r 
 
 f./^ — t) r/*^ 
 
 
THE 
 
 LIBRARY OF ROMANCE. 
 
 EDITED 
 
 BY LEITCH RITCHIE. 
 
 VOL. V. 
 
 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 LONDON: 
 SMITH, ELDER AND CO., 65, CORNHILL. 
 
 1833. 
 
Printed by Steuayt and Co., Old Bailey. 
 
THE BONDMAN. 
 
 A STORY OF 
 
 THE TIMES OF WAT TYLER. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 SMITH, ELDER AND CO., 65, CORNHILL ; 
 
 1833. 
 

 ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 The idea of the following tale was suggested on 
 reading the first volume of Robertson's Charles the 
 Fifth, on the Feudal Policy of Germany ; and the 
 picture of moral and political debasement pre- 
 sented in those pages, whether as regards the op- 
 pressor or the oppressed. Those revolting distinc- 
 tions have, however, passed away — villein is but 
 a thing that was. But if the old chronicles are 
 to be credited, the monk, whom the author has 
 endeavoured to pourtray in the course of this 
 tale, was the first who whispered in the ear of 
 an English serf, that slavery was not his birth- 
 right. 
 
 465 
 
VI ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 It may, perhaps, be superfluous to add, that 
 all the legal information scattered through the 
 volume, is strictly correct ; and every historical 
 event, as nearly so as the machinery of the tale 
 permitted. The critical reader, whose indulgence 
 the writer solicits, will immediately perceive from 
 whence the information has been derived. 
 
THE BONDMAN 
 
 BOOK I. 
 
THE BONDMAN. 
 
 BOOK I. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 About a quarter of a mile south of Winchcombe, 
 on the summit of a gentle elevation, are still the 
 remains of a castle, which, as Fuller says, " was 
 of subjects' castles the most handsome habitation, 
 and of subjects' habitations the strongest castle." 
 
 In the month of August, in the year thirteen 
 hundred and seventy-four, this distinguished place, 
 called Sudley Castle, presented an interesting 
 scene — the then owner, in consequence of his 
 father's death, holding his first court for receiving 
 the homage and fealty of his vassals. 
 
 The court-yards were thronged with the retain- 
 ers of the Baron, beguiling the hour until the 
 ceremony called them into the hall. This apart- 
 ment, which corresponded in magnificence and 
 beauty with the outward appearance of the noble 
 pile, was of an oblong shape. Carved representa- 
 
 VOL. v. B 
 
2 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 tions of battles adorned the lofty oaken ceiling, 
 and suspended were banners and quarterings of 
 the Sudley and De Boteler families. Ancestral 
 statues of oak, clad in complete armour, stood in 
 niches formed in the thick walls. The heavy 
 linked mail of the Normans, with the close helmet, 
 or skull cap, fastened under the chin, and leaving 
 the face exposed, encased those who represented 
 the early barons of Sudley ; while those of a later 
 period were clad in the more convenient, and more 
 beautiful armour of the fourteenth century. The 
 walls were covered with arms, adapted to the dif- 
 ferent descriptions of soldiers of the period, and 
 arranged so, as each might provide himself with 
 his proper weapons, without delay or confusion. 
 
 The hall had a tesselated pavement, on w^hich 
 the arms of the united families of Sudley and De 
 Boteler (the latter having inherited by marriage, 
 in consequence of a failure of male issue in the 
 former) were depicted with singular accuracy and 
 beauty. About midway from the entrance, two 
 broad steps of white marble led to the part of the 
 hall exclusively appropriated to the owner of the 
 castle. The mosaic work of this privileged space 
 was concealed on the present occasion by a cover- 
 ing of fine crimson cloth. A large arm chair, 
 covered with crimson velvet, with the De Boteler 
 arms richly emblazoned on the high back, over 
 which hung a velvet canopy fringed with gold, was 
 placed in the centre of the elevation ; and several 
 other chairs with similar coverings and emblazon- 
 ings, but wanting canopies, were disposed around 
 for the accommodation of the guests. 
 
 The steward at length appeared, and descended 
 
THE BONDMAN. 3 
 
 the steps to classify the people for the intended 
 homage, and to satisfy himself that none had dis- 
 obeyed the summons. 
 
 The tenantry were arranged in the following 
 order : — 
 
 First — the steward and esquire stood on either 
 side next the steps. 
 
 Then followed the vassals who held lands for 
 watchino' and wardino; the castle. These were con- 
 sidered superior to the other vassals from the pe- 
 culiar nature of their tenure, as the life-guards, as 
 it were, of their lord. 
 
 Then those who held lands in chivalry, namely, 
 by performing stated military services, the per- 
 fection of whose tenures was homage. 
 
 The next were those who held lands by agricul- 
 tural or rent service, and who performed fealty as 
 a memorial of their attachment and dependence. 
 
 The bondmen, or legally speaking, the villeins, 
 concluded the array. These were either attached 
 to the soil or to the person. The former were de- 
 signated villeins appendant, because following the 
 transfer of the ground, like fixtures of a freehold, 
 their persons, lands, and goods, being the property 
 of the lord ; they might be chastised, but not 
 maimed. They paid a fine on the marriage of 
 females ; who obtained their freedom on marriage 
 with a free man, but returned again to bondage on 
 surviving their husband. The latter class were 
 called villeins in gross, and differed nothing from 
 the others except in name ; the term signifying 
 that they were severed from the soil, and followed 
 the person of the lord. Neither of the classes 
 were permitted to leave the lands of their owner ; 
 B 2 
 
4 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 and on flight or settlement in towns or cities, 
 might be pursued and reclaimed. An action for 
 damages lay against those who harboured them, 
 or who refused to deliver them up, — the law also 
 provided a certain form of writ by which the sheriff' 
 was commanded to seize, or obtain them by force. 
 There was one mode, however, of nullifying the 
 right of capture. If the runaway resided on lands 
 of the king, for a year and a day, without claim, 
 he could not be molested for the future ; although 
 he was still liable, if caught beyond the precincts 
 of the royal boundary, to be retaken. 
 
 The classification had just finished, when a door 
 at the upper end of the hall was thrown open, and 
 the Baron of Sudley entered, attended by his 
 guests, and followed by a page. 
 
 Roland de Boteler was a man about six-and- 
 twenty, of a tall, well-proportioned figure, with an 
 open, handsome countenance ; but there was a 
 certain boldness or freedom in the laughing glance 
 of his large black eyes, and in the full parted lips, 
 blended with an expression, which though not per- 
 haps exactly haughty or cruel, yet told distinctly 
 enough that he was perfectly regardless of the 
 feelings of his dependants, and considered them 
 merely as conducive to his amusement, or to the 
 display of military power. A doublet of crimson 
 cloth, embroidered with gold, was well chosen to 
 give advantage to his dark complexion. His tunic 
 composed of baudykin, or cloth of gold, was con- 
 fined round the waist by a girdle, below which it 
 hung in full plaits, nearly to the knee, — thus al- 
 lowing little of his trunk hose, of rich velvet, cor- 
 responding in colour with the doublet, to be seen. 
 
THE BONDMAN. 6 
 
 Over his dress he wore a sureoat or mantle of fine 
 violet-coloured cloth, fastened across the breast, 
 with a gold clasp, and lined with minever. His 
 hair, according to the fashion introduced by the 
 Black Prince, when he brought over his royal cap- 
 tive, John of France, fell in thick short curls below 
 a cap in colour and material resembling his mantle, 
 and edged with minever ; and the lip and chin 
 wore neither mustachio nor beard. 
 
 His eye fell proudly for a moment on the as- 
 sembled yeomen, as he took his seat for the first 
 time as Lord of Sudley ; but speedily the cerenwny 
 commenced. 
 
 The individual first summoned from among the 
 group, was a tall athletic young man of about 
 twenty-five, with a complexion fair but reddened 
 through exposure to the seasons. His hair was 
 light-brown, thick and curly, and there was a good- 
 humoured expression in the clear grey eyes, and 
 in the full, broad, well marked countenance, that 
 would give one the idea of a gay, thoughtless 
 spirit — had it not been for the bold and firm step, 
 and the sudden change of feature from gay to 
 grave as he advanced to the platform, and met 
 unabashed the Baron's scrutiny, at once indicating 
 that the man possessed courage and decision when 
 occasion required these qualities to be called into 
 action. 
 
 Stephen Holgrave ascended the marble steps, 
 and proceeded on till he stood at the baron's feet. 
 He then unclasped the belt of his waist, and 
 having his head uncovered, knelt down, and hold- 
 ing up both his hands. De Boteler took them within 
 
O THE BONDMAN. 
 
 his own, and the yeoman said in a loud, distinct 
 voice — 
 
 " Lord Roland de Boteler, I become your man 
 from this day forward, of life and limb and earthly 
 worship, and unto you shall be true and faithful, 
 and bear to you faith, for the lands that I claim to 
 hold of you, saving the faith that 1 owe unto our 
 sovereign lord the king." 
 
 The baron then bent his head forward and kissed 
 the young man's forehead; and unloosing his hands, 
 Holgrave arose, and bending his head, stood to 
 hear what De Boteler might say. 
 
 " You have spoken well, Holgrave," said De 
 Boteler, looking good-humouredly upon the yeo- 
 man, " and, truly, if the life of Roland de Boteler 
 is worth any thing, you have earned your reward ; 
 and, here, in the presence of this good company, I 
 covenant for myself and my heirs, that you and 
 your heirs, shall hold the land for ever, in chivalry, 
 presenting every feast of the Holy Baptist, a pair 
 of gloves." 
 
 '' Calverley," said the baron, as Holgrave re- 
 tired, and wdiile addressing his esquire, his fea^ 
 tures assumed a peculiar expression : " What a 
 pity it is that a yeoman should reap the reward of 
 a service that should have been performed by you 
 had your health permitted !" 
 
 The sarcastic smile that accompanied these 
 words, called up a glow even deeper than envy 
 had done ; yet, in a calm voice, Calverley replied, 
 " The land, my lord, though the gift be fair, is of 
 little account in comparison with the honour of 
 the deed ; but I may humbly say, that if Thomas 
 
THE BONDMAX. 7 
 
 Calverley had witnessed his master's peril, he would 
 have been found as valiant in his defence as the 
 yeoman, whose better fortune it was to be present." 
 
 "Aye, aye, my good 'squire," said the baron, 
 still in a laug-hing tone, '' your illness, I am told, 
 gave you a most outrageous appetite — doubtless 
 your feeble constitution needed strengthening ! 
 Come, come, man, it is but a joke — never look so 
 blank ; yet, if we laugh, there is no reason why 
 those knaves should stand grinning there from ear 
 to ear. Bid the senior vassal advance." 
 
 The vassals who were to perform homage then 
 prepared to go through the customary form ; and 
 an old grey-headed man advanced first from the 
 group to do fealty, and, standing before the baron, 
 pronounced after him the following oath, holding 
 his right hand on the gospels : — 
 
 " I, John Hartwell, will be to you, my Lord 
 Roland de Boteler, true and faithful, and bear to 
 you fealty and faith for the lands and tenements 
 which I hold of you ; and I will truly do and per- 
 form the customs and services that I ought to do 
 to you, so help me God !" The old man then 
 kissed the book, and retired to give place to the 
 next ; and so on till all who owed fealty had gone 
 through the ceremony. 
 
 Lastly advanced from among the bondmen, or 
 villeins, the oldest servitor, and, holding his right 
 hand over the book, pronounced after De Bo- 
 teler — 
 
 " Hear you, my Lord de Boteler, that I, William 
 Marson, from this day forth unto you shall be true 
 and faithful, and shall owe you fealty for the land 
 which I may hold of you in villeinage, and shall 
 
8 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 be justified by you both in body and goods, so 
 help me God and all the saints," After kissing 
 the book he withdrew ; and the bondmen succes- 
 sively renewed their servile compact. 
 
 While the vassals were retiring from the hall, 
 the Lord de Boteler turned to the gentleman near 
 him — 
 
 ^' Sir Robert," said he, " you saw that vassal 
 who first did homage ? — to that base-born churl 
 I owe my life. I had engaged hand to hand with 
 a French knight, when my opponent's esquire 
 treacherously attacked me from behind. This 
 was observed by my faithful follower, who struck 
 down the coward with his axe, and, in a moment 
 more, rid me of the knight by a blow that cleft his 
 helmet and entered his brain. He also, by rare 
 chance, I know not how, slew the bearer of that 
 banner yonder, and, when the battle was over, 
 laid it at my feet." 
 
 " You have made him a freeman since then ?" 
 inquired Sir Robert. 
 
 " No ; he received his freedom from my father 
 when a boy for some juvenile service — I hardly 
 remember what. Yet I shall never forget the 
 look of the varlet — as if it mattered to such as he 
 whether they were free or not ! He stared for an 
 instant at my father — the tears trembling in his 
 eyes, and all the blood in his body, I verily be- 
 lieve, reddening his face, and he looked as if he 
 would have said something ; but my father and I 
 did not care to listen, and we turned away. As 
 for the land he has now received, I promised it 
 him on the field of battle, and I could not retract 
 my word." 
 
THE BONDMAN^. 9 
 
 " No, baron," said Sir Robert ; " the man 
 earned it by his bravery : and surely the life of 
 the Lord de Boteler is worth more than a piece 
 of dirty land." 
 
 De Boteler, not caring to continue so unin- 
 teresting a subject, discoursed upon other matters ; 
 and the business of the morning having concluded, 
 he retired with his guests from the hall. 
 
 It was about a fortnight after this court day 
 that the fortunate yeoman one morning led his 
 mother, Edith Holgrave, to the cottage he had 
 built on the land that was now his own. 
 
 Edith entered the cottage, her hand resting for 
 support upon the shoulder of her son — for she was 
 feeble, though not so much from age as from a weak 
 constitution. As she stepped over the threshold 
 she devoutly crossed herself; and when they stood 
 upon the earthen floor, she withdrew her left 
 hand from the arm that supported her, and, sink- 
 ing upon her knees, and raising up her eyes, ex- 
 claimed — 
 
 " May He, in whose hands are the ends of the 
 earth, preserve thee, my son, from evil. And oh ! 
 may He bless this house !" 
 
 While she spoke, her eyes brightened, and her 
 pale face for a short time glowed with the fervor 
 of her soul. 
 
 *' Stephen, my son," she continued (as with his 
 aid she arose and seated herself upon a wooden 
 stool), " many days of sorrow have I seen, but 
 this proud day is an atonement for all. My fa- 
 ther was a freeman, but thy father was a serf; — 
 but all are alike in His eyes, who oftentimes gives 
 the soul of a churl to him who dwelleth in castles, 
 
10 THE BONDMAX. 
 
 and quickens the body of the base of birth with a 
 spirit that miglit honour the wearer of crimson and 
 gold. My husband was a villein, but his soul 
 spurned the bondage ; and oftentimes, my son, 
 when you have been an infant in my arms, thy 
 father wished that the free-born breast which nou- 
 rished you, could infuse freedom into your veins. 
 He did not live to see it ; but oh ! what a proud 
 day was that for me, when my son no longer bore 
 the name of slave ! I had prayed — I had yearned 
 for that day ; and it at length repaid me for all 
 the taunts of our neighbours, who reviled me be- 
 cause my spirit was not such as theirs !" 
 
 " Come, come, mother," interrupted Holgrave, 
 " don't agitate yourself; there is time to talk of 
 all this by-and-bye." 
 
 " And so there is, child — but I am old ; and 
 the aged, as well as the young, love to be talking. 
 Stephen, you must bear with your mother." 
 
 " Aye, that I will, mother," replied Holgrave, 
 kissing her cheek which had assumed its accus- 
 tomed paleness; " and ill befal the son that will 
 not !" 
 
 Leaving his mother to attend to the visitors who 
 crowded in to drink success to the new proprietor 
 in a cup of ale, Stephen Holgrave stole unob- 
 served out of the cottage towards nightfall. 
 
 Passing through Winchcombe, he arrived at a 
 small neat dwelling, in a little sequestered valley, 
 about a quarter of a mile from the town — the 
 tenant of which lowly abode is of no small con- 
 sequence to our story. 
 
 Like Holgrave, Margaret was the offspring of 
 the bond and the free. Her father had been a 
 
THE BONDMAN. 11 
 
 bondman attached to the manor of Sudley ; and 
 her mother a poor friendless orphan, with no pa- 
 trimony save her freedom. Such marriages were 
 certainly of rare occurrence, because women na- 
 turally felt a repugnance to become the mother 
 of serfs ; but still, that they did occur, is evidenced 
 by the law of villeinage, ordaining that the chil- 
 dren of a bondman and free woman should in no 
 wise partake of their mother's freedom. 
 
 It might be, perhaps, that this similarity in 
 their condition had attracted them towards each 
 other ; or it might be that, as Margaret had been 
 motherless since her birth, and Edith had nursed 
 and reared her till she grew to womanhood, from 
 the feelings natural to long association, love had 
 grown and strengthened in Stephen's heart. In- 
 deed, there were not many of her class who could 
 have compared with this young woman. Her fi- 
 gure was about the middle height of her sex, and 
 so beautifully proportioned, that even the close 
 kerchief and russet gown could not entirely con- 
 ceal the symmetrical formation of the broad white 
 shoulders, the swelling bust, and the slender 
 waist. Plain braids of hair of the darkest shade, 
 and arched brows of the same hue, gave an added 
 whiteness to a forehead smooth and high ; and 
 her full intelligent eyes, with a fringe as dark as 
 her hair, were of a clear deep blue. The feminine 
 occupation of a sempstress had preserved the de- 
 licacy of her complexion, and had left a soft 
 flickering blush playing on her check. Such was 
 Margaret the beloved — the betrothed — whom 
 Holgrave was now hastening to invite, with all 
 the simple eloquence of honest love, to become 
 
12 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 the bride of his bosom — the mistress of liis 
 home. 
 
 The duskiness of the twilight hour was lightened 
 by the broad beams of an autumn moon ; and 
 as the moonlight, streaming full upon the thatch, 
 revealed distinctly the little cot that held his 
 treasure, all the high thoughts of freedom and 
 independence, all the wandering speculative dream- 
 ings that come and go in the heart of man, gave 
 place, for a season, to one engrossing feeling. 
 Margaret was not this evening, as she was wont 
 to be, sitting outside the cottage door awaiting his 
 approach. The door was partly opened — he en- 
 tered — and beheld a man kneeling before her, 
 and holding one of her hands within his own ! 
 
 " Stephen Holgrave !" cried the devotee, jump- 
 ing up, " w^hat brings you here at such an hour ?" 
 
 " What brings me, Calverley !" replied Hol- 
 grave, furiously, ^' who are you, to ask such a 
 question ? What brings you here ?" 
 
 " My own will, Stephen Holgrave," answered 
 Calverley in a calm tone ; " and mark you — this 
 maiden has no right to plight her troth except 
 with her lord's consent. She is Lord de Boteler's 
 bondwoman, and dares not marry without his 
 leave — which will never be given to wed with 
 you." 
 
 " You talk boldly, sir, of my lord's intents," 
 answered the yeoman sulkily. 
 
 " I speak but the truth," replied Calverley. 
 *' You have been rewarded well for the deed you 
 did ; and think not that your braggart speech will 
 win my lord. This maid is no meet wife for such 
 as you. My lord has offered me fair lands and 
 
THE BONDMAN. 13 
 
 her freedom if I choose to wed her : and though 
 many a free dowered maid would smile upon the 
 suit of Thomas Calverley, yet have I come to offer 
 wedlock to Margaret." 
 
 '' Margaret!" said Holgrave fiercely, '' can this 
 be true ? answer me ! Has Calverley spoken of 
 marriage to you ? — why do you not answer ? Have 
 I loved a false one ?" 
 
 " No, Stephen," replied Margaret, in a low 
 trembling voice. 
 
 Holgrave's mind was relieved as Margaret spoke, 
 for he had confidence in her truth. He knew, 
 however, that Calverley stood high in the favour 
 of De Boteler, and he determined not to trust 
 himself with further words. 
 
 " Margaret," said Calverley suddenly, " I leave 
 Sudley Castle on the morrow to attend my lord to 
 London. At my return I shall expect that this 
 silence be changed into language befitting the 
 chosen bride of the Baron de Boteler's esquire. Re- 
 member you are not yet free ! — and now, Stephen 
 Holgrave, I leave not this cottage till you depart. 
 The maiden is my lord's nief, the cottage is his, 
 and here I am privileged — not you." 
 
 Fierce retorts and bitter revilings were on Hol- 
 grave's tongue ; but the sanctuary of a maiden's 
 home was no place for contention. He knew that 
 Calverley did possess the power he vaunted ; and, 
 without uttering a word, he crossed the threshold, 
 and stood on the sod just beyond the door. 
 
 Calverley paused a moment gazing on the 
 blanched beauty of the agitated girl, her cheek 
 looking more pale from the moonlight that fell 
 
14 THE BO^lDMA'N. 
 
 upon it ; and then, in tlie soft insinuating tone he 
 knew so well how to assume — 
 
 " Forgive me, Margaret," said he, '^ for what 
 I have said. But oh," he continued, taking her 
 hand, and pressing it passionately to his bosom, 
 ** You know not how much I love you ! — Come, 
 sir, will you walk ?" Then kissing the damsel's hand 
 he relinquished it ; and Margaret, with streaming 
 eyes and a throbbing heart, watched till the two 
 receding figures were lost in the distance. 
 
 Holgrave and Calverley pursued their path in 
 sullen silence. There were about a dozen paces 
 between them, but neither were one foot in ad- 
 vance of the other. On they went through Winch- 
 combe and along the road, till they came to where 
 a footpath from the left intersected the highway. 
 Here they both, as if by mutual agreement, made 
 a sudden pause, and stood doggedly eyeing each 
 other. At considerably less than a quarter of a 
 mile to the right was Sudley Castle ; and at nearly 
 the same distance to the left was Holgrave's new 
 abode. After the lapse of several minutes, Cal- 
 verley leaped across a running ditch to the right ; 
 and Holgrave, having thus far conquered, turned 
 to the left on his homeward path. 
 
