concerns me 
 not nearly. Write thyself down as it lists thee : 
 a] man may fight well, God wot, under a worse 
 name than thou hast chosen." 
 
 " Nay, not so " the other made answer ; " if 
 you, sir knight, scruple not to attach to your 
 person an unknown runagate, I were a very churl 
 to be more niggardly of trust. Hearken, an' it 
 please you, though 'tis scarce worth your while." 
 
 Then, very briefly and simply, for the second 
 time that day, Ealph Brakespeare told his story 
 to a stranger. But Hawkwood evidently thought 
 it not wasted time, as he listened with marked 
 interest : when it was ended, he shook his head 
 with a compassion that may well have been 
 real. 
 
 " 'Tis a sad tale "he said. " I know but little 
 of the ways and fashions of knights and nobles; 
 yet often hath it seemed to me that they deal
 
 HOW RALPH TOOK SERVICE. 135 
 
 -with their own flesh and blood, more hardly than 
 they deal with us of low estate. For what thou 
 hast done I blame tliee not now; nay, by the 
 Rood, I think thou hast chosen thy part both 
 wisely and well. I am right glad that all lies 
 fair and open betwixt us two ; thou dost not fear 
 I should bewray thy secret? There is yet 
 another matter troubles me : I know not how thou 
 and Gian Malatesta will agree. Forsooth, I my- 
 self like him not hugely, and trust him no further 
 than I would trust a sworn dicer and drabber ; 
 yet is the knave useful manywise. He speaketh 
 three tongues indifferently well, and, with good 
 skill at all weapons, hath a special gift for am- 
 bushments and stratagems of war ; moreover, 
 when in the humour, or hardly pressed, he will 
 fight like a very fiend; also, never a clerk or 
 shaveling of them all can read and indite more 
 deftly : indeed, though he babbles not much con- 
 cerning himself, even in his drink, from certain 
 words he hath let drop, I guess hiui to have been 
 cloister-bred, and to have broken bounds. Chiefly 
 to this end did I yield to his desire, and .suffer
 
 130 BRAKESPEAUE. 
 
 him to come hither in my company. I needed 
 help in dealing with all this gear " he pointed to 
 the table strewn with parchments, " for scrolls 
 are but sealed books unto me. I have been 
 seeking to turn into gold pieces the slender 
 heritage that came to me but of late : marry, 
 when the charges of my journey and the cost of 
 these parchments are paid, my gipsire will be 
 heavier by scarce a score of nobles. It may be 
 that the Lombard and scrivener are cozening me, 
 and that the Italian is in league with both ; but 
 I have no patience to dally longer here. Yet 
 another three or four days, and we will be clear 
 of English air : not on light cause, I wis, will 
 I breathe it again." 
 
 " Let that not trouble your worship " Ralph 
 answered, cheerily, yet with a touch of scorn. " It 
 is not like, indeed, that Messire Malatesta and I 
 shall knit brotherhood in arms ; natheless might 
 we drink at the same board, and couch in the 
 same tent, and ride under the same pennon for 
 many a year, without either looking askance at 
 the other. For all that you have seen to-night, I
 
 HOW RALPH TOOK SERVICE. 137 
 
 am not, in very truth, given to brawling, nor have 
 I thus far found men hasty in picking quarrel." 
 
 " That can I well believe " Hawkwood 
 replied, smiling slightly ; " and, though Gian 
 Malatesta be a rank brawler when crossed or in 
 drink, I have ever noted in him a certain shrewd 
 wit in choosing such as may safely be overborne. 
 Thou art not of these, as he has found out at cost 
 of a rib's-ache ; I dare aver he will mell with thee 
 no more. Go now, I prithee, and send that same 
 varlet hither to me : I must get forward with 
 these matters to-night. And come with thy fol - 
 lower early to-morrow, that I may enrol your 
 names, and give ye handsel of King Edward's 
 wages. Then will we speak of purveying thee 
 with horse and armour : in these times there is 
 no lack of such gear ready to all men's hands." 
 
 With an obeisance that marked that he already 
 held himself bound by new duties, Brakespeare 
 went out; and, after delivering his message to 
 the Italian, sat down to tell Will Lanyon and the 
 armourer how he had sped. 
 
 The first-named took the news with his wonted
 
 138 BRAKESPEARE. 
 
 placidity: it was indeed, to him, of singularly 
 small importance under whom he served, so long 
 as he parted not company with the one man 
 whose fortunes he had chosen to follow. The 
 armourer, who by this time had nearly rendered 
 an account of the second stoup, was voluble 
 in congratulation and approval ; perchance his 
 satisfaction was in no wise lessened by reflection 
 on the custom that the morrow would bring him. 
 But John Brakespeare was no late roysterer, and 
 had a character to keep up both at home and 
 abroad ; so, when the flagon was finished, he rose 
 to go, resisting manfully all temptation of another. 
 Ealph went out with him, for his head felt heated 
 not with wine, of which he had been sparing, 
 but with excitement of diverse kinds- and he 
 longed for a draught of fresh air, free of fume of 
 food or wood-smoke. 
 
 Beside the great gates of the archway leading 
 into the courtyard, which were now closed, the 
 inn had another door opening into the.. street, 
 beyond which a heavy porch projected some three 
 yards. Against the outer angle of this Ralph
 
 HOW RALPH TOOK SERVICE. 189 
 
 leant and watched the burly armourer as he 
 strode away, planting each solid footfall with 
 a studied deliberation, as though bent on dis- 
 sembling even to himself a certain unsteadi- 
 ness of gait. 
 
 It was a black boisterous night, with dreary 
 glimpses of a watery moon through the rifts in 
 the tossing cloudrack ; and every gust brought 
 closer the chillness that foreruns heavy rain ; but 
 there the youth lingered, loath to return to the 
 heat and bustle of the guest-chamber, and not 
 sorry for a while to be left to his own musings. 
 His right hand was thrust into the breast of his 
 doublet, whilst the other hung listlessly at his 
 side. Suddenly he started, for on that left hand 
 there came first the faintest pressure, then it was 
 lifted gently till two soft lips were laid on the 
 palm : glancing downwards in his wonder, his 
 eyes looked full into those of the tymbestere, 
 gleaming out of the shadow where she knelt. 
 
 With the liking that most men feel for any 
 helpless creature whom they have defended not 
 unsuccessfully, there mingled in Ralph's breast a
 
 140 BRAKESPEARE. 
 
 great pity ; for the fingers that clasped his own 
 were deathly cold ; and the threadbare mantle 
 cast over flimsy finery was a miserable fence 
 against the biting March wind. 
 
 " What dost thou here, thou foolish child ? " 
 he said, in feigned anger. " Of a surety thou 
 hast not with thee the poor old man, thy grand- 
 sire ? Yet, if he guessed thee to be abroad alone, 
 he would fall in sorer trouble than anon, when his 
 face was such a sorry sight." 
 
 She laughed a low, sad laugh : even in that 
 dim light he could see the big drops in her eyes. 
 
 " Oftentimes have we two laid afield in wilder 
 weather than this. Nathless, to-night we have 
 better hap, and my grandsire is well bestowed 
 with some charitable folk who have given us 
 lodging not a furlong hence : by this time he 
 sleeps sound. Messire, I guessed I know not 
 why that ye would come forth ere betaking 
 yourself to your chamber. Had it been other- 
 wise, I had tarried here till ye came forth on the 
 morrow, rather than that ye should esteem the 
 tymbestere ingrate or thankless."
 
 HOW RALPH TOOK SERVICE. 141 
 
 "Tush," he broke in "make not coil about 
 naught. Others there would have done as much : 
 I but spoke first, being something quick of 
 temper." 
 
 She shook her head meekly, as she let his 
 hand go, and rose to her feet. 
 
 " Nay, mock me not : those decent citizens 
 and traders might have murmured ' 'twas pity 
 and shame ; ' and, had utter violence been 
 wrought, some might have cried, ' harow,' and 
 ' help ; ' but never a one, as well ye wot, would 
 have thwarted yon fair-faced devil, to have saved 
 a tymbestere from scath. And, beau sire, much 
 I marvel that ye should have perilled life and 
 limb for one whom ye could but deem a light- 
 o'-love." 
 
 " Nay, by Saint Giles " he answered, in some 
 haste "thou wrongest both thyself and me: I 
 did thee in my thought no such dishonour- 
 Moreover, the honest fellow who quitted me but 
 now, spoke both of thee and thy grandsire when 
 first ye entered, and avouched ye leal and true." 
 A quick, joyful light dawned on her face.
 
 142 BRAKESPEARE. 
 
 " Ay ! and did he so ? May God requite him 
 of his charity. I have not been so glad of heart 
 since Father Clement shrived me a year agone 
 a pious priest and a kindly, albeit Saint Augus- 
 tine's abbot called him Lollard, and, had he not 
 fled, would have put him in ward. I ever com- 
 fort me with his latest words, when I am most 
 sorrowful and weary. ' Go in peace, my daughter; 
 and may He who bade the blessed Magdalen be 
 of good courage, help thee in thy hard battle ! 
 So thou bide honest, chaste, and duteous, care 
 not thou for the world's scorn. When ye all 
 shall come to the judgment, perchance it shall 
 fare with thee, better than with some who now 
 would shrink from touch of thy garment. More- 
 over, neither by night nor morning omit thine 
 orisons ; for to these will the Mother of God 
 herself hearken not less heedfully than if thou 
 wert wimpled nun.' Messire, wot ye why I 
 trespass thus on your patience ? It is because, 
 when once I have learned thy name, it shall 
 never be forgotten when I kneel down to pray. 
 Vouchsafe me this last grace, and let me depart :
 
 HOW RALPH TOOK SERVICE. 143 
 
 it is not meet that I tarry in thy company after 
 mine errand is done." 
 
 More moved than he cared to show, Ealph 
 told her what she required. After murmuring the 
 words over to herself softly twice or thrice 
 
 "A brave soldierly name " she said. "Heaven 
 send it luck and renown. Beau sire, though one 
 day you bear on your helm the sleeve of some 
 high-born damoiselle or dame, ye need not 
 scruple to avouch that you first showed prowess 
 in the bucklering of a poor glee-maiden." 
 
 While she spoke, Ralph had drawn a broad 
 gold piece from his gipsire, and would have 
 forced it upon her. 
 
 " Take this at least " he began, but broke off 
 suddenly with the quick delicacy which was part 
 of his nature, seeing that she shrank back evi- 
 dently pained " Nay, thou silly child, I meant 
 it not as guerdon or alms, but rather as a token 
 of this our meeting. Other have I none to give : 
 thou need'st not barter it except at sore need." 
 
 Her small fingers closed round it eagerly 
 enough now.
 
 141 BRAKESPEABE. 
 
 " So may all the saints have you in their keep- 
 ing " she said, almost in a whisper ; and stoop- 
 ing down, laid her lips upon his hand once more. 
 Before their print had vanished, she had flitted 
 away like an elf into the darkness. 
 
 After lingering there yet awhile, as if in 
 thought, Ralph went back into the guest-hall, 
 which was now emptying fast ; and soon betook 
 himself to the chamber which, as was the custom, 
 he shared with some half-score other travellers : 
 he slept not so soundly as he was wont; and more 
 than once started from slumber, half persuaded 
 that he felt on his hand the pressure of soft 
 fingers, and of softer lips. Nay, some months 
 elapsed ere such phantasms ceased to mingle 
 with rougher visions of feast and war. 
 
 Two years later, when the plague, which laid 
 England desolate, was beginning to abate its 
 fury, those that carried the common bier found 
 under a hovel on the banks of Thames the 
 corpses of the minstrel and the glee-maiden. 
 Both were thin and worn by privation; and it 
 was plain they must have suffered almost of
 
 HOW RALPH TOOK SERVICE. 145 
 
 famine before the pestilence did its work : where- 
 fore the grave-diggers marvelled the more to find 
 hung round the girl's neck, and hidden under 
 her bodice, a broad piece of gold. It helped to 
 make them merry that night, after their hideous 
 fashion; and, whilst they caroused, they passed 
 many a foul jest on the love-token of the mad 
 tymbestere. 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 HOW RALPH BRAKESPEARE RODE AFTER SIR JOHN 
 HAWKWOOD TO SANDWICH. 
 
 VERY early on the morrow, Ralph held brief 
 converse with Lanyon, which resulted in a 
 certain change of plan. When they presented 
 themselves before Hawkwood, Brakespeare 
 prayed that his follower might be enlisted 
 as a hobelar, or mounted archer of the light- 
 armed class. To this the knight gave ready 
 assent. Neither, indeed, could he have ob- 
 jected with any good grace, seeing that both 
 recruits were to be equipped at their own 
 expense. Gian Malatesta welcomed his new 
 comrades in a fair set speech, to which Ralph 
 made answer, courteous, and cold : though in 
 his heart he made light of the Italian's compli- 
 ments, he gladly availed himself of the other's
 
 HOW RALPH RODE TO SANDWICH. 147 
 
 proffered aid in the purveyance of horse and 
 harness. 
 
 First, was provided a strong, active gelding, 
 -well fitted for the lighter weight he had to carry ; 
 for Lanyon's defensive armour consisted only of 
 a bascinet, haqueton, and gauntlets ; his wea- 
 pons were spear, coutel, and knife. Ralph's 
 destrere was chosen with much more trouble and 
 ^are. Indeed, though the weight of metal had 
 been lessened by the gradual replacement of 
 chain mail by plate, it was still a sore task 
 for ordinary horseflesh to bear a rider armed 
 cap-d-pie through a long day of march and 
 battle. At length they fixed on a powerful roaii 
 stallion something heavy in the crest or 
 shoulder for our modern notions ; but with the 
 short broad barrel that promises hardiness no 
 less than strength, and with rare loins and 
 limbs. John Brakespeare had not vaunted his 
 wares unduly ; and, if the Italian's critical eyes 
 used to judge the work of Florentine or 
 Genoese found something now and then to 
 -cavil at, it was rather at want of finish in the 
 
 L 2
 
 14* BRAKESPEAKE. 
 
 fashion than at defect in the quality of steel. 
 By nightfall the equipment was complete ; and, 
 more weary with busy excitement than he had 
 ever been with exercise on foot or in saddle, 
 Ralph Brakespeare sat down to supper. His 
 gipsire was sorely shrunken from its fair round 
 proportions of yester-even; but this troubled the 
 youth not a whit: he was full of hope and 
 health, and knew that his soldier's pay would 
 suffice his moderate desires ; so 'tis no marvel, 
 if he felt himself wealthy with the few gold 
 pieces that yet jingled nnder his girdle. Right 
 glad, too, was he to hear that Hawkwood's own 
 business was done, and that on the morrow they 
 would set forth to Sandwich, whence they would 
 take ship. 
 
 There are few but would have lingered to 
 look at the small group gathered the next morn- 
 ing round the porch of ' The Spur,' in the level 
 rays of the late-risen sun. 
 
 Of the three horsemen armed cap-d-pie, Hawk- 
 wood himself was, perhaps, the least imposing 
 in exterior ; there were shrewd dints, both in his
 
 HOW RALPH RODE TO SANDWICH. 149 
 
 bascinet and breastplate ; neither was his har- 
 ness so carefully polished as that of the Italian, 
 whereon certain bosses, and other attempts at 
 ornament, gave token of a leaning towards mar- 
 tial foppery. Both of these were well-mounted ; 
 though their cattle were somewhat low in flesh, 
 as from long travel or campaigning, and made 
 contrast with the high condition of the roan 
 destrere, pawing and curvetting impatiently 
 under the skilful hand that reined him. 
 
 In very truth, Ralph Brakespeare was a gallant 
 sight as he sat there square and erect, yet 
 swaying to each movement of his charger, 
 easily, as though his limbs had been cumbered 
 with nothing weightier than silk or serge his 
 eyes flashing under his raised visor, and a genial 
 smile upon his lips, which were apt to be some- 
 what too set and stern. 
 
 Will Lanyon had backed too many wild colts 
 to feel timid in saddle ; but he lacked the grace 
 of an accomplished horseman, and was evidently 
 something ill at ease in his new caparison ; his 
 vast breadth of shoulder and corded muscles
 
 150 BRAKESPEAEE. 
 
 showed to advantage, even under the heavy 
 haqueton ; and, looking at the grip of his brawny 
 thighs, you guessed that trying to bear such an 
 one down so long as his horse kept its footing 
 would be like tilting at a tower. 
 
 Glancing at the pair with a keen, soldierly eye, 
 Hawkwood thought that he had gotten for the 
 king, if not for himself, a rare bargain. 
 
 Close by the knight's rein bowed the host of 
 ' The Spur,' stirrup-cup in hand, with the smug 
 satisfaction on his face of one whose reckoning 
 has just been paid without wrangle or close 
 enquiry ; a pace or two off stood the honest 
 armourer, come to take a last look at his own 
 handiwork, and to wish his namesake God-speed. 
 Hawkwood barely touched the hippocras with 
 his lips, and Ralph was nearly as temperate ; but 
 the Italian drank deep in his own deliberate 
 fashion ; and Lanyon drank the huge beaker to 
 the dregs, muttering something as he wiped 
 his beard about " the sin of wasting good 
 liquor." 
 
 The brief farewells were soon said, and then.
 
 HOW RALPH RODE TO SANDWICH. 151 
 
 came the clash and rattle of steel, as the small 
 cavalcade moved slowly away ; the knight riding 
 alone in front, his two men-at-arms following 
 abreast, whilst the archer brought up the rear, 
 leading the single packhorse laden with their 
 scanty baggage. Shading his eyes, John Brake- 
 speare watched them till they disappeared round 
 the sharp corner of Kentish Street ; and then, 
 with a half sigh and a muttered benison, he 
 turned into the hostel, to comfort himself with a 
 liberal morning posset. 
 
 Through that day, and the next, and the next, 
 Hawkwood and his followers rode steadily on- 
 ward ; making the best speed they could, without 
 distressing their cattle, along the main road to 
 the south-eastern coast, through Rochester, Sit- 
 tingbourne, Charing, and Canterbury. No inci- 
 dent worthy of record befell them till, on the 
 fourth afternoon, from a crest of rising ground, 
 they saw the old Roman walls of Richborough, 
 rising like a rocky islet out of the dreary marsh- 
 land ; and, beyond this, houses clustered on 
 either side of a harbour- estuary ; and, further
 
 152 BRAKESPEAEE . 
 
 yet, gleams of wet sand and a broad selvage of 
 foam. And two of the wayfarers felt the 
 pleasant wonderment, common to all who for the 
 first time draw into their nostrils briny air, 
 and for the first time listen to the language of 
 the sea. 
 
 Very few, riding through so long a march side 
 by side with Gian Malatesta, would have been 
 proof against the fascination of his manner, 
 when, as now, he wished it to be winning. His 
 glib tongue never seemed to weary as he told 
 stories of adventure in many lands, racy and 
 picturesque and stirring enough, yet not so redo- 
 lent of rapine as to shock or revolt the listener ; 
 whilst, throughout, he had the tact to avoid 
 egotism and affect modesty hinting at, rather 
 than avowing, the share that he himself had 
 borne in orgie or broil. Ever and anon, too, 
 his rich, round voice would break out into 
 snatches of melody English drinking ditty, 
 French rondelai, or, more frequently, a canzonet 
 of his own land : specially in these last, the 
 veriest stranger, to whom the words were
 
 HOW RALPH RODE TO SANDWICH. 153 
 
 meaningless, might have guessed that he sang 
 of love love, not of the heart, but of the senses 
 not a high romantic devotion, but passion, 
 half selfish and wholly sinful. At each hostel 
 or wayside inn where they made halt, the Italian 
 had banter or admiration ready for every buxom 
 face or trim figure that crossed his path ; but he 
 carried not his jest to the verge of licentious- 
 ness, and refrained from all undue excess in 
 liquor. Altogether, it would have been difficult 
 to find a pleasanter fellow-traveller, and Ralph 
 could not but own that the way was made 
 shorter by his company. 
 
 Despite the genial and generous feelings per- 
 vading his nature, like gold damasquing iron, 
 the youth was imbued with that hard, stub- 
 born obstinacy 'which the Northmen express by 
 the one word " dour ; " he was of the stuff of 
 which staunch friends and staunch haters are 
 made, and changed neither his likes nor his dis- 
 likes lightly. On the fourth day of their 
 society, the vague distrust and aversion which 
 he had felt at his first meeting with the Italian,
 
 151 BRAKESPEARE. 
 
 were little if anything abated. It was not that 
 he showed himself in anywise churlish or 
 sullen ; he smiled at the other's jest, listened to 
 his stories with unfeigned interest, and praised 
 his songs, whether he understood them or no. 
 Once the other spoke of the brawl which had so 
 nearly ended fatally, still marvelling on his own 
 discomfiture. 
 
 "I served long ago" Malatesta said "with 
 one Michael Tregarva, who averred himself to 
 have kept the ring for a year and a day in the 
 barbarous country wherein he was bred Corn- 
 ou-alle, I think he called it. He was but a 
 clumsy lubbard, and a lying braggart to boot. 
 With him I practised many an idle hour, till I 
 had learned, or thought I had learned, each foin 
 and foil that he could teach; but' that sleight of 
 foot and hip which laid me low so deftly, is 
 utterly strange to me. I would be much be- 
 holden to your courtesy an' ye would bestow on 
 me a lesson at fitting season." 
 
 " 'Tis a simple trick enough " Ralph answered ; 
 " though the foil is something harder to learn ;
 
 HOW RALPH RODE TO SANDWICH. 155 
 
 and I will do my endeavours cheerfully to make 
 ye perfect in both." 
 
 So, in fair outward show of amity, if with no 
 great heart-kindness, they rode in together to 
 Sandwich town.
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 BEFORE CALAIS. 
 
 THERE was, in Sandwich, no lack of means of 
 transport ; for never surely, before or since, hath 
 the high water-way across the Straits been fur- 
 rowed by so frequent keels. Almost daily, fresh 
 supplies or munitions were nee ded for the mighty 
 host with which the English king held Calais in 
 leaguer; also many merchants and chapmen 
 nocked thither, sure of a quick and profitable 
 sale of their wares ; for French gold was plenty 
 in the Ville de Bois, specially since the return of 
 Derby's armament laden with the plunder of 
 Gascony and Poitou. That same night Hawk- 
 wood parleyed with the master of a carrack then 
 ready for sea ; before dawn, he and his followers 
 were bestowed aboard, and they sailed out of 
 Sandwich with the morning tide.
 
 BEFORE CALAIS. 157 
 
 Slowly the clumsy craft forged ahead, pitch- 
 ing and wallowing from sheer topheaviness 
 though the swell was moderate, and the 
 breeze fair to the dire discomfort of Lanyon 
 and others making their first essay of sea- 
 faring. Ralph Brakespeare fared better; for 
 long temperance and hard exercise made him 
 proof against qualms; yet his brows throbbed, 
 and his eyes swam painfully; so he was right 
 glad when, towards close of day, Cape Grisnez 
 loomed nearer and nearer; and more glad still 
 when they cast anchor, in as shoal water as 
 they dared, on the outskirts of the throng of 
 vessels some transports, some ships of war 
 that clustered round and blockaded the harbour. 
 Before it was quite dark, the carrack's boats 
 had landed the passengers, their arms and capa- 
 risons; and the horses, forced one by one through 
 a vast square porthole in the after-hold half 
 swimming, half wading: had come safely to 
 shore. 
 
 In the after-years, full as they were of varied 
 adventure, Ralph never forgot the first night he
 
 158 BRAKE SPEAEE. 
 
 spent on foreign soil. He remembered how they 
 dried and cleansed their chargers, in presence of 
 Hawkwood, there on the sea-sand, till the beasts 
 were fit to bear caparison ; and then, mounting, 
 rode in the same order as they marched before, 
 over the bridges of the double ditch forming the 
 outwork of the English entrenchments; and 
 passed through more than one long street of 
 broom or straw-thatched huts, till they came 
 into the broad market-place, where the knight 
 bade his followers halt till he had spoken with 
 the camp-marshal, who could allot them quarters. 
 He remembered how, sitting there in saddle, he 
 had listened to the babble of many and divers 
 tongues till his ears grew dizzy; and how the 
 lonely feeling of isolation overcame him more 
 and more as the darkness closed in ; and how, 
 glancing round at his companions to mark how 
 they bore themselves, he envied Lanyon the 
 stolid indifference into which the archer's face 
 had settled, so soon as the throes of sea-sickness 
 left him in peace ; and how he envied yet more 
 Gian Malatesta his experience and evident fami-
 
 BEFORE CALAIS. 159 
 
 liarity with the scene, as, ever and anon, the 
 Italian exchanged a nod or careless word of 
 greeting with some passer-by. He rememhered 
 how close, and dark, and stifling their huts 
 seemed to his eyes, used so long to chambers 
 lofty and groined ; and how, through the night 
 he tossed restlessly on his pallet, listening to the 
 tramp of the sentinel, till, near daybreak, he fell 
 into a broken sleep, troubled for the first time 
 since he had set forth thence with feverish 
 dreams of his old home. 
 
 But the feeling of novelty soon wore off ; and 
 he fell into the groove of daily duty with 
 the quick aptitude of a born soldier ; before a 
 week had passed, the greyest veteran there was 
 not more thoroughly at home than Ralph. 
 Neither was his life weary nor monotonous ; 
 by Hawkwood's order, he was ever seeking to 
 improve himself in the martial exercises in which 
 he already rarely excelled ; and he took his turn 
 regularly with the outposts, who rode forth to 
 watch and check the foragers of Boulogne, St. 
 Omer, and Guisnes ; but week after week passed,
 
 100 BRAKESPEARE. 
 
 without Brakespeare's crossing lance in earnest. 
 Sport and duty brought him into contact with 
 new comrades, more to his taste than Gian 
 Malatesta : though he was not one of those 
 friends fast, he was popular rather than other- 
 wise ; and where he was liked, he was trusted. 
 Looking at the quiet, resolute face, and eyes 
 frank, though somewhat stern, men felt that it 
 would be easy to find a blither boon companion, 
 but hard to light on a better backer in mortal 
 quarrel. 
 
 Sir John Hawkwood seemed much of this 
 opinion. Albeit reserved and taciturn, he 
 showed towards the youth marked favour in his 
 grave fashion ; and not seldom vouchsafed word 
 or gesture of approval to Lanyon, who toiled at 
 his training in arms with a dogged perseverance 
 that well replaced adroitness. 
 
 Ralph's idle hours, too, were fully amused. 
 Pleasant it was, after Lent was done, to watch 
 the pomp and pageantry, whilst the great lords 
 of Flanders, Hainault, Brabant, and Germany 
 streamed in, with their long trains, to render
 
 BEFORE CALAIS. 161 
 
 homage to the prosperous King and the victress 
 of Neville's Cross ; and, last of all, came Eobert 
 of Namur, with the tan of Syrian sun on his 
 fair young cheek, to proffer himself as their true 
 and loyal liegeman. Pleasanter yet to watch 
 the sheen of velvet, the glimmer of jewels, and 
 the glitter of brocade, as the dames or da- 
 moiselles, who waited on or followed Philippa, 
 swept, with flutter of veil, sleeve, and contoise, 
 through the Ville de Bois on their palfreys, or 
 tripped daintily forth from the thatched pa- 
 vilions, where dwelt the knights and barons of 
 their kin. 
 
 Very often, in the midst of this gaiety, the 
 youth fell a wondering as to how it fared with 
 those within the grey ramparts that seamed 
 and scarred with dint of battering- engine still 
 frowned defiantly, like some old warrior, who 
 having gotten a mortal wound, braces himself 
 for yet another onset. 
 
 In very truth, the condition of the Calaisois 
 was such as might have stirred pity in a harder 
 heart than Kalph Brakespeare; slowly and 
 
 VOL. r. M
 
 162 BBAKESPEARE. 
 
 surely, hour by hour, they were forced to watch 
 the lines of blockade tightened around them ; 
 till their case might be likened to his who, mured 
 in the Italian torture-chamber, saw inch by inch 
 the walls and ceiling slide together, that one day 
 should crush him out of shape of humanity. After 
 that desperate night sally, in which Arnold 
 d'Andregha and his fellows carried havoc and 
 fear up to the very portals of the royal pavilion, 
 they had no distraction of their long agony in 
 the excitement of hand-to-hand combat. At 
 regular intervals, less and less frequent, were 
 heard creak of trebuchet, whistle of esprin- 
 gal, rattle of pateraros, roar of bombards; 
 but they guessed that this was ordained rather 
 for display or practice of the English artillery 
 than with any serious intent of making breach ; 
 for their foe, with a malign patience, forbore all 
 assault not choosing to waste the services of 
 so potent an ally as famine. No lighter pangs 
 had the garrison now to endure ; seventeen 
 hundred had long ago departed whom Edward, 
 with somewhat ostentatious charity, dismissed
 
 BEFORE CALAIS. 163 
 
 with food and alms ; since then, another detach- 
 ment had been thrust forth ; but the mercy of 
 the besieger was spent, and five hundred corpses 
 of women, weaklings, and dotards slaughtered 
 outright by cold and hunger made hideous and 
 noisome the space betwixt camp and town. And 
 still too many mouths remained to feed. 
 
 After Warwick scattered with sore loss and 
 shame the Genoese flotilla, there was no hope 
 of open succour by sea. Besides the galleys 
 that patrolled the Straits, and Northampton's 
 war-ships anchored near shore, the men-at-arms 
 and archers in the great wooden castle set up 
 over against the harbour-mouth kept such jealous 
 watch and ward, that scarcely under cover of the 
 darkest night could a light skiff slip out or in 
 even were it manned by Marant and Mestriel, 
 the skilful mariners whose deeds of hardiesse 
 have found place, not unworthily, amongst the 
 feats of arms of that age. To make their own 
 straits more keenly felt, in their ears were ever 
 sounds of revelry from without, and signs of 
 unstinted plenty in their eyes; the provision 
 
 M 2
 
 164 BBAKESPEARE. 
 
 alone, that they saw wasted in the market-place 
 of the Ville de Bois, would have been as a royal 
 banquet to them. Each morning, faces more 
 gaunt, and wan, and wild, looked towards the 
 rising sun in search of the rescue which never 
 came. Yet still faith and loyalty held their own 
 bravely. If men gnashed their teeth and groaned 
 within their own dwellings, none murmured in 
 public ; and whoso should have spoken of lower- 
 ing the Ancient, that still floated vauntingly as 
 ever on the topmost tower, would have died a 
 traitor's death. 
 
 No marvel if the great heart of John de Vienne 
 sickened within him, at sight of sufferings that 
 he could not lighten, and of despair he could not 
 cheer ; till, after taking counsel of his peers, he 
 tried one last appeal to their master. He him- 
 self indited that letter so piteous in its rude 
 simplicity of which a copy is still preserved. 
 
 i, troftroute jcfjjtttcur, que notuf (Eottj in 
 nut manjjcj (llfybals, Cijtcng & 3Ratj & n'eit 
 remit rim pour Itur bibrr rftttcti djeSrun manjje ault. 
 $Jar queji trri50ncttra6lc jg'rigmcur, gt noutf ne 
 Ijasttfe Jbuccoure, la inlle et pcrtiup ; & noutf
 
 BEFORE CALAIS. 165 
 
 & m0urtr 
 
 s'ur nous nmcinua au &aunru ', pitta tost qur Helens' 
 mourtr pur Ircfaultc. <t tcu bou3 totjjiu to renfcre al 
 nou* & it0jj 
 
 Close under the town ramparts, and protected 
 by their artillery, there lay a swift Genoese 
 galley; the master of which half soldier, half 
 trader, and, on occasion, whole pirate was one 
 of those who appraising life and liberty at a 
 certain sum of gold are ever ready, for suf- 
 ficing recompense, to risk either. This man the 
 governor called into his presence, and with a 
 rich bribe persuaded him to carry out the letter ; 
 promising further, on his knightly honour, that 
 the guerdon should be trebled when it reached 
 King Philip's hands. Soon after midnight, on a 
 strong ebb tide, with the wind blowing freshly 
 from shore, the Genoese put out ; having as his 
 pilot one of those Abbeville mariners whose luck 
 in such ventures had hitherto been miraculous. 
 Past the castle at the harbour's mouth, unchal- 
 lenged by the sentinels, whose eyes were blinded 
 with rain and spray, the galley glided like a 
 ghost ; but the meshes of the toils beyond were
 
 166 BRAKESPEARE. 
 
 drawn too closely to let through even such a 
 light- winged skimmer of the seas ; before long 
 she was encompassed beyond hope of escape. 
 The Genoese was no hair-brained gallant to 
 fight to the death against desperate odds ; 
 inured to changes of fortune, he was cool and 
 honest enough to act at once as he thought 
 best, both for himself and his employer ; weight- 
 ing the precious letter with an axehead, he cast it 
 overboard, just before he lowered his sail, and 
 cried out that he surrendered. 
 
 The shoal water stretches far out on that 
 coast ; and the letter sank not so deep but that 
 some keen eyes in a patrol boat, when the sun 
 was risen and the tide was low, caught the glitter 
 of steel and parchment on the dark-brown sea- 
 weed. So John de Vienne's missive was opened 
 by King Edward's hands ere noon. He read it 
 heedfully; and then, with the grim irony, of 
 which traces are found in so many of this 
 monarch's words, letters, and actions, forwarded 
 it straightway to its address; adding thereto a 
 brief taunting message of his own. He might
 
 BEFORE CALAIS. 167 
 
 have done this in wariness or subtlety ; and, 
 confiding in the strength of his own position, 
 might have wished to provoke his enemy to 
 give him battle at disadvantage. If this were 
 so, Edward reckoned not ill. Philip of Valois 
 lacking both skill in warfare and firmness of 
 purpose was neither so craven nor cold of 
 heart, as to be patient under insult of a foe 
 or death-peril of a friend. 
 
 The tenor of the intercepted letter had spread, 
 as such things will do, through the English 
 camp ; and none marvelled when, soon after, 
 there came certain rumours that the Oriflamme 
 of France was cast to the winds once more, and 
 that Philip had bidden all who owed him vassal- 
 age rally round it at Amiens, by Whitsuntide ; 
 having sworn a deep oath that, by the grace of 
 God and St. Denis, he yet would break Calais 
 leaguer.
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 HOW RALPH BRAKESPEARE RAN A COURSE WITH 
 A FRENCH KNIGHT, AND SLEW HIM. 
 
 FOR the nonce, this chronicle has less concern 
 with the fortunes of Kings and Kaisers, than with 
 a certain personal adventure which befel Ralph 
 Brakespeare. It happened in this wise. 
 
 From the English camp, as has been afore- 
 said, were made constant excursions ; either 
 for the purpose of foraging, or to check the 
 scattered lances who rode forth from such for- 
 tresses of Artois and Picardy as still held out, 
 or from the armament with which John of Nor- 
 mandy sought to harass the besiegers. On this 
 service Hawkwood was often employed ; for the 
 Earl of Lancaster, who had special charge of 
 the scurriers, held the knight in high esteem,
 
 HOW RALPH SLEW A FRENCH KNIGHT. 1G9 
 
 both for tact and courage, and loved to see him 
 in command of a clump of spears. 
 
 On a certain May day, Hawkwood pricked 
 forth, at the head of some score of men-at-arms, 
 and twice the number of demi-lances ; turning 
 past Courgaine to the north, whence incursions 
 had been most frequent of late. Noon was long 
 past, and they had seen no trace of enemy nor 
 of plunder worth the harrying ; for the country 
 had been so drained and desolated that it could 
 scarce provide victual for its own scanty in- 
 habitants. It was wearisome travel for barded 
 chargers through white drifting sand, or through 
 black marshy loam; so Hawkwood, ever loath 
 to distress men or cattle needlessly, halted by a 
 rivulet in a little hollow, overgrown with alders ; 
 first detaching in diverse directions several 
 pickets as they would now be termed each 
 consisting of a man-at-arms and a hobelar, to 
 guard against the possibility of surprise, or of an 
 enemy passing unchallenged. For this duty 
 Brakespeare was selected, having Lanyon as his 
 companion.
 