 The reader will, perhaps, feel some surprize that 
 an esquire of the rich and pow^erful Lord de Boteler 
 should be thus competing w^ith the yeoman for the 
 hand of a portionless humble nief ; but it is neces- 
 sary to observe, in the first place, that in the fif- 
 teenth century esquires were by no means of the 
 consideration they had enjoyed a century before. 
 Some nobles, indeed, who were upholders of the 
 
THE BONDMAX. 15 
 
 ancient system, still regarded an esquire as but a 
 degree removed from a knight, but these were 
 merely exceptions ; — the general rule, at the pe- 
 riod we are speaking of, was to consider an esquire 
 simply as a principal attendant, without the least 
 claim to any distinction beyond. Such a state of 
 things accorded well with the temper of De Bo- 
 teler ; — he could scarcely have endured the 
 equality, which, in some measure, formerly sub- 
 sisted between the esquire and his lord. With him 
 the equal might be familiar, but the inferior must be 
 submissive ; and it was, perhaps, the humility of 
 Calverley's deportment that alone had raised him 
 to the situation he now held. Calverley, besides, 
 had none of the requisites of respectability which 
 would have entitled him to take a stand amons; a 
 class such as esquires had formerly been. 
 
 About ten years before the commencement of 
 our tale, a pale emaciated youth presented him- 
 self one morning at Sudley Castle, desiring the 
 hospitality that was never denied to the stranger. 
 Over his dress, which was of the coarse monks' 
 cloth then generally worn by the religious, he 
 w^ore a tattered cloak of the dark russet peculiar 
 to the peasant. That day he was fed, and that 
 night lodged at the castle ; and the next morning, 
 as he stood in a corner of the court-yard, appa- 
 rently lost in reflection as to the course he should 
 next adopt, the young Roland de Boteler, then a 
 fine boy of fifteen, emerged from the stone arch- 
 way of the stable mounted on a spirited charger. 
 The glow on his cheek, the brightness of his eyes, 
 and the youthful animation playing on his face, 
 and ringing in the joyous tones of his voice, seem- 
 
16 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 ed to make the solitary dejected being, who looked 
 as if he could claim neither kindred nor home, 
 appear even more care-worn and friendless. The 
 youth gazed at the young De Boteler, and ran 
 after him as he rode through the gateway followed 
 by two attendants. 
 
 He then wandered about with a look of still 
 deeper despondence, till tJie trampling of the re- 
 turning horses sent a transient tinge across his 
 cheek. He followed Roland's attendants, and 
 again entered the court-yard. By some chance, 
 as the young rider was alighting, his eye fell on 
 the dejected stranger, who was standing at a little 
 distance fixing an anxious gaze upon the heir. 
 
 " Who is that sickly-looking carle, Ralph ?" en- 
 quired De Boteler. 
 
 The attendant did not know. The youth inter- 
 preted the meaning of Roland's glance, and ap- 
 proached, and, with a humble yet not ungraceful 
 obeisance — 
 
 " Noble young lord," said he, *' may a wan- 
 derer crave leave to abide for a time in this 
 castle ?" 
 
 " You have my leave," replied the boy in the 
 consequential tone that youth generally assumes 
 when conferring a favour. " Indeed, you don't 
 look very fit to wander farther ; — Ralph, see that 
 this knave is attended to." 
 
 The stranger was now privileged to remain, and 
 a week's rest and good cheer considerably im- 
 proved his appearance. He did not presume, how- 
 ever, to approach the part of the castle inhabited 
 by the owners ; but never did the young Roland 
 
THE BONDMAN. 17 
 
 enter the court-yard, or walk abroad, but the si- 
 lent homage of the grateful stranger greeted 
 him. 
 
 This strange youth was Thomas Calverley, and, 
 by the end of a month, Roland's eyes as instinct- 
 ively sought for him when he needed an attendant, 
 as if he had been a regular domestic. 
 
 It was good policy in Calverley to propitiate the 
 young De Boteler ; for had he presented himself 
 to his father, although for a space he might have 
 been fed, he could never have presumed to obtrude 
 himself upon his notice. 
 
 There was a humility in the stranger which 
 pleased Roland's imperious temper ; he had grant- 
 ed the permission by which he abided in the castle, 
 and he seemed to feel a kind of interest in his 
 protege ; and the envy of his attendants was 
 often excited by their young lord beckoning to 
 Calverley to assist him to m.ount, or alight, or do 
 him any other little service. Calverley began now 
 to be considered as a kind of inmate in the castle, 
 and various were the whispered tales that went 
 about respecting him. At length it was discovered 
 that he was a scholar — that is, he could read and 
 write ; and the circumstance, though it abated 
 nothing of the whisperings of idle curiosity, en- 
 tirely silenced the taunts he had been compelled 
 to endure. If still disliked, yet was he treated 
 with some respect ; for none of the unlettered do- 
 mestics would have presumed to speak rudely to 
 one so far above them in intellectual attainments. 
 Such a discovery could not long remain a se- 
 cret ; — the tale reached the ears of young De 
 Boteler, and, already prepossessed in his favour, 
 
 VOL. V. c 
 
18 THE EON DM AN. 
 
 it was but a natural consequence that Calverley 
 should rise from being first an assistant, to be 
 the steward, the page, and, at length, the esquire 
 to the heir to the barony of Sudley. But the pro- 
 gress of his fortunes did but add to the malevo- 
 lence of the detractor and the tale-bearer ; theft, 
 sacrilege, and even murder were hinted at as pro- 
 bable causes for a youth, who evidently did not 
 belong to the vulgar, being thus a friendless out- 
 cast. But the most charitable surmise was, that 
 he was the offspring of the unhallowed love of 
 some dame or damsel who had reared him in pri- 
 vacy, and had destined him for the church ; and 
 that either upon the death of his protectress, or 
 through some fault, he had been expelled from his 
 home. Calverley had a distant authoritative man- 
 ner towards his equals and inferiors, which, de- 
 spite every effort, checked inquisitiveness ; and all 
 the information he ever gave was, that he was 
 the son of a respectable artizan of the city of 
 London, whom his father's death had left friend- 
 less. Whether this statement was correct or not, 
 could never be discovered. Calverley w^as never 
 known to allude to aught that happened in the 
 years previous to his becoming an inmate of the 
 castle : what little he had said was merely in reply 
 to direct questions. It would seem, then, that he 
 stood alone in the world, and such a situation is 
 by no means enviable ; and although duplicity, 
 selfishness and tyranny, formed the principal traits 
 in his character ; and though independently of 
 tyranny and selfishness, his mind instinctively 
 shrunk from any contact, save that of necessity, 
 with those beneath him, yet had he gazed upon 
 
THE BONDMAN. 19 
 
 the growing beauty of Margaret till a love pure 
 and deep — a love in which was concentrated all 
 the slumbering affections, had risen and expanded 
 in his breast, until it had, as it were, become a 
 part of his being. 
 
 Margaret had a brother — a monk in the abbey 
 at Winchcombe, to whose care she was indebted 
 for the instructions which had made her a skilful 
 embroidress, and still more for the precautions which 
 had preserved her opening beauty from the gaze 
 of the self-willed Roland de Boteler. Though the 
 daughter of a bondman, her services had never 
 been demanded ; and father John had ultimately 
 removed her from Edith's roof to the little cottage 
 already mentioned. 
 
 Calverley had intended to see Margaret again 
 before leaving the castle ; but De Boteler, having 
 changed the hour he had appointed, there was 
 not a moment to spare from the necessary arrange- 
 ments. Never before had Calverley's assumed 
 equanimity of temper been so severely tried ; the 
 patient attention with which he listened, and the 
 prompt assiduity with which he executed a thou- 
 sand trifling commands — although, from the force 
 with which he bit his underlip, he was frequently 
 compelled to wipe away the blood from his mouth — 
 shewed the absolute controul he had acquired over 
 his feelings — at least so far as the exterior was 
 concerned. 
 
 The chapel bell rang for mass, at which Father 
 John, the brother of Margaret, officiated, in con- 
 sequence of the sudden illness of the resident 
 chaplain. Calverley waited till the service was 
 concluded ; and then, first pausing a few minutes 
 c 2 
 
20 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 to allow the monk to recite the office, he unclosed 
 the door of the sacristy and entered. Father John 
 was sitting with a book in his hand, and he still 
 wore the white surplice. 
 
 The ecclesiastic, on whose privacy Calverley 
 had thus intruded, was a man about thirty-five, of 
 a tall muscular figure, with thick dark hair en- 
 circling his tonsure, a thin visage, and an acquiline 
 nose. There was piety and meekness in the high 
 pale forehead ; and in the whole countenance, 
 when the eyes were cast down, or when their light 
 was partly shaded by the lids and the projecting 
 brows : but when the lids were raised, and the 
 large, deeply-set eyes flashed full upon the object 
 of his scrutiny, there was a proud • — a searching 
 expression in the glance which had often made the 
 obdurate sinner tremble, and which never failed to 
 awe presumption and extort respect. Such was 
 the man whom Calverley was about to address ; 
 and from whose quiet, unassuming demeanour at 
 this moment, a stranger w^ould have augured little 
 opposition to any reasonable proposal that might 
 be suggested : but Calverley well knew the cha- 
 racter of the monk, and there was a kind of hesi- 
 tation in his voice as he said — 
 
 " Good morrow, holy father." 
 
 The monk silently bent his head. 
 
 " My Lord de Boteler," resumed Calverley, 
 " will, in a few minutes, depart hence. I attend 
 him ; but before I go, I would fain desire your 
 counsel." 
 
 " Speak on, my son," said the monk in a full 
 deep voice, as Calverley paused. 
 
 " Father John, you have a sister " 
 
THE BONDMAN. 21 
 
 " What of her ?" asked the monk, looking in- 
 quh'ingly on the esquire. 
 
 " I love her !" replied Calverley, his hesitation 
 giving place to an impassioned earnestness. — " Why 
 look you so much astonished ? Has she not beauty, 
 and have I not watched the growth of that beauty 
 from the interesting loveliness of a child, to the full 
 and fascinating charms of a woman. Father 
 John, you have never loved — you cannot tell the 
 conflict that is within my heart." 
 
 " But," asked the monk, ^' have you spoken to 
 Margaret ?" 
 
 " Last evening I went to give her freedom and 
 to ask her love, when Stephen Holgrave " 
 
 "■ Did the baron empower you to free her ?" 
 eagerly asked the monk. 
 
 " Yes, — but Holgrave entered and " 
 
 '' She is still a nief ?" 
 
 " Yes; — when that knave Holgrave entered, I 
 could not speak of what was burning in my 
 breast." 
 
 " Stephen Holgrave is not a knave," returned 
 the monk. " He is an honest man, and Margcaret 
 is betrothed to him." 
 
 There was a momentary conflict in Calverley 's 
 breast as the monk spoke ; — there was a shade 
 across his brow, and a slight tremor on his lip, but 
 he conquered the emotion — love triumphed, and, 
 in a soft imploring tone, he said — 
 
 " Think you, father, Holgrave loves her as I 
 do ; or think you his rude untutored speech will 
 accord well with so gentle a creature. Oh ! father 
 John, be you my friend. Bid her forget the man 
 who is unworthy of her ! She will listen to you — 
 
22 THE BONDMAK. 
 
 she will be guided by you — you are tlie only 
 kinsman she can claim ; — and surely even you 
 must wish rather to see your sister attended almost 
 as a mistress in this castle, than the harassed wife 
 of a laborious yeoman. Oh ! if you win her to my 
 arms, I here swear to you, that not even your own 
 heart could ask for more gentle care than she will 
 receive from me. My happiness centres in her — 
 to love her, to cherish her — to see the smile of 
 joy for ever on her lips." 
 
 At this moment a knock was heard at the door. 
 Calverley opened it, and De Boteler's page ap- 
 peared to say, that if Thomas Calverley had wanted 
 the aid of the priest, he should have applied 
 sooner, for his lord was now waiting for him. 
 
 " Tell my lord," said Calverley, " I will attend 
 him instantly." 
 
 The page withdrew, and Calverley, turning to 
 the monk, asked hastily if he might reckon on his 
 friendship. 
 
 '' Thomas Calverley," replied John, " I believe 
 you do love my sister, but I cannot force her in- 
 clinations ; — I will not even strive to bias her 
 mind ; there is a sympathy in hearts predestined 
 to unite, which attracts them towards each other ; — 
 if that secret sympathy exist not between you, ye 
 are not destined to become as one." 
 
 " Then you will not seek to win her to my 
 love," asked Calverley, impatiently. 
 
 "- I will tell her," returned the monk, " that a 
 love so devoted, so disinterested, deserves in re- 
 turn an affection as pure : but if, after all this, her 
 heart still prefers the yeoman Holgrave, I will say 
 no more." 
 
THE BONDMAN. 23 
 
 " And, think you, I shall endure rejection with- 
 out an effort ?" 
 
 " It is now too late ! Why, if your happiness 
 rested upon her, did you defer declaring your 
 love till the moment when she had promised to 
 become the wife of another ? Know you not, 
 Thomas Calverley, that even as the rays of the 
 bright sun dissolve the glittering whiteness of the 
 winter snow, just so do kind words and patient 
 love enkindle warm feelings in the bosom of the 
 coldest virgin, and awaken sympathies in her heart 
 that else might for ever unconsciously have slum- 
 bered." 
 
 *' You talk strange language," replied Calverley 
 in a voice that had lost all its assumed gentle- 
 ness. '' But — remcmher — I have not sought 
 your sister's love to be thus baffled — remem- 
 ber ! " Calverley was here interrupted by a 
 
 quick knocking at the door. 
 
 " Remember, father John," he continued, paus- 
 ing ere he unclosed the door, and speaking ra- 
 pidly, " that mine is not the love of a boy — that 
 Thomas Calverley is not one whom it is safe to 
 trifle with — that Margaret is a bondwoman — 
 and that her freedom is in my hands — remember .'" 
 
 He repeated the last word in a tone of menace, 
 and with a look that seemed to dare the monk to 
 sanction the union of his sister with Holgrave. 
 He opened the door, but, ere he passed through, 
 his eye caught an expression of proud contempt 
 flashing in the dark hazel eyes, and curving in the 
 half-smiling lip of the man he had thus defied ; — 
 and prudence whispered, that he had not properly 
 estimated the character of the priest. 
 
24 THE BONDMAN^. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 It was on a lovely October morning that the tra- 
 vellers returned to Sudley. The whole region of 
 the sky was of so clear and deep a blue, that it 
 seemed as if the pure cold breath of the morning 
 had driven every cloud and vapour far from the 
 skies of merry England. The sun shone brightly 
 upon the yet green meadows, upon the hedges, 
 and upon the trees with their broad branches, and 
 their scanty brown leaves : the birds, rejoicing in 
 the sun-light, were singing hymns of grateful me- 
 lody, as they darted among the branches, or sailed 
 and curved in the blue ether. Our fair Margaret, 
 sympathizing in the gladness of nature, could al- 
 most have sung in concert with the feathered choir, 
 as she tripped along with the light step that indi- 
 cates a cheerful heart. She had just reached that 
 point of the Winchcombe road where the green lane, 
 turning to the left, led directly to her home, when, 
 catching a glimpse of an approaching figure, she 
 raised her eyes and beheld — Calverley. 
 
 Whether Calverley's quick glance had caught 
 the marriage ring upon her uncovered finger, or, 
 whether the basket on her arm, together with the 
 
THE BONDMAN. 25 
 
 circumstance of her being abroad at an hour that 
 used to be devoted to her needle, told him she was 
 no longer a thing to be thought of with hope, or 
 looked on with love, it is difficult to say ; but 
 he stood suddenly still, and his cheeks and lips be- 
 came pale — almost livid. Margaret turned and 
 walked hastily down the path, her pallid cheek, and 
 trembling limbs, alone telling that she had recog- 
 nized Calverley. He stood silently gazing after 
 her, till a winding in the path, shut her out from his 
 view. He then walked rapidly on to Winchcombe, 
 entered the first vintner's he came to, and, to the 
 surprise of the host, who knew Master Calverley to 
 be a sober man, called for a measure of wine, drank 
 it off at a draught, and throwing down the money, 
 departed as abruptly as he came. In a few minutes 
 after, he entered the room of old Luke, the steward 
 Sudley Castle. 
 
 " Master Luke," said he, with an assumed care- 
 lessness of manner, " you are rather chary of my 
 lord's wine — you have not yet offered me the cup 
 of welcome." 
 
 " I ask your pardon, Calverley," replied the 
 steward, '* but you so seldom care for wine, that 
 one hardly thinks of offering it to you : here, how- 
 ever, is a cup that will do your heart good." 
 
 Calverley took the cup, and drinking it off with 
 as much zest as if he had not already tasted wine 
 that morning — ''Any news?" said he, "master 
 Luke — any news ?" 
 
 " Not much, 'squire. — Stephen Holgrave, in- 
 deed, has got married, and, I '11 warrant me, there 
 will be a fine to do about it ; for he has married a 
 nief, and you know my lord is very particular about 
 
26 
 
 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 these matters : — he told me, no longer ago than 
 just before he went away this last time, that he 
 would not abate a jot of his due, in the marriages 
 or services of his bond-folk. To be sure the lass is 
 sister of the monk who now shrieves the castle, 
 and, as my lord thinks much of Holgrave, it may 
 all blow over." 
 
 " Who married them ?" asked Calverley, in a 
 stifled voice. 
 
 Oh ! Father John, to be sure — nobody else — " 
 
 " Did he !" said Calverley, in a voice that made 
 the old man start ; but, before the astonished 
 steward could reply, he burst from the room. 
 None of the inmates of the castle saw him again 
 during the remainder of that day. 
 
 When he appeared before De Boteler the next 
 morning, such a change had twenty hours of men- 
 tal suffering produced in his countenance, that his 
 lord, struck by the alteration, inquired if he were 
 ill. Calverley said something about a fall that had 
 partly stunned him, but assured De Boteler he was 
 now perfectly well. While he yet spoke, the stew- 
 ard entered, to say that Stephen Holgrave had 
 come to crave his lordship's pardon for marrying 
 a nief without leave, and also to pay the merchet. 
 
 " Married a nief! has he ?" returned De Bote- 
 ler. By my faith I thought the kern had too 
 proud a stomach to wed a nief. I thought he had 
 no such love for villeinage. I do not like those 
 intermarriages. Were free maidens so scarce that 
 this Holgrave could not find a wife among them ?" 
 
 Calverley slightly coloured as De Boteler spoke ; 
 he knew his lord was no admirer of people stepping 
 in the least out of their way, and it seemed 
 
THE BONDMAN. 27 
 
 probable it was to him he alluded, when he ex- 
 pressed his dislike of unequal marriages. 
 
 ^' Why, my lord," said Luke, in reply to De Bo- 
 teler's interrogatory, "there is hardly a free mai- 
 den in the parish that would not have been glad 
 of Stephen ; but, though I have never seen her, I 
 am told this wife of his is the comeliest damsel be- 
 tween this and Winchcombe : and, besides, she is 
 not like a common nief — and then, my lord, she 
 is the sister of the good monk John." 
 
 " Father John's sister, is she?" asked the baron. 
 '' Why then my good esquire here, has more to do 
 with the matter than I — but however, Luke, go 
 tell Holgrave I cannot attend to him now — " Why, 
 Calverley," continued De Boteler, when the stew- 
 ard had withdrawn. "■ Is not this the maiden you 
 spoke to me about ? Do not turn so pale man, 
 but answer me." 
 
 " Yes, my lord," replied Claverley. 
 
 " And did this Holgrave dare to wed a nief of 
 mine ! — when I had already disposed of her free- 
 dom and her hand ?" 
 
 " Yes, my lord." 
 
 " By my faith, the knave is bold to thwart me 
 thus." 
 
 " My lord," said Calverley ; " the evening before 
 you left the castle for London, I went to the mai- 
 den's cottage to ask her hand ; Holgrave immedi- 
 ately came in, and I then distinctly told him that 
 your lordship had given me the maiden's freedom, 
 and also had consented that I should wed her, 
 and yet, you see what regard he has paid to your 
 will !" 
 
 " Yes, this is the gratitude of these base-born 
 
28 THE BOXDMAN 
 
 vassals ; but, Calverley, what priest presumed to 
 wed them ?" 
 
 *' The monk John." 
 
 " What ! the wife's brother ! He who has at- 
 tended the chapel since the death of the late good 
 father?" 
 
 " Yes, my lord." 
 
 " By Heavens ! they seem all conspiring to set 
 my will at nought! — he, at least should have 
 better known what was due to the lord of this 
 castle." 
 
 "The monk," replied Calverley, ''was not ig- 
 norant of my lord's will : and it vexes me, not on 
 my own account, for it was merely a passing 
 fancy ; but it vexes me, that this proud, stubborn, 
 priest, while he is eating of your bread, and drink- 
 ing of your cup, should, in the teeth of your com- 
 mands, do that which I could swear no other 
 priest would have dared to do ; it ill becomes him 
 to preach obedience who " 
 
 "True, true, I will see to him — he shall an- 
 swer for what he has done — but now Calverley, 
 tell me honestly, for you are not wont to be fami- 
 liar even with your fellows — tell me what you saw 
 in this maiden that could make you wish to rival 
 Stephen Holgrave ?" 
 
 " Her beauty, my lord." 
 
 " What ! is she so fair ?" 
 
 " My lord, I have seldom looked upon one so 
 fair. In my judgment she was the loveliest I ever 
 saw in these parts." 
 
 " Say you so !" returned De Boteler. " I should 
 like to see this boasted beauty, even if it w^ere to 
 convince me of your taste in these matters. Cal- 
 
THE BONDMAN. 29 
 
 verley, order one of the varlets to go to Holgrave, 
 and desire him to come to the castle directly — and, 
 mind you, he brings his wife with him." 
 
 Calverley could scarcely repress a smile of ex- 
 ultation as the baron delivered this command, but 
 composing his countenance to its general calm ex- 
 pression, he bowed to De Boteler, and immediately 
 withdrew. 
 
 Holgrave, when the henchman delivered the 
 baron's command, hesitated, and looked angrily to 
 Margaret. 
 
 " What ails thee, my son," asked Edith. Is 
 she not thy wife ? — and can the baron break 
 asunder the bonds that bind ye ? — or dost thou 
 fear that Margaret's face may please him — and 
 that he would strive to take from the man who 
 saved his life in the battle, the wife of his bosom ! 
 Shame ! shame !" 
 
 " No, no, mother," returned Holgrave, musing ; 
 "■ yet I would rather she should not go to the 
 castle — I have seen more of the baron than you : 
 and, besides, this Calverley " 
 
 Holgrave, however, considering it better not to 
 irritate the baron by a refusal, at length consented 
 that Margaret should accompany him, and they 
 quitted the cottage together. 
 
 '' Come hither, Holgrave," said De Boteler, as 
 Holgrave entered. " Is this your wife ?" 
 
 " Yes, my lord," replied the yeoman, with a 
 humble reverence. 
 
 " Look up, pretty one," said De Boteler to Mar- 
 garet! — Now, by my faith Holgrave, I commend 
 your choice. I wonder not that such a prize 
 was contended for. Maro:aret, — I believe that is 
 
30 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 your name ? Look up ! and tell me in what secret 
 place you grew into such beauty ?" 
 
 Margaret raised her bright blue eyes, that had 
 been as yet hidden by the long dark lashes, and 
 the downcast lids ; but, meeting the bold fixed 
 gaze of the baron, they were instantly withdrawn, 
 and the deep blush of one unaccustomed to the 
 eyes of strangers, suffused her cheek and brow, 
 and even her neck. 
 
 "Were you reared on this barony, Margaret?" 
 resumed the baron. 
 
 " Yes, my lord," answered Margaret, modestly, 
 raising her eyes : " my mother was a freeman's 
 daughter ; my father was a bondman on this land : 
 they died when I was but a child ; and Edith 
 Holgrave reared me till I grew up a girl and could 
 work for myself — and then " 
 
 " You thought you could not do better than 
 wed her son through gratitude. That was well — 
 and so this good squire of ours could not expect 
 to find much favour in your eyes. But, do you 
 not know, you should not have w^edded without 
 my consent?" 
 
 " My lord," answered Holgrave ; " I beg your 
 pardon ; but I thought your lordship wouldn't 
 think much of the marriage, as your lordship was 
 not at the castle, and I did not know when you 
 would return. Here is the merchet, my lord, and 
 I hope you will forgive me for not awaiting your 
 return." 
 
 " I suppose I must, for there is no helping it 
 now ; and by my faith, it is well you did not let me 
 see that pretty face before you were wedded, — but 
 take back the merchet," he continued, waving back 
 
THE BONDMAN. 31 
 
 with his hand, the money which Holgrave was pre- 
 senting. ^' Keep it. An orphan bride seldom comes 
 rich ; and here is a trifle to add to it, as a token 
 that De Boteler prizes beauty — even though it be 
 that of a bondwoman !" As he spoke, he held a 
 broad piece of gold towards Holgrave. 
 
 '' Not so, my lord," said Holgrave, suffering the 
 coin to remain between De Boteler's fingers. — " Not 
 so my lord. I take back the merchet with many 
 thanks, but I crave your pardon for not taking 
 your gold. I have no need of gold — I did not 
 wed Margaret for dower — and with your lordship's 
 leave I pray you excuse my taking it." 
 
 " As you please, unthankful kern," replied the 
 baron, haughtily. *' De Boteler forces his gifts upon 
 no one — here," he continued, throwing the piece 
 to an attendant, who stood behind his chair — 
 " you will not refuse it." He then turned round 
 to the table and commenced a game at cards, 
 without further noticing Holgrave. The yeoman 
 stood a few minutes awaiting the baron's pleasure, 
 but perceiving he did not heed him, presently took 
 Margaret's hand, and making a low obeisance, 
 retired. 
 
 When the game was finished, De Boteler threw 
 down the cards. 
 
 " Calverley," said he, " think you that this 
 Margaret loves her husband ?" A slight shade 
 passed over Calverley 's cheek as he answered, 
 
 *' I should hardly think so, my lord. She is — 
 her temper is very gentle — Holgrave is passionate, 
 and rude, and — " 
 
 *' It is a pity she should be the wife of such a 
 carle " — mused his lord. 
 
32 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 That afternoon De Boteler, throwing a plain dark 
 cloak over his rich dress, left the castle, took the 
 path that led to Holgrave's abode, and raising the 
 latch, entered the cottage. 
 
 Margaret was sitting near the window at needle- 
 work, and Edith in her high-backed arm-chair, 
 was knitting in the chimney-corner. Margaret 
 blushing deeply, started from her seat as her eyes 
 so unexpectedly encountered those of the baron. 
 
 " Keep your seat, pretty dame," said De Boteler. 
 " That is a stout silk. For whom are you working 
 these bright colours ?" 
 
 "It is a stole for my brother, the monk, my 
 lord," replied Margaret in a tremulous voice. 
 
 " Your work is so beautiful" returned De Boteler, 
 looking at the silk," that I wish you could find time 
 to embroider a tabard for me." 
 
 " My lord," replied Edith, rising from her seat 
 and stepping forward a few paces, " Margaret 
 Holgrave has little leisure from attending to the 
 household of her husband. There are abundance 
 of skilful sempstresses ; and surely the Baron de 
 Boteler would not require this young woman to 
 neglect the duty she has taken upon herself." 
 
 De Boteler looked at Edith an instant with a 
 frown, as if about to answer fiercely ; but after a 
 moment he inquired calmly, 
 
 " Does your son find his farm answer, dame ?" 
 
 " Yes, my lord^ with many thanks to the donor. 
 Stephen has all he can wish for in this farm." 
 
 " That is well," returned De Boteler; and then, 
 after a momentary but earnest gaze at Margaret, 
 he turned away and left the cottage. 
 
 Holgrave entered soon after the baron's depar- 
 
THE BONDMAN. 33 
 
 ture. Margaret strove to meet him with a smile; 
 but it was not the sunny glow, that usually greeted 
 his return. He detected the effort; nay, as he 
 bent down to kiss her cheek, he saw that she 
 trembled. 
 
 " What ails you, Margaret?" inquired he ten- 
 derly. " You are not well ?" 
 
 " O yes," replied Margaret. " I am perfectly 
 well, but — I have been a little frightened." 
 
 *' By whom ? Calverley ?" 
 
 " No ; his master." 
 
 " The baron ! Surely Margaret — " 
 
 " Oh ! Stephen," said Margaret, alarmed at the 
 sudden fierceness his countenance assumed. " In- 
 deed he said no harm. Did he, mother?" 
 
 " No," replied Edith, " and if he had, Stephen, 
 your wife knew how to answer him as befitting a 
 virtuous woman." 
 
 " It was well," replied Holgrave ; "I am a 
 freeman, and may go where I list, and not King 
 Edward himself shall insult a freeman's wife! — 
 but do not weep, Margaret, I am not angered with 
 you." 
 
 That evening De Boteler spoke little during 
 supper, and while drinking the second cup after the 
 repast, he desired the page who stood behind his 
 chair, to order the monk John to attend him 
 directly. Father John presently appeared, and 
 approaching the foot of the table, made a low 
 obeisance, and then with his hands crossed on his 
 bosom, and with eyes cast down, awaited till De 
 Boteler should address him. De Boteler looked 
 for a moment earnestly at the monk, ere in a stern 
 voice he said : 
 
 VOL. V. D 
 
34 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 " Father John, know you not why I have sent 
 for you ?" 
 
 *' My lord, I await your pleasure," replied the 
 monk submissively. 
 
 " Await my pleasured replied the baron scorn- 
 fully. " Did you consider my pleasure, monk, 
 when you presumed to set at nought my pre- 
 rogatives ?" 
 
 " My lord," answered the monk, still mildly, 
 though in a firmer tone than he had before spoken, 
 '' My Lord de Boteler, servants must obey their 
 masters." 
 
 '' Hypocrite !" interrupted the baron, in a voice 
 that resounded through the hall. " Did you con- 
 sider the obedience due to a master when you pre- 
 sumed to dispose of a bondwoman of mine, with- 
 out my sanction — nay, even in direct opposition 
 to my will? Answer me. Did you consider the 
 order of dependence then ?" 
 
 " Baron of Sudley," replied the monk, in a voice 
 which though scarcely elevated above the ordinary 
 pitch of colloquial discourse, was nevertheless in 
 that clear distinct tone which is heard at a consider- 
 able distance — " Baron of Sudley, I am no hypo- 
 crite, neither have I forgotten to render to Caesar 
 the things that are Caesar's. If I pronounced the 
 nuptial benediction over a bondwoman and a free- 
 man without your lordship having consented, it 
 was because you had first violated the trust re- 
 posed in you. You are a master to command 
 obedience, but only in things that are not sinful ; 
 yet would you sinfully have compelled a maiden 
 to swear at the holy altar of God to love and 
 honour a man whom her soul abhorred. It was 
 
THE BONDMAN. 35 
 
 because you would have done this, that I, as the 
 only being besides your lordship who could — " 
 
 " Insolent priest!" interrupted De Boteler, 
 " do you dare to justify what you have done ? 
 Now, by my faith, if you had with proper humi- 
 lity acknowledged your fault and sued for pardon 
 — pardon you should have had. But now, you 
 leave this castle instantly. I will teach you that 
 De Boteler will yet be master of his own house, 
 and his own vassals. And here I swear (and the 
 baron of Sudley uttered an imprecation) that, 
 for your meddling knavery, no priest or monk 
 shall ever again abide here. If the varlets want 
 to shrieve, they can go to the Abbey ; and if 
 they want to hear mass, a priest can come from 
 Winchcombe. But never shall another of your 
 meddling fraternity abide at Sudley while Roland 
 de Boteler is its lord." 
 
 " Calverley," he continued, turning to the 
 squire, who stood at a distance, enjoying the mor- 
 tification of the monk — " Calverley, see that the 
 priest quits the castle — remember — instantly !" 
 
 The monk, for the first time, fully raised his 
 eyes, and casting upon the baron a momentary 
 glance of reproach, turned, without speaking, from 
 the table. He walked on a few steps towards the 
 door, and then stopping suddenly, as if recollect- 
 ing that Calverley had orders to see him depart, he 
 turned round, and looking upon the squire, who 
 was almost at his side, he said in a stern voice, and 
 with a frowning brow, " I go in obedience to your 
 master ; but even obedience to your master is not 
 to be enforced upon a servant of the Lord by such 
 D 2 
 
36 THE BONDMAX. 
 
 as you. Of my own will I go forth ; but not one 
 step further do I proceed till you retire !" 
 
 There was that in the voice and look of the 
 monk, which made Calverley involuntarily shrink ; 
 and receivino- at the same instant a o-lance from 
 De Boteler, he withdrew to the upper end of the 
 room ; and father John, with a dignified step, 
 passed on through the hall, and across the court- 
 yard, and giving a blessing to the guard at the prin- 
 cipal gate, who bent his knee to receive it, he went 
 forth, having first shaken the dust from his sandals. 
 
 The next morning, when his lord had released 
 him from attendance, Calverley, little satisfied with 
 the progress of his vengeance, left the castle, and 
 walked on to meditate alone more uninterruptedly 
 on the canker-worm within. 
 
 He had not proceeded far along his path, when 
 the heavy tread of a man on the rustling leaves, 
 caused him to raise his eyes, and he saw a short, 
 thickset figure, in grey woollen hose, and a vest of 
 coarse medley cloth reaching no higher than the 
 collar-bone, hastening onward. A gleam of hope 
 lighted Calverley's face as he observed this man. 
 
 '' What is the matter this morning, Byles ?" said 
 he, '' you look troubled." 
 
 Byles looked at Calverley for an instant, perfectly 
 astonished at his condescension. 
 
 "Troubled!" replied he — ''no wonder. My 
 farm is bad ; and — 
 
 " It is a poor farm," said Calverley hastily ; 
 " but there are many fine farms that have lately 
 reverted to my lord in default of heirs, or as for- 
 feitures, that must soon be given away or sold." 
 
 " But, Master Calverley, what is that tome ?" said 
 
THE BONDMAN. 37 
 
 Byles, looking with some surprise at the squire — 
 *' you know I am a friendless man, and have not 
 wherewithal to pay the fine the steward would de- 
 mand for the land. No, no, John Byles is going 
 fast down the hill." 
 
 " Don't despair, Byles — there is Holgrave — he 
 was once poorer than you — take heart, some lucky 
 chance may lift you up the hill again. I dare say 
 this base-born I have named thinks himself better 
 now than the free-born honest man." 
 
 *' Aye, that he does, squire : to be sure he 
 doesn't say any thing ; but then he thinks the 
 more ; and, besides, he never comes into the ale- 
 house when his work is done, to take a cheering 
 draught like other men. No, no, he is too proud 
 for that ; but home he goes, and whatever he drinks 
 he drinks at his own fireside." 
 
 For a moment Calverley's brow contracted ; but 
 striving to look interested for the man he wished to 
 conciliate, he replied, '' Yes, Byles, it is a pity 
 that a good-hearted yeoman like you should not 
 prosper as well as a mere mushroom. Now, Byles, 
 I know you are a discreet man, and I will tell you 
 a piece of news that nobody about the barony has 
 yet heard. My lord is going to be married — yes, 
 Byles, he leaves Sudley in a few days, and goes 
 again to London, and he will shortly return with a 
 fair and noble mistress for the castle." 
 
 " We shall have fine doings then," said Byles, 
 in an animated tone, and with a cheerful counte- 
 nance ; not that the news was of particular moment 
 to him, but people love to be told news ; and, be- 
 sides, the esquire's increasing familiarity was not a 
 little flattering. 
 
38 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 " Oh yes," replied Calverley; " there will be 
 fine feasting, and I will see, Byles, that you do 
 not lack the best. Who knows but your dame 
 may yet nurse the heir of this noble house." 
 
 '^ I am afraid not, — many thanks to you ; John 
 Byles is not thought enough of in this barony — 
 no, it is more likely Holgrave's wife, if she has any 
 children, will have the nursing." 
 
 " What ! Margaret Holgrave ? — never" — said 
 Calverley, with such a look and tone, that the 
 yeoman started, and felt convinced, that what he 
 had heard whispered about the esquire's liking for 
 Margaret was true : " but, however," added Cal- 
 verley, in a moment recovering his self-possession, 
 " do not despair, Byles. My lord tells me I shall 
 replace old Luke as steward in a few months, and 
 if I do, there is not a vassal I should be more in-r 
 clined to favour than you ; for I see, Byles, there 
 is little chance of your doing good unless you 
 have a friend ; for you are known to the baron as 
 an idle fellow, and not over-scrupulous of telling 
 a falsehood. Nay, my man, don't start, I tell you 
 the truth." 
 
 " Well, but squire, how could the baron hear of 
 this ?" 
 
 " Perhaps Stephen Holgrave could answer " 
 
 '* The base-born kern," replied Byles, fiercely ; 
 " he shall answer " 
 
 " I don't say he told the Baron," said Calverley; 
 " but I believe Holgrave loves to make every body 
 look worse than himself; and to be plain with you, 
 John Byles, I love him not." 
 
 " No, sir, I believe you have little reason to 
 love him any more than other people — " 
 
THE BONDMAN. 39 
 
 " Byles," interrupted Calverley, speaking ra- 
 pidly, " you are poor — you are in arrear with your 
 rent ; a distress will be levied, and then what will 
 become of you — of your wife and the little one ? 
 Listen to me ! I will give you money to keep a 
 house over your head ; and when I am steward, 
 you shall have the first farm at my lord's disposal, 
 if you will only aid me in my revenge ! Revenge!" 
 he repeated, vehemently — " but you hesitate — 
 you refuse." 
 
 " Nay, nay, squire, I don't refuse : your offer is 
 too tempting for a man in my situation to refuse ; 
 but you know — " 
 
 " Well," interrupted Calverley, with a con- 
 temptuous smile — ^' well, well, Byles, I see you 
 prefer a jail for yourself, and beggary and starva- 
 ,tion for your wife and child. Aye — perhaps to 
 ask bread from Stephen Holgrave." 
 
 " Ask bread from him ! — of the man who crows 
 over us all, and who has told my lord that I am a 
 liar ! No, no, I would sooner die first. I thank 
 you for your kindness. Master Calverley, and I 
 will do any thing short of " 
 
 *' Oh, you need not pause," interrupted Cal- 
 verley, 'M do not want you to do him any bodily 
 harm." 
 
 "Don't you? — oh! well, then, John Byles is 
 yours," said he, with a brightening countenance : 
 " for you see I don't mind saying any thing against 
 such a fellow as he." 
 
 " Yes, Byles, and especially since you will not 
 be asked to say it for nothing," returned Calverley 
 with a slight sarcastic smile ; but immediately as- 
 suming a more earnest and friendly tone, he con- 
 
40 THE BONDMAN". 
 
 tinned, " I have promised you gold, and gold 
 you shall have. I will befriend you to the utmost 
 of my power, and you know my influence is not 
 small at the castle ; but you must swear to 
 be faithful. Here," said he, stooping down and 
 taking up a rotten branch that lay at his feet, and, 
 breaking it in two, he placed it in the form of a 
 cross. " Here, Byles, swear by this cross to be 
 faithful." Byles hesitated for an instant, and then, 
 in rather a tremulous voice, swore to earn faith- 
 fully his wages of sin. 
 
 It was nearly four months subsequent to the 
 departure of De Boteler from the castle, ere Byles 
 proceeded to earn the gold which had, in some mea- 
 sure, set him to rights with the world. It was 
 about the middle of March ; — the morning had 
 risen gloomily, and, from a dense mass of clouds, 
 a slow heavy rain continued to pour during the 
 whole of the day. " Sam," said Byles to a ser- 
 vitor, a faithful stupid creature, with just sufficient 
 intellect to comprehend and obey the commands 
 of his master. — " Sam, if this rain continues we 
 must go to work to-night ?" 
 
 The rain did continue, and, after Byles had 
 supped, he sat at the fire for two or three hours, 
 and scarcely spoke. His countenance was trou- 
 bled ; — the deed he had promised to do — which 
 he had contemplated with almost indifference, 
 was now about to be accomplished ; and he felt 
 how different it is to dwell upon the commission of 
 a thing, and actually to do it. Frequent draughts 
 of ale, however, in some measure restored the tone 
 of his nerves ; and, as the evening wore away, he 
 rose from the fire, and, opening the door, looked 
 
TPIE BONDMAN. 41 
 
 out at the weather. A thick drizzling rain still 
 fell ; the moon was at the full ; and though the 
 heavy clouds precluded the possibility of her 
 gladdening the earth, yet even the heavy clouds 
 could not entirely obscure her light ; — there was 
 a radiance spread over the heavens which, though 
 wanting the brightness of moonlight, was never- 
 theless equal and shadowless. 
 
 " 'Tis a capital night," said Byles, as he looked 
 up at the sky in a tone of soliloquy ; " I could 
 not have wished for a better — just light enough 
 to see what we are about, and not enough to tell 
 tales. Sam," continued he, closing the door and 
 sitting again at the fire, " bring me the shafts and 
 let me look if the bow is in order." 
 
 The serving man took from a concealed place a 
 couple of arrows, and a stout yew-tree bow, and 
 handed them to his master. 
 
 '' You did well, Sam, in getting these shafts 
 from Holgrave. You put the quiver up safe?- — 
 there is no fear of his missing them ?" 
 
 " I should think not, master. It would be hard 
 if he missed two out of four-and-twenty." 
 
 " Mary," said Byles, addressing his wife, '' put 
 something over the casement, lest if, by chance, 
 any body should be abroad, they may see that 
 we are up : — and now, bring me the masks. Never 
 fear, Mary, nobody is out such a night as this. 
 Now Sam," he continued, "fetch the hand-barrow 
 and let us away." 
 
 Mary began to tremble ; — she caught her hus- 
 band by the arm, and said something in a low and 
 tremulous voice. As the fire revealed her face, 
 Byles started at the strange paleness it exhibited. 
 
42 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 *' What ails you, Mary ?" said he. " Have you 
 not all along urged me to this ? and now, after 
 taking Calverley's gold, and spending it, and sign- 
 ing the bond, you want me to stand still ! No, 
 no, I must go to the Chase this night, were I sure 
 to be hung to-morrow morning !" He then pushed 
 her away with some violence, and the servitor pre- 
 ceding him, he passed over the threshold and 
 closed the door. 
 
 They entered the Chase — and the wind, as it 
 came in sudden gusts through the branches of the 
 tall trees, gave an air of deeper gloom to the night. 
 Frequently they paused and listened, as if fearful 
 of being discovered ; and then, when convinced 
 that no human being was near, hastened on to 
 the spot where the deer usually herded at night. 
 A deep ravine, ten or twelve feet in breadth, in- 
 tersected the Chase at a few paces from the in- 
 closure ; and, about a stone's throw to the right 
 of this inclosure, stood the dwelling of the 
 keeper. 
 
 " Sam," said Byles, " is not that a light in the 
 cottage ?" 
 
 " Yes, master, but I think they are in bed, and 
 may be have forgotten to rake the ashes over the 
 fire." 
 