 170 BRAKE SPE ARE. 
 
 As Ralph was about to depart, the knight 
 beckoned him aside, and thus bespoke him : 
 
 " Canst guess why I have bestowed on thee 
 this charge, rather than on an elder and better 
 soldier ? It is because I like thee so well, that 
 I would be loath thou shouldst lose occasion of 
 advancement, though at thy proper peril. Also 
 I wot thou hast chafed inwardly of late, at having 
 thus far proved thy manhood by no feat of arms. 
 Nevertheless, it behoves thee to consider that 
 thou art no knight- errant, seeking adventure 
 wheresoever it may be found ; but a sworn liege- 
 man even as I am of our lord the King, to 
 whom, rather than to thyself, thy life, and horse, 
 and armour belong ; so that thou art bound to 
 endanger or endamage none of these save on 
 sufficient cause. Wherefore, if there be occasion, 
 bear thyself rather warily than rashly this day. 
 Bide not far beyond the sound of our trumpet ; 
 covering yourselves as much as may be, and 
 halting in some convenient spot, whence ye may 
 see without being seen. Ye will, doubtless, give 
 timely notice if the foe show himself in force
 
 HOW RALPH SLEW A FRENCH KNIGHT. 171 
 
 retiring yourselves speedily, yet not disorderly. 
 If, as seems not likely, ye come suddenly on 
 stray foragers not exceeding 'three, I bid ye not 
 turn bridle ; but deal with them as ye list, and 
 God and St. George give you good speed ! Go 
 
 * 
 
 now and give heed to what I say ; for I warn not 
 twice, neither do I trust, if warning be slighted, 
 or trust bewrayed." 
 
 The manner and tone of the speech were 
 somewhat austere ; but the youth felt it was 
 kindly meant; so he promised obedience cheer- 
 fully, and rode off with a gladder heart under his 
 breastplate than had throbbed there for many a 
 day. 
 
 Some half-league or so from the spot where 
 Hawkwood had halted, the sand-hills trended 
 inwards from the coast, breaking up the ground 
 into low irregular hillocks, through which wound 
 a single track, beaten down and worn by broad- 
 wheeled wains, in many places sunken far below 
 the surface of the soil. Here Kalph judged it 
 best to post himself ; for beyond this the country 
 grew flat and open again, and an armed man
 
 172 BRAKESPEARE. 
 
 would have far to ride before he found other 
 chance of cover. So he dismounted, and leaving 
 Lanyon with the horses in the hollow-way, 
 where they were perfectly concealed, couched 
 down himself under the crest of a sand-hillock, 
 whence he had fair view around bare-headed, 
 lest the eye of some wandering scout should 
 catch the glitter of his bascinet. There he lay 
 hour after hour, till weary disappointment re- 
 placed the hopeful excitement with which he had 
 set forth ; and, glancing towards the west, where 
 the clouds were reddening already, he began to 
 listen for the note of recall which he knew 
 Hawkwood's trumpets would sound before sun- 
 down. Suddenly, as he gazed mechanically back 
 in the direction where he had watched, his heart 
 stood still for an instant 4hen leapt up with a 
 fierce joy. 
 
 Above a stunted thicket of alders and willows 
 that fringed the track some two furlongs off, 
 came the sparkle of spear-heads, and, a second 
 later, a broad glimmer of steel ; as a knight, 
 fully comparisoned, with pennon on his lance,
 
 HOW KALPH SLEW A FRENCH KNIGHT. 173 
 
 appeared, followed by another horseman, whom, 
 even at that distance, Ralph's keen eye made 
 out to be more light!}* armed. With a mighty 
 effort the youth mastered his impatience, and lay 
 quite still till he was certain that the pair were 
 not forerunners of a more numerous enemy; a 
 long sigh of relief broke from his lips as he 
 withdrew his head cautiously, only rising to his 
 feet when he was well under cover of the sand- 
 hill. Lanyon, roused from a half doze by the 
 rattle of harness, knew by the other's look that 
 something was afoot, before he crouched down to 
 catch the hurried whisper. 
 
 "Now, our Blessed Lady be praised! They 
 come straight hitherwards ; and we have leave to 
 deal with them as we list, sith they are but two 
 against two." 
 
 The yeoman's grey eyes flashed eagerly, 
 though he uttered never a word ; and a faint 
 reflection on his broad, bluff features, of the 
 battle -light gleaming on the Norman's face, 
 showed that his slower Saxon blood was fairly 
 stirred.
 
 174 BRAKESPEARE. 
 
 Some few yards from the spot where they 
 stood, the roadway turned a sharp corner, and 
 then ran on quite straight and level for near a 
 hundred yards, between hanks, on either side, 
 about stirrup-high ; here, too, the ground was 
 tolerably sound, though sandy. At this angle 
 Ralph took post, with visor down, and his lance 
 at the carry ; having Lanyon some yards to his 
 rear. Ere they had waited three minutes, there 
 came through the still evening air a smothered 
 clash of steel, and the low clear notes of a 
 mellow voice, chanting a virelai, in the musical 
 langue d'Oc ; and the foremost rider came into 
 view round the opposite angle of the road to 
 that where Brakespeare sat. He reined up 
 abruptly when he saw his path barred in front. 
 If surprised, he was in no wise disconcerted by 
 the presence of an enemy; but trolled out the 
 last line of the verse he was singing, to the full 
 as gaily as he had begun it. 
 
 The knight's visor was up, and Ralph was 
 struck by the beauty of his face, enhanced by 
 the soft, rich colouring peculiar to the south of
 
 HOW KALPH SLEW A FRENCH KNIGHT. 175 
 
 France. The perfect workmanship of his armour 
 made it, perhaps, seem lighter than it really was ; 
 yet, with its fanciful graving and ornament, it 
 appeared more fitted for tournay or pageant than 
 the rough usage of a mellay. Round his neck was 
 slung a triangular shield, the bearings of which 
 were somewhat defaced, like the blazonry of his 
 surcoat. The brown Limousin, which he be- 
 strode, though lacking not power in its fine 
 sinewy limbs, looked somewhat light and small 
 compared to Ralph's great roan destrere. His 
 helmet was not a plain bascinet or camail, but 
 rather moulded in tilting shape, bearing both 
 crest and plume ; and under the crest was twined 
 securely a long hawking-glove, curiously wrought 
 with silk and seedpearls, that must have been 
 worn only by a delicate woman's hand. 
 
 Ralph brought his lance down quickly from 
 the carry to the rest ; but the French knight 
 kept his own pennoncelle pointed upwards, and 
 waved his hand, in token that he wished to 
 parley. There was an easy grace in the gesture, 
 that made the youth half ashamed of his own
 
 176 BRAKESPEARE. 
 
 eagerness, as he recovered his weapon, and, 
 raising his own visor, advanced to meet the 
 other, who had already ridden some paces nearer. 
 " Beau sire " the stranger began, in good 
 Norman -French, when he was fairly within ear- 
 shot " hefore we come to mortal arbitrement, 
 may I crave of your courtesy to answer me two 
 brief questions ? First, I would know how far 
 is this spot from the English camp, from which 
 doubtless you have. lately sallied forth ? " 
 
 " Hard upon three leagues, as I should guess " 
 Brakespeare answered, with a look of some 
 surprise. 
 
 " Not near enough by half " the Frenchman 
 muttered, biting his handsome lip. "Unless 
 worse chance befall him, Raoul hath gotten 
 within sight of the trenches ere now. So I am 
 constrained to ask further, do ye two hold this 
 pass alone, or are there other of your lances near 
 in force ? " 
 
 Brakespeare hesitated, doubting whether he 
 were right thus to parley with an enemy; but 
 something in the French knight's manner for-
 
 HOW RALPH SLEW A FRENCH KNIGHT. 177 
 
 bade suspicion of treachery. So he answered 
 after awhile 
 
 " It is even so. There are none of our folk, 
 that I wot of, nearer than half a league ; where 
 Sir John Hawkwood, whom I follow, halts with 
 the residue of his lances." 
 
 The other smiled, as though well pleased. 
 
 " It is as I thought, then. And now, beau 
 sire, lest my questions appear to you unseemly, 
 I have you to wit that yester-^ven I, Loys de 
 Chastelnaye, did devise, with Kaoul de Men- 
 court, my brother-in-arms, concerning certain 
 matters which, in fair Provence, are judged only 
 in the court of love ; and, in all amity, there was 
 great debate betwixt us ; so that at the last we 
 agreed to ride forth this day each with a single 
 esquire and, unless put back by a force of four 
 at the least, to prove which of us could carry his 
 lady's gage closest to Calais gates. 'Las, my 
 destrier cast a shoe, and with sore trouble, after 
 hours' seeking, did we light on a smith ; for you 
 brave English have frightened Jean Picard, till 
 he hath become shy as a field -rat. Wherefore if,
 
 178 BRAKESPEARE. 
 
 as I guess from your bearing, ye purpose not to 
 yield me passage peaceably, it is needful that 
 I pass on in your despite. This place, too, is 
 marvellously well fitted for running a course. 
 But, good youth, under thy favour, I had rather 
 than a hundred crowns that thy spurs, if not 
 golden, had been silver at the least; for per- 
 chance thou hast had scant tournay practice, 
 and so can little honour accrue to me from the 
 encounter. If thus it be with thee, avow it 
 frankly. Lo ! I will forego the lance, and engage 
 with mace and sword." 
 
 Brakespeare's temper was rising fast under the 
 Frenchman's self-confidence and easy condescen- 
 sion ; but he curbed it, and answered very 
 calmly. 
 
 " This is no tilt-yard, where none can joust 
 unless of lineage approved by the heralds ; and 
 in these times none can say how soon he shall 
 change the metal of his spurs. Beau sire, your 
 nobility must e'en abase itself to contend with 
 one of my degree ; for, an' ye were willing to 
 turn bridle, I, for my part, am not willing to let
 
 HOW RALPH SLEW A FRENCH KNIGHT. 179 
 
 you go in peace. It may be T have better skill 
 with my weapon than ye deem. So, set on and 
 spare not, looking for the like measure from 
 me." 
 
 The Frenchman's face never lost its gay good 
 humour, as he bowed his head courteously. 
 
 " I am fitly reproved " he said " for I spake 
 over presumptuously. De par dieu, all true men 
 are equal under shield. Let us take ground 
 speedily ; for the light is waning fast, and one of 
 us will have a moonlight ride. Call on your 
 patron saint, when ye are ready to do your devoir ; 
 and I will answer with the name of my fair lady. 
 Marguerite, ma Marguerite f " 
 
 Long afterwards, Ralph Brakespeare remem- 
 bered how lovingly the speaker's lips lingered 
 over that last word as though all familiar as it 
 must have been they were loath to let it pass. 
 Within a few moments each had regained his 
 own station. The Frenchman, seeing that his 
 adversary bore no shield, drew off his own, and 
 handed it to his esquire, saying something the 
 while with a light laugh ; Ralph, too, as he 
 
 N 2
 
 180 BRAKESPEARE. 
 
 clasped his visor and settled himself firmer in 
 the saddle, driving his feet well home in the 
 sautoirs, found time to say some hurried words 
 over his shoulder to his follower, who was in a 
 state of unwonted excitement. 
 
 " Honest Will, I trust well to lower yonder gay 
 plume ; for I have vantage in weight if not in 
 skill ; but, if it be otherwise, since I purpose not 
 to take mercy, thy tarrying here will not avail. 
 So I charge thee, in such case, to hie thee back 
 to Sir John Hawkwood at speed ; and tell him 
 that I thanked him heartily for this chance of 
 approving myself, though it pleased God that I 
 should fail." 
 
 Then Ealph Brakespeare laid lance in rest ; 
 and getting his horse well in hand, cried lustily, 
 " St. George Guienne ! " and drove the sharp 
 rowels in. Clear and mellow through the still air, 
 came the answering war-cry "Marguerite, ma 
 Marguerite ! " The dust flew far and wide 
 under the savage plunge of the roan destrere 
 and bound of the swifter Limousin ; and, just 
 about midway, the two hurtled together.
 
 HOW RALPH SLEW A FRENCH KNIGHT. 181 
 
 At the first shock both horses sunk on their 
 haunches, but one only recovered himself. The 
 Limousin, fairly overborne, rolled over sideways 
 and backwards, till he lay helpless athwart the 
 roadway, crushing his rider against the bank. 
 Nor was this all : the Frenchman's lance struck 
 full and fair on Ralph's breast, and was shivered 
 to the vamplate ; but the Southwark armourer 
 had put better metal into his spear-head ; it 
 pierced sheer through the gay corselet and the 
 habergeon beneath, just above the gorget, and 
 the tough English ash only broke off at last close 
 to the embedded steel. Before the sand-cloud 
 had cleared away, Ralph had sprung from saddle ; 
 and, holding his misericorde to the throat of his 
 fallen foe, bade him " Yield, rescue or no 
 rescue ! " 
 
 No answer came, save a low moan of intense, 
 half-conscious agony, as dark red drops oozed, 
 not only from the breast-wound, but through the 
 bars of the visor. A strange chill horror over- 
 came Brakespeare as he felt himself for the first 
 time in presence of death death, too, dealt by
 
 182 BRAKESPEARE. 
 
 his own hand. Enmity of race, the fierce delight 
 of battle, the flush of a maiden triumph, were all 
 swallowed up in a deep pity nearly akin to 
 remorse. He beckoned, first to Will Lanyon, 
 then to the French squire, to come to aid the 
 fallen knight; while he himself held down the 
 Limousin's head, lest in struggling to rise he 
 should do his lord further hurt. 
 
 Slowly and painfully the three succeeded in dis- 
 entangling the dying man for that he was dying 
 none doubted ; and propping him against the road 
 bank, they loosened helmet and gorget. Ralph 
 would have given much to have undone his work, 
 as he gazed on the countenance whose marvellous 
 beauty he had marred. The features were already 
 pinched and drawn ; the rich colour of the cheeks 
 had faded to dull ashen grey ; and through the 
 rigid lips a thin dark stream was welling. The 
 Gascon squire showed his grief after his im- 
 passioned southern fashion ; wringing his hands, 
 and speaking fast in a dialect that Ealph could 
 scarcely comprehend. Even on Lanyon's rugged 
 face were manifest signs of compassion, as he
 
 HOW RALPH SLEW A FRENCH KNIGHT. 183 
 
 stood holding the bridles of the loose horses; 
 for by this time the Limousin had scrambled up, 
 seemingly none the worse for his fall. 
 
 " Bring water" Ralph said to the French 
 squire ; and, kneeling down, he rested the 
 knight's head on his own shoulder. The pool 
 was not three roods off ; but, before the water 
 came, Loys de Chastelnaye had begun to revive. 
 The flow of blood from his mouth abated ; and, 
 as he looked up and saw who supported him, his 
 lips relaxed into a faint semblance of their old 
 pleasant smile ; when his face had been laved, 
 and he had drunken twice or thrice, he spoke 
 almost in a whisper, but quite calmly and 
 clearly 
 
 " Pardie, I was the veriest vantard but now, 
 and I am rightly served : nevertheless, I take no 
 shame to myself to have gone down before so 
 strong a lance. Scant time have I for parley. 
 Beau sire, this my esquire, no less than I, are at 
 your mercy ; but Aymery, my good cousin and 
 heir, will, I know, ransom him speedily. Gilles, 
 I charge thee, so soon as thou art free, make all
 
 184 BRAKESPEARE. 
 
 speed to Hacquemont ; and deliver into the white 
 hands of the damoiselle Marguerite this her gage. 
 Say to her that I have done it no dishonour ; but 
 have borne it ever so forward as I might, turning 
 bridle before no single foe, till thus in loyal com- 
 bat was I slain : furthermore, by my hopes of 
 mercy do I aver, that since she kissed these lips 
 of mine they have been virgin of woman. So do 
 I earnestly entreat of her pity, to grant unto no 
 living man favour be it ever so small for the 
 space of one year and one day ; after that she 
 shall be assoilzied of her troth-plight. Let her 
 grace with her dear love some knight, worthier and 
 more fortunate than this her poor servitor ; and 
 may the saints send to both long life and Hesse" 
 " Nay, not so " Ralph broke in, so soon as the 
 weak voice ceased. " Of ransom will I have 
 none ; and this your squire is free to set forth 
 when he will to carry his message of dolour. I 
 wis not what maketh me so heavy of heart ; but, 
 gentle sir, I had liever have miscarried in this 
 my first proof of arms, than have won honour at 
 the cost of your fair life."
 
 HOW RALPH SLEW A FRENCH KNIGHT. 185 
 
 A brief gleam of pleasure shot across the 
 other's face, darkening already with the death- 
 shadow. 
 
 " Ay, so ? " he murmured. " Long since, in 
 truth, from your manner of speech might I have 
 guessed that I dealt with no common routier. 
 To God and to the holy saints do I give thanks, 
 that by no churl's hand was Loys de Chastelnaye 
 sped. For this your kindness may " 
 
 The benison, if such was meant, was choked 
 in mid utterance by a fresh gush of blood, coming 
 now in sharp, quick jets ; and when it abated, the 
 pulse had nearly ceased to beat. Once only in 
 that last quiet minute of life for death struggle 
 there was none the white lips moved ; and 
 Brakespeare, bending down his ear, caught what 
 may have been an appeal to the Virgin-mother's 
 mercy ; but Ralph always believed it was a 
 woman's name. 
 
 For some brief space after all was over, the 
 youth never stirred; suddenly he started and 
 shifted very gently the corpse from his shoulder 
 to the ground beside him, for he heard Hawk-
 
 186 BRAKESPEARE. 
 
 wood's trumpet sounding the recall. All his 
 soldierly instincts came back at once ; and he was 
 a man-at-arms again, ready and willing for any 
 duty. He laid his hand almost roughly on the 
 shoulder of the Gascon squire, who seemed still 
 well nigh distraught with grief. 
 
 " Waste not time in wailing here" he said 
 " thou knowest what thou hast to do ; set ahout 
 it speedily. First, it behoves thee to see thy 
 lord's body carefully bestowed, where it may lack 
 no due rite or funeral observance ; there is a 
 moustier in yon wood to the right ; I heard its 
 bells chime but now. That rich armour will 
 ensure the monks their guerdon, if they grudge 
 free masses to such a knight's soul. His destrere 
 wends with me ; but thou may'st keep thine own, 
 which I perceive tarries for thee there. For the 
 rest I have set thee free, that thou may'st do thy 
 lord's bidding to the uttermost: if thou fail 
 therein, or linger by the way, the shame of 
 broken trust is thine." 
 