 " It may be so," answered Byles, doubtfully ; 
 keep in the shade of the trees, and let us stop 
 awhile — I do not much like this light." They 
 watched the cottage anxiously, and, in about 
 twenty minutes, the light disappeared. 
 
 " Sam," said Byles, " I believe you were right — 
 that last faint flicker, I doubt not, came from the 
 dying embers. Creep softly to the inclosure, and 
 
THE BONDMAN. 43 
 
 gently rustle the brushwood. Don't let them see 
 you. Softly — there — go on." 
 
 Byles drew his shaft from beneath his garment, 
 and fixed it in the bow as Sam crept into the in- 
 closure and did what he was ordered. The ani- 
 mals started on their legs, and stretched their 
 heads forward in various directions, as if to ascer- 
 tain whence the danger seemed to threaten. 
 
 '^ Down, Sam, a little to the left," whispered 
 Byles, as a noble buck bounded forward towards 
 the servitor, who had sheltered himself so as to 
 avoid being seen by the animal. Sam dropt on 
 the drenched grass to avoid the shaft that now 
 sped from the bow of the marksman. The arrow 
 entered the neck of the affrighted creature, as, for 
 an instant, it stood with upraised head, its lofty 
 antlers touching the branches. It then bounded 
 forward, but, in its giddy effort to clear the ob- 
 struction of the opposing chasm, fell gasping 
 among the brushwood that lined the sides of the 
 ravine. 
 
 " Confound him, he has escaped us !" exclaimed 
 Byles. See the whole herd scudding off, as if the 
 hounds were in full cry at their heels. But for- 
 ward, Sam, and creep to the edge, for he may not 
 have fallen into the stream." 
 
 Sam obeyed ; but whether owing to his trepi- 
 dation or the slippery surface of the earth, he lost 
 his footing and disappeared, uttering a cry of 
 terror. Byles stood for an instant, irresolute whether 
 to advance to the succour of his servitor, or leave 
 him behind, for he apprehended that the cry would 
 arouse the guardians of the Chase. Recollecting, 
 however, that it would be as dangerous to abandon 
 
44 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 liim as to attempt his extrication, he rushed forward 
 to the spot where Sam had disappeared. The man 
 had, in his fall, grasped the root of a tree from 
 which the late heavy rains had washed the earth, 
 and he lay suspended midway down. Byles has- 
 tily threw him a rope, with which he had intended 
 to bind the animal on the barrow, and, w4th some 
 difficulty, succeeded in dragging him up. 
 
 The dying throes of the buck recalled Byles to 
 the object of his journey ; and they were about 
 making an effort to extricate the animal from the 
 brushwood, when the servitor's eye caught the 
 gleam of a light in the "cottage. 
 
 "It's all over," said Byles, in a disappointed 
 tone ; " but the arrow may answer our purpose 
 where it is. Take up the barrow and fly, but keep 
 in the shade of the trees." 
 
 A quick knock aroused Mary from her seat at 
 the fire. She approached the door on tiptoe, and 
 hesitated a moment ere she unclosed it ; but the 
 rapid breathings of Byles relieved her alarm, and 
 she opened it hastily. A pale, haggard look met 
 her eyes as her husband rushed in. " Fasten the 
 door, Mary," said he — " haste, quench the fire. 
 Here, put these w^et clothes in the hiding place" — 
 stripping himself of his garments — ^' and when 
 you have done, hasten to bed. I am afraid they 
 have overtaken poor Sam." 
 
 " Oh !" said Mary, " dropping the clothes, and 
 staggering to a seat — " oh ! Byles, Byles, we are 
 lost ! What will become of us ! Sam will tell 
 all !" 
 
 " Hold your tongue, woman," said Byles, jump- 
 ing out of the bed into which he had thrown him- 
 
THE EONDMAN. 45 
 
 self, and taking up the clothes, concealed them in 
 the pit. " Do you want to have me hanged ? To 
 bed, I tell you." 
 
 She tremblingly obeyed, and Byles listened with 
 breathless anxiety for the signal that would assure 
 him of his servant's safety. At length a footstep 
 and a low tap at the door summoned Byles from 
 his bed. '' Who is there?" said he. 
 
 " Hasten, master, open the door," answered the 
 servitor. 
 
 " All is well ; Sam is returned !" He opened 
 the door, and the servitor panting with fear and 
 fatigue, threw the barrow on the floor. 
 
 " That's right, Sam ; there is nothing left to tell 
 we have been in the Chase to-night. Now hasten 
 to bed as quickly as you can. You shall have a 
 new suit at Easter for this night's business. But 
 Master Calverley will not be well pleased that the 
 buck was not lodged in Holgrave's barn. How- 
 ever, it cannot be helped now." 
 
46 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 It was a fair morning in the June succeeding Hol- 
 grave's marriage, that Sudley castle presented a 
 greater degree of splendour than it had exhibited 
 for some years before. Roland de Boteler had 
 wedded a noble maiden, and it was expected that 
 the castle would that day be graced by the pre- 
 sence of its future mistress. 
 
 There was a restless anxiety that morning, in 
 every inhabitant of the castle, from old Luke, the 
 steward, who was fretting and fidgetting lest the 
 lady should consider him too old for the steward- 
 ship, to the poor varlet who fed the dogs, and the 
 dirty nief who scoured the platters. This anxiety 
 increased when a messenger arrived to announce that 
 the noble party were on the road from Oxford, and 
 might be expected in a few hours : and when at 
 length a cloud of dust was observed in the dis- 
 tance, old Luke, bare headed, and followed by the 
 retainers and domestics, went forth to greet with 
 the accustomed homage, De Boteler and his bride. 
 
 The graceful Isabella de Vere was seated on a 
 white palfrey, and attired in a riding-dress of green 
 
THE BONDMAN. 47 
 
 velvet, while a richly embroidered mantle or sur- 
 coat of the same material, trimmed with minever, 
 fell from her shoulders, and in some measure con- 
 cealed the emblazoned housing that ornamented 
 the beautiful animal on which she rode. A pyra- 
 midal cap of green satin, with a long veil of trans- 
 parent tissue flowing from the point, and falling so 
 as partly to shadow, and partly reveal the glow of 
 her high-born beauty, was the only head-gear worn 
 that day by the daughter of the Earl of Oxford, 
 and the new baroness of Sudley. 
 
 On her right hand rode her husband, clad in a 
 tunic of fine cloth, in colour resembling the habit 
 of his lady, and mounted on a dark, fiery charger, 
 which with difficulty he could rein in to the slow 
 pace of the palfrey. On the left of the lady Isa- 
 bella was her brother, young Robert de Vere, and 
 though but a boy, one might have read much in 
 the lines of that countenance, of his future destiny. 
 His smooth, dimpled chin, was small and round, and 
 his mouth possessed that habitual smile, that softly 
 beaming expression, which won for him in after 
 years the regard of the superficial Richard ; while 
 there shone a fire in the full dark eyes, which be- 
 tokened the ambitious spirit that was to animate 
 the future lord of Dublin, and sovereign of Ire- 
 land. 
 
 Sparkling with jewels, and attired in a white 
 satin robe, the Lady De Boteler took her seat for 
 the first time, at the table of her lord, and well was 
 she calculated to grace the board. Her person, 
 tall and well formed, possessed that fullness of pro- 
 portion which is conveyed by the term majestic ; 
 and her movements were exceedingly graceful. 
 
48 
 
 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 She had fine auburn hair, and the thick curls that 
 fell beneath the gemmed fillet encircling her head, 
 seemed alternately a bright gold or a dark brown 
 according to the waving of the tress. Her hair 
 and high white forehead which the parted curls 
 revealed, possessed sufficient beauty to have re- 
 deemed even irregular features from the charge of 
 homeliness ; but Isabella De Vere's face was al- 
 together as generally faultless as falls to the lot of 
 woman. 
 
 The guests were numerous, and the evening 
 passed away in feasting and revelry. The blaze 
 of the lights — the full strains of the minstrels — 
 the glad faces and graceful motions of the dancers, 
 the lustre of the ladies' jewels, and the glitter of 
 the gold embroidery on the dresses of male and fe- 
 male, combined to give to the spacious hall that 
 night, more the appearance of a fairy scene, which 
 might dissolve in a moment into air, than a palpa- 
 ble human festivity. The tenantry had also their 
 feasting and their dancing ; but these had to pay 
 for their amusement : each tenant, according to 
 the custom of the manor, on the marriage of their 
 lord, being obliged to bring an offering in pro- 
 portion to the land which he held. 
 
 On the morrow, accordingly, the vassals brought 
 their presents. The lady Isabella, surrounded by vi- 
 sitors and attended by her handmaidens, was seated 
 in the spacious apartment intended for the ceremony, 
 as Edith, supported by Margaret, entered the room. 
 The baroness raised her head and gazed upon the 
 latter, with that complacent feeling which beauty 
 seldom fails to inspire. The delicate hue of Mar- 
 garet's cheek was. at this moment, deepened by 
 
THE BONDMAN. 49 
 
 embarrassment ; and, as kneeling down, she raised 
 her bright blue eyes, the lady thought she had 
 never seen so lovely a creature. 
 
 " What is your pleasure with me, maiden ?" 
 asked the baroness, in a condescending tone. 
 
 " Lady," replied Margaret modestly ; " I am 
 the wife of one of my lord's vassals ; and my mo- 
 ther, and myself, humbly beg you will accept this 
 present." 
 
 "And is this your present? — What is your 
 name ?" 
 
 " Margaret Holgrave, lady." 
 
 " Look, Lady Anne," said Isabella, displaying a 
 pair of white silk gloves, beautifully wrought with 
 gold. " Do you not think this a fair present for 
 a vassal to bestow ?" 
 
 " The gloves are very beautiful," replied the 
 lady. 
 
 " Your gift betokens a good feeling, young 
 dame," said Isabella, turning to Margaret. " But 
 why did you choose so costly a present ?" 
 
 "Indeed, noble lady," replied Margaret, " the 
 gloves cost but little- — Edith, here, my husband's 
 mother, knitted them, and I have striven to orna- 
 ment them." 
 
 " What ! Is this your embroidery ?" 
 
 " Yes, my lady." 
 
 " This is not the work of a novice. Lady Anne — 
 You are accustomed to needle-work !" 
 
 "Yes, my lady — before I was married I ob- 
 tained my support by making the vestments for 
 some of the monks at Hailes Abbey." 
 
 " Indeed ! very well — and you are this young 
 
 VOL. v. E 
 
50 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 person's mother-in-law?" said the baroness, for the 
 first time addressing Edith. 
 
 *' Yes, Baroness De Boteler," replied the old 
 woman. 
 
 " Very well," said the lady, and looking alter- 
 nately at Edith and Margaret, she added, '* I ac- 
 cept your gift — you may now retire." 
 
 They accordingly withdrew from the chamber, 
 and, in the court-yard, were joined by Holgrave. 
 " Did the baroness take the gloves?" he asked. 
 
 " Yes," replied Margaret, in delight, " and she 
 seemed pleased with the embroidery. O, Stephen, 
 she is so beautiful ! She looks like an angel ! 
 Does she not, mother?" 
 
 " She has beauty, Margaret," answered Edith, 
 " but it is not the beauty of an angel — it has too 
 much of pride." 
 
 " But all ladies are proud, mother ! I warrant 
 she is not prouder than another." 
 
 " May be not, Margaret ; but yet that lady who 
 sat at her side, looked not so high as the baroness. 
 There was more sweetness in her smile, and gentle- 
 ness in her voice." 
 
 " O yes, she spoke very sweetly, but she is not 
 so handsome as the baron's lady." 
 
 " Margaret," replied Edith; "when you are as 
 old as I, you will not look upon beauty as you do 
 now ; — a gentle heart and a pallid cheek will seem 
 lovelier then, than brightness and bloom, if there 
 be pride on the brow. But, Stephen, what said 
 the steward when you gave him the gold ?" 
 
 " Oh, he said mine was the best gift that had 
 been brought yet. But come, mother, it is time 
 we were at home." 
 
THE BONDMAN. 51 
 
 The Lady de Boteler, Lady Anne Hammond, 
 and the other ladies, were admiring the embroidered 
 gloves, when De Boteler and Sir Robert Knowles 
 entered the apartment. 
 
 " See, Roland," said the baroness, holding the 
 gloves towards her husband ; " see, what a pretty 
 gift I have received since you left us !" 
 
 ^' They are indeed pretty," answered De Bo- 
 teler ; " and the fair hands that wrought them 
 deserve praise. What think you. Sir Robert?" 
 
 " O, you must not ask Sir Robert for any fine 
 compliment," interrupted the baroness. " They 
 are not a lady's gift — they were presented to me 
 by the wife of one of your vassals." 
 
 '^ The wife of a vassal would not have taste 
 enough to buy such as these ; and there is but 
 one about Winchcombe who could work so well. 
 And, by my faith, I now remember that it was 
 part of the tenure by which I some time since 
 granted land, to present a pair of gloves. — Was it 
 not a fair-looking damsel, one Stephen Holgrave's 
 wife, that brought them ?" 
 
 *' I think she said her name was Holgrave," 
 replied the lady in a cold tone. " But indeed, 
 my lord baron, you seem to be wondrously well 
 acquainted with the faces and the handywork of 
 your vassals' wives !" 
 
 " Nay, Isabella," said the pale interesting lady 
 of Sir Robert Knowles, "it is not strange that my 
 Lord de Boteler should know the faces of those 
 who were born on his land ; and this young wo- 
 man's skill could not fail to have procured her 
 notice. But the handiness of her fingers has not 
 made her vain. You know I am fond of reading 
 e2 
 
52 THE BONDMAX 
 
 faces, and I would answer that she is as modest 
 and good as she is fair." 
 
 " O, I dare say she is," replied the baroness, 
 and immediately changed the conversation. 
 
 The next morning Holgrave received a peremp- 
 tory order to attend at the castle in the afternoon ; 
 and the henchman of the baron, who was the 
 bearer of the message, refused to give any in- 
 formation why he had been so summoned. Edith, 
 with her natural penetration, saw, by the hesita- 
 tion of the servitor, and by the tone in which the 
 mandate was conveyed, that something of more 
 than ordinary moment was about to be transacted, 
 and, with an undefined feeling of alarm, she re- 
 solved to accompany her son. 
 
 As they entered the court-yard, the henchman, 
 who had delivered the message, accosted Holgrave, 
 telling him he must go into the hall to answer to 
 some matter before the baron. 
 
 " What is the matter which my son is to an- 
 swer, friend ?" asked Edith ; but the man evaded 
 the question, and Holgrave, leaving his mother in 
 the outer court-yard, passed through one of the 
 arched doors into the other, and, with a firm step, 
 though with some apprehension of evil, entered 
 the hall. 
 
 He had scarcely time to give a nod of recogni- 
 tion to several neighbours who stood near the en- 
 trance, when the steward approached, and, de- 
 siring him to walk further up the hall, placed him 
 at the first step that elevated the upper end, thus 
 cutting off every possibility of communicating with 
 his neighbours. Holgrave felt any thing but com- 
 posure in his present conspicuous situation : though 
 
THE BONDMAN. 53 
 
 strong in the rectitude of his conscience, yet he 
 felt apprehensions and misgivings ; and the strange 
 silence that was observed respecting the intended 
 charge alarmed him the more. As the hall was 
 always open on such occasions, he speedily saw 
 a crowd of vassals pouring in — some anxious to 
 know the event, either through a feeling of friend- 
 ship or hatred, and others merely from curiosity. 
 The eyes of each man as he entered, fell, as if in- 
 stinctively, upon the yeoman ; and he could per- 
 ceive, as they formed into groups, that he was the 
 subject of their conversation. Presently his mo- 
 ther, supported by an old friend named Hartwell, 
 entered, and he thought she regarded him with 
 an earnest and sorrowful look. But his attention 
 was immediately diverted ; — the upper door open- 
 ed, and De Boteler and the baroness, with Sir 
 Robert and Lady Knowles, entered the hall. 
 
 There was near the steps a small table with 
 writing materials, at which the steward ought to 
 have been seated, to write down the proceedings ; 
 but old Luke was not so quick of hearing, or per- 
 haps of comprehension, as Calverley, and the 
 esquire, therefore, took his place. 
 
 " Stephen Holgrave," said the baron, in a stern 
 voice, '' are these your shafts ?" as he beckoned 
 to old Luke to hand the yeoman two arrows which 
 he had hitherto concealed. 
 
 Holgrave looked at them an instant — 
 
 " Yes, my lord," said he, without hesitation, 
 but yet with a consciousness that the answer was 
 to injure him. 
 
 " What, they are yours then ?" said De Boteler 
 in a still harsher tone. 
 
54 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 Holgrave bowed his head. 
 
 " Come forward, keeper," continued the baron, 
 " and state how these arrows came into your 
 hands !" 
 
 The keeper made the deposition which the reader 
 will have anticipated ; and his men were then ex- 
 amined, who corroborated the statement of their 
 master. 
 
 '' Now, Stephen Holgrave," asked the baron, 
 " what have you to say to this ?" 
 
 '' My lord," replied Holgrave, still undaunted, 
 " the shafts are mine ; but I am as innocent of the 
 deed as the babe at its mother's breast. Whoever 
 shot the buck must have stolen my arrows, in order 
 to bring me into this scrape." 
 
 '' By my faith, Holgrave, you seem to think 
 lightly of this matter. Do you call it a scrape to 
 commit a felony in your lord's chase ? Have you 
 any thing further to urge in your defence ?" 
 
 There was a momentary pause after the baron 
 had ceased. Holgrave hesitated to reply; — he 
 had denied the charge, and he knew not what else 
 to say. But when every eye except Calverley's, 
 from Roland de Boteler's to that of the lowest 
 freeman present, was fixed on the accused, ex- 
 pecting his answer, a slight movement was ob- 
 served among the people, and Edith Holgrave, 
 supported by Hartwell, pressed forward, and stood 
 on the step by the side of her son. The gaze was 
 now in an instant turned from the son to the mo- 
 ther, and Edith, after pausing a moment to collect 
 her faculties, said, in a loud voice — 
 
 ** My Lord de Boteler, and you noble sir, and 
 fair dames — it may seem strange that an old wo- 
 
THE BONDMAN. 55 
 
 man like me should speak for a man of my son's 
 years ; but, in truth, he is better able to defend 
 himself with his arm than his tongue." 
 
 " Woman ! " interrupted De Boteler impatiently, 
 " your son has answered for himself — retire." 
 
 " Nay, my lord," replied Edith, with a bright 
 eye and a flushing cheek, and drawing herself up 
 to a height that she had not exhibited for many 
 years — '' nay, my lord, my son is able to defend 
 himself against the weapon of an open foe, but 
 not against the doings of a covert enemy !" 
 
 " What mean you, woman?" quickly returned 
 De Boteler; " do you accuse the keeper of my 
 chase as having plotted against your son, or whom 
 do you suspect ?" 
 
 '* Baron de Boteler," replied Edith, with a look 
 and a tone that seemed to gain fresh energy from 
 the kind of menace with which the interrogatories 
 were put, " I do not accuse your keeper. He had 
 an honest father, and he has himself ever been a 
 man of good repute. But I do say," she added 
 in a wild and high tone, and elevating her right 
 hand and rivetting her flashing eyes on Calverley — 
 " I c?o say, the charge as regards my son is a base 
 and traitorous plot." 
 
 " Hold your tongue, woman," interrupted De Bo- 
 teler, who had listened to her with evident reluct- 
 ance. " Why do you look so fiercely on my 'squire. 
 Have you aught against him ?" 
 
 " My lord baron," replied Edith, '' I have no- 
 thing to say that can bring home guilt to the 
 guilty, or do right to the wronged : but I will say, 
 my lord, that what a man is to-day he will be to- 
 morrow, unless he has some end to answer by 
 
56 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 changing. The esquire will scarcely give the word 
 of courtesy to tlie most reputable vassal, and yet 
 did he talk secretly and familiarly with John 
 Byles — and here is one who will swear that he 
 heard him repeat the name of my son, and then 
 something about an arrow." 
 
 Old Hart well now stept forward, and averred 
 that he had seen Calverley and Byles talking to- 
 gether in the chase, and that he had overheard 
 the name of Stephen Holgrave repeated in con- 
 junction with an allusion to arrows. The circum- 
 stance, however, had been quite forgotten until 
 the charge this morning brought it to his me- 
 mory. This eaves-dropping testimony amounted 
 to nothing, even before Calverley denied every 
 particular of the fact, which he did with the ut- 
 most composure — 
 
 " What motive have I to plot against Holgrave ?" 
 asked Calverley. 
 
 " You have a motive," said Edith, " both in 
 envy and in love. You well know that if this 
 charge could be proved, Stephen Holgrave must 
 die." 
 
 Calverley was about to speak, when he was in- 
 terrupted by De Boteler, who expressed himself 
 dissatisfied with the explanations on both sides : 
 
 " The proof is doubtful," said he, suddenly. 
 " Give the fellow back his arrows, and dissolve 
 the court. — Away !" 
 
 When the arrows were handed to their owner, 
 he instantly snapt them asunder. 
 
 " What means this, Stephen Holgrave ?" asked 
 the baron impatiently. 
 
 " My lord, those arrows were used in a foul 
 
THE BONDMAN. 57 
 
 purpose ; and Stephen Holgrave will never disgrace 
 his hand by using them again. The time may 
 come, my lord, when the malicious coward who 
 stole them shall rue this day !" 
 
 " Bravely said and done, my stout yeoman 1" 
 said Sir Robert Knowles, who broke silence for the 
 first time during the investigation : " and my Lord 
 de Boteler," he continued, addressing the baron, 
 " the arm that acquitted itself so well in your de- 
 fence, you may be assured, could never have dis- 
 graced itself by midnight plunder." 
 
 '' The blessing of the most high God be with 
 you for that, noble sir," said Edith, as she knelt 
 down and fervently thanked Sir Robert ; and then, 
 leaning on the arm of her son, she left the hall. 
 
 " By my faith, Sir Robert," said De Boteler, 
 " Stephen Holgrave wants no counsel while that 
 old dame so ably takes his part. But a truce with 
 this mummery. Come along — our time is more 
 precious than wasting it in hearing such varlets." 
 
 The baron and his guests then withdrew. 
 
 At the distance of nearly a mile from Sudley 
 Castle, and at about a quarter of a mile from the 
 hio;h road that led to Oxford, was a sincrular kind 
 of quarry or cliff. Its elevation was considerable, 
 and the portion of the hill visible from the road 
 was covered with the heathy verdure which usually 
 springs from such scanty soil ; but on passing 
 round to the other side, all the barren unsightly 
 appearance of a half worked quarry presented 
 itself. Huge masses of stone stood firmly as nature 
 
58 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 had formed them, while others, of a magnitude 
 sufficient to awaken in the hardiest, a sense of 
 danger, hung apparently by so slight a tenure, 
 that a passing gust of wind, seemed only required 
 to release their fragile hold. But the hill had stood 
 thus unaltered during the remembrance of the oldest 
 inhabitant of Winchcombe. Strange stories were 
 whispered respecting this clifF, but as the honour 
 of the house of Sudley, and that of another family 
 equally noble, were concerned in the tale, little 
 more than obscure hints were suffered to escape. 
 
 One evening, as the rumour went, a female 
 figure, enveloped in a mantle of some dark colour, 
 and holding an infant in her arms, was observed, 
 seated on one of the stones of the quarry, with her 
 feet resting^ on a fra2:ment beneath. Her face was 
 turned towards Sudley, and as the atmosphere was 
 clear, and her position elevated, the castle could 
 well be distinguished. Wild shrieks were heard 
 by some during that night, and the morning sun 
 revealed blood on fragments of the stone, and on 
 the earth beneath ; and at a little distance it was 
 perceived that the grass had been recently dug up, 
 and trodden down with a heavy foot. The peasants 
 crossed themselves at the sight, but no enquiries 
 were made, and from that day the cliff was sacred 
 to superstition, for no inhabitant of the district 
 would have touched a stone of the quarry, or have 
 dared to pass it after nightfall for the world. 
 
 It was beneath the shadow of those impendmg 
 stones, and over the spot, where it was whispered 
 that the murdered had been buried, that Calverley, 
 on the night of the day that Holgrave left scathe- 
 less the hall of Sudley castle, was pacing to and 
 
THE BONDMAN. 59 
 
 fro, awaiting the appearance of Byles. " He lin- 
 gers," said Calverley, as the rising moon told him 
 it was getting late, " I suppose the fool fears to 
 come near this place." But after some minutes of 
 feverish impatience, Byles at length came. 
 
 '' What detained you, sirrah?" asked the other 
 sharply. 
 
 The yeoman muttered an excuse; but his speech 
 betrayed him. 
 
 " You have been drinking," said Calverley, with 
 anger. " Could you not have kept sober till you 
 had seen me ?" 
 
 " Why, Master Calverley, to tell you the truth, 
 that old mother Holgrave frightened me so that — " 
 
 " Your childish cowardice had like to have be- 
 trayed us. Byles, you have not dealt honestly by 
 me in this affair — but you are not in a state to be 
 spoken to now." 
 
 '' There you are mistaken, squire. I am just 
 as sober as I ought to be to come to this place : 
 but I can't see why we couldn't have talked as well 
 any where else as here !" 
 
 " Yes, and have some old gossiping fool break 
 in. No, no — here we are safe. But come nearer, 
 and stand, as I do, in the shadow of the cliff." 
 
 " Not a foot nearer. Master Calverley, for all 
 the gold in England. Why, you are standing just 
 where the poor lady and her babe were buried !" 
 
 '' Suppose I am — think you they will sleep the 
 worse because I stand on their grave ? Oh ! it is 
 a fine thing," he continued, as if following up some 
 reflection in his mind, " to bury those we hate — 
 deep, deep — so that they may never blast our sight 
 again ! — Byles, you perjured yourself in that affair 
 
60 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 of the buck. You swore to aid me. You had 
 gold for the service, and yet it would have been 
 better that the beast w^ere still alive, than to have 
 left it behind in the chase : it has only brought 
 suspicion on me. and given Holgrave a fresh 
 triumph !" 
 
 " No fault of mine, squire," answered Byles, in 
 a sullen tone ; " there was no such thing as get- 
 ting the creature out ; and if Sam or I had been 
 caught, it would have been worse still. But bad 
 as Stephen is, he wouldn't have thought of ac- 
 cusing us, if it hadn't have been for that old she- 
 fox, his mother." 
 
 " Aye," said Calverley, with a smile — if the 
 curve of a bloodless lip could be so designated — 
 " aye, you name her rightly, Byles : she is a fox, 
 and like a fox shall she die, — hunted — driven — 
 tortured. Byles, have you never heard it said 
 that this woman was a w^tch ?" 
 
 " Why — yes — 1 have, Master Calverley ; but in 
 truth I don't like to have any thing to do with her. 
 If she set a spell upon me, I could never do good 
 again. Did not she tell Roger Follett, that if he 
 didn't take care, sooner or later, the gable end of 
 his house would fall ? and so, sure enough it did." 
 
 " And yet, knowing this woman a witch, you 
 would not assist in ridding the parish of such a 
 pest ?" 
 
 Byles made no reply. 
 
 " Well," resumed Calverley, taking some nobles 
 from a small bag he had in his hand, " these must 
 be for him who will aid me. You have been well 
 paid, John Byles, for the work you did not do, and 
 now, — see if your industry and your profitable 
 
THE BONDMAN. 61 
 
 farm will befriend you as mucli as / should have 
 done." 
 
 This speech acted as Calverley had anticipated. 
 The yeoman's scruples fled ; and alarmed at the 
 prospect of losing those comforts he had enjoyed 
 since entering into the nefarious league, he said 
 more earnestly than he had yet spoken ■ — 
 
 " Master Calverly, you will find no man to act 
 more faithfully by you than John Byles. You 
 have been a good friend to me, and I would do 
 
 any thing to serve you, but you see a man 
 
 can't stifle conscience all at once." 
 
 " Conscience !" repeated Calverley, with a smile 
 of irony. " Do you know, Byles, I think that 
 conscience of your's will neither serve you in this 
 world, nor in the next ! You have too little to 
 make you an honest man, and too much to make 
 you a reckless knave. But a truce with con- 
 science. I have here," said he, holding up the 
 bag of coin, *' that which would buy the con- 
 science of twenty such as you ; and now, Byles, 
 if you choose to earn this gold, which will be 
 given to another, if you hesitate, swear on these 
 gospels," presenting to the yeoman a Testament, 
 " that you will be a faithful and a willing con- 
 federate in my future plans respecting the Hol- 
 graves. Will you swear ?" 
 
 " Yes," replied Byles ; but as he spoke, he 
 looked wistfully round, in evident trepidation. 
 
 " Are you afraid of good or bad spirits ? Non- 
 sense ! — do as you have promised, and take the 
 gold." 
 
 Byles made the required asseveration, and took 
 the price. 
 
62 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 *' What are you gazing at, Byles," asked Cal- 
 verley. 
 
 " See, see !" said Byles, pointing to the north- 
 west. 
 
 Calverley stept from the shadow of the cliff, 
 and beheld a meteor in the sky, brightening and 
 expanding, as the clouds opened, until it assumed 
 the appearance of a brilliant star, of astonishing 
 magnitude, encircled by dazzling rays, which, in a 
 singular manner, were all inclined in one direction, 
 and pointing to that part of the horizon where lay 
 the rival of England — France. 
 
 Even in Calverley's breast, the bad passions 
 were for a moment hushed, as he gazed upon the 
 radiant phenomenon ; but upon the more gross, 
 and more timorous mind of Byles, the effect pro- 
 duced was much more striking. He seemed to 
 imagine, that from that brilliant star, some celestial 
 being was about to descend, and blast him with 
 the wrath of heaven : and when a lambent flame, 
 darting across the firmament, played for an instant 
 around the quarry, he concluded that heaven's 
 vengeance had, indeed, overtaken him. Rushing 
 from the haunted spot, he stopped not in his 
 headlong course, until he stood in the midst of a 
 group of half-dressed neighbours near his own 
 door, who had been aroused from their slumbers 
 to gaze upon the comet. 
 
 Calverley, although possessed of more moral 
 courage than Byles, and viewing the meteor with 
 altogether different feelings, was yet not so en- 
 tirely imbued with the philosophy of later times, 
 as t(\ behold it without apprehension. When 
 
THE BONDMAN. 63 
 
 Byles had fled, he turned, and walked on towards 
 the castle with a more rapid pace than usual. . 
 
 Nothing of moment occurred at Sudley Castle 
 for many months, if we except the birth of an heir; 
 the appointment of Mary Byles, through Calver- 
 ley's influence, to be the nurse ; and the accession 
 of Calverley himself to the coveted stewardship. 
 The baroness's infant grew a fine, healthy child ; 
 but, as is sometimes the case with stout children, it 
 had occasionally convulsive fits in teething. This, 
 however, was carefully concealed from the mother, 
 and Mary continued to receive great praise for her 
 nursing. But it unfortunately happened, that one 
 morning, when the boy had been laughing and 
 playing in the highest spirits, Mary saw its counte- 
 nance suddenly change. This was the more unfor- 
 tunate, as De Boteler and his lady were momenta- 
 rily expected to return, after a fortnight's absence, 
 and Mary had dressed the infant in its gayest ap- 
 parel to meet its parents, and had been congratu- 
 lating herself upon the sprightliness and health of 
 the boy. No excuses of sleep would satisfy the 
 mother now : if the child was not taken to her, the 
 nurse was assured she would come to look at him, 
 and kiss him as he slept. 
 
 At this moment of perplexity, some medicine, 
 that she had obtained from Edith, occurred to her, 
 and, with a feeling of confidence, and almost of 
 extacy, she took a phial from a shelf in a cupboard 
 where she had placed it, and, pouring out the con- 
 tents in a large spoon, hesitated an instant ere she 
 administered it. *'Let me see," said she ; '* surely 
 it was a large spoonful Edith told me to give — yet 
 
64 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 all that was in the phial doesn't fill the spoon. 
 Surely I can't be wrong : no — I remember she 
 said a large spoonful, and we didn't talk of any 
 thing else — so I must be right." But Mary still 
 hesitated, till, hearing a sudden noise in the court- 
 yard, which, she conjectured, was her mistress re- 
 turned, and as the child was getting worse every 
 moment, she leaned back its head, and, forcing 
 open its mouth, compelled the patient, though with 
 difficulty, to swallow its death. The draught was 
 taken ; the rigid muscles relaxed, and for a minute 
 the child lay motionless in her lap ; but in an in- 
 stant after, Mary could scarcely suppress a shriek 
 at the horrid sight that met her gaze. The eyes 
 opened, and glared, and seemed as if starting from 
 the head — the fair face and the red lips, were blue, 
 deepening and deepening, till settling in blackness — 
 the limbs contracted — the mouth opened, and dis- 
 played a tongue discoloured and swollen — then 
 came a writhing and heaving of the body, and a 
 low, agonized moan : and, as Mary looked almost 
 frantic at this dreadful sight, Edith's words, when 
 she had given her the phial, " that there was 
 enough there to kill," suddenly occurred to her — 
 and then, too, came, with a dreadful distinctness, 
 the remembrance of the true directions which Edith 
 had given. 
 
 " Oh, I have murdered the child !" exclaimed 
 Mary, in the dreadful excitement of the moment. 
 *' What will become of me ? what shall I do ? I 
 shall surely be hung. Oh! oh!" she continued, 
 covering her face with her hands, to shut out the 
 sight of the gasping infant. At this instant, the 
 door opened ; Mary looked up fearfully — it was 
 
THE BONDMAN. 65 
 
 her husband. '' Oh, Byles ! Byles ! look at this 
 child ! What will become of me ?" 
 
 '' The saints preserve us !" ejaculated Byles, as 
 he looked at the babe : '' Mary, how is this ?" 
 
 " Oh ! don't ask me ; but go for Master Calver- 
 ley. For God's sake, do not stand as if you were 
 bewitched : see ! see ! he is dying. The poor 
 child ! What will become of me ? Run, Byles, 
 run, for mercy's sake, and tell Master Calverley." 
 
 Byles stood looking, with a countenance expres- 
 sive of stupified horror, and yet, as if doubting that 
 the livid, distorted, suffering creature could be the 
 fine blooming boy he had so lately seen. At 
 length, aroused by the increasing energy of Mary, 
 he turned silently round and left the room ; as 
 he closed the door, the agonized spirit of the little 
 Roland passed away. 
 
 In an instant Byles returned with Calverley, and 
 even he started and uttered an exclamation, as his 
 eyes fell on the ghastly face of the dead child. 
 
 " Mary Byles, how did this happen ?" asked 
 Calverley, eagerly. 
 
 " Master Calverley, I will tell you truly," an- 
 swered Mary, in a voice scarcely audible from its 
 tremor. " You have been our best friend, and you 
 would not see me hung ? It was all a mistake — 
 I am sure I wouldn't hurt a hair of the dear crea- 
 ture's head." And here the feelings of woman so 
 far prevailed, that she shed some disinterested 
 tears. 
 
 " You could have no motive to destroy the 
 child — but tell me quickly what you have to say." 
 Calverley spoke with a harshness that instantly re- 
 called all Mary's fears and selfishness. 
 
 VOL. V. F 
 
66 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 " Edith Holgrave," said she, " gave me some 
 medicine to — " 
 
 " Editli Holgrave !" interrupted Calverley, with 
 a quickness of voice and eagerness of look that 
 told how greatly the name interested him. 
 
 '^ Yes, Edith Holgrave told me to give ten drops 
 out of that little bottle, (pointing to the empty 
 phial,) " and I — gave — but, oh ! Master Calver- 
 ley, I forgot — " 
 
 " You gave it all ?" said Calverley, impatiently. 
 
 '' Yes." 
 
 " And you will swear it was a draught that 
 Edith Holgrave gave you that has killed the child?" 
 said Calverley, with a brightening countenance. 
 
 " Oh, yes," replied Mary; " but, indeed — " 
 
 '' Nonsense !" interrupted Calverley. " Hear 
 me, or you will be hanged ! If you hope to save 
 your life, Mary Byles, you must swear that you 
 gave it according to Edith's directions — breathe 
 not a syllable of the drops !" 
 
 Mary looked with a fearful wildness at Calver- 
 ley, as she comprehended his meaning ; but Byles 
 said quickly, 
 
 " What ! do you mean her to hang old Edith ?" 
 
 " Certainly," returned Calverley, coolly, '^ unless 
 vou prefer a gallows for your wife. But I dare say 
 you would rather see Mary hanged than that old 
 witch ! I will leave you to manage the matter 
 between yourselves." 
 
 "Oh, don't leave us! — don't leave us!" said 
 Byles, in an agony. " Oh, save me ! save me !" 
 sobbed Mary. 
 
 " Was any one present when you gave it?" in- 
 quired Calverley, as he turned round and addressed 
 Mary. 
 
THE BONDMAN. 67 
 
 *' Yes ; Winifred handed me the bottle, but the 
 child began to cry, so I sent her out." 
 
 " It was well she was here," returned he : " and 
 now, remember — not a word of the drops ! swear, 
 simply, that the draught destroyed the infant." 
 And, without awaiting her reply, he seized the pale 
 and trembling Byles by the arm, and dragged him 
 from the room into the passage. He then unlocked 
 a door that had never been observed by either 
 Byles or his wife, and, closing it after them, led the 
 yeoman down a flight of dark steps, and, pausing 
 a moment at the bottom to listen, he unlocked 
 another door, and Byles found himself in a dark 
 passage that branched from one of the entrances to 
 the court-yard to some of the culinary offices. 
 " Go you that way, and I will go this," said Cal- 
 verley, '■' and, remember, you know nothing of the 
 child's death." As he spoke, he darted from 
 Byles, and gained the court-yard without further 
 observation. He walked carelessly about, till a fe- 
 male domestic passing, he called to her, desiring 
 her to go and ask Mary Byles if the young Lord 
 Roland was ready to meet his parents, as they were 
 momentarily expected. The woman departed, and 
 he walked over to the gate between the front towers 
 as if looking: for the return of his lord. 
 
 f2 
 
68 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 " What ails you, Stephen," asked Margaret, 
 alarmed at the strange paleness of the yeoman's 
 countenance, and the agitation of his manner as 
 he entered the cottage on the afternoon the child 
 died. But Holgrave, without replying to her in- 
 terrogatory, hastily closed and bolted the door. He 
 then drew the large oak table from the side of the 
 wall, and placed it .s a barricade before it. " Ste- 
 phen, what means this bolting and barring ?" in- 
 quired Edith, as she saw with surprise his defensive 
 preparations. " What fear you, my son?" 
 
 " Fear ! mother," replied Holgrave, taking a 
 lance and battle-axe from their place over the 
 chimney, and firmly grasping the former as he 
 stood against the table ; '' I do not fear now, mo- 
 ther, nor need you — for, by the blessed St. Paul, 
 they shall pass over my mangled body before they 
 reach you !" 
 
 " Stephen Holgrave, are you mad ?" returned 
 Edith alarmed : " tell me the meaning of this ! — 
 Speak, I command thee !" 
 
 " Oh, mother, I cannot tell you," answered 
 
THE BONDMAX. 69 
 
 Holgrave, turning away his face from her search- 
 ing glance ; " Oh, no, I cannot tell you !" 
 
 " Stephen, you were not used to answer me 
 thus. I charge you, by the authority and love of 
 thy mother, and in the name of the blessed saints, 
 to tell me what has happened." 
 
 " Alas ! my mother, you will know it soon 
 enough. It is said you have — have — bewitched 
 — or poisoned — the baron's son !" 
 
 ^' Oh, mother !" shrieked Margaret. " Fly ! — 
 to the abbey, and take sanctuary !" 
 
 " Margaret !" replied Edith, " I stir not hence. 
 The guilty may take refuge from the anger of the 
 laws ; but it is not for the innocent to fear and 
 fly like the felon !" 
 
 Margaret then threw herself at the feet of Edith, 
 and besought her, in the most earnest and pathetic 
 manner, to take refuge at Hailes x4bbey, in which 
 she was seconded by Holgrave. The old woman 
 remained silent ; but there was a brightness — a 
 glistening in her eyes as if a tear had started ; — 
 but if a tear did start, it did not fall. At length, 
 recovering her composure, she rose firmly frorn her 
 seat — 
 
 " My son," said she, " lay down your arms, I 
 command. Should my life be offered up to the 
 vengeful spirit of Thomas Calverley, who alone 
 can be the foul author of this charge, it will be 
 only taking from me a few short years — perhaps 
 days — of suffering. But thou hast years of health 
 and life before thee, and thou hast this gentle 
 weeping creature to sustain." 
 
 "What!" interrupted Margaret warmly ; "Oh, 
 no — the mother of Stephen Holgrave to be torn 
 
70 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 from us without a blow ! Did he not fight for his 
 lord ? and shall he not risk his life for his mo- 
 ther?" 
 
 " And is this thy counsel, foolish woman ?" re- 
 plied Edith, in a tone of rebuke." 
 
 " She speaks my purpose," said Holgrave, as 
 he grasped still firmer the poised weapon. 
 
 Edith stepped quickly up to her son and knelt 
 l^efore him — 
 
 " Oh Stephen, my son, my first-born — thy 
 mother kneels to thee. Lay aside that lance and 
 hearken to the words of her who bore thee, and 
 nourished thee. Oh, bring not sorrow and ruin 
 on thyself and her ! What would be the bitter- 
 ness of my dying moments if my son lived not to 
 lay me beside his father ? — if thy Margaret was 
 left to mourn in lowly widowhood — and, perhaps, 
 to fall beneath the base arts of Calverley ! Oh, 
 my son, my son, by the soul of thy dead father, 
 and by the blessing of thy mother, resist not ! — 
 Hark ! they come — they come ! Haste, Stephen 
 — Give me the weapon." 
 
 Holgrave, shocked and agitated, could only 
 think of raising his mother from her knees. He 
 suffered her, without resistance, to take the lance 
 from his hand, and then attempt, with her weak 
 fingers, to remove the barricade, while advancing 
 footsteps were heard without. 
 
 The hostile party reached the cottage, and the 
 latch was quickly raised ; but, finding it resist 
 their attempts, the voice of Calverley, in an autho- 
 ritative tone, pronounced — 
 
 " In the name of the Lord Roland de Boteler, 
 I demand the body of Edith Holgrave, who is ac- 
 
THE BONDMAN. 71 
 
 cused of the foul crimes of witchcraft and murder. 
 — Open the door, Stephen Holgrave, if you are 
 within !" 
 
 *' Fiend of hell ! it is he !" muttered Holgrave, 
 gnashing his teeth, but w^ithout moving. 
 
 The party without seemed to have expected re- 
 sistance ; for the next moment a blow" was struck 
 upon the door which made the whole house shake ; 
 and the besieged perceived that they were forcing 
 an entrance with the trunk of a young tree, or 
 some such machine, in imitation of the ram, not 
 yet disused in warfare. Speedily the timber 
 yielded and cracked ; and Holgrave, starting from 
 the stupor in which he was plunged, caught up the 
 axe, and posted himself in an attitude of striking 
 near the door. 
 
 '* Pollute not thy hand with the blood of the 
 base," said Edith, grasping her son's arm — 
 ^' Judgment is mine, saith the Lord !" 
 
 " Thomas Calverley," continued she, in a loud 
 calm voice, " produce your warrant !" 
 