 So with one more look at the face which 
 waxed beautiful again as it settled into the death-
 
 HOW RALPH SLEW A FEENCH KNIGHT. 187 
 
 calm Ralph picked up his headless lance from 
 where it lay ; and, after glancing heedfully over 
 both the chargers so as to be sure that neither 
 had suffered from the encounter, mounted and 
 rode slowly back by the way that he had come ; 
 followed by Lanyon, leading the Limousin by the 
 bridle. It was characteristic of the yeoman that, 
 whilst they were alone together, he troubled his 
 leader with no word of gratulation or triumph : 
 whether this silence is to be set down to rough 
 natural tact, or to the trouble and confusion of 
 his simple mind, would be very hard to de- 
 termine.
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 HOW RALPH BRAKESPEARE DONNED SILVER 
 SPURS. 
 
 THE other scouts had all rejoined the main 
 body before Brakespeare and his follower ap- 
 peared ; and none brought tidings, or had seen 
 traces of an enemy ; so there wa s wonder, and 
 perchance a little envy, among some of Hawk- 
 wood's followers when they saw how Fortune had 
 favoured the youngest of their band. On their 
 leader's usually reserved face there was frank 
 pleasure, as he rode out some paces to meet 
 Brakespeare, and bent his own head in acknow- 
 ledgment of the other's salute. 
 
 "Where leftest thou thy lance-head, my son ?" 
 he said. " For well I wot it was not idly wasted. 
 And how comest thou by yon gallant war-horse ? 
 Those clean limbs and high crest never were
 
 HOW RALPH DONNED SILVER SPURS. 189 
 
 nurtured on thin Normandy pastures ; but, I 
 dare swear, near the banks of Garonne." 
 
 " Scarce some half-hour ago" Ealph answered 
 " a French knight came to where I was posted, 
 with his squire, and would have passed on in my 
 despite, not as I judge from our brief parley 
 with purpose of plunder or of espial, but rather 
 in discharge of some chivalrous vow. I gainsaid 
 him, as in duty bound ; and we ran a fair course, 
 wherein it was my evil hap to wound unto death 
 as proper a gentilhomme as mine eyes have ever 
 looked on. He called himself Loys de Chastel- 
 naye." 
 
 An incredulous murmur spread amongst the 
 men-at-arms who sat within ear-shot ; and Hawk- 
 wood himself raised his eyebrows slightly, as he 
 made answer : 
 
 " Now lift thy visor, good youth, that I may 
 read in thy face if this be jest or vaunt. Dost 
 thou come back to tell me, thus sadly, that thou, 
 a raw youth, hast, in thy first tilt with grinded 
 spears, slain outright the Yicomte de Chastel- 
 naye; whose prowess all we who fought in Gas-
 
 190 BRAKESPEARE. 
 
 cony or Guienne have seen ? By the Rood ! if 
 thou sayest sooth, thy valiance is less wonderful 
 than thine unconcern." 
 
 Ralph did as he was bidden, and all could see 
 that the heaviness on his countenance was not 
 feigned. 
 
 " I speak as I was told" he answered, simply 
 " and men seldom fable in the death-throe. 
 Moreover, on the housing of his destrere, there is 
 blazonry to witness if I lie." 
 
 At the word Lanyon wheeled the charger that 
 he led, so as to bring full into view the escutcheon 
 on the cointise. The three gold chevrons on an 
 azure field, not a few there present had seen 
 before seen them borne on a broad banderol, in 
 the forefront of a charge, when England was sore 
 put to it to hold her own. There arose another 
 murmur, this time of honest applause. 
 
 " I did wrong to suspect thee" Hawkwood 
 said "though it seems passing strange: at 
 another time I will hear how it all befell. Loys 
 de Chastelnaye bore himself ever as a true knight ; 
 and died not cravenly,! dare avow God rest his
 
 HOW RALPH DONNED SILVER SPURS. 191 
 
 soul ! The esquire, seeing his lord's misadven- 
 ture, doubtless made haste to flee ? " 
 
 "Nay" Ralph answered "he was no recreant ; 
 but abode to the last, giving such aid as he might, 
 having surrendered himself prisoner at our mercy. 
 Nevertheless, that he might care for the bestowal 
 of his lord's body, and bear certain messages of 
 import to the damoiselle whom that knight served 
 loyally, I judged it best to let him go free. Me- 
 seems I did not wisely." 
 
 In truth, the change in Hawkwood's counte- 
 nance showed that he was ill-pleased by what 
 he now heard. He was, as has been aforesaid, 
 no chivalrous hero of romance, but a patient, 
 hardworking soldier, with talents and energy 
 enough to compensate for his poverty and lowly 
 birth, not apt to be over covetous or mean in his 
 dealings, yet not ashamed to avow that he fought 
 for livelihood no less than honour. However, 
 the knight recovered himself quickly, and cleared 
 his brow as he answered 
 
 " I cannot chide thee to-day, my son. How- 
 beit, hereafter forget not that, by all laws of war-
 
 192 BRAKESPEARE. 
 
 fare, the harness and arms, no less than the 
 person of the vanquished, are retained for the 
 profit of the conqueror; and that none under 
 knight's degree may relinquish such advantage, 
 or deal with such at his pleasure, save by special 
 leave of his superior. The ransom of De Chas- 
 telnaye's hody -esquire should not have been cast 
 down like a minstrel's largess ; and messages to 
 dame or damoiselle should be borne by their own 
 minion pages, not by gens d'armes. Thou wilt 
 not so err again ; and thou wilt be wiser, too, ere 
 long, than to call such chance as hath befallen 
 thee ' evil hap/ None the less will I care that 
 thou art rewarded after thy deserts. Needy 
 though I be, I may still dare to maintain a 
 single esquire ; as such shalt thou serve hence- 
 forth, by the King's leave, unless thou preferrest 
 to enter some more notable household. Then, I 
 will speak in thine behalf to my good Lord of 
 Lancaster, who hath shown me some favour of 
 late. Make not thy choice in haste, but soberly, 
 and without fear or scruple : churl were I, to 
 begrudge parting with thee for thy own manifest
 
 HOW RALPH DONNED SILVER SPURS. 193 
 
 advancement. Now, let us set forward ; I love 
 not night marches for naught, and these roads 
 are ill travelling in the dark." 
 
 The youth bent almost to the saddle-bow as 
 he muttered some words of thanks ; and fell into 
 his place in the column, by the side of Gian 
 Malatesta, as it moved off. He was so busy 
 then, and for some while afterwards, with his own 
 reflections, that he noticed not the malignant 
 fire gleaming in the Italian's eyes. 
 
 Every wayfarer through this world must needs 
 encounter certain points in his journey where the 
 main track divides. For a while the two paths 
 may run so near to each other that they may 
 seem still almost one ; but they will diverge 
 more and more till, ere they end, their issue He 
 as widely apart as those of good and evil, light 
 and darkness, life and death. 
 
 So was it now with Ralph Brakespeare. Had 
 he availed himself of Hawkwood's unselfish kind- 
 ness, and attached his fortunes to those of some 
 powerful noble, there is little doubt but that the 
 change would have been both to his profit and 
 
 VOL. i. o
 
 194 BRAKESPEARE. 
 
 honour. Men of martial desert rose high and 
 quickly in those stirring times ; and perchance 
 Brakespeare's name might have been recorded 
 with those of Chandos and many others, who 
 forced open the gates of wealth and renown with 
 the points of their good swords. But the stub- 
 born hardihood, ingrained in his nature, stifled 
 the suggestions of prudence and ambition ; when 
 he cut himself adrift from family and friends, 
 and cast his very name behind him, he severed 
 himself, in intent, no less decisively from the 
 class in which he was born and bred than if, as 
 a novice, he had taken upon him ihe vows of 
 humility and poverty. With a scrupulousness, 
 surely somewhat fantastic, he was not ashamed 
 of his nom-de- guerre, whilst he followed John 
 Hawkwood, the lowly-born, self-made adventurer ; 
 but he cared not to wear it in the train of one 
 who might possibly claim kinship, however 
 distant, with the houses of Dynevor or Warenne, 
 and amongst esquires of gentle blood who might 
 once have been reckoned his peers. Moreover, 
 he had conceived a certain kindness and respect
 
 HOW RALPH DONNED SILVER SPURS. 195 
 
 for his commander ; and, having once embarked 
 his hopes in that modest craft, he was minded to 
 see the voyage out, through fair weather or foul, 
 rather than shift to the deck of any one of the 
 statelier caravels sailing in their company. So, 
 late in the evening, Brakespeare, after rendering 
 duteous acknowledgments of the choice proffered 
 to him, declared himself willing to serve on as 
 Hawkwood's esquire, rather than to enter the 
 household of the Earl of Lancaster him- 
 self. 
 
 Sir John was more pleased than he cared to 
 show ; for, sooth to say, since his offer was made, 
 he had more than once reproached himself for his 
 own generosity ; viewing it in the light of an 
 extravagance he could by no means afford. Yet 
 perhaps there was nothing feigned in the 
 emotion, apparent both in his voice and manner, 
 as he laid both his hands on Kalph's shoulders ; 
 saying, simply and earnestly 
 
 " My fair son, I trust well that ye may never 
 have cause to rue those gentle words of thine. 
 It may be, one day, poor John Hawkwood may 
 
 o 2
 
 196 BEAKESPEABE. 
 
 have somewhat better than thanks wherewith to 
 repay such as follow him loyally. Keep thou 
 with me ; and do thy devoir, even as thou hast 
 done this day : then if my will shall he equalled 
 by my power, and I forget thee call me recreant 
 and mansworn." 
 
 So, with few more words, it was settled; and 
 that night the youth shifted his quarters ; thence- 
 forth it was his duty to abide under the same 
 roof as the knight whom he served as esquire. 
 Perchance it was for his own weal, or another's, 
 that he did thus change ; for, in the breast of 
 one who lay in the other tent, festered such 
 jealousy and malice, that there might have been 
 ill work ere morning. 
 
 "Bestie!" the Italian muttered through his 
 grinded teeth. " See how these English swine 
 cleave together. May the black pest rot them 
 body and bone ! Here is a springald dropped from 
 none knoweth whence a foundling or a bastard, 
 belike who, for one lucky lance-thrust in his 
 first encounter, hath gotten advancement such as 
 in years of service, wherein I have spared my
 
 HOW RALPH DONNED SILVER SPURS. 197 
 
 own life no more than other men's, hath never 
 befallen me me, in whose veins runs the right 
 sangue azuro" 
 
 He broke off for an instant ; laughing his 
 low, peculiar laugh, 1 so full of insolent 
 devilry. 
 
 " True it is mine own house would have 
 hunted me to the death, for having made mine 
 uncle taste my dagger : but of that the fools here- 
 about know naught. Per dio ! I would this 
 same hilt came not ever so cursedly ready " his 
 lithe, white fingers were caressing it longingly. 
 " Had he lain here to-night, with his broad 
 breast open under the moonshine, I doubt if I 
 could have forborne it : ay though I had to flee 
 again before the avengers of blood. I owed him 
 one shrewd turn before ; and to-day the debt is 
 doubled. If I pay not all the score one day in 
 
 full, then were I no true Malatesta, and " 
 
 It were better not to render, even faintly, the 
 volley of bitter blasphemy that rounded off the 
 speech. But with no better orison the Italian lay 
 down to rest; and, after a while, slept soundly
 
 198 BRAKESPEARE. 
 
 as ever did monk betwixt matins and prime. 
 To him, as to better men, the night brought 
 counsel ; and on the morrow he was able to con- 
 gratulate his late comrade, suavely and monoto- 
 nously ; mingling with the warmth of his 
 manner the slightest shade of respect, too deli- 
 cately conveyed for suspicion of irony. 
 
 And so, while spring waxed into summer, 
 matters went on smoothly enough; no special 
 incident breaking the routine of siege war- 
 fare.
 
 201 
 
 rms, cover- 
 c hree full 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 HOW CALAIS WAS WON. 
 
 ON the eighteenth day of July, the Earl of 
 Derby set forth with a sufficient force of men-at- 
 arms and footmen, intending to make descent on 
 a great cattle fair, then appointed to be held in 
 the neighbourhood of Amiens. But on the third 
 day of march, when he had advanced some ten 
 leagues into the enemy's realm, a scout spurred 
 in with the news that a mighty French host was 
 already moving forward from Amiens, where it 
 had been gathering since Whitsuntide. So the 
 Earl being a commander no less politic than 
 valiant judged it best to fall back on the 
 English entrenchments, driving before him five 
 thousand sheep and two thousand beeves. 
 
 The old soudards who had rioted in the plunder 
 of Poitou, scorning to cumber themselves with
 
 BKAKESPEARE. 
 
 precious than gold, and gimmals, and 
 
 i knightly crests, thought scorn of such 
 
 .e booty ; but it was very welcome in the 
 
 .ile de Bois, where supplies had grown less plen- 
 tiful since the country round had been laid waste. 
 
 It was no false rumour that the foragers 
 brought back. The sluggish spirit of Valois 
 was at last fairly stirred by the piteous wail for 
 help and vengeance that had gone up not from 
 Calais alone, but from all Artois and Picardy ; 
 the unhappy peasants cried aloud they could 
 endure their misery no longer, and would rather 
 submit themselves as liegemen to the English 
 king, than endure at close quarters the extremity 
 of his anger. 
 
 Neither did the greatness of the armament 
 misbeseem the urgency of the need; few of 
 those who owed vassalage to France were ab- 
 sent on the muster-day. Normandy, Bourbon, 
 Foix, Burgundy, Hainault, Savoie, Armagnac, 
 and Valentinois, headed the long roll of those 
 who saw the Oriflamme unfurled ; and there 
 marched forth from Amiens to Arras, not less
 
 HOW CALAIS WAS WON. 201 
 
 than two hundred thousand of all arms, cover- 
 ing, from vanguard to baggage-train, three full 
 leagues of ground. 
 
 From the very first, doubt and difficulty beset 
 Philip's advance. Free passage to the north- 
 ward was barred by the sturdy Flemings, who 
 had of late waxed so bold in the cause of their 
 English ally as to lay siege to Aire, and carry 
 fire and sword to the gates of St. Omer and 
 Tournay : to the south-west, betwixt him and 
 Calais, lay leagues of marshes, only to be tra- 
 versed by narrow causeways ere this, doubtless, 
 well guarded by the foe. Yet still he moved for- 
 wards perchance without any definite plan of 
 attack through Hesdin, Wissant, and Falken- 
 berg, till his tents were pitched on Sandgatte, 
 within view of the beleaguered town. 
 
 Eyes that never by night or day wearied in their 
 watch from Calais walls, caught the flaunt of banner 
 and the play of moonbeams on steel and canvas ; 
 and the hearts of the famished garrison leapt up 
 in a rush of joy ; even as the hearts of castaways 
 at sea, who their last morsel spent, and their
 
 202 BRAKESPEARE. 
 
 last beaker drained see sails swelling against 
 the sky to windward. All at once, on the top- 
 most tower, sprang up a tongue of flame, and the 
 beal-fire blazed till long after dawn ; then 
 flaunted in the sight of the besiegers, not the 
 Ancient of France alone, but the banners of 
 many puissant barons, whom the Calaisains 
 guessed to be coming to the rescue ; and all 
 through early noon horns and trumpets rang out 
 alarums and flourishes of defiance. 
 
 Yet was it but a very mockery of rescue after 
 all. Hour after hour, day after day, the gor- 
 geous armament lay encamped at Sandgatte, 
 achieving no worthier feat than the destruction of 
 a puny wooden fortalice and a few skirmishes of 
 outposts. For their marshals, after survey of the 
 country, brought back ever the same heavy 
 tidings, that to Calais there was no way, save by 
 the Downs, under the full fire of the English 
 fleet's artillery ; or by the marshes, that no 
 barbed horse could pass ; or by narrow cause- 
 ways leading to the Bridge of Neuillet, that none 
 might hope to force in the teeth of Derby and
 
 HOW CALAIS WAS WON. 203 
 
 his men-at-arms. Vainly, too, did Philip, in the 
 bitterness of his disappointment, strive to tempt 
 forth his wary foe from his entrenchments to 
 trial of force in the open plain. King Edward 
 had proved his courage so often and fairly, that 
 he could now afford to despise knight-errantry. 
 So, to Eustace de Ribeaumont and those other 
 three who brought Philip's challenge, he replied 
 in some such words as these : 
 
 " Messires, I perfectly understand the request 
 you have made me from my adversary, who 
 wrongfully keeps possession of my inheritance, 
 which weighs much upon me. You will there- 
 fore tell him from me, that I have been on 
 this spot near a twelvemonth. This he was 
 well informed of, and, had he chosen it, might 
 have come here sooner ; but he has allowed me 
 to remain so long, that I have expended very 
 large sums of money, and have done so much, 
 that I must be master of Calais in a very short 
 time : I am not, therefore, inclined in the smal- 
 lest degree to comply with his request, or to 
 gratify his convenience, or to abandon what I
 
 204 BRAKESPEARE. 
 
 have gained, or what I have been so anxious to 
 conquer. If, therefore, neither he nor his army 
 can pass this way, he must seek out some other 
 road." 
 
 Not less vain were the good offices of the pious 
 cardinals, mediators for peace sent by Pope 
 Clement from Avignon, to stand, if it were pos- 
 sible, betwixt the living and the dead, and stay 
 the plague of war. King Edward held in his 
 iron glove the fair prize for which he had waited 
 so patiently, and paid so dear ; if force of arms 
 could not unlock his gripe, he was little likely to 
 relax it in obedience to the voice of the Holy 
 Church ; ay, though if, instead of meekly whis- 
 pering intercession, she had spoken in thunder. 
 
 One morning, at dawn, the hill at Sandgatte 
 loomed dim through thick smoke-wreaths : 
 Philip had fired his tents, and now was falling 
 back, to hide his shame, and disband his vassals, 
 within the walls of Amiens. And soon, of all 
 that great host, no traces were left, save the 
 blackened ruins of their encampment ; and dis- 
 mantled wains, surrounded by frequent corpses
 
 HOW CALAIS WAS WON. 205 
 
 of stragglers, that lay along the road nearly up 
 to the city gates, showed how mercilessly the 
 English horsemen had harassed the rear of the 
 retreat. 
 
 No marvel if the tough hardihood of Calais 
 was fairly broken at last no marvel if John de 
 Vienne, still sick of his sore wounds, yielded to 
 the prayer of the weak, piping voices, and wild, 
 hollow eyes that encompassed him. Nay who 
 shall blame those unhappy citizens if, in agony 
 of spirit, they trampled under foot the banner 
 they had upheld so long, whilst they hoisted the 
 English ensign in token of surrender ? 
 
 Then ensued one of those famous passages, 
 wherein history treads so closely on the verge of 
 romance that the two seem for awhile as one. 
 But that scene in the conquerors' pavilion the 
 six noble hostages kneeling humbly, yet not 
 cravingly, in the midst ; the shame and anger of 
 Manny and his peers, whose intercession had 
 been denied ; the King, with his dark, passion- 
 less face set in the same cold smile as it wore at 
 Crecy, when he would send no help to his first-
 
 206 BRAKESPEARE. 
 
 born at his sorest need, but bade him win his 
 spurs alone ; the pale, beautiful Queen paler 
 yet with languor of imminent travail whose 
 pleading at the last prevailed ; all these things 
 have been portrayed so often by pen and pencil 
 that they shall not be touched here. 
 
 One word only. There have been raised since 
 grave historic doubts whether all this be not a 
 flattering legend, designed to embellish the fairly- 
 written volume that Jehan de Froissart laid at 
 Philippa's feet. Yet surely those who cavilled 
 not at the honour of Leonidas, Decius, and Mac- 
 cabee, might have been content not to meddle 
 with the wreath that posterity has hung over the 
 ashes of Eustace de St. Pierre and those other 
 five who laid down their lives so royally. Was 
 it worth while to undergo the shame of the halter, 
 the s orrow of the parting, and the long bitterness 
 of anticipated death only to find matter for some 
 pragmatical schoolman, or critic who would 
 thrive on literary infidelity ? 
 
 Howsoever these things may have been, in 
 some kind or other Calais paid her heavy
 
 HOW CALAIS WAS WON. 207 
 
 accompt. Yet the mercies of her conqueror were 
 very cruel : of all that he found alive within the 
 walls Edward suffered none to abide, save some 
 three or four grey-beards, whose knowledge of 
 the place was useful for the establishment of the 
 new colonists. For the rest, such as bore arms, 
 when they were fit to travel, betook themselves to 
 Guisnes ; the others were fain to seek for a live- 
 lihood and home as best they might, if they 
 chose not to ask alms by the wayside. Very 
 soon the streets, through which lately only a few 
 gaunt, famine-stricken shadows had wandered, 
 begun to be thronged with bluff English faces. 
 For not only from London came at the King's 
 behest two score citizens of substance and repute, 
 with their families, 'prentices, and craftsmen ; 
 but Kent sent over her wool- staplers, curriers, 
 yeomen sturdy saplings who cared not a whit 
 for transplanting, so their roots were wet with the 
 golden stream. 
 
 On a certain day, it chanced that Sir John 
 Hawkwood went to wait on Sir Walter Manny 
 under whose immediate command he was then
 
 208 BRAKESPEARE. 
 
 placed taking with him his esquire. As the two 
 turned a street corner, they came full on a decent- 
 looking burgess, evidently one of the new-comers. 
 As the knight passed, the man just lifted his hand 
 to his cap ; but when he came close to Ralph 
 Brakespeare, who walked some paces in the rear, 
 he doffed it, and louted low, muttering some 
 words of salute. 
 
 Much to the other's discomfiture, the youth 
 passed on, taking no more heed of the courtesy 
 than if he had been deaf or blind. Whilst the 
 honest currier lingered there with a blank look of 
 angry surprise on his face, he was accosted by 
 Gian Malatesta ; who, loitering in the sun as was 
 his wont when not on duty, or over the wine-cup 
 had witnessed what had passed from the other 
 side of the street, and crossed over unperceived. 
 The Italian was too wary at once to broach the 
 subject of his curiosity. He began with some com- 
 monplace question as to the whereabouts of a cord- 
 wainer of some repute; intimating that he judged 
 from the other's appearance that he spoke to one 
 of the trade ; when he had been satisfied on these
 
 HOW CALAIS WAS WON. 209 
 
 points, or sufficiently so for his purpose, Mala- 
 testa, with glib and courteous thanks, turned as 
 though to depart ; but suddenly, as if recollect- 
 ing himself, he said carelessly : 
 
 " If I en' not, worthy sir, there is some ac- 
 quaintance betwixt thee and yonder fair youth, 
 albeit he did strangely slight thy greeting." 
 
 The bluff burgess shook his head rather 
 sorrowfully ; his short-lived anger was passed. 
 
 "I have good reason to know him" he 
 answered. " Was I not nurtured within a mile 
 of the castle of his father erst time my very 
 good Lord ? Marry, I was right loath to lose 
 sight of Bever keep, when mine uncle would have 
 me to Sandwich to help him in his trade ; 
 though, I thank the saints, I have thriven since 
 not ill. I mind him, from the time when he 
 scarce could sit astride on a war-saddle, till he 
 grew up into a proper stripling, well nigh as tall, 
 though not so stalwart as he now is. Then, 
 though he was seldom merry of mood, and 
 brooked no license, he had ever gentle word and 
 kindly look both for vassal and villein ; and, if 
 
 VOL. I. P
 
 210 BRAKESPEARE. 
 
 we wended the same road, he thought not scorn 
 of my poor company. I marvel what hath 
 changed him. Right sure I am that he knew me 
 when our eyes met, though 'tis years since we 
 foregathered." 
 
 The Italian's black bushy brows were bent, as 
 if in thought or displeasure. 
 
 " How callest thou the lord his father ? And 
 canst expound unto me, wherefore the heir of 
 a noble house taketh service and wage of a 
 simple man-at-arms ? " 
 
 " Sir Simon Dynevor begat him " the other 
 made answer "but I said not Messire Ralph 
 was the heir. The knight was duly wedded in 
 his early youth to a daughter of Warenne, whose 
 blood to the full matched his own. But Holy 
 Church disallowed the marriage, for that those 
 two were over close of kin ; and the poor lady 
 died, as I have heard, in her first travail; so 
 the child was cheated of his heritage. What 
 name he chooses now to bear, I know not ; 
 but in old times they ycleped him ever Fitz- 
 warenne."
 
 HOW CALAIS WAS WON. 211 
 
 Malatesta's lip curled slightly, whilst his brow 
 lowered still. 
 
 " A bastard, I fear me " he said, smoothly 
 " in the eyes of the law, though 'tis a hard case 
 and a piteous. Yet I blame Ralph Brakespeare 
 such is his title now in that he demeaned 
 himself so haughtily towards thee but now. 
 True it is, that he hath lately been advanced to 
 be esquire to Sir John Hawkwood, under whom 
 I, too, serve as vintenar. 'Tis the way of the 
 world as doubtless has not escaped thine expe- 
 rience new honours make men forget old 
 friends." 
 
 " Nay, not so " the other returned sturdily. 
 " Messire Ralph is none of such time serving 
 coistrels. Neither is advancement to esquire's 
 estate such credit to his father's son, that he 
 should wax misproud thereafter. He changed 
 not his title, I dare be sworn, for shame or fear ; 
 and for his demeanour anon he had reason good. 
 If he speak not next time we foregather, I will 
 not chafe thereat, neither will I accost him ; but 
 only, under my breath, wish him God-speed." 
 
 p 2
 
 212 BKAKESPEAEE. 
 
 The Italian's smile waxed insolent and 
 bitter. 
 
 " A most Christian currier " he said " such 
 an one as hath scarce been seen since St. Paul 
 wrought at thy trade. Heaven keep thee in such 
 holy frame ! With which benison I dismiss thee 
 to thy sport or business." 
 
 So, leaving his companion more puzzled than 
 he had found him, Malatesta strode away, mut- 
 tering through his beard as he went 
 
 " No beggar's brat, after all, but nobly born : 
 so nobly that but for a priest's juggle he 
 might have carried his head as high as he listed. 
 By the blood of Bacchus ! I hate him threefold 
 more than I did y ester- even ; and that is no 
 light word."
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 THE BATTLE ON THE CAUSEWAY. 
 
 THE bustle and turmoil of arrival and depar- 
 ture was over at last. Queen Philippa after 
 safe deliverance of a daughter sailed for England 
 with her consort. In Calais were left only the 
 new settlers, with the strong garrison in which 
 Hawkwood and his followers were numbered ; 
 and, whilst autumn passed into winter, all in the 
 town rested as men love to rest after long and 
 sharp toil ; never witting, that they were as those 
 who keep watch on a wall well-nigh already 
 mined. For Emeric of Pavia, governor of the 
 castle whom King Edward trusted as his own 
 right hand had been tempted by the French; 
 and was in covenant to open the gates, at a fitting 
 time and season, to Geoffrey de Chargny, who 
 held command at St. Omer.
 
 214 BRAKESPEARE. 
 
 Before the treason was complete, tidings thereof 
 was brought to Windsor ; and the wary monarch 
 disdaining to wreak his anger on one head, 
 howsoever guilty contrived to turn the plot to 
 his own advantage : the shameless Lombard was 
 only too ready to purchase his own safety at the 
 price of a double treason. 
 
 The last day of December saw Edward and his 
 son back again at Calais. They sailed into the 
 harbour, not as they had gone out with nourish 
 of trumpet and flaunt of standard but under 
 cover of a black winter's night, in a lull betwixt 
 storms. On that very night Emeric of Pavia 
 had covenanted to open the Boulogne gate to De 
 Chargny and his men-at-arms. 
 
 But first the blood-money was to be paid ; and 
 paid it was no less punctually than the pieces 
 of silver to the most famous of traitors fourteen 
 centuries before. Scarcely had Odoart de Kenty 
 and those who bore the gold lightened themselves 
 of their base burden, when they found themselves 
 hopelessly trapped, with no choice but to render 
 themselves to Edward's mercy. Half-an-hour
 
 THE BATTLE ON THE CAUSEWAY. 215 
 
 later, the Boulogne gate was cast wide open in 
 the face of De Chargny and his company ; and 
 the dark arch vomited forth a torrent of spears. 
 In the fore front of the column floated the guidon 
 of Manny; and behind it came the banners of 
 Suffolk, Stafford, Montacute, Beaucharnp, and 
 Berkeley ; only the standard of the master of 
 them all was not displayed, for it was the King's 
 will to fight that night unknown. 
 
 Now Geofl'rey de Chargny was a hardy knight 
 and loyal, though he had come thither on a dis- 
 loyal mission ; and, when the first surprise was 
 past, he and all his company bore themselves 
 right worthily. They felt themselves indeed in 
 desperate case ; in their front was an enemy, 
 whose strength must needs overmatch their own ; 
 on either flank the hungry morass waited for 
 its prey, wounded or dead ; and miles of the 
 narrow, darkling causeway must be traversed ere 
 they could hope to fall back on their rear-guard. 
 It may be, too, that De Chargny guessed that 
 the crossbow-men of St. Omer and the knights 
 of Picardy, who held Neuillet Bridge, would,
 
 216 BRAKESPEARE. 
 
 ere long, be sore put to it to hold their 
 ground. 
 
 Howsoever this may be, when the French 
 had rallied from their first panic, none spoke 
 of flight or surrender ; they lighted down from 
 saddle, and drove their destreres away ; and 
 then, entrenching themselves behind the fence 
 of their shortened lances, awaited the English 
 onset. They had not long to wait, for 
 Edward though he neglected no duty of 
 generalship, and at once sent off a detachment 
 to take the foe in rear cared not to defer his 
 vengeance. Yet, when he saw the attitude of the 
 gallant little company, he, too, judged it best to 
 dismount his followers ; and so advanced to the 
 encounter. 
 
 Amidst all the war-pictures of that stirring time, 
 there are few more striking than this one few 
 more vividly marked with the stamp of the pure 
 and romantic chivalry that began under Charle- 
 magne and ended under Charles the Emperor. 
 
 First under the darkness, then under the grey, 
 chill dawn, the combatants wrestled together,
 
 THE BATTLE ON THE CAUSEWAY. 217 
 
 locked hand to hand and foot to foot ; neither 
 side, for a while, giving or gaming ground 
 like stags countering on a narrow hill-track. 
 There, under Manny's banner, Edward and his 
 son did their devoir as simple knights ; but, with 
 every sweep of the King's sword rang out his 
 favourite war-cry " Ha, Saint Edward ! Ha, 
 Saint George ! " And many stout English hearts 
 waxed stronger, as they knew that their liege 
 even as themselves was bearing up the burden 
 of the battle. 
 
 In this his first hand-to-hand encounter, Ralph 
 Brakespeare demeaned himself not amiss. Glanc- 
 ing aside sometimes as he fought, Hawkwood 
 found his esquire ever at his shoulder, laying on 
 lustily with a ponderous mace ; but suddenly the 
 knight heard a crashing blow close behind him ; 
 and, when he turned, Ralph Brakespeare was 
 down. It was well for the youth that he had 
 listened to Hawkwood that night who, looking 
 for sharper work than usual, had bidden him put 
 on a mail-hood under his bascinet otherwise 
 surely he would have been sped. As it was, the
 
 218 BRAKESPEAEE. 
 
 dint was so sore that it brake the outer steel ; and 
 for a brief space the esquire lay under trampling 
 feet as one dead : his armour shielded him from 
 further injury. After awhile the mellay surged 
 forward past the spot where he had fallen ; so 
 that, when Ralph struggled up with swimming 
 eyes and dizzy brain, he was able to breathe 
 freely. But his was one of those hardy natures 
 that never know when they are beaten, and take 
 ordinary rough usage as a matter of course, if not 
 of health. So soon as the first faint numbness 
 passed away, Brakespeare shook himself till his 
 harness rattled again; and, gripping his mace 
 which he had never let go tighter, plunged 
 once more into the press. 
 
 The fury of the battle was abating fast ; for 
 the French, pressed back by sheer weight of 
 numbers, were forced to give ground, not without 
 sore loss of knights slain outright on the cause- 
 way, or thrust over the brink to perish miserably 
 in the morass. Nearer and nearer in his rear 
 rang out the English trumpets ; and De Chargny 
 knew that Neuillet Bridge had been forced, so
 
 THE BATTLE ON THE CAUSEWAY. 219 
 
 that they were hemmed in on all sides now. To 
 fight longer would have been the very madness 
 of self-sacrifice. This Eustace de Kibeaumont 
 felt, to whom was given the palm of prowess, 
 where so many deserved well. Twice that night 
 little witting of the prize so nearly in his 
 grasp he had stricken King Edward to his knee, 
 and now to him delivered his sword ; knowing 
 nothing more of his enemy's quality than that he 
 had shown himself worthy to receive it. This 
 was the sign for a general surrender. 
 
 So Emeric of Pavia, kept his word, after the 
 fashion of Sathanas with his dupes. He had in- 
 deed opened the Boulogne gate to Chargny and 
 his company ; and such of them as were left alive 
 thereof did sup that New Year's night in Calais 
 castle. For King Edward being one of those 
 whose hearts are softened rather than hardened bj- 
 victory was jocund of mood, and feasted as he 
 fought, right royally ; entreating both friends and 
 foes with the like frank courtesy: only Eustace de 
 Ribeaumont was set in the chief place of honour. 
 
 This converse took place in Hawkwood's
 
 220 BRAKESPEARE. 
 
 quarters, whilst his esquire helped him to doff 
 harness. 
 
 "Fair son" said the knight " this day, for the 
 second time, thou hast doughtily approved thy 
 manhood ; wherefore give God thanks as is due. 
 There he many who rush hotly to their first en- 
 counter ; but few so steadfast therein as not to 
 lose somewhat of their vantage at weapons. I 
 was not so busy but that I had leisure to mark 
 thy bearing; and I perceive that thou lackest 
 coolness no more than courage ; yet never, since 
 first I drew sword, have I seen sharper passage 
 of arms than yonder. Give thanks, too, for thine 
 escape. Once I thought thou hadst gotten thy 
 death-wound ; and trust me, I was right heavy of 
 heart ; though, had I stooped to succour thee, I 
 myself had been sped." 
 
 " 'Twas a shrewd dint" Ealph answered, with 
 a light laugh " and 'tis no marvel if mine ears are 
 singing still. Marry, I owe it to your worship's 
 wisdom that my brain-pan is whole ; for it went 
 sheer through the bascinet and scored the scull- 
 cap."
 
 THE BATTLE ON THE CAUSEWAY. 221 
 
 Hawkwood took his esquire's helmet from the 
 settle whereon the other had cast it down, and 
 looked upon it, at first with an idle curiosity : but 
 as he looked, his countenance changed. 
 
 "A swashing blow" he muttered at last "yet 
 a cravenly, withal, and felonly delivered. Seest 
 thou not, from the slant thereof, that it must 
 needs have been dealt from behind ?" 
 
 " Nay, I had not noticed " Brakespeare 
 answered, indifferently. " Nathless, I see not 
 how it could be. My memory is somewhat dazed; 
 yet I mind not to have heard any cry ' Saint 
 Denis ' behind me : besides, as your worship 
 knows, the French were then somewhat giving 
 ground. 'Twas a chance blow from one of 
 our own side, mayhap, meant for another : the 
 light was doubtful even then, and the mellay 
 rude." 
 
 Hawkwood shook his head. He was one of 
 those who coming not hastily to conclusions 
 are exceeding obstinate in maintaining them. 
 
 "That was no chance blow, nor a glinting one; 
 neither was it aimed at any life save thine.
 
 222 BRAKESPEARE. 
 
 Wottest thou with what manner of weapon it was 
 delivered ?" 
 
 " With mace or gisarme, I should guess " 
 Ralph replied. But this time his carelessness 
 was rather assumed than real, and his cheek 
 flushed slightly. 
 
 " Ay, or with curtalaxe" the other said darkly. 
 And, as the eyes of the two met, each knew what 
 thought was in the other's mind. Such a weapon 
 of curiously damasqued Milan steel hung ever at 
 Gian Malatesta's saddle-bow. 
 