 " The word of the Lord de Boteler," replied 
 Calverley, " is warrant enough for the capture of 
 the murderess of his child. Surrender, Stephen 
 Holgrave, I command !" 
 
 At this moment a noise was heard, as if an en- 
 trance had been effected through the roof; and 
 ere Holgrave could release his arm from his mo- 
 ther's hold, a shriek from Margaret struck upon 
 his ear. He turned his head and beheld her co- 
 vering him with outstretched arms from the drawn 
 bows of two retainers, who appeared at the door 
 of the room, or loft, above. 
 
 " Archers, do your duty!" shouted Calverley; 
 
72 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 but at the moment some voices without exclaimed 
 suddenly, " My lord comes ! My lord comes !" 
 and tlie bowmen drew back, and Holgrave in- 
 stinctively dropped his axe. 
 
 De Boteler, either through anxiety for Edith's 
 arrest, or from an apprehension that Holgrave might 
 oppose it, did indeed approach, and as he ad- 
 vanced, with hasty and agitated steps, and beheld 
 the evidence of resistance in the rent roof and 
 shattered door, his rage was extreme. 
 
 "Tear down the cottage!" cried he, his voice 
 choaked with passion, " and take this foul sorce- 
 ress dead or alive !" The command was about to 
 be fulfilled when the door was unbarred and opened 
 by Holgrave. 
 
 "Stop;" said the baron, "the knave surren- 
 ders. Base-born churl, how dare you oppose my 
 commands ?" » 
 
 " My lord," said the intrepid yeoman, " I had a 
 right to defend my dwelling against unlawful 
 assault." 
 
 "Unlawful ! Do you call the orders of your lord 
 unlawful ?" 
 
 " My Lord De Boteler," said Edith, stepping 
 forward, and looking full at the baron. "It is un- 
 lawful to send armed men, in the open day, with- 
 out warrant, save your own will, to attack the 
 house of a faithful vassal and set his life in jeo- 
 pardy. Had you sent a messenger in peace, Edith 
 Holgrave would have obeyed the mandate. There 
 was little need of all this tumult to take an aged 
 woman, whom He knoweth is innocent, and whom 
 you. Lord of Sudley, in your own breast " 
 
 " Foul mouthed witch !" interrupted De Boteler, 
 
THE BONDMAN. 73 
 
 " keep thy tongue silent — no more — lest I anti- 
 cipate justice by hanging you at your own 
 threshold !" 
 
 "That you dare not do !" said Edith, calmly. 
 
 " Bear her away, Caiverley — bear her away, 
 or I cannot answer for the result. Place her in 
 the dungeon at the top of the tower, and let no 
 one see her till to-morrow, when she shall be con- 
 veyed to Gloucester Castle." 
 
 That same day, Caiverley summoned, or rather 
 packed, a jury at which he himself presided ; and 
 a verdict of wilful murder was returned against 
 Edith. Apprehensive, however, that the charge of 
 poisoning might not be sustained upon the unsup- 
 ported testimony of Mary Byles, he easily in- 
 fluenced the credulous jurors to believe that witch- 
 craft had as much to do with the child's death as 
 poison. His usual tact, however, had forsaken 
 him on this occasion, and it was not until the ver- 
 dict was announced and recorded, that the unwel- 
 come conviction flashed across his mind, that the 
 temporal courts could exercise no jurisdiction over 
 the crime of witchcraft. It was now too late 
 to alter the language of the inquisition. It had 
 gone forth to hundreds who awaited its promulga- 
 tion with intense anxiety ; and the language of the 
 verdict that " Edith Holgrave delivered to Mary 
 Byles, a certain charmed or poisonous drug, for 
 the purpose of destroying Roland De Boteler, 
 and which said drug was administered to, and 
 caused the death of, the said Roland," was, in a 
 few hours, familiar to the whole town and neigh- 
 bourhood. 
 
 Caiverley was too well aware of the jealous vigi- 
 
74 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 lance the church exercised in cases appertaining- to 
 its jurisdiction, not to feel apprehensive that its in- 
 fluence might be exerted to defeat the operation of 
 the temporal court ; for, although the ecclesiasti- 
 cal courts could not award the last penalty to per- 
 sons convicted of witchcraft or heresy, yet they 
 were as tenacious of their exclusive right to inves- 
 tigate such cases, as if they possessed the power to 
 punish. When a person accused of those crimes 
 was adjudged to die, a writ was issued from the 
 court of King's Bench called a writ de lieretico 
 comburendo, by virtue of which the victim was 
 handed over to the temporal authority, and under- 
 went the punishment awarded. But it was sel- 
 dom, at this period, that the obstinacy of a de- 
 linquent brought about such a consummation, for a 
 confession of the crime (if the first) only subjected 
 him to ecclesiastical penance or censure. It was 
 not till the reign of James the First that we find 
 any legislative enactment against witchcraft. The 
 well known passage in Exodus which conveys the 
 divine command to the great lawgiver, '' Thou 
 shalt not suffer a witch to live," was the supposed 
 authority from which the church derived its juris- 
 diction ; and though the priests of the old law were 
 armed v/ith, and probably exercised, the ordinance 
 in its fullest meaning, yet the disciples of a purer 
 and milder doctrine delegated that authority to a 
 power more suited to carry its decrees into efiect. 
 
 The news of these transactions had no sooner 
 reached the ears of father John, than he hastened 
 to the abbot of Winchcombe, for the purpose of 
 beseeching him to demand the prisoner in the name 
 of the church. 
 
THE BOX DM AN. 75 
 
 Simon Sudbury, the mitred abbot, was a man of 
 a fair and florid complexion, with large, expressive 
 eyes, that even at the age of fifty were of a deep 
 and clear blue. He was tall, and just sufficiently 
 corpulent to give an air of dignity to his figure ; 
 but even had his person been insignificant, there 
 sat on his brow, and glanced in his eye, that pride 
 and conscious superiority which, even from an 
 equal, would have extorted respect. 
 
 The monk made a lowly obeisance as he ap- 
 proached the abbot, and when desired to make 
 known his business, he detailed in a brief but per- 
 spicuous manner the charge against Edith. The 
 superior listened with calm attention ; but it was 
 evident that the Baron de Boteler was not one 
 with whom he would feel disposed to interfere. 
 
 " My son," said he, when father John had 
 ceased, '' it seems an oppressive case according to 
 your statement ; but you are well aware how much 
 our holy church has been shorn of her power, and 
 how eager the monarch, and nobles, and even the 
 people, are to abridge our privileges." The abbot 
 paused, and again resumed : '' I fear, my son, our 
 remonstrance would be disregarded by this young 
 lord, and only cause a further indignity to be cast 
 on our holy church." 
 
 " My lord," answered the monk, " I would not 
 urge you ; but I so well know the woman's piety 
 and innocence, that it would be to participate in 
 the guilt of her accusers not to implore your lord- 
 ship's interposition." The abbot took up a pen 
 that lay before him, and was about to write ; but 
 he laid it down again, saying — 
 
 " Would it not be better to await her trial, and 
 
76 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 should she be found guilty, petition the king for a 
 pardon ?" 
 
 " My lord, she may not survive the imprison- 
 ment." 
 
 " Well, my son, her earthly troubles would then 
 cease without our interference — the innocent are 
 better away from this sinful world, where oppres- 
 sion rules with a strong hand." 
 
 "■ True," answered the monk, with increased 
 tenacity ; ^' but will the Lord of life hold us guilt- 
 less, if we heed not the cry of the innocent?" 
 
 The abbot looked frowningly on father John, as 
 he again took up the pen. " My son, you are not 
 serving the church by such pertinacity. This ap- 
 plication will only expose one of its dignitaries to 
 humiliation ; however, I shall write to the Baron, 
 since you desire it, and demand that the accused be 
 transferred to the tribunal over which we preside." 
 
 The abbot waved his hand impatiently, and the 
 monk withdrew. 
 
 The hall of Sudley had been hastily hung with 
 black cloth, and the walls of the adjoining apart- 
 ment exhibited a similar covering ; and here, sur- 
 rounded by a number of lighted tapers, lay the 
 corpse of the little Roland. At the foot of the 
 bier knelt a monk in silent prayer, and at the side 
 sat the Lady Isabella, absorbed in a grief which 
 none but a mother can feel, and regardless of her 
 husband's intreaties to withdraw." 
 
 *' Oh, no, not yet," she said, " I cannot yet 
 leave my babe. It was but yesterday my heart 
 bounded at the thought of caressing my lovely 
 boy ; and to-day — but this witch — this murderess !" 
 she continued, turning round, and elevating her 
 
THE BONDMAN. 77 
 
 voice ; *' what of her ? Does she confess her 
 guilt?" 
 
 " No," replied Boteler ; " and she persists that 
 the potion, if rightly administered, would rather 
 have benefited than harmed our Roland." 
 
 " Heed her not — she is as artful as vile — they 
 are an evil brood altogether. Know you, De Bote- 
 ler," she added quickly, " whether the young 
 woman participated in the deed of darkness ?" 
 
 " Nothing has appeared against her," replied 
 the baron. 
 
 At this instant an attendant entered, and de- 
 livered a letter to her lord, from the abbot of 
 Winchcombe, adding that two messengers were 
 waiting in the hall. 
 
 The baron untied the silken cord that confined 
 the parchment, and having hastily perused it, 
 handed it to the Lady Isabella. 
 
 '' De Boteler," said the lady, rising from her seat 
 when her eyes had run over the writing, " this wo- 
 man shall not escape justice. Go, my lord — re- 
 member your murdered child, and compromise not 
 with those who would screen the guilty from pu- 
 nishment." 
 
 De Boteler moved from the illuminated bier, and 
 entered the hall with a haughty step ; and as his 
 eye fell on Father John, the frown on his brow in- 
 creased. He did not, however, appear to heed him, 
 but, turning to the abbot's messenger, said, 
 
 "Monk! — I have read my lord abbot's letter, 
 and it would seem that he ought to have known 
 better than interfere in such a matter. My child 
 has been poisoned — the evidence is clear and con- 
 
78 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 vincing — ^vhy, therefore, does he make such a 
 demand ?" 
 
 " My lord baron," replied the messenger, " the 
 verdict states that a charmed potion had been ad- 
 ministered to the young lord. This accusation 
 precedes the charge of poisoning : therefore, the 
 spiritual court must first decide on the fact of 
 witchcraft, before the temporal tribunal can take 
 cognizance of the other offence." 
 
 " And does your abbot think, when the hope of 
 my house has perished, whether by false incanta- 
 tions or deadly poison, that Depart, monk !" 
 
 continued he, in a choked voice, " and tell your 
 abbot that this woman's guilt or innocence shall be 
 tried by the laws of the realm." 
 
 " Then, my lord, you will not comply with the 
 mandate of my superior ?" 
 
 *' Mandate !" repeated the enraged baron — "ha! 
 ha ! Mandate, forsooth ! From whom — from an 
 impotent priest of a waning church — and which 
 church, with the blessing of God and our good 
 king, will soon cease to arrogate to itself the en- 
 croachment which it has made upon the royal pre- 
 rogative." 
 
 " Note down this speech, Father John," said the 
 messenger. " And now. Baron of Sudley, I for- 
 mally demand, in the name of Simon Sudbury, the 
 mitred abbot of Winchcombe, the body of Edith 
 Holgrave, whom you impiously and rebelliously 
 detain against the privileges of holy church : 
 and — " 
 
 " Hold, minion ! Cease ! or you will tempt me 
 to hang the culprit from the battlements of yonder 
 
THE BONDMAN. 79 
 
 keep, if it were only to afford news to your master. 
 Presumptuous shaveling ! know you not that the 
 royal franchise granted to this manor empowers me 
 to sit in judgment on my vassals, and that it is 
 only as an act of grace that she is handed over to 
 a jury of the county." 
 
 " The ' act of grace/ my lord," said Father John, 
 looking sternly at De Boteler, " only shows that 
 your mind is not so fully convinced of this woman's 
 guilt as to embolden you to take the charge of her 
 death entirely upon your own conscience — " 
 
 " Base-born knave ! do you think you wear a 
 coat of mail in that hypocritical garb. Ho ! Cal- 
 verley, let the woman be instantly transmitted to 
 Gloucester castle, that my lord abbot may thunder 
 his anathemas against its walls, if it so please him ; 
 and then bear this meddling monk to the tumbrel, 
 that he may learn better than to beard his natural 
 lord under his own roof." 
 
 " Not so, my lord," said Isabella, at the moment 
 entering the hall, attracted by the loud tones of De 
 Boteler's voice; " not so, my lord ; the tumbrel is 
 not for such as he, however rude his bearing. My 
 Lord de Boteler," turning to the monk, " has 
 doubtless given you an answer — retire, and do not 
 farther provoke his wrath." 
 
 " Lady," returned Father John, with dignity, 
 " I retire at your bidding, but not through fear of 
 the Baron de Boteler. Let him, if he will, insult 
 and expose an anointed priest — but, woe to him if 
 he does ! The blight has already fallen on the 
 blossom — beware of the tree !" 
 
 The baroness looked rebuked ; and before De 
 Boteler could reply, the two monks left the hall. 
 
80 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 " Did I not anticipate this result?" said the 
 abbot, looking sternly at the mortified monk, as 
 the messenger detailed the interview with the 
 baron. 
 
 Father John bowed. 
 
 '' Your importunity," continued the abbot, has 
 cast this indignity on holy church, and on me its 
 minister ; but nevertheless, this lord, powerful 
 though he be, must be taught obedience to that 
 power he has contemned." 
 
 "My lord," replied the monk, encouraged by 
 the abbot's energy, " our holy church, thank 
 heaven, is not without one able and zealous advo- 
 cate. A timorous attitude at this moment would 
 only give fresh vigour to those who seek to abridge 
 its power." 
 
 *' Aye, my son, there has been timidity enough 
 in those prelates, who tamely acquiesced in the 
 late enactment against the clergy ; and, alas ! 
 how often since have the servants of God been 
 dragged from the altar and imprisoned like felons, 
 merely to gratify the haughty barons in their de- 
 sire to humble our holy religion ! The king, too, 
 is a masked enemy, and countenances the impious 
 attempts to abridge our rights." 
 
 " And yet, my lord," returned John, " the 
 church is the natural bulwark of royalty : by 
 humbling it, he paralyzes a power the most zealous, 
 and the best calculated to maintain the divine 
 right of kings." 
 
 " It is, indeed, the stay and hope of monarchy," 
 replied Sudbury ; " but kings are men, and fal- 
 lible. This woman's case will, nevertheless, de- 
 monstrate whether further encroachments will be 
 
THE BOXDMAN. 81 
 
 submitted to by the prelates without a struggle. 
 I shall write letters to the Archbishop of Canter- 
 bury and the Abbot of Westminster, and you, my 
 son, shall bear them to London. Retire for the 
 present, and prepare for your journey." 
 
 The abbot was as good as his word, and pre- 
 sently the fate of the obscure Edith Holgrave be- 
 came a question which kindled the fires of party 
 zeal in half the noble breasts in the kingdom. It 
 is not to the purpose of our story to describe the 
 intrigue which, at this period, tore asunder the 
 court of Edward. Suffice it to say, that after 
 many stormy discussions in the cabinet, at which 
 the abbot's first messenger, father John, and De 
 Boteler himself, were interrogated — the church 
 triumphed ; the Baron of Sudley was condemned 
 to offer an expiatory gift, and a writ was issued 
 to prohibit the court of assize from trying the pri- 
 soner. 
 
 On the day the prohibitory writ left London, a 
 small iron box, with a superscription, addressed to 
 Thomas Calverley, was left by a stranger at Sud- 
 ley Castle, and immediately after, by another mes- 
 senger, a packet, in which, within many envelopes, 
 a key was concealed. Calverley, naturally con- 
 cluding that this key belonged to the box he had 
 just received, with a variety of perplexing con- 
 jectures, unlocked it, and beheld the crimson da- 
 mask dress of a pursuivant, on which the royal 
 arms were embroidered in gold, and beneath the 
 dress a purse of gold coin and a scroll of parch- 
 ment, on which the following was written, evidently 
 in a disguised hand : — 
 
 "■ A chancery messenger will leave London on 
 
 VOL. v. G 
 
82 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 the morning you receive this : he is the bearer of 
 a writ to prohibit the court of assize at Gloucester 
 from trying Edith Holgrave. — Surely justice should 
 not be thus defeated — the messenger will rest for 
 some time to-morrow evening at Northleach. — 
 Could not the dress that accompanies this enable 
 you to demand the writ from the messenger in the 
 king's name. Remember, however, the writ must 
 not reach Gloucester." 
 
 Calverley started at the boldness of the pro- 
 position, and resolved, much as he desired that 
 Edith should suffer, not to engage in so daring an 
 act. But in a few minutes, as his mind became 
 more familiarized with the idea, much of the sup- 
 posed danger of the undertaking disappeared. 
 He might disguise his countenance so, that, aided 
 by the dress, detection would be almost impos- 
 sible ; and even if detected, the letter, which, 
 despite of every effort at concealment, bore evi- 
 dence of the Lady Isabella's handwriting, would 
 compel her to exert all her influence in his favour. 
 Nevertheless, Calverley, possessing less physical 
 than moral courage, could not bring himself to 
 look with total indifference upon even the possi- 
 bility of personal danger, and he determined, there- 
 fore, to associate with him in the adventure the 
 bold and reckless Byles. 
 
 Calverley would have willingly risked every 
 thing hut his personal safety to be revenged of her 
 who strove to attach to him the suspicion of crime ; 
 and even when mounted on his steed, with a large 
 dark cloak thrown over him to conceal the material 
 of his dress, lest its singularity should attract ob- 
 
THE BONDMAN. 83 
 
 servation, he could not help feeling a slight in- 
 ward trepidation. 
 
 As they proceeded, the heath gradually assumed 
 the appearance of a scanty wood, the trees became 
 more numerous, the thickets of greater extent, and 
 the animal on which Calverley rode was frequently 
 impeded by the withering stumps of trees that had 
 been carelessly felled. He alighted just at the 
 point where an abrupt opening between the clus- 
 tering thickets led by a circuitous path of not more 
 than a hundred yards to the high road to Glou- 
 cester. 
 
 Here Calverley's quick ear caught the sound of 
 the tramping of a horse — his heart beat quick — 
 it might be a traveller journeying to Gloucester, 
 but it was more probable that it was the messen- 
 ger. He threw the bridle of his horse over the 
 branch of a tree, sprang to the end of the path, 
 and, concealing himself behind the under-wood, 
 discovered in a moment, by the dark medley 
 hue of the rider's dress, that it was the man he 
 expected. He hurried back, and, mounting his 
 steed, waited till the echo of the horse's hoofs 
 could no longer be distinguished ; and then, giving 
 the impulse to his own spirited animal, he was the 
 next moment bounding at full speed after the mes- 
 senger, followed at a distance by his accomplice. 
 
 Calverley was a good horseman, and it was but 
 a short space ere he was within a few yards of the 
 messenger, and shouting to him to halt. The man 
 stopt, and, turning in his saddle, surveyed with 
 some surprise (which could be seen even in the 
 duskiness of twilight) the bright colours that dis- 
 tinguished the garb of a pursuivant. 
 G 2 
 
84 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 " What ! for Gloucester, friend ? You must 
 
 have been hard upon my heels the whole way 
 
 for " 
 
 " No," interrupted Calverley, in an assumed 
 grufFness of tone, and with something more than 
 his usual authoritativeness, " my journey is ended 
 now. The king has recalled that writ of prohibi- 
 tion you were to deliver to the judge. You are to 
 return the writ to me, and proceed with your other 
 dispatches." 
 
 The messenger had heard — for state secrets will 
 sometimes transpire — that the chancellor had a 
 struggle to obtain the writ ; and this knowledge, 
 though it made him the more readily credit Cal- 
 verley's assertion, yet vexed him that his master 
 should be foiled. Looking, therefore, with a surly 
 scrutiny at the steward — 
 
 " The writ," said he, " was given to me by my 
 lord archbishop ; and how do I know that I should 
 be right in surrendering it to a stranger ? Have 
 you any order from his grace ?" 
 
 '' Order from his grace," repeated Calverley, 
 sarcastically : " Do you not know, my good friend, 
 that your master is in disgrace with mhie, and that 
 the eloquent William of Wykeham will, ere many 
 days pass, be high chancellor of England. Come, 
 come, give me the writ, and don't lose time. I 
 must not stir from my saddle this night, unless to 
 change horses, till I reach Westminster." 
 
 The news of Islip's dismissal confounded the 
 messenger. This new pursuivant might be in the 
 interest of William of Wykeham, and it would be 
 ill policy to make an enemy where every good 
 office might be wanting to preserve him his situa- 
 
THE BONDMAN. 85 
 
 tion. At all events, there was little use in con- 
 tending : he accordingly unlocked his bag, and 
 Calverley, with a thrill of pleasure, felt the writ 
 within his grasp. 
 
 A hasty salutation passed, and the horsemen 
 rode off in opposite directions. Calverley then, 
 sending his associate home, spurred on to Glou- 
 cester. 
 
 The steward's first care was to put up his horse 
 at an inn a little within the north-gate of Glou- 
 cester ; and then, proceeding on to where the four 
 streets, leading from the four gates of the city 
 form a cross, he went down Westgate- street, and, 
 passing the beautiful cathedral, presently reached 
 the Severn. The evening was dark, and, looking 
 cautiously round, he dropt the damask dress, — 
 and, as he thought, the prohibitory writ, — in the 
 oblivious waters. 
 
86 THE BOX OMAN. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 The steward, after thus relieving his mind from 
 all anxiety respecting the dress, proceeded to the 
 sio:n of the Mitre in Silver Girdle-street, a well 
 known resort for certain useful adjuncts to the 
 courts of law. 
 
 Calverley entered the Mitre, and, after calling 
 for some wine, was shown into a little private 
 room by the host. A few minutes after, the door 
 opened, and a man entered and took his seat at 
 the end of the table at which Calverley was sitting. 
 The individual who thus invaded the privacy of 
 the steward was a man not much above the middle 
 height. His face had once been comely, but a 
 close intimacy with the bottle had given to his 
 countenance a bloated and somewhat revolting ex- 
 pression. The latter peculiarity, however, was 
 only to be detected by the few who read the heart 
 in the "human face divine;" and even these 
 might be deceived into a prepossession favourable 
 to the man; for his large, full, blue eyes, beamed 
 with much apparent benevolence, and his nose, 
 though clothed in a fiery mantle and tipped with 
 
THE BONDMAX. 87 
 
 two large carbuncles, was not a nose that Lavater 
 himself could with conscience have objected to. 
 Large, black, whiskers, and thick, bushy, hair, with 
 a beard of the same hue, had given him the cha- 
 racteristic soubriquet of Black Jack. On the whole 
 his appearance and deportment were those of a re- 
 spectable burgher of the period. This man was 
 not a stranger to Calverley, and Black Jack was, 
 by some chance, still better acquainted with the 
 person and character of the steward. He had heard 
 every particular relative to the child's death, and 
 consequently divined the motive of the steward's 
 visit to the Mitre, and, as he now and then cast a 
 keen glance at Calverley, he might be likened to 
 the author of evil contemplating a man about to 
 engage in some heinous offence, the commission 
 of which would connect them in still closer 
 affinity. 
 
 A flaggon of ale soon followed Black Jack, in which 
 he drank Calverley's health with the familiarity of 
 an old acquaintance, though this was the first time 
 he had interchanged courtesies with the steward, 
 who returned the compliment coldly, though not 
 in that repulsive tone which forbids further inti- 
 macy. 
 
 A pause of a few minutes ensued, and though 
 each was anxious to introduce some allusion to the 
 intended trial, yet both hesitated to begin ; — Cal- 
 verley, from a prudential fear of committing him- 
 self, and Black Jack from an apprehension of 
 hazarding a chance of employment by too ready a 
 proffer of his services. 
 
 The latter became tired first of his reserve, and 
 perceiving that Calverley, like a spirit, would only 
 
88 THE BONDMAN^. 
 
 speak when spoken to, resolved, with characteris- 
 tic modesty, to plunge in medias res. 
 
 *' Master," said he, " you are here, no doubt, 
 on the business of the witch ? For my part, I hold 
 such creatures in religious abhorrence. That's 
 neither here nor there, however — can I do any- 
 thing to serve you? — That is the short of the 
 matter." 
 
 *' Master Oakley," replied the steward, with a 
 grim smile w^hich told he knew his man, " you 
 have correctly surmised the business that brings 
 Lord de Boteler's steward to the Mitre — you know 
 the particulars of the affair?" 
 
 " I do." 
 
 " Well," resumed Calverley, " the evidence is 
 not so good as I could wish. A country jury might 
 acquit her." 
 
 "Aye, aye, I see --it shall be done — she re- 
 turns no more to Winchcombe " 
 
 " But, you know," interrupted Calverley, 
 quickly, " that she deserves death for the death 
 she has inflicted." 
 
 "That's neither here nor there : I never trouble 
 myself about such matters — I am no schoolman — 
 the judge will see to that ; and, if she is to be dis- 
 posed of, it matters little whether by substantial free- 
 holders or myself and my eleven." 
 
 The price was now agreed upon, and the purse 
 that accompanied the pursuivant's dress was more 
 than sufficient to satisfy the exorbitant demand of 
 the foreman. 
 
 "I may depend upon you, Master Oakley?" 
 said the suspicious steward, pausing at the door. 
 
 " By the green wax ! may you — Black Jack is 
 
THE BONDMAN. 89 
 
 a man of honour. As sure as Judge Skipwith sits 
 on the bench, so sure shall I and my men sit in 
 the jury-box. He is a carle to doubt me," said 
 Black Jack, as Calverley shut the door — " Has 
 he emptied his flask ? No — by the green wax ! he 
 seems to think as little of his wine as his money ; 
 and, after emptying the cup, left the Mitre. 
 
 The next night, being the eve of the trial. Black 
 Jack entered the Mitre, and, ordering a fresh gal- 
 lon of stout ale, proceeded on to the little room 
 where he had seen Calverley, and in which, around 
 an oak table which nearly filled the area of the 
 apartment, ten men were seated. A measure stood 
 before them which they had just emptied, and 
 were murmuring at their leader's close hand that 
 restricted them to a single gallon. 
 
 This room was sacred to the confraternity : 
 here they held their meetings — here they were in- 
 structed by their chief in the parts allotted to them 
 in the shifting drama of crime. And here, under 
 lock and key, pledged to the host, were the gar- 
 ments in which they appeared in the jury-box as 
 respectable yeomen. Black Jack cast a rapid 
 glance round the table as he entered, and per- 
 ceiving one seat still unoccupied, he frowned with 
 impatience. 
 
 '^ What !" exclaimed he, "has Beauchamp broke 
 cover on such a night as this ? Speak !" 
 
 " He has not been seen to-day," said a sleek- 
 faced old man who sat opposite. 
 
 "Not seen to-day — hah! — Has the fellow 
 shrieved himself? or is he laid up after last night's 
 tipple V 
 
 " Aye, Master," said another, " he is laid up 
 
90 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 but I fear he has forgot the shrieving. However, 
 he will never again say guilty or not guiltv in a 
 jury-box, or kiss the book in justification of bail !" 
 
 " Saints protect us ! not dead !" exclaimed the 
 foreman. The man nodded assent: — '* Then, by 
 the green wax! we shall lose two ofthe best jobs we 
 have had these three years. Come, come, Harvey, 
 you only banter — the knave is lazy." 
 
 " By Saint Luke, poor Beau champ is as dead as 
 he need be, master," answ^ered Harvey. " I saw 
 him this morning, and his face was as black as — 
 your own this moment !" 
 
 Black Jack seized the empty flaggon and was 
 about to hurl it at the head of the facetious under- 
 strapper, when his arm was arrested by the old 
 man who had first spoken. 
 
 " Hold, master," said he, " you will find it dif- 
 ficult to fill Beauchamp's seat, without making 
 another vacancy." 
 
 The irritated foreman replaced the flaggon on 
 the table but swore he would have no more jesting. 
 *' Poor Beauchamp," continued he, "is gone — the 
 cleverest man among ye — no whining — no qualms 
 about him, when a shilling was to be earned by swal- 
 lowing a pill or sending a traveller before his time to 
 the other world ! How unlucky, he had not postponed 
 his flight for another week ; this witch w^ould then be 
 disposed of and the sheriff satisfied. Poor Jack, 
 poor Jack ! where shall we find a substitute — but 
 a substitute must be had if it were he of the cloven 
 foot himself! This news has made me thirstv," 
 continued he, raising the pitcher to his lips, " but 
 remember, no jesting." 
 
 Black Jack then buried his face in his hands for 
 
THE BONDMAX. 91 
 
 some minutes, meditating how he should supply 
 the place of the defunct Beauchamp. In vain he 
 racked his brain ; he knew many who would ac- 
 cept the offer, but they were untried. 
 
 " This assize will be a hungry feast," he at length 
 exclaimed; " we may bid adieu to the Mitre — I 
 must refund the money I received on account of 
 the witch, and the old Ferrett, too, must have his 
 earnest money — what is to be done ? Do ye know 
 any one who could be trusted to stand in the shoes 
 of Beauchamp ?" 
 
 " We leave the filling up vacancies to our fore- 
 man," returned they. 
 
 " Aye, aye ! ye shrink from responsibility, and 
 throw all on my shoulders," returned Black Jack, 
 snatching up a renewed flagon, and drinking freely, 
 as if to forget his perplexity in the intoxicating 
 influence of the beverage. " Aye, aye ! but, 
 knaves, the money ye have received must be re- 
 funded, and ye may go starve, or rob, for aught I 
 care." 
 
 " But, master, where, think you, shall it be 
 found?" answered Harvey: "you might as well 
 dissolve this society, as think of making us refund 
 what is already scattered in every corner of Glou- 
 cester." 
 
 '* Dissolve this society ! impudent knave !" re- 
 torted the foreman : " I should like to know what 
 new profession ye are fit for : how could ye live but 
 for me ? Think ye the sheriff would expose himself 
 by communing with such untaught knaves ? No 
 more sulkiness, or I take you at your word. Give 
 me another swoop of the goblet." It was handed 
 to him, and, after ingulphing a long draught, he 
 
92 
 
 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 slowly drew breath — his eyes were observed to 
 brighten with some new idea, and, in a moment 
 after, he started from his seat, exclaiming, in a 
 burst of joy : 
 
 " By the green wax! I've got him ! — I've got 
 him at last — • I shall be back in half an hour !" 
 He then darted out of the room, leaving his confe- 
 derates conjecturing who the welcome auxiliary 
 was to be that should fill the void at the oak table. 
 
 It was a full hour, however, before the indefati- 
 gable purveyor re-appeared, accompanied by a 
 dark, sun-burnt looking young man, attired in the 
 garb of a dusty-foot or foreign pedlar. He ap- 
 peared to be one of an inferior description of Gal- 
 ley-men, or Genoese merchants, (as described by 
 Stowe,) who traded to England, and trafficked 
 with a coin called galley-half-pence. They chiefly 
 resided at a wdiarf named Galley Key, in Thames- 
 street, and travelled as itinerant hawkers through 
 the kingdom. His countenance, however, was not 
 that of a Genoese — it had more the appearance of 
 the English cast of features, though, judging from 
 its dark and seaman-like hue, it was many years 
 since he left his native country. 
 
 " Come, my friends, be not cast down ! Black 
 Jack and his eleven are themselves again !" cried 
 the foreman, exultingly. " Here, Harvey, fill up 
 a goblet for our new friend. Poor Jack's chair is 
 occupied during the assize ; see ye make much of 
 his successor." 
 
 " Is he not engaged as a fixture ?" asked Har- 
 vey , w^iih some disappointment. 
 
 '' No, no, Harvey; his feet are not for the nar- 
 row limits of Gloucester. He is a bird of passage, 
 
THE BONDMAN 93 
 
 that makes its periodical migrations, and cannot be 
 called peculiar to one country more than another : 
 in short, he is a kind of privileged outlaw." 
 
 '' Aye, aye, master ; he breathes the various at- 
 mospheres of Christendom, and yet I'll swear he is 
 a dog of a heathen, notwithstanding, ha ! ha ! ha ! 
 No offence," he added, addressing the galleyman ; 
 "jests are privileged in this free society." 
 
 " Christian men," returned the dusty-foot, good- 
 humouredly, " would be suffocated in this poison- 
 ous air you breathe, and would die, like the hea- 
 then, without benefit of clergy." 
 
 "That's right, galleyman — you have hit him 
 there. That knave's skull is a perfect book of en- 
 tries, and can furnish precedents for every crime, 
 from high treason to a simple assault. He'll crac k 
 jokes to the last. But, by the green wax ! we 
 must think of a proper description for him, to in- 
 sert in the pannel. Let me see — aye, I have it. 
 A man from Worcester has lately settled at Deer- 
 hurst; his name is James Mills, a substantial man. 
 Here, Harvey," as he took from his pocket a slip 
 of parchment, and wrote the necessary particulars, 
 and sealed it carefully, " take this to Lawyer Man- 
 love. We must now see whether Beauchamp's 
 clothes will suit our friend here." 
 
 The host was called in, and unlocked a drawer 
 in which they were deposited. The galleyman, 
 with visible reluctance, arrayed himself in the gar- 
 ments, and he was observed to shudder more than 
 once during the investiture of the dead man's ap- 
 parel. 
 
 "He's better have some warm ale," said the old 
 man we have before mentioned, with a sneer — 
 
94 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 " these garments seem to weigh down the spirit of 
 our new guest." 
 
 '^ Aye, and well they may," returned the fore- 
 man : " it is not every man who could feel at ease 
 in the clothes of a Hang it ! my brain wan- 
 ders — fill up a fresh bumper." Another and ano- 
 ther followed, and dispelled all symptoms of com- 
 punction in the heart of the foreman and his com- 
 panions ; till even their new guest, so powerful is 
 example, was almost persuaded that conscience 
 was a bug-bear. It was late ere they separated, 
 to re-assemble the next morning for more impor- 
 tant transactions. 
 
 The next morning, Sir Robert Skipwith, Chief 
 Justice of England, entered the court, and took 
 his seat on the bench. After the names of the 
 jury were called over. Black Jack, and the eleven, 
 respectively answered, and entered the box, clad 
 in respectable yeomen's or burgher's apparel, and 
 their countenances wearing a gravity suitable to 
 the occasion. They looked like a jury to whom 
 either a guilty or innocent prisoner would, unhesi- 
 tatingly, have committed his cause. When the 
 prisoner was asked whether she had any objection 
 to the jury, and told, that if so, she might chal- 
 lenge the number prescribed by law, the attention 
 of the spectators was naturally fixed on Edith, 
 who replied in the negative ; and her face and 
 figure were certainly ill-calculated to make a 
 favourable impression. 
 
 Her face was shrivelled and yellow, and the dark 
 full eyes that now, as it were, stood forth from the 
 sunken cheeks, looked with a strange brightness 
 
THE BONDMAN. 95 
 
 on the scene, and seemed well adapted to stamp 
 the character of witch on so withered a form. 
 And perhaps there were few of those entirely un- 
 interested in the matter who now gazed upon her, 
 who would not have sworn that she merited the 
 stake. 
 
 Calverley had beheld the group as they entered 
 the court, and instantly averting his eyes from the 
 mother and son, he fixed them upon Margaret. 
 
 The stranger's eyes that now gazed upon her, 
 beheld her as a lovely, interesting creature ; but 
 Calverley, who had not seen her since the day that 
 Edith was arrested, saw that the rich glow which 
 used to mantle on her cheek, had given place to a 
 sickly paleness. It is true, that as she entered 
 the court, there was a faint tinge upon that cheek, 
 but it fled with the momentary embarrassment 
 which had caused it. That full dimpled cheek 
 itself was now sunken, the lips were colourless, and 
 the eyes dim. 
 
 A momentary thought of " Oh, had she been 
 mine, would she have looked thus ?" and an ex- 
 ecration against Holgrave told that the demon had 
 not wholly possessed her quondam lover ; but the 
 next moment, as Holgrave, after looking round 
 the assembly, caught the eye of his enemy, the 
 solitary feeling of humanity died away, and Cal- 
 verley turned from the fierce glance of the yeoman 
 with all the malignity of his heart newly arrayed 
 against him. 
 
 After the usual preliminaries, the indictment was 
 read, and Edith called upon to plead : 
 
 " Not guilty, my lord," she replied, in a voice 
 so loud and distinct, that the surprised hearers 
 
yO THE BONDMAN. 
 
 wondered so feeble a creature could possess such a 
 voice. 
 
 The evidence was then entered into, and Mary 
 Byles was called into the witness box. A rod was 
 handed to her to identify the prisoner, and she 
 then, without venturing to encounter the look of 
 her whose life she was abaut to swear away, de- 
 posed to having received the liquid which had 
 occasioned the child's death, from Edith ; and to 
 certain mysterious words and strange gestures used 
 by the prisoner on delivering the phial. 
 
 When she had concluded, Edith questioned her, 
 if she had not, at the time of giving her the medi- 
 cine, warned her of its dangerous strenp^th. and 
 strictly enjoined her not to administer more than 
 ten drops ; but Mary, prepared for such questions, 
 positively denied the fact, alleging, that Edith had 
 merely desired her, when she saw the child looking 
 pale, to give it the contents of the phial. 
 
 " My lord," said Edith, in her defence, '^ this 
 woman has sworn falsely. The medicine I gave 
 was a sovereign remedy, if given as I ordered. 
 Ten drops would have saved the child's life ; but 
 the contents of the phial destroyed it. The words 
 I uttered were prayers for the life of the child. 
 My children, and all who know me, can bear wit- 
 ness that I have a custom of asking His blessing 
 upon all I take in hand. I raised my eyes towards 
 heaven, and muttered words ; but, my lord, they 
 were words of prayer — and I looked up as I pray- 
 ed, to the footstool of the Lord. But it is in vain 
 to contend : the malice of the Avicked will tri- 
 umph, and Edith Holgrave, who even in thought 
 never harmed one of God's creatures, must be 
 
THE BONDMAX. 97 
 
 sacrificed to cover the guilt, or hide the thought- 
 lessness of another." 
 
 ^' Prisoner," said the judge, '' have you any 
 witnesses to call on your behalf?" 
 
 " My lord, my daughter was present when I 
 gave the medicine ; but I seek no defence." 
 
 Margaret faintly answered to her name, and en- 
 tered the box. She delivered her evidence with so 
 much simplicity and meekness, that it seemed to 
 carry conviction to the majority of the audience. 
 In vain did the wily lawyer for the prosecution en- 
 deavour to weaken her testimony on her cross-ex- 
 amination. Truth, from the lips of innocence, 
 triumphed over the practised advocate, and Edith 
 would probably have had a favourable verdict from 
 an impartial jury and an upright judge ; but from 
 the present, she was to receive no mercy. The 
 jury were bribed to convict, and the judge influ- 
 enced to condemn. Skipwith now proceeded to 
 sum up the evidence, artfully endeavouring to im- 
 press the jury with the strongest belief in the state- 
 ment of the nurse, " who," he said, " could have no 
 motive but that of bringing to justice the destroyer 
 of her lord's heir ;" and, on the other hand, in- 
 sinuating, as he commented on Margaret's evi- 
 dence, that her near relationship to the prisoner 
 must be cautiously weighed : but ere he had con- 
 cluded, a sound at the entrance of the court at- 
 tracted his attention. Horton, the tall and dig- 
 nified abbot of Gloucester, with his mitre on his 
 head, his staff in his hand, and clad in the robes 
 of his order (that of Saint Benedict), entered the 
 hall. His crosierer preceded him, bearing a mas- 
 sive golden cross ; on his right and left hand 
 
 VOL. V. H 
 
^8 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 walked two monks, and several others, (among 
 whom was father John,) closed the procession. 
 
 A passage was instinctively made for the dig- 
 nitary, who walked majestically on till he stood 
 before the bench, and then pausing, he said in a 
 clear, firm voice — 
 
 " My lord judge, I demand, in the name of 
 holy church, and in the name of the gracious king 
 Edward, that you deliver up this woman, Edith 
 Holgrave, to me. A writ from the chancery, signed 
 by the royal hand, commanding her delivery to 
 the ecclesiastical power, has been sent down, and 
 how is it that thus, in opposition to the church's 
 prerogative, and the royal will, I see the woman 
 standing a criminal at this bar ?" 
 
 '' My lord abbot," replied Skipwith, bowing to 
 the priest, ^' the writ you speak of has been re- 
 called ; a chancery messenger was here not three 
 days since." 
 
 *' Did he not deliver to you the writ ?" inter- 
 rupted the impetuous Horton. 
 
 '' Pardon me, my lord abbot, but I believe I 
 have already said, that the writ has been recalled. 
 The messenger, indeed, came with a prohibitory 
 writ respecting the prisoner ; but when, within a 
 few miles of Gloucester, a royal pursuivant, ex- 
 pressly from the king, overtook him, and to Jmn 
 the writ was delivered." 
 
 The calm dignity of Skipwith's reply produced 
 some effect upon the abbot ; for in a tone less ab- 
 rupt than before, he replied — 
 
 *' My lord judge, that writ of prohibition has 
 not been recalled. This monk, pointing with his 
 stafl' towards father John, left London two days 
 
THE BONDMAN. 99 
 
 subsequent to the messenger, and there was not 
 then the least intimation of the royal mind beino* 
 chang-ed." 
 
 " My lord," returned Skipwith, with a slight 
 smile, " know you so little of Edward as to imagine 
 that no change could pass in his royal mind with- 
 out the monk being privy to it ?" 
 
 ^' But," returned Horton, losing his temper at 
 such scepticism, " this monk was lodged in the 
 palace of his Grace of Canterbury; and, at the 
 very hour of his departure, his Grace spoke as if 
 the surrender of the woman were already accom- 
 plished. Would he have spoken thus had the writ 
 been recalled ?" 
 
 " Probably his Grace was ignorant that the pro- 
 hibition was recalled ?" 
 
 " Simon Islip ignorant ! However, you admit 
 that a writ was sent ?" 
 
 Skipwith bowed. 
 
 " Then as readily may you believe that it had 
 been kept back through fraud and malice, and 
 that you have brought this woman before a tribunal 
 incompetent to judge of matters relating to witch- 
 craft. But now, my lord judge, repair the wrong 
 done, by delivering her up to a dignitary of holy 
 church." 
 
 " Abbot Horton," returned the chief justice, 
 gravely, " the poisoning has been satisfactorily 
 proved, and a strong presumption of witchcraft 
 created in my mind, from the mysterious behaviour 
 of the prisoner when the drug was delivered to the 
 nurse. But even were the witchcraft a more pro- 
 minent feature of the case, I do consider the king's 
 courts are empowered by tlie late act, which pro- 
 h2 
 
100 THE BONDMAX. 
 
 vides tliat all felonies may be heard and determined 
 by the king's justices, to take cognizance of this 
 crime. Witchcraft is ?i felony at common law." 
 
 " That act," replied Horton, hastily, " relates to 
 local magistrates." 
 
 " And are the judges of the land to be less pri- 
 vileged than petty magistrates ?" 
 
 " I came not to argue points of law," my lord 
 judge," returned Horton, vehemently, " but to de- 
 mand a right. Will you surrender this woman ?" 
 