 With an angry impatience most unusual in him, 
 Hawkwood cast the bascinet crashing down ; 
 and strode backwards and forwards twice or 
 thrice through the chamber, muttering under his 
 breath 
 
 "By the Mother of Mercy! if this can be 
 
 proven . Canst thou help me to the truth ? 
 
 It is thy bounden duty so to do ; I charge thee, 
 on thine oath, neglect it not. Have we then 
 fouler traitors among us than Emeric of Pavia ? 
 A malison on these false Lombards, say I : no 
 true man's life is safe in their company."
 
 THE BATTLE ON THE CAUSEWAY. 223 
 
 As the knight stood still waiting for an answer, 
 his esquire bent the knee before him reverently. 
 
 " I do beseech your worship " he said " to 
 grant me this the sole grace that I have asked 
 at your hands since you over-praised my poor 
 deserts, and make no further inquiry into this 
 matter. I aver on mine honour, that proof have 
 I none, and shame it were that any, on bare 
 suspicion, should underlie your disfavour. There 
 is no reason, that I wot of, why any should prac- 
 tise against this poor life of mine. But, if such 
 there be, 'Forewarned is forearmed,' quoth the 
 proverb : I fear not but I shall hold mine own." 
 
 Hawkwood's heavy frown relaxed, as he leaned 
 one hand on his esquire's shoulder ; looking down 
 into his face with something like fatherly kind- 
 ness. 
 
 " I may not deny thee, fair son : thou hast thy 
 will. I pray that neither thou nor I repent having 
 let this matter sleep. If hereafter thou comest 
 by foul play, I swear not to sit at board with 
 knights till the misdeed be avenged, and till by 
 fast and penance I have cleared my soul of blood-
 
 224 BRAKESPEAKE. 
 
 guiltiness. But from such evil hap Christ sain 
 us ! Do thou disport thyself for the rest of this 
 day and night amongst thy fellows : right well 
 have ye all earned your pastime. For me, I am 
 boune to sup in the castle to-night, where our 
 good lord the King hath deigned to require my 
 company." 
 
 On the morrow, when his little troop paraded, 
 Hawkwood's brow grew dark again, as he saw a 
 mace hanging at Malatesta's saddle in place of the 
 curtalaxe. 
 
 " Hast thou lost thine Milan weapon ? " he 
 asked, curtly and sternly. 
 
 Not a muscle of the Italian's well-trained face 
 stirred, as he made answer. 
 
 "Yea; for the first time it played me false 
 yestermorn. The handle shivered in my grasp, 
 early in the mellay ; so that I was forced to be- 
 take me to estoc and dagger. I searched for the 
 head when the causeway was clear ; but some 
 prowler had been beforehand with me, and I 
 found it not." 
 
 In very truth, he who should have lighted on
 
 THE BATTLE ON THE CAUSEWAY. 225 
 
 that good piece of armourer's work, must have 
 dived a fathom deep into black marsh ooze. Gian 
 Malatesta was no clumsy criminal to miscarry 
 by leaving such proof of his guilt as might have 
 been furnished, by fitting edge of curtalaxe to 
 cleft in bascinet. 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 HOW RALPH FARED AT CASTING THE DICE. 
 
 THERE was rare revelry that New Year's night 
 throughout Calais town. In the Presence- 
 chamber the vanquished did honour to the feast 
 to all outward seeming not less frankly than 
 the victors. There, Emeric of Pavia caroused, 
 with that desperate merriment not uncommon to 
 men already within the shadow of doom; for, 
 despite his brazen assurance and cynicism, the 
 Lombard was ill at ease. Ever and anon over 
 the wine cup he caught glances of hungry hate, 
 and he could not mistake their bitter promise. 
 Before the gold for which he bartered his honour 
 was half spent, that promise was fulfilled. 
 
 There was mirth and jollity too in the ale- 
 houses and taverns scattered through the streets 
 and clustered round the port ; and chiefly in
 
 HOW RALPH FARED AT CASTING THE DICE. 
 
 a certain hostel of greater pretensions than its 
 fellows, on whose sign the Red Cross had lately 
 replaced the Lily Flower. This had of late been 
 the favourite resort for the esquires, and better 
 sort of men-at-arins ; who on certain occasions 
 mingled freely together, especially at seasons like 
 the present, when barriers of degree were, to some 
 extent, broken down, and few were disposed to 
 stand over much on their dignity. 
 
 In the common room of the Bed Cross there 
 was a motley crowd, and a very Babel of tongues. 
 But the loudest talk and the closest press were 
 in a certain corner, whence, in the lulls of clamour, 
 came the sharp crack of the dice-box and the 
 rattle of the dies. Gamester succeeded gamester 
 in quick succession at the small round table, as 
 each was satisfied with his gain, or weary of forc- 
 ing ill luck : but one man had kept his seat there, 
 as if determined to encounter all comers ; neither 
 giving nor taking quarter. In truth Gian Mala- 
 testa's veine seemed almost supernatural in its 
 persistency and duration ; for a full half-hour the 
 tiny pile of coins with which he had begun had 
 
 Q 2
 
 228 BRAKESPEARE. 
 
 gone on swelling into a fair heap of gold and 
 silver. Sometimes when the stake was trifling 
 he lost ; but so soon as it became of real import- 
 ance, he was sure to sweep the board. 
 
 In the ring of lookers-on stood Brakespeare, 
 chained there by a fascination that he was ashamed 
 to own to himself. The youth was not moved, 
 like his fellows, either to admiration or envy of 
 the successful gambler ; but his loathing and 
 hatred of the smooth, smiling face waxed hotter 
 every instant ; the low, mocking laugh grated on 
 his ears intolerably ; and he thought he could 
 discern in the black, bright eyes, as they met his 
 own, the insolent challenge that he had read 
 therein on the first night of their meeting. 
 Furthermore, though Ralph had not gone far 
 beyond the bounds of temperance, he had drunk 
 more deeply than was his wont; and the Bur- 
 gundy grape had a greater effect on a brain not 
 yet fully steadied from the rude shock of the 
 morning. At length, he could no longer resist 
 the temptation to oppose himself personally to 
 Malatesta. A German esquire had just thrown
 
 HOW RALPH FARED AT CASTING THE DICE. 229 
 
 for his last cast ; and as Wilhelm von Falken- 
 stein arose growling out a curse on his own ill 
 luck and folty Brakespeare dropped into the 
 vacant place. 
 
 Certain of the bystanders, almost strangers to 
 the two, were struck by the expression of the 
 Italian's glance as it lighted on his fresh adver- 
 sary. For an instant it blazed out with a savage 
 eagerness, and then sparkled in mockery the 
 mockery of one who knows his triumph is sure. 
 Some, too, noticed that the face of the younger 
 man was strangely set and stern, for one sitting 
 down to a friendly cast of the dies. 
 
 " I scarce had reckoned on this honour, fail- 
 sir " the Italian said, in his silkiest tones " so 
 'tis the more welcome. Never, since we two have 
 served together, have I known you court Dame 
 Fortune or any other dainoiselle, pardie there- 
 fore have I esteemed you as a pearl of continence, 
 no less than of valour. Sith, for this one night, 
 you condescend to make merry with us ribands, 
 for what stakes is it your pleasure that we 
 play ? "
 
 BRAKESPEARE. 
 
 Ralph did not seem to notice the taunt, as he 
 drew forth some half-dozen gold pieces and cast 
 them on the table, without speaking a word. And 
 so the game began the very simple one called 
 paume carie, in which only a pair of dice were 
 used. 
 
 The esquire's gipsire was indifferently well 
 furnished, for his habits were frugal and his ex- 
 penses few ; so that the small store he had 
 brought with him over the sea was not quite 
 spent : furthermore, he had received his full share 
 of the price at which the Limousin destrere was 
 valued. But coin after coin went to swell the 
 Italian's winnings, till not one remained at the 
 bottom of the pouch. 
 
 Brakespeare bit his lip till the blood sprang. 
 Besides the feeling of personal enmity, he was 
 infected for the first time in his life with the real 
 gambling fever ; his brain grew dizzy again with 
 passion ; for a second or two, he saw everything 
 as through a mist, and the murmured exclama- 
 tions of thoss who stood close around him, came 
 to his ears like a vague distant drone. But he
 
 HOW RALPH FARED AT CASTING THE DICE. 231 
 
 saw there was no help for it : he was preparing 
 to rise, when the Italian spoke this time without 
 a touch of sarcasm. 
 
 " It grieves me, gentle sir, that you should have 
 fared so ill in your maiden essay ; and, by the 
 body of Venus ! I can afford to be generous to- 
 night. See, now ; I will set these forty golden 
 crowns, and my sorrel, against your destrere. 
 'Tis an honest brute enough, though he lacks 
 fire : but I have ever fancied the roan since we 
 chaffered for him at Southwark. How say you ? 
 Ye can deal with the horse as ye list. Was he 
 not bought with your own broad pieces ? " 
 
 The other nodded his head hastily, as though 
 afraid of giving himself time to think. The 
 chances of the die did not change. In two 
 minutes more the gallant beast who was to 
 Ralph Brakespeare a dear friend, since they ran 
 their first course together had passed away from 
 him to the one living man whom the youth hated, 
 to be used or misused according to the other's 
 caprice. 
 
 One of the swift revulsions of feeling which
 
 BRAKE SPEAKE. 
 
 dispel, as though by magic, clouds of anger or 
 strong drink, happened to Brakespeare then. 
 Suddenly his brain became so cool and clear, 
 that he could smile, in utter scorn of his late 
 foolish passion. As he prepared to yield his 
 place to another, his hand leaned on the table, 
 in the act of rising ; and the light of the sconce, 
 hung overhead, fell full on the ring that never 
 quitted his finger. 
 
 " Stay yet an instant " Malatesta said eagerly ; 
 his eyes gleaming with avarice and exultation 
 " 'tis ill quitting play with a stake left, worth 
 all we have cast for, and more. None but fools 
 risk all on one cast ; yet I care not. Lo ! I will 
 set every piece I have this night won, and thy 
 roan destrere to boot, against yon balas ruby 
 that sparkles so bravely." 
 
 Ralph had a hard battle with pride, and pru- 
 dence, and conscience besides, ere he brought 
 himself to consent to what he afterwards repented 
 as a branding shame. Was it not disgrace enough 
 that his good horse should be backed by Mala- 
 testa, without perilling his dead mother's ring
 
 HOW KALPH FAEED AT CASTING THE DICE. 233 
 
 to be flaunted, perchance, as a bait to covetous 
 harlotry ? Yet, as had been aforesaid, his brain 
 was quite clear now ; and, with one of those in- 
 spirations by which fortunes are made and marred, 
 there mingled a certain suspicion which decided 
 him. 
 
 "So be it" he said, speaking for the first 
 time since he sat down, in a hard, unnatural 
 voice. " Win or lose, I swear by Holy Rood this 
 shall be my last cast while I live." 
 
 A hush of expectation fell on the circle of by- 
 standers that deepened and narrowed round the 
 table ; whilst the Italian pushed forward, some- 
 what ostentatiously, the great pile of his winnings, 
 and Ealph laid down over against it the ruby ring. 
 
 " Hold an instant " Brakespeare said, just as 
 Malatesta was preparing to throw. " Ye may 
 call it superstition, or what ye will ; but this cast 
 will I not risk, unless some one of this fair com- 
 pany place the dies in the dice-box for us both." 
 
 The youth, you know, was very keen of sight. 
 He had noticed that in his companion's casting, 
 one die came up almost invariably a six ; and the
 
 234 BRAKESPEARE. 
 
 ivory of this one he fancied to be somewhat lighter 
 in hue than the others a difference not apparent 
 when he himself used them ; also he had noticed 
 that the other, after casting, almost invariably 
 replaced the dies in the box before passing it over. 
 
 Gian Malatesta's face grew black as thunder, 
 and livid streaks showed themselves under his 
 clear olive skin ; but one glance at the faces round 
 them told that he could not refuse without ex- 
 citing suspicion, both shameful and dangerous. 
 Scant mercy would cogger of dice have met with, 
 at the rough English hands that would have 
 dealt with him there. 
 
 The secret of his success was very simple. By 
 a palming sleight familiar to modern sharpers, 
 he substituted, when his turn came to cast, a die 
 weighted to throw high, for one loaded on the 
 reverse principle; changing them again as he 
 passed the box to his opponent. But the Italian 
 was too thoroughpaced a gambler, to be proof 
 against the temptation of playing for a great stake 
 on even chances ; though he infinitely preferred 
 to control fortune.
 
 HOW RALPH FARED AT CASTING THE DICE. 235 
 
 " A strange fancy, fair sir" he said, sneeringly. 
 " But losers have large license, and I see not why 
 I should baulk it. Who, now, will it please J T OU, 
 shall do this office for us both ?" 
 
 In the circle of bystanders stood Wilhelm von 
 Falkenstein, watching the play with the sullen 
 envy peculiar to the ruined gamester. Balph's 
 eye lighted on this man, and he pointed him out 
 without speaking. Malatesta nodded assent, 
 also silently. So the German came forward, and, 
 dropping the dies into the box, pushed it towards 
 Malatesta; muttering something under his 
 heavy blond moustache that was anything rather 
 than a benison. The dies rattled loud and long, 
 and came down with a crash at last. The numbers 
 were seven no such great throw after all ; and 
 so evidently thought Von Falkenstein, as he did 
 his office again with a grim smile. 
 
 Kalph threw quickly and carelessly ; and the 
 dies, after rolling over twice or thrice, as though 
 to tantalize the lookers-on, came up the double 
 quatre. 
 
 With a blasphemy, so ghastly that it made some
 
 236 BRAKESPEARE. 
 
 start and shiver who understood not one half its 
 meaning, the Italian sprang to his feet ; whilst at 
 the same instant rolled out the German's guttural 
 " Gotl sei Dank !" With the first natural im- 
 pulse of passion Malatesta's hand glided to his 
 dagger-hilt ; but he was not mad enough to 
 attempt violence at such a place or time. After 
 one hungry glance at the glittering heap of his 
 lost gold, and another of unutterable hate levelled 
 at his opponent, he thrust his way rudely through 
 the ring of bystanders, most of whom, as well he 
 knew, rather gloried in his disaster ; and cast 
 himself down on a bench in a remote corner, 
 shading his face with his hand. 
 
 Ralph Brakespeare indulged in one long breath 
 of relief ; and drew the ring on his finger once 
 more. He seemed in no wise elated by his suc- 
 cess ; as, pulling the heap nearer towards him, he 
 began counting it out deliberately. Not a few 
 of those whose sympathies had hitherto been 
 wholly with the English esquire, were both sur- 
 prised and chagrined, at seeing him now bear 
 himself rather like a trader reckoning his gains
 
 HOW RALPH FARED AT CASTING THE DICE. 237 
 
 than a free-handed gamester. Ralph continued 
 his occupation quite unconcernedly, till he had 
 counted out the precise number of coins that he 
 had owned when he sat down to play. 
 
 "These come back to me" he said, as he 
 thrust them back into his gipsire. Then, looking 
 round, he called to the host of the Eed Cross, 
 who had pressed forwards with the rest to watch 
 the last cast decided. " Hark thee here, Jenkyn ; 
 can'st thou furnish me presently with canvas bag, 
 wax, and twine ? " 
 
 When the matters he asked for were brought, 
 Ralph swept the rest of the gold and silver by 
 handfuls into the bag ; and, fastening its mouth 
 carefully, stamped the wax laid over the knots 
 with his ring, the curious chasing of which, 
 though the stone was not graven, made a very 
 sufficient seal. 
 
 " It is not that I doubt thine honesty, good 
 mine host" Brakespeare said "but yon gold, 
 which I deliver to thy keeping here in presence 
 of this fair company, is Holy Church's now, not 
 mine. To-morrow, before noon, the almoner of
 
 238 BRAKESPEAIIE. 
 
 St. John's Priory will visit thee ; to him shalt 
 thou render thy charge. Every broad piece 
 there shall buy a mass, for the souls of those 
 who died un shriven in the battle of this New 
 Year's morning. The hands of anointed priests 
 make pure things howsoever foul or unholy ; 
 mine are sullied enough already with this 
 night's work, without meddling more with dicer's 
 gold." 
 
 There was a slight stir of surprise in the small 
 crowd which still surrounded the speaker; but 
 most of his hearers were more inclined to 
 applaud than deride. Acts of lavish generosity 
 and self-sacrifice were not uncommon in those 
 days, when knights, in achievement of their vow, 
 rode half blindfold into the fight; or, having 
 impoverished themselves for ever to win the 
 barren honours of the tournament, cast down 
 their last broad piece in largesse to herald. So, 
 though not a man present would probably have 
 followed Ealph's example, few were disposed to 
 cavil thereat, or even greatly to wonder. 
 
 But another black drop \vas added to the
 
 HOW RALPH FARED AT CASTING THE DICE. 289 
 
 bitterness already seething in Malatesta's breast, 
 as he guessed at the truth guessed at the 
 scornful loathing, which caused the other to 
 shrink from touch of his gold as though tainted 
 with plague. From that time, and long after, the 
 Italian yielded to a kind of sullen despair when- 
 ever he thought of Ralph Brakespeare. Though 
 he made mock of religion, and would have 
 pledged his paramour in a chalice from the altar, 
 he was superstitious after the fashion of his 
 birth-land, where spells, philtres, and charms 
 have been rife since the days of Canidia. He 
 had come to believe that the youth's star was 
 more powerful than his own ; so that only at a 
 planetary conjunction, such as had not yet 
 appeared, could he hope to prevail. Thence- 
 forward he treated the Englishman coclly and 
 cautiously ; never failing in the deference due 
 from vintenar to esquire ; but making no pre- 
 tence sof cordiality, and avoiding the other's 
 company whensoever it was possible. With the 
 patient ferocity of the great tropical snake that 
 will lie coiled near the pathway for hours and
 
 240 BRAKE SPEAEE. 
 
 days, till there passes by fitting prey for its 
 repast he was content to bide his time. 
 
 There was some talk on the morrow in Calais 
 town of the doings at the Eed Cross the night 
 before ; and they came at the last to Hawkwood's 
 ears. Though the knight shook his head 
 gravely, and read his esquire a long lecture on 
 the sin of gaming, he was, perchance, not ill 
 pleased at heart. Will Lanyon rubbed his hands 
 and laughed in noisy triumph. 
 