 ** My lord abbot," replied Skipwith, " the in- 
 dictment has been read — the evidence has been 
 gone through with the customary attention to jus- 
 tice — I have only to finish my charge to the jury, 
 and it will remain with them to pronounce her 
 guilt or innocence." 
 
 The cool and determined tone of the chief justice 
 exasperated the abbot; and, fixing a stern glance 
 upon the judge, 
 
 " It is not justice, Sir Robert Skipwith," said he, 
 " to wrest the unfortunate from the merciful inter- 
 position of the church — it is not justice, but a high 
 contempt of supreme law, to set at nought the mer- 
 ciful commands of the sovereign — it is not justice 
 to usurp a power that belongs not to you, in order 
 to crush a friendless woman — it is not justice to set 
 the opinions of an individual against the sacred au- 
 thority of God's church. The church alone, I re- 
 peat, has power to judge in cases where the soul is 
 concerned, as in heresy and witchcraft." 
 
 His voice had risen with each pause in the pe- 
 riod, till the last sentence was uttered in a tone 
 that reverberated through the court. An instant 
 of hushed silence followed, and then, to the sur- 
 
THE BOX DM AX. 101 
 
 prise of all, Edith raised herself up as erect as her 
 feebleness would allow, and resting one hand upon 
 the bar, she raised the other towards the abbot, 
 and said, 
 
 " My lord abbot, my soul is guiltless of any 
 crime which the church in its mercy absolves, or 
 the law in its justice punishes — I am neither 
 murderess nor witch. As much would my soul 
 abhor communing with the spirits of darkness, as 
 my heart would shrink from destroying the inno- 
 cent " 
 
 '' Peace, woman!" interrupted the abbot : "peace 
 — presume not to interfere." And then, turning 
 to the judge, he added, " Sir Robert Skipwith, I 
 again demand of you the custody of this woman." 
 
 " Abbot Horton, you have had my answer," re- 
 turned Skipwith, in a tone of perhaps still more 
 vehemence than the abbot's. 
 
 The face of the provoked dignitary glowed, his 
 eyes flashed, and he looked, in his glittering mitre 
 and splendid vestments, like a being more than 
 human, as, turning from the judge, and raising the 
 staff he held in his right hand, he pointed it to- 
 wards the assembled crowd, and said, 
 
 " I call upon this assembly to witness, that I 
 have, in the name of holy church, demanded the 
 accused — that I have demanded her in the name 
 of the king, by virtue of his royal writ of prohibi- 
 tion, which has been basely purloined — and that, 
 unmindful of that divine power, and despite the 
 king's express command. Judge Skipwith, the ser- 
 vant of the one, and an unworthy son of the other, 
 has contemptuously refused this demand. But," 
 he added fiercely, as he again turned towards 
 
102 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 Skipwitli, and shook his staff at the no less irri- 
 t cited judge, " the royal ermine is disgraced on the 
 shoulders of such as thee — beware that it is not 
 speedily transferred to one more worthy to bear it. 
 I say again, beware !" 
 
 The abbot then lowered his staff, the crosierer 
 once more preceded him, and, followed by the 
 monks, he proudly walked forth from the court, 
 the people, as he passed, forming a passage, and 
 humbly bending forward to receive his blessing. 
 
 The eyes of the spectators, which, during this 
 strange scene — this trial of strength between the 
 Jay and ecclesiastical dignitaries — had alternately 
 wandered to each, were now anxiously directed to 
 Skipwith alone, who hastily concluded his charge, 
 and turned to the jury, as the arbiters of Edith's fate. 
 Calverley, among the rest, cast a look at the jury- 
 box : and Black Jack, turning to his companions, 
 proceeded, in the usual manner, to ask their opi- 
 nions. Ten, after a minute's consultation, decided 
 that the prisoner was guilty ; but the eleventh, the 
 stranger who had endeavoured to screen himself 
 from observation, and whose changing aspect and 
 agitation had betrayed the deep interest he took in 
 the trial, positively refused to return a verdict of 
 guilty. Black Jack cast an intimidating glance on 
 the non-content, but he heeded him not ; and as 
 the jury-box, exposed to the eyes of the whole 
 court, was not a place for further debate, the fore- 
 man declared, that as one of his brethren would 
 not agree with the rest, they must withdraw. 
 
 When the jurors were closeted in their private 
 room. Black Jack asked the galleyman the reasons 
 of his refusal. 
 
THE BONDMAN. 103 
 
 '^ There was no evidence to prove lier guilt — I 
 could not, on my conscience, say she was a mur- 
 deress," returned the stranger, firmly. 
 
 " Conscience !" replied the foreman : '^ who 
 ever heard a galleyman talk of conscience before ? 
 By the green wax ! you forgot you had a conscience 
 the day I first saw you. You recollect the court 
 of pie-poudre, my conscientious dusty-foot, don't 
 you ?" 
 
 " Master Oakley, the thing is quite different," 
 replied the galleyman. " To cheat a fool of a 
 piece of coin, is what neither you nor I would 
 think much about ; but to rob a poor, helpless old 
 woman of her life — to hang her up at a gallows, 
 and then to bury her like a heathen, where four 
 roads meet — no, no ; that must not be." 
 
 The foreman's face assumed a deeper hue than 
 usual : he looked fiercely at the galleyman, but 
 there was a determination in the weather-beaten 
 face that made hiifi pause ere he spoke. '' Galley- 
 man," he at length said, " you knew the business 
 before you came : if you be so fond of saving old 
 witches' lives, why didn't you say so, that I might 
 not now be in this dilemma ?" 
 
 '' You told me," returned the other, '' she was a 
 witch, and that she had killed the child. Now I 
 know she is not a witch ; and neither you nor any 
 one here believes a word of the poisoning." 
 
 " You heard what the judge said," returned 
 Oakley : " but, however, you are a sworn jury- 
 man, and here you must remain till you've brought 
 your mind to bear upon the point." 
 
 " Aye, aye," said Harvey ; '' four-and-twenty 
 
104 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 hours in this cold room, without meat or drink, 
 will bring him to reason, I'll warrant you." 
 
 " Four-and-twenty days," said the stranger, in 
 a voice so loud that the eleven started, " if I could 
 live so long, shall never make me a murderer I 
 No, no ; you may go tell of the lushburgs, and 
 hang me for a coiner," he said, starting suddenly 
 up, and looking proudly at Black Jack ; " but, by 
 the holy well ! you shall not make me hang the 
 woman who nursed my mother, and prayed by her 
 when every body else was afraid to go near her. 
 She a witch!" he continued, with a bitter laugh — 
 " by the holy well ! if she had been so, she 
 wouldn't have given the poor orphan a groat and 
 a piece of bread, to come back, after ten years, to 
 hang her at last ! But this comes of carding and 
 dicing, and sabbath-breaking. The fiend drives 
 one on and on, till at last a man thinks nothing of 
 murder itself." 
 
 " By the green wax ! all this ranting is unpro- 
 fitable. No one could call Black Jack an infor- 
 mer when his word was pledged," interrupted the 
 foreman. " The affair of the lushburgs has passed 
 away — it shall rest so, though I might pocket 
 some good pieces by a breach of faith, which, after 
 this obstinacy, would not detract much from my 
 honour. This woman is nothing to us, and surely 
 the judge, who is paid to hang criminals, knows 
 more about the guilt or innocence than I or my 
 eleven. He told us, as plainly as man could speak, 
 that she deserved to be hanged. But, remember, 
 galleyman, neither you nor I break our fast till our 
 opinions are unanimous?" Black Jack winked at 
 
THE BONDMAX. 105 
 
 his companions but the action was unnoticed by 
 the stranger. 
 
 During this mock deliberation, Edith remained 
 at the bar; but when the hour had passed away, 
 and no probability appeared of an immediate ver- 
 dict, she was directed by the judge to be taken 
 back to prison until the jury had agreed. 
 
 It was nearly noon the next day, when the un- 
 der-sheriff entered the room to ask if their opinions 
 were yet unanimous. The galleyman still refused. 
 
 " My friend," said Manlove ; " it matters little 
 now whether you agree with your brethren or not, 
 the woman is at this moment dying ! The verdict 
 is, therefore, of little moment to her — she can 
 never be brought into court to receive judgment — 
 guilty or innocent, the law can have nothing to do 
 with her ; but 1 would advise you to look to your- 
 self, you will not be released till she is dead. Your 
 brethren are accustomed to fasting, but you look 
 ready to drop from your seat : and, if the woman 
 linger many hours, you will certainly be guilty of 
 felo de se." 
 
 With a little more persuasion and the most so- 
 lemn assurances that the verdict could not possibly 
 affect Edith, the galleyman at length reluctantly 
 consented to agree with the eleven, and the fore- 
 man gave in the verdict of guilty. 
 
 " Let the prisoner be brought up for judgment?" 
 said Skipwith to the officer in waiting. 
 
 "It is impossible, my lord — the woman is 
 dying !" 
 
 " Dying !" repeated the judge, " yesterday she 
 spoke with the voice of one who had years to live. 
 Perhaps she wishes to defer the sentence, which she 
 
106 THE BONDMATf. 
 
 well merits, by feigning illness. If she will not 
 rise from her bed, bring her into court upon it !" 
 
 The officer departed, and shortly afterwards re- 
 appeared, and informed the judge that the Abbot 
 of Gloucester was standing beside the prisoner and 
 threatened to excommunicate the first who pre- 
 sumed to remove her. 
 
 " Does he ? Does he dare think to evade justice 
 thus — this subterfuge shall not avail !" exclaimed 
 Skipwith with vehemence, and then musing an in- 
 stant, he continued : '' No, this subterfuge shall 
 not avail — I will constitute the cell of the criminal 
 a court of justice for this occasion. Officers of the 
 Court proceed. I go to pronounce a just sentence:'* 
 and then, rising from the bench, and preceded by 
 his officers, he departed to adopt the unprecedented 
 course of passing sentence in a prison. 
 
 When the door of the dungeon was thrown open, 
 Skipwith started at the unexpected sight he beheld ; 
 but, instantly recollecting himself, he walked on, 
 determined to persevere. Edith was lying on her 
 back upon the mattress, her eyes half opened, and 
 the ghastly seal of death impressed on every fea- 
 ture. Maroraret and her husband were kneelino^ on 
 one side, and the Abbot Horton and Father John 
 standing on the other. A lighted taper and a box 
 of chrism, which the monk held in his hand, told 
 that the last sacrament of the church had been ad- 
 ministered — a sacrament that cannot be adminis- 
 tered to a condemned criminal. 
 
 Holgrave suddenly rose from his knees and with- 
 drew to the farthest corner of the cell. Margaret 
 continued to kneel, and raised her burning eyes 
 towards the judge with terrified astonishment. 
 
THE BONDMAN. 107 
 
 The abbot turned pale with rage as he beheld the 
 somewhat abashed Skip with enter. 
 
 " What ! impious man ! Do you thirst so for in- 
 nocent blood that you harass the last moments of 
 the dying ! Retire, or I curse thee — depart, ere I 
 invoke heaven's wrath on thine head !" 
 
 " Insolent priest !" returned Skipwith, in a 
 suppressed tone, as his look wandered from the 
 abbot to the distorted features of the departing. 
 "I come, not as an individual to harass, but as a 
 judge to fulfil the law." 
 
 He then put on the black cap and slowly com- 
 menced the sentence. The life that had seemed to 
 have departed from the still and contracted form, 
 rallied for a moment — the eyes unclosed and fixed 
 on the appalled countenance of Skipwith ; and, 
 when the concluding invocation of mercy for the 
 soul of the criminal fell tremulously from the lips 
 of the judge, she, in a voice low but distinct, an- 
 swered " Amen !" and then a slight tremor and a 
 faint gasp released the soul of Edith. 
 
 " The Lord will have mercy on her, vindictive 
 judge," said the abbot, '* though you had none; 
 but she is now beyond your malice, and the glori- 
 fied spirit will accuse you of this when " 
 
 A wild shriek from Margaret, and a smothered 
 groan from Holgrave, interrupted the abbot. The 
 judge turned silently away, and left the dungeon : 
 and, as there was now no prisoner to confine, the 
 door was left open after him. 
 
108 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 On the evening succeeding the day of Edith's 
 decease, Black Jack's associates were, as usual, 
 squandering away their ill-got money at the Mitre. 
 A ribald song' was just concluded, when a loud 
 knock caught the attention of the foreman : the 
 door was opened, and the galleyman entered. His 
 countenance looked pale and haggard, and without 
 speaking, he threw himself in a chair. 
 
 " What ails you, man ?" inquired Black Jack — 
 "you look the worse for your long fast — here, 
 drink," handing him a full pitcher. 
 
 " I want no drink," said the galleyman, impa- 
 tiently, pushing away the vessel — '' but stay, 't will 
 do me no harm." 
 
 He then snatched the pitcher and drank a full 
 quart ere he removed it from his lips. 
 
 " Master Oakley," said he, " you played me 
 false in this game. Do ye think if I hadn't been 
 fool enough to believe what you and that master 
 sheriff told me, I would have given in till poor 
 Edith Holgrave had slipt her cable. Did you not 
 swear to me," added he fiercely, " that the law 
 could not touch her V 
 
THE BONDMAN. 109 
 
 " True, O king ; and though the judge did a 
 queer thing in her case, yet the woman died like a 
 Christian in her bed after all." 
 
 " Is she hurled like a Christian ?" passionately 
 interrogated the stranger. '' No," he continued, in 
 a quieter tone, '' she was buried last night in the 
 high road without kyste or shroud, or prayer, just 
 as one would throw a dead dog overboard : but 
 there is no use talking now — this is not what I 
 came for. I came to ask if ye will give me a hand 
 to get her out again." 
 
 '^ To dig up the old witch out of the grave!" in- 
 quired the foreman with a stare of astonishment. 
 " To unearth a dead body! By the green wax ! 
 man, your long fast has touched your brain !" 
 
 '' No," said the galleyman, gravely. '' I am as 
 sound and as sober as ever I was ; and, mind you, 
 (casting a quick glance round the table) I don't 
 want any one to work for nothing — here, (he said, 
 taking a small leathern purse from his pocket) is 
 what will pay, and I shall be no niggard. You 
 shall have money and drink too — speak ! will 
 you assist ? There is no time to lose." 
 
 *' What say you. brethren ?" resumed the fore- 
 man, looking at the rest : '' our friend served us — 
 and besides, it is a pity to let good things go 
 a-begging." 
 
 The brethren felt no great appetite for a job so 
 much out of their way — and sundry hems! and 
 awkward gesticulations expressed their reluct- 
 ance. 
 
 " Suppose we do assist," drawled out Harvey 
 and three or four others ; '' who is to remove the 
 body ?" the galleyman hastily answered, 
 
110 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 *' Leave it to me — I fear not the dead — though 
 if the old woman started from the grave, she could 
 owe me no good will. Would you lend a hand if 
 this Calverley should bear down upon us ?" 
 
 " Aye, aye," said Harvey, with some shew of 
 courage ; "we don't mind, unless the odds are 
 against us, and in that case, you know, we must 
 retreat." 
 
 " What !" said Black Jack, laughing, " think 
 you squire Calverley would busy himself about 
 the dead ! Come, come, tell out the silver, and 
 replenish the flagon : we are yours for this ad- 
 venture — and, by the green wax ! a strange one 
 it is." 
 
 The sum agreed upon was paid ; the liquor fur- 
 nished and freely circulated ; and the galleyman. 
 now relieved from a weight that had oppressed 
 him, gradually became cheerful. 
 
 It was about midnight when the party set out, 
 well armed and muffled in large cloaks, and in less 
 than two hours arrived within view of Winchcombe. 
 Here, without entering the town, they turned into 
 a lane branching off to the left, that led to Hailes 
 Abbey, and down this avenue the galleyman pi- 
 loted his companions. The way was narrow — 
 at least two only could ride abreast — with a hedge 
 on each side, and here and there the picturesque 
 branches of a well-grown elm, displaying at this sea- 
 son (in the daylight) the soft green of the budding 
 leaves. They had proceeded in silence about half 
 a mile, when the galleyman suddenly paused. 
 
 "Yonder," he said, pointing to the end of the 
 lane, " where you see the moonlight full on the 
 ground — must be the place — at least it cannot 
 
THE BONDMAN. Ill 
 
 be far off, for there the roads meet. There is this 
 lane and the road straight ahead to Hailes — then 
 away to the right takes you to Sudley Castle and 
 the other end of Winchcombe ; and the road this 
 way, elevating his left hand, leads on to Bishop's 
 Cleave." 
 
 " But you have brought nothing to put the 
 body in ?" 
 
 " I brought a winding-sheet," replied the stran- 
 ger ; and when the grave is dug, and the coast 
 clear, I '11 wrap it round poor Edith, and lay her 
 in my cloak — and ye will hold the corners." 
 
 " O yes," returned Black Jack ; " we won't go 
 from our promise. But where do you mean to take 
 her ?" 
 
 " To Hailes. — But when all is ready, I must go 
 up the lane yonder," pointing to the right — '^ 'tis 
 but a step, and fetch Stephen Holgrave — and the 
 poor fellow shall go with us to see his mother bu- 
 ried as she ought to be." 
 
 The party then dismounting, secured their horses 
 to the hedge ; and, concealing their faces by masks 
 of parchment, smeared over with paint, proceeded 
 to the end of the lane : but a sudden exclamation 
 from the galleyman, who was a little in advance, 
 arrested the steps of all. 
 
 The moon was standing round and bright in a 
 sky gemmed with stars, and, as the rover had just 
 said, her beams fell unshadowed upon the open 
 space where the roads met ; — and here, directly 
 in the centre, two dark figures were revealed. 
 One was kneeling, while the other stood erect, 
 holding at arm's length a cross. The galleyman 
 gasped for breath as he drew closer to his com- 
 
112 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 panions, who, concealed in the shade of the hedge/ 
 looked eagerly at the objects of their alarm. 
 
 " Are they spirits ?" asked the stranger in a 
 subdued and terrified tone. 
 
 " O yes, my brave heart !" said the foreman, 
 with something of ridicule; " they are spirits, but 
 spirits in the flesh — like good wine in stout bottles." 
 
 " Aye, aye," said Harvey, encouraged by the 
 unembarrassed manner of his leader; ''they are 
 spirits I '11 warrant, that can be laid by swords and 
 staves instead of prayers !" 
 
 The galleyman breathed freer at this united tes- 
 timony that he had nought to fear — for he feared 
 none of this world; — and as he still gazed, al- 
 most entirely relieved from his superstitious dread, 
 he observed the extended arm of the upright figure 
 gradually fall to his side, as if his prayer or invo- 
 cation had ended, and he stooped as if addressing 
 his companion ; but the latter still maintained his 
 kneeling posture. 
 
 " It must be Stephen," 'said he, mentally ; " he 
 is mourning over his mother. Comrades," he said, 
 turning to the others, " it is but the woman's son : 
 at any rate there are but two. I '11 go and hail 
 them ; and if ye see me stop, ye can come for- 
 ward with the shovels." The galleyman went for- 
 ward ; but the moment he left the shade, his figure 
 caught the eyes of him who stood erect. He spoke 
 to the other, who, instantly starting on his feet, 
 prepared himself to meet the mtruder. The stran- 
 ger, nothing daunted, hurried on, and, in an in- 
 stant, stood before those who, by the menacing 
 attitude they assumed, evidently regarded him with 
 no friendly feeling. 
 
THE BONDMAN. 113 
 
 " It is no enemy bearing down upon you, 
 friends," said the galleyman, in that tone of con- 
 fidence which seems neither to suspect or purpose 
 ill. " Tell me, is either of you the son of her 
 who — who lies here ?" 
 
 " Why ask you ?" replied the taller figure, in a 
 deep commanding voice. 
 
 " I will not answer till I am answered : but this 
 I may say, be ye who ye will, that there is not a 
 man I would befriend sooner than Stephen Hol- 
 grave." 
 
 " If you are a friend, I will trust you ; and if not, 
 I do not fear you," said Holgrave, raising the brim 
 of a slouched hat that had shadowed his face — 
 " I am Stephen Holgrave." 
 
 " Then may luck attend you," answered the 
 galleyman, grasping his hand ; " I thought it was 
 you, and I came, not alone, for I have helpmates 
 yonder to — to — do, what I thought would be a 
 good turn for you — to bury your mother." 
 
 " It is an act of charity, stranger, to bury the 
 dead," said father John courteously ; " and you 
 are calling down mercy upon your soul like that 
 pious man of old " 
 
 " Aye, and I have need of mercy," returned the 
 galleyman, " more need than he, whoever he was. 
 But see, my mates are coming ; — we must fall to 
 work, for the night is wearing." 
 
 '' But who may you be, stranger, who thus in- 
 terest yourself for the injured ?" asked the monk, 
 " or why this disguise?" 
 
 " It is of no consequence who I am : and as to 
 this mask, why ! a man can work as well with it as 
 without it." 
 
114 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 The approach of Black Jack and three of the 
 others (the fourth had been left with the horses) 
 prevented any farther conversation ; and, throwing 
 aside their cloaks, the galleyman and the three 
 jurors instantly commenced clearing the grave. 
 
 Holgrave drew the brim of his hat again over 
 his face, and folding his arms, looked silently on 
 as the work proceeded. 
 
 '' By the green wax !" said Black Jack, ap- 
 proaching at this instant, " as I stood yonder, re- 
 connoitring the ground, a man shewed his head 
 behind that ruined wall !" 
 
 " 'Tis the fiend Calverley, or one of his imps," 
 exclaimed Holgrave, springing forward to the 
 broken wall ; but if any object had really pre- 
 sented itself, it had, in a singular manner, disap- 
 peared — for Holgrave, after a few minutes of 
 anxious search, returned without having discovered 
 the trace of a human being. 
 
 The body of Edith