 " By'r Lady, Messire Ealph " the archer said 
 " I had rather than any miracle-play have seen 
 the clipping of yonder gay gled's wings. Set 
 England against Italy in sport or earnest if 
 they do but play or fight fair and it will be 
 hard if Saint George keep not his own."
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 HAUTE JUSTICE AT ST. OMEK. 
 
 ABOUT this time, other causes, besides the 
 ceaseless intercession of the good old peacemaker 
 at Avignon, so wrought upon the rival kings as 
 to incline them to make a truce ; which, in form, 
 though not in substance, endured for some years. 
 It was not that either was weary of warfare, or 
 ready to abate one jot of his pretensions ; but 
 the treasury of France was well nigh drained, 
 and all the plunder brought from over the sea 
 scarcely lightened the tax-burdens that galled the 
 necks of Edward's Commons. Moreover, though 
 the name of England was terrible abroad, the 
 hand of heaven was heavy on her at home. In 
 the autumn of 1348, the ghastly enemy, whose 
 coming had been foretold by the astrologers of 
 Oxenford, and heralded by portent, comet, and
 
 BRAKESPEARE. 
 
 earthquake showed himself in bitter earnest. 
 The small cloud, that rose out of the sea on the 
 Dorset coast, spread and darkened till it over- 
 shadowed all the length and breadth of the land. 
 And from town and hamlet, hall and homestead, 
 went up wails of lamentation, or shrieks of 
 terror ; whilst all, who had not strength or means 
 to flee, cowered helplessly before the approach of 
 the Black Death. 
 
 The walls of castle or abbey were not always 
 safe fence against the plague; though, like its 
 antitype of modern times, it raged most pitilessly 
 in the close, noisome dwellings of the poor. On 
 a certain wet night in early spring, a minstrel 
 craved and found shelter at Bever. The traveller 
 brought with him the taint of pestilence : he 
 himself was a corpse before noon ; and, ere the 
 month was out, Sir Simon Dynevor was wifeless 
 and childless. Childless for, brooding there 
 alone, he knew that the yearning and repentance 
 of his desolate heart were utterly without hope. 
 He knew that that other son on whom he 
 might have leaned, as on a fair, strong pillar in.
 
 HAUTE JUSTICE AT ST. OMER. 243 
 
 his sore trouble was divided from him now and 
 for evermore, no less than if the grave lay 
 betwixt them. Yet his grief slew him not: he 
 was endowed with that strange vitality which 
 seems to savour rather of curse than blessing, 
 when it attaches to those who have little cause to 
 love life ; even the plague, clutching eagerly at 
 younger and healthier frames, would have naught 
 to do with the gaunt, sallow cripple. The 
 punishment of his youth's misdeeds was upon 
 him ; yet he turned not to Heaven in his distress 
 bearing his heavy cross doggedly and silentl}'. 
 But with Simon Dynevor's sins and sorrows, this 
 chronicle hath naught further to do : neither was 
 it till long after that any of these things came to 
 the knowledge of Ralph Brakespeare. 
 
 During all this season of panic and misery, 
 when churches stood empty for lack of minis- 
 trants, and churchyards were full to overflowing, 
 the King whether from policy or recklessness it 
 were hard to say abated naught of pomp or 
 revelry. In the spring of 1319 was founded the 
 famous Order that commemorates a world's 
 
 E 2
 
 244 BRAKESPEARE. 
 
 wonder : for this once, by the balance of testi- 
 mony, did courtly virtue come triumphant out of 
 Royal siege. Later, too, though the pest had 
 more than decimated his land, Edward found 
 time and forces wherewith to chastise the 
 Spaniard's insolence in the great sea-battle off 
 Sluys ; where, after sore peril of his own life and 
 his son's for John of Lancaster bore down but 
 just in time to take both from their sinking ship 
 a signal victory was won, under the very eyes 
 of Philippa, and the other dames, who, [from 
 Winchelsea heights, looked upon the deeds of 
 their kinsfolk, husbands, and lovers. 
 
 Beyond the seas, too, restless spirits were at 
 work. In Gascony and Guienne, the truce was 
 broken almost daily; and John of Normandy, 
 when he went thither in person, did naught to 
 check the disorders on his own side ; nay, he 
 scrupled not to head divers incursions, taking 
 fortified places not a few with the strong hand, 
 and making others underlie his challenge. Also 
 in those troublous times sprung up apace, like ill 
 weeds, hardy marauders such as Bacon and
 
 HAUTE JUSTICE AT ST. OMER. 245 
 
 Croquart ; who so throve on blood and rapine as 
 to maintain a state equal to a crown-vassal's, till 
 it became worth a king's while to purchase their 
 allegiance. 
 
 The heart of Edward grew hot within him 
 when he heard how the English, from Bretagne 
 to Languedoc, were daily put to despite and 
 distress ; so, calling to him the man whom, next 
 to his own son, he loved and trusted his cousin 
 of Derby, late made Earl of Lancaster he bade 
 that wise captain go forth with all speed, to be 
 his lieutenant in Poitou, and all the marches 
 thereof. 
 
 All this while, Hawkwood and his following 
 had abode in garrison at Calais, under command 
 of Sir John Beauchamp, then time governor of 
 the castle and town. During this time a strange 
 adventure befell Lanyon. The honest hobelar 
 had been rather out of luck's way in this respect 
 heretofore. He had seen no pitched battle, or 
 even sharp skirmish ; and, for reasons good, had 
 not been present at the combat without the 
 Boulogne gate.
 
 246 BRAKESPEARE. 
 
 On a certain day there came to Calais, over 
 channel, Sir Henry Audley, with a strong force 
 of archers and spearmen. That knight was near 
 of kin to John Beauchamp, and had come thus 
 far out of his way being boune for Brittany to 
 confer with his cousin on family affairs of grave 
 import. It chanced that their discourse turned 
 on the French lords then held on parole in 
 England. Now Henry Audley had been much in 
 their company of late ; and was loud in praise of 
 their gentle demeanour in tiltyard, hall, and 
 bower : amongst other names of note that came 
 up, was that of Geoffrey de Chargny. 
 
 " A courtly knight and debonnaire," said 
 Audley. " Never but once did I mark him look 
 sadly or angrily. It was when some one 
 witting not that he was near spake in his 
 hearing of Emeric of Pavia. Then the Lord 
 Geoffrey's countenance was possessed with a 
 black rancour, such as I mind not to have seen 
 on any man's face afore ; and he muttered certain 
 words, crossing himself the while, which I take 
 to have been some form of vow. I dare aver,
 
 HAUTE JUSTICE AT ST. OMER. 247 
 
 that be will one day even himself with that felon 
 knight. Marry ! soon we may hear news of the 
 twain ; for, while I was at Nottingham, I heard 
 that De Chargny was put to ransom. He must 
 have crossed the seas ere now ; and I marvel 
 that he passed not this way, where doubtless he 
 would have been entreated by thee with all fitting 
 honour." 
 
 These words set the governor a-pondering. 
 He was a politic courtier, no less than a famous 
 soldier ; albeit he himself held Emeric in no 
 great respect or love, he knew, despite of all that 
 had passed, the Lombard had not lost King 
 Edward's favour, who would be right sorry to 
 learn that he had come to harm ; moreover, the 
 Lombard was an ancient comrade, and he had 
 often admired the other's prowess in old time. 
 True there were foul stains now on Emeric's 
 escutcheon, and he had doubly deserved traitor's 
 doom; yet Beauchamp could not resist giving 
 him another chance for life. So, incontinently 
 on rising from table, he indited a brief message, 
 in some such terms as these :
 
 248 ERAKESPEAKE. 
 
 35eaurf)amp t0 tfje Eortf demerit of JSabt'a, at f)<S 
 of Jfretun, Se i\Q3 greeting : 
 
 presents 5 I)abe gou to tott ti)at 
 toinjin sfyort Space tlje Hortt (Seoffreg te d^arjiig Ijat^ 
 6en put to ran&mt, ana tjS noto, as 5 tocll firttcfte, 
 tott^tit tlje realm 0f JFranrc. 
 
 ?gc grrujileg not, aiS 3E further tmtorgtanlr, 10 abcr 
 tljat Ije ijolact^ BOU in mortal fcuo, purposing, tf it 6e 
 iiojSstftlc, to rt gou into I)t^ potocr. W&fyevtlare, fietnfl 
 abt^clr of all rt)t', tt fie^obc^ gou to ma&c Sur^ pro-- 
 against Surprise aS mag Stem to jjour toiSaom 
 t, if it pleatfc sou [not to rrmofoe to Some more 
 tttStant country, or Some place of greatrr Securttp tljan 
 ioljere gott noto afitOe. ^[ntr So 00 fyxbe jjou in Ijt'S 
 Ijaly Seeping. 
 
 <Stfaen at tlje Sing's CaStle of Calais, on 
 tlje efae of tlje fcleSSca ^atnt 
 
 Beauchamp chanced to encounter Hawkwood 
 as he came forth from his private chamber, and 
 to him the governor delivered the letter ; charg- 
 ing him to seek out a messenger who would 
 convey the same without loitering by the way. 
 The knight's choice fell on Lanyon, whom he 
 held in higher esteem 'for trustworthiness and 
 sobriety than many others of quicker parts.
 
 HAUTE JUSTICE AT ST. OMER. 249 
 
 The hobelar did, in truth, make good speed 
 too, for he felt rather proud of his mission, 
 though he liked not the place whither he' was 
 boune ; and the haquenee that bore him was both 
 active and willing : but the travelling was heavy, 
 and it was past sundown when he came under the 
 walls of Fretun. 
 
 " By Saint Bridget, the knaves keep careless 
 guard," the Kentishman grumbled, as he marked, 
 even at that late hour, the drawbridge down. 
 His simple notions of discipline were still more 
 shocked when, at the sound of hoofs under the 
 archway, there staggered out of the gatehouse a 
 warder, whose swollen features and blinking eyes 
 bore traces of sleep and recent carouse. With 
 some difficulty Lanyon made this official compre- 
 hend the object of his coming ; after some 
 minutes' delay he was committed to the charge 
 of a passing page, and conducted into the 
 presence-chamber, where at the head of a long 
 table, crowded, towards the lower end, .with 
 dissolute-looking retainers the castellan had 
 just begun his evening meal.
 
 250 BRAKESPEARE. 
 
 Emeric of Pavia was tall and portly of person, 
 with a handsome rather sensual face, of the 
 Venetian type, and profuse black hair, lightly 
 flecked with grey. His small, bright eyes had 
 always been searchingly cunning, and of late he 
 had gotten a habit of glancing often over his 
 shoulder scarce timorously, but warily like 
 one who travels along a path beset with peril ; 
 also his temper, which had been singularly suave 
 and even, had waxed uncertain, and he drank 
 deeper than was good for his health. Though 
 he went seldom abroad, and right few of his 
 peers visited Fretun, he indulged none the less in 
 pomp of attire and domestic display, which have 
 ever been the national weaknesses of his country. 
 
 Nevertheless, the Lombard's own rich dress 
 was quite cast into the shade by the ap- 
 parel of the lady who sat on his right hand ; a 
 superb blonde with broad blue eyes, flashing 
 like sapphires, and a dazzling white skin*, that 
 shamed her pearls. With such a bait, in truth, 
 hath the Ked Fisherman angled for, and caught, 
 the souls of many better men than was her
 
 HAUTE JUSTICE AT ST. OMER. 251 
 
 Lombard paramour before lie sold himself to 
 shame. 
 
 When the letter was placed in Emeric's hand, 
 he gazed sharply for a second or two in the 
 messenger's face, as though he would have 
 guessed its import before breaking the seal. But 
 he might as well have peered into a blank wall ; 
 neither did the archer's stolid face betray the 
 faintest curiosity or surprise, though before and 
 around him there was paraded such wealth of 
 plate and jewels as he could never have seen, 
 even in his dreams ; so the castellan was fain to 
 read the letter through. At first his brows were 
 slightly bent ; but, as he ended, there broke out 
 on his lip a scornful, incredulous smile. 
 
 " Basta " he said " threatened men live long. 
 My good Lord of Beauchamp is over-careful for 
 my safety ; yet am I not less beholden to him 
 therefor. True it is that these rascaille of mine 
 keep careless ward ; I would wager, that the 
 drawbridge is down even now ; matters will never 
 be amended till some knave warder tastes cord or 
 scourge. Here, good archer, are two gold pieces
 
 252 BRAKESPEAKE. 
 
 for thy pains ; I can see by thy plight that thou 
 hast not spared spur : make cheer here to-night ; 
 thou shalt carry back mine answer to Calais 
 betimes to-morrow." 
 i Lanyon drew back with something like aversion. 
 
 " I thank your worship " he said, sturdily. 
 " I needs must stable and housel here to-night ; 
 and a cup of your worship's wine will be right 
 welcome : but we who serve King Edward, under 
 Sir John Hawkwood's pennon, take no guerdon 
 for performance of simple duty, such as mine 
 hath been to-day." 
 
 The Lombard bit his lip as he turned towards 
 the dame on his right hand. 
 
 " See now, bella mia, what stubborn virtue is 
 found in your islanders. I marvel how, amongst 
 those fogs and frosts, ever was bred a creature so 
 loveable as thy sweet, sinful self." 
 
 She laughed, as she smote him lightly on the 
 cheek with her jewelled fingers ; and, leaning on 
 his shoulder, whispered some words in his ear 
 that chased the gloom from his face instantly. 
 
 Half an hour after, having seen his haquenee
 
 HAUTE JUSTICE AT ST. OMER. 253 
 
 carefully dressed, to Lanyon was sitting at the 
 lower end of the board, doing full justice to such 
 meats and liquors as had never passed his palate 
 till now. Nevertheless, some instinctive distrust 
 and caution withheld him from anything like 
 debauch. When the hour for retiring came, the 
 archer lay down on a pallet in the guard-room 
 amongst the retainers, few of whom had been so 
 sparing of the wine-cup as himself. Waking, 
 with a start, towards daybreak, he was aware of 
 sounds from without that had naught to do with 
 dreamland : the tramp of many feet ; words of 
 command, spoken low and hurriedly; and a 
 smothered clank of armour. Lanyon sprang to 
 the window, spurning with his foot as he rose the 
 nearest sleeper ; looking forth into the cold, grey 
 light, he saw the outer verge lined with men-at- 
 arms, and the moat itself nearly dry as it 
 chanced filled with crossbowmen. The Kentish- 
 man realized the position at once, and accepted it 
 with his wonted placidity. 
 
 " By the Mass ! a proper gin have I thrust 
 mine head into " he growled ; and then turned
 
 254 BRAKESPEARE. 
 
 back into the guard-room, which was now all 
 astir. " Stand not staring and babbling there ; 
 but wake j r our lord, some of ye, and bid him 
 arm, if he would strike a blow for life. Yon 
 crazy doors will stand no siege, I trow ; and they 
 are at work there already." 
 
 In very truth, the last words were well-nigh 
 drowned in the clattering din of axes, crowbars, 
 and hammers ; and, long before they had time to 
 don harness, one leaf of the gate was shivered 
 from its hinges, and the courtyard was thronged 
 with spears. 
 
 In that sore strait, knowing from the first that 
 resistance was vain, Emeric of Pavia bore him- 
 self not unworthily of his soldierly renown : 
 yet he started slightly when, issuing from his 
 chamber in mantle and doublet sheathed sword 
 in hand he came face to face with the leader 
 of the assailants. Just overhead, an oil-lamp 
 swung from the keystone of the arch, beginning 
 to pale already in the dawnlight streaming 
 through the window over-against the stair-head. 
 
 " My Lord de Chargny " Emeric said, with
 
 HAUTE JUSTICE AT ST. OMER. 
 
 much outward coolness ; " I scarce reckoned on 
 your presence in my poor castle so soon ; other- 
 wise would I have striven to receive you in more 
 fitting guise. Now, have I no choice but to 
 render myself and these my followers your 
 prisoners, rescue or no rescue ; praying only that 
 we be put to fair ransom speedily. Also, would 
 I specially bespeak your courtesy for the fair 
 dame here within my chamber, and for a certain 
 English archer no servitor of mine who came 
 hither but newly with message from the Lord 
 Beauchamp." 
 
 For some seconds the other answered not ; his 
 visage was very pale with the paleness that comes 
 sometimes of great joy, no less than from great 
 sorrow ; and in his eyes there was the fierce 
 greed of a miser gloating over the hoard for 
 which he hath delved long in vain. His lips 
 parted twice or thrice before two syllables 
 escaped them. 
 
 " Bind him." 
 
 The Lombard's white forehead flushed dark 
 red as two esquires bearing cords, strode out
 
 256 BRAKESPEAKE. 
 
 from the throng, and laid hands on him without 
 further ceremony. He was too proud to demean 
 himself by useless trouble, but his voice was 
 hoarse with anger as he asked 
 
 " Is this fitting treatment of knight by knight ? 
 Think ye not ye shall abye it some day ? " 
 
 De Chargny's harsh, jeering laugh rang out 
 under the vaulted roof. 
 
 " Knight by knight, forsooth ! Sang-Dieu ! 
 thou shalt carry thy knighthood to the market- 
 place of St. Omer, and no further. Dare not 
 thou to plead for others : make thy peace with 
 God, while thou hast time ; and speak no other 
 word, I warn thee, else will I smite thee on the 
 lips with my gauntlet. Have him down, some of 
 you, and see him well secured in saddle. We 
 have naught more to do here ; we carry away no 
 prisoners save one ; only, the English archer 
 shall abide with us till all is done, for reasons 
 good. And mark me : whoso shall pillage in this 
 castle were it but a drinking-cup or a sol parisis 
 by the faith of Chargny, he shall die a felon's 
 death."
 
 HAUTE JUSTICE AT ST. OMER. 257 
 
 When Emeric of Pavia saw that his case was 
 desperate, there was so much of wolf in his evil 
 nature, that he forebore to make inoan ; but 
 followed his captors sullenly, with one long, 
 lingering look over his shoulder into the chamber 
 he had just left. 
 
 Into that same chamber the French captain 
 passed on ; and, as he lifted the hangings of the 
 doorway, his rough bearing was exchanged for 
 the courtesy that had won him so many friends 
 in his captivity beyond seas. He bent his 
 plumed head low before the frightened beauty, 
 crouching behind the damask curtains of the 
 alcove more lovely in her disorder than she had 
 been in the pomp of array. 
 
 " It irks me much, fair dame " he said 
 " that I have been forced thus rudely to break 
 your rest. But you have naught worse than 
 fright to fear ; neither rapine nor violence shall 
 be wrought here by me or mine. Nay, more ; 
 six trusty lances I will leave to conduct you safe 
 to Calais gates : it may be this base valetaille 
 will wax insolent and unruly when the reins are 
 
 VOL. I. S
 
 258 BRAKESPEARE. 
 
 on their neck. Some day, perchance, you will 
 thank De Chargny for having rid the world, and 
 you, of as foul faitour as ever wore spurs." 
 
 With another grave salute he passed out; 
 leaving the lady something reassured, if not 
 consoled. Doubtless she mourned her paramour 
 for a while after the light-minded fashion of 
 lemans ; but, ere they saw Calais town, chro- 
 niclers aver that a gay French esquire had 
 taught her to dry her tears. 
 
 All through the early morning De Chargny 
 and his party marched back, and reached St. 
 Omer ere noon. Two messengers, lightly armed 
 and well mounted, had ridden on far in advance 
 of the main column bearing messages for certain 
 within the town ; so that proclamation had been 
 made already, summoning all men that listed 
 soldiery, citizens, or country-folk to witness an 
 act of haute justice, to be wrought presently in 
 the market-place. Lanyon had been told that 
 his detention would be but brief; so he jogged 
 along contentedly enough amongst tht French 
 spearmen, in the rear of the column : indeed
 
 HAUTE JUSTICE AT ST. OMER. 259 
 
 having small sympathy with the prisoner, he 
 had a sort of hankering to see how things would 
 end. 
 
 When they rode into the market-square, three 
 sides thereof were thronged. Also at the 
 windows there were many spectators ; but 
 amongst them all scarcely one woman was to be 
 seen a circumstance sufficiently remarkable, 
 considering the curiosity of the sex extends to 
 most ordinary executions. In the centre of the 
 fourth side, which had been kept clear, a low 
 scaffold of unhewn planks had been hastily 
 erected : on this stood four men of forbidding 
 appearance, dressed in stained leather doublets 
 no other than the common hangman of St. Omer 
 and his valets. They had with them none of the 
 usual instruments of their office ; only what 
 looked like a common butcher's cleaver, and a 
 coil of leathern thongs. Just here De Chargny 
 reined up his charger ; whilst his men filed off, 
 and ranged themselves 011 either hand, till only 
 the prisoner and his guards remained in the open 
 space. 
 
 s 2
 
 SCO BliAKESPEARE. 
 
 Beckoning with his hand for silence, the knight 
 spoke thus : 
 
 " Know all men here present, that I, Geoffrej*, 
 Seigneur de Chargny, Knight of the Order of St. 
 Denis, have this day, in pursuance of a vow 
 made on a fragment of the Holy Cross laid 
 hands on the person of Emeric of Pavia; and 
 purpose here to deal with him after his deserts. 
 Neither by this deed do I hold myself to have 
 broken or enforced the truce, lately contracted 
 betwixt mine own liege lord and the most noble 
 English King. For the said Emeric of Pavia 
 did, by most foul treachery, betray into captivit}- 
 myself and other barons, knights, and esquires ; 
 and likewise cause to be done to death, without 
 Calais, many it may be better men than we. 
 Wherefore, to-day, do I reckon myself to have 
 served public justice, no less than wreaked mine 
 own mortal feud. If I have done wrong, may 
 God and my king assoilzie me ; for I take the 
 burden thereof on mine own head and soul." 
 
 None answered him a word ; and there was a 
 dead silence, whilst at a sign from their leader
 
 HAUTE JUSTICE AT ST. OMER. 261 
 
 his guards cut the thongs which bound the 
 prisoner's ankles ; lifted him from the saddle ; 
 and set him on the scaffold. On the Lombard's 
 lace there was something of the gaunt, wild look 
 of a savage animal nearly hunted down. But he 
 strove to brazen it out still; gazing defiantly 
 round as he stamped his numbed feet, shod in 
 boots of soft Cordovan leather, on which glittered 
 the golden ensigns of knighthood. 
 
 Once more through the hush a clear, cold 
 voice rang out 
 
 " Emeric of Pavia, one privilege of the order 
 thou hast shamed, thou mayest claim still. Wilt 
 thou have priest to shrive thee ? " 
 
 The other shook his head doggedly; and it 
 seemed as though he would have tried some 
 mocking answer ; but his tongue clave to the dry 
 palate, and failed him. 
 
 " So be it " De Chargny went on, in the same 
 measured tone, " then naught hinders the hang- 
 man to do his office. Maitre Humbert, cleave 
 off his spurs." 
 
 A shudder, almost like a convulsion, ran
 
 262 BRAKESPEARE. 
 
 through the prisoner's frame, as the cleaver 
 crashed down close to his heel. And, as the dis- 
 honour was complete, he glared round not 
 defiantly now to see what was the next torture 
 in store. He had not long to wait. 
 
 Out of a narrow street, immediately behind the 
 scaffold, there came a clatter of hoofs ; and four 
 huge Normandy stallions two strong ropes 
 trailing behind each were led forth, plunging 
 and screaming, as if loathing the work before 
 them. 
 
 All the Lombard's hardihood vanished then ; 
 his white lips quivered painfully, and one word 
 escaped them in a hissing whisper : 
 
 " EcarteU ! " 
 
 Will Lanyon felt a heavy qualmishness steal- 
 ing over him : he had reckoned on no such sight 
 as this. And other hearts around St. Omer 
 market-place, besides the stout archer's, waxed 
 faint while the bourreaux completed their office as 
 quickly as might be, and bound the prisoner's 
 four limbs securely each to a rope harness- 
 with the leathern thongs.
 
 HAUTE JUSTICE AT ST. OMER. 263 
 
 The Kentishman saw the rearing stallions 
 led out into the middle of the square, bearing 
 in the midst of them what seemed a senseless 
 body : lie saw no more ; for a deadly sickness 
 made him close his eyes, and grasp his saddle- 
 bow, to save himself from falling. But his ears 
 he could not close. He heard the crack and 
 slash of the whips as they goaded the brute 
 executioners to their gruesome task : then a 
 yell went up thrice repeated, long drawn, and 
 piercing such as, for poor humanity's sake, let 
 us hope, has seldom been heard on the hither 
 side of eternal torment : then came silence, 
 broken at last by a great shuddering groan, in 
 which the oppression of five thousand breasts 
 found vent. Opening his eyes once more, Lanyon 
 saw the stones of the square besprinkled with 
 foul red splashes ; whilst in the centre, in a broad 
 crimson pool, lay a formless, nameless horror; 
 and, at the four corners, the savage stallions, 
 madder yet with scent of blood struggled in 
 their halters; each dragging in his harness some- 
 thing from contact of which the hardiest recoiled.
 
 264 BRAKESPEARE. 
 
 While the archer still felt dizzy and faint, a 
 hand was laid on his shoulder ; and the voice of 
 one of De Chargny's esquires said in his ear : 
 
 " Thou art free now, hrave Englishman. 
 Make all speed to Calais, and tell to such as list 
 to hear it how my lord deals with double traitors." 
 
 Lanyon needed no second bidding. He never 
 drew free breath till the walls of St. Omer were 
 fairly behind him; and he had ridden leagues 
 before his senses were clear enough to take in 
 commonplace sights and scents and sounds ; 
 neither had his bluff, brown face recovered its 
 natural colour, when he stood in presence of the 
 Lord Beauchamp to tell his tale. 
 
 The good knight's cheek, too, paled as he 
 listened crossing himself often murmuring 
 ejaculations of pity and horror. And in Calais 
 was there never a church or chapel, wherein 
 masses were not sung that night, for the weal of 
 the guilty soul that had gone to its accompt 
 through passage of such awful agony.
 
 CHAPTEK XVIII. 
 
 AT BORDEAUX. 
 
 FOR near two years, Kalph Brakespeare went 
 through the weary round of garrison duty with 
 much cheerfulness and alacrity. Yet was he not 
 the less rejoiced, when one day Hawkwood bade 
 him see all prepared for departure on the morrow; 
 inasmuch as he had gotten leave from the Lord 
 Beauchamp to march in command of a reinforce- 
 ment, destined to join the English armament in 
 Poitou. 
 
 The route was long ; but the esquire would 
 not have had it shortened by a single league. 
 Throughout the country, deserted tenements, 
 and fields left fallow, bore token of the fell 
 pestilence, which had spared France, no more 
 than the rest of Europe, in its progress from east 
 to west though in Calais, and other coast towns,
 
 266 BRAKE SPE ARE. 
 
 through which the keen sea-breezes swept freely, 
 it had scarcely been felt. But, since the pest had 
 abated of its fury, the pale, panic-stricken sur- 
 vivors had crept back to their daily labour or 
 trade ; and all along the road there was no lack 
 of entertainment. 
 
 Right pleasant it was, after being cooped up so 
 many months betwixt grey walls the duresse 
 broken only by rare exercise amongst bleak dunes, 
 or along dreary causeways to ride on through 
 the fresh summer mornings and the breezy after- 
 noons, with constant change of scenery, faces, 
 and objects to vary each day's halt. Crossing 
 the Somme at Abbeville, they were soon clear of 
 the marshy flats of Picardy ; and, leaving Arques 
 on their right, wound their way through the 
 green coteaux that swell betwixt Rouen and the 
 sea. Albeit a truce prevailed, Hawkwood deemed 
 it prudent to halt in hamlets and small towns, 
 rather than in such cities where the French lay in 
 force ; choosing not to risk, with his small com- 
 pany, being embroiled in such chance quarrels as 
 will arise when ancient foes newly-made friends
 
 AT BORDEAUX. 207 
 
 meet over the wine-cup. So he turned not aside 
 to Rouen ; but bearing still coastwards, forded 
 the Seine at Caudebec ; and so by Lisieux, 
 Falaise, Pontorson, and Montfort came safe, 
 towards the end of July, to Aurai, then garrisoned 
 by Sir Thomas Dagworth, the King's Lieutenant 
 in Bretagne. 
 
 Here they halted certain days for needful 
 refreshment, both for men and horses ; and then 
 set forward again towards Bordeaux, where Ealph 
 of Stafford held command in the room of Lan- 
 caster, who had returned to England before 
 Whitsunday. Only by a short week did' Hawk- 
 wood and his company miss sharing in a great 
 disaster unless, indeed, their presence might 
 altogether have averted it. For, scarcely had 
 they reached Bordeaux, when news came that 
 the gentle knight, who late entertained them so 
 royally, had been treacherously set upon by 
 Baoul, Lord of Cahors, under the walls of Aurai, 
 and done to death with all his following. 
 
 Not long after this, other messengers came; 
 telling how Philip of Valois had found rest at last
 
 2G8 BRAKESPEARE. 
 
 from troubles and calamity in the shadow of St. 
 Denis' altar ; and how the fiery Duke of Nor- 
 mandy reigned in his stead. Such as were 
 learned in the politics of the day, foresaw that the 
 change would not be greatly for the weal of 
 France. The honour of John the Good was as 
 stainless as his courage ; but his hand was better 
 fitted to grasp the sword than the sceptre or 
 leading-staff; he would imperil an army not less 
 recklessly than he would risk his own person ; 
 and was over hot-blooded and inconsiderate, to 
 cope with the wary antagonist that watched him 
 from over the sea. Yet, to all men's wonder, the 
 war smouldered for a while ; only now and then 
 giving tokens of fire lurking beneath the thin 
 crust, like the jets and wreaths of smoke that 
 hover over the Terra di Lavoro. 
 
 So, for Brakespeare and his comrades, the old, 
 weary garrison life began again. For even in the 
 skirmishes and chance combats that took place 
 not unfrequently, they were destined to take no 
 share. 
 
 They heard of that tough passage of arms,
 
 AT BORDEAUX. 269 
 
 the memory of which is still kept green in 
 Breton ballads ; where despite Merlin's pro- 
 phecy De Beaumanoir and his thirty did at the 
 last prevail over the stark champions who fol- 
 lowed Bembro ; and where Croquart, the free- 
 booter, setting his back against Ploermel oak, bore 
 himself so hardily, that to him, above knights 
 and squires of high degree, was assigned that 
 day's palm of valour. They heard, too, how in 
 the country they had so lately left, notable 
 exploits were wrought how the disaster of the 
 good Lord Beauchamp had been amply avenged 
 by Manny; who brought such plunder into 
 Calais town, that a brave ox fetched but sixteen 
 sols in the market-place and how Henry of Lan- 
 caster had pushed his foray further yet into the 
 French realm ; sacking Terouenne, flooding the 
 church with the blood of its townsmen, and 
 carrying fire and sword up to the gates of Arques 
 and St. Omer and how afterwards, by a wench's 
 treachery and an archer's subtlety, Guisnes was 
 taken, and held in despite of the truce. Later 
 yet, they heard how Sir Walter Bentley left
 
 270 BRAKESPEARE. 
 
 Lieutenant of Bretagne had gotten great honour 
 by utterly discomfiting Guy de Nesle, King 
 John's marshal, who came forth to provoke him 
 to battle. And, all this while, those who lay at 
 Bordeaux never drew sword in earnest, or laid 
 lance in rest. 
 
 Yet this long enforced inaction was, perhaps, 
 better training for Ralph Brakespeare than cease- 
 less excitement would have been. True, his 
 early luck seemed to have deserted him, and he 
 was fain, so far, to rest on the memory of his 
 first year in arms. Before he was six-and- 
 twenty, Ralph had learned to laugh at the day- 
 dreams of five years agone. By this time, his 
 character, like his frame, was set; to the vehe- 
 ment ambition and ardour of youth had suc- 
 ceeded the cool, matured resolution of manhood 
 powerful to will, prompt to execute, and patient 
 to endure ; he was proof against idle hopes, no 
 less than against groundless fears ; and the com- 
 mon chagrins of life took no more hold of his 
 soul, than toil or privation of his body. Yet, 
 under all this case-hardness like a clear water-
 
 AT BORDEAUX. 271 
 
 drop in the depth of crystal there still abode 
 with him the softness of heart that he inherited 
 from the gentle woman who died in giving him 
 birth. When men, who knew him best, gave 
 Ralph Brakespeare no more credit for such 
 emotion than if he had been an armed effigy, he 
 was just as ready to listen to the cry of a helpless 
 woman, and to avenge her wrongs, as when he 
 rose up in the glee-maiden's defence, under the 
 sign of the Spur. 
 
 With Gian Malatesta he still remained on the 
 same terms of cold, distant civility. As months 
 and years went by, bringing no fitting occasion 
 for the wreaking of his enmity, the Italian 
 seemed to have forgotten it altogether. In Bor- 
 deaux town where they most often abode he 
 found opportunity enough for indulging his 
 tastes : Hawkwood was not over-careful in 
 detecting the misdemeanours of his followers, so 
 long as they interfered not with duty ; and on 
 this point Malatesta was faultless. However 
 deep the debauch overnight, the morning always 
 found him alert and clear-headed ready to
 
 272 BRAKESPEARE. 
 
 carry out any orders whatsoever with his wary 
 hardihood. Directly he was free, he would 
 betake himself straightway to the taverns and 
 stews in which his soul delighted sowing 
 crowns broadcast amongst ribaudes and roisterers. 
 Play kept his gipsire always full ; for, at Bor- 
 deaux, he encountered no such misadventure as 
 had befallen him at Calais. 
 
 This chronicle does not aver, that, whilst 
 he tarried on the banks of Garonne, Kalph 
 Brakespeare bore himself always after the fashion 
 that would have befitted Sir Galahad's esquire, or 
 a Templar holding fast to his vow. When he 
 confessed himself which at certain seasons" he 
 failed not to do he had, perhaps, as many venial 
 sins to avow as some of his comrades who bore 
 themselves more noisily and jovially; but of 
 broken troth, or ruin of any woman's honour, he 
 could not accuse himself. The blood of Gascony 
 is hotter than its wine ; and the dark eyes of 
 more than one fair Bordelaise had looked ap- 
 provingly perhaps longingly on the stalwart 
 figure and gallant bearing of the English esquire;
 
 AT BORDEAUX. 273 
 
 marvelling, half-pityingly, what should make so 
 young a face look so grave. And, more than 
 once, white hands had beckoned stealthily from 
 lattices ; or a flower had dropped at his feet as he 
 passed by : for coquetry was not in its infancy, 
 even then ; and such simple devices prevailed, be 
 sure, north as well as south of the Pyrenees. 
 But pride, shrinking from the amour bourgeois 
 for in this class were the temptresses chiefly 
 found rather than shyness or coldness, kept 
 Ralph's feet safe and clear of the snares. He 
 was not specially cold, or continent, or tender of 
 conscience ; but he chose to take his pleasure in 
 places where he troubled no man's peace, and 
 where he could bring on no woman further dis- 
 honour than what she had already taken on her- 
 self of freewill. 
 
 And so, four years passed on ; during which 
 the bold Duke of Lancaster, waxing weary, like 
 many another, of the broils of France and 
 Navarre of petty skirmishes of partisans and 
 mock proposals of peace travelled eastward to 
 keep his sword bright in war against the infidel.
 
 274 BRAKE SPE ARE. 
 
 How in that adventure he miscarried how 
 through practice of the Duke of Brunswick he 
 fell for awhile into captivity how, returning, he 
 libelled the Duke's treachery on Cologne cathe- 
 dral door how, after interchange of challenge, 
 those two met in the Pre aux Clercs, and were 
 made friends by the royal arbiter, without issue 
 of battle all this is set down in the records of 
 the time. 
 
 And, every day, things were growing riper for 
 the struggle, final and decisive, betwixt the 
 banners, gules and azure, whose semblances 
 watchmen on Southampton battlements saw brist- 
 ling in the midnight sky. 
 
 But, before the armies were drawn out in 
 array, there happened somewhat which in no- 
 wise affecting the fortunes of nations had much 
 to do with those of Kalph Brakespeare. 
 
 END OF VOL. I. 
 
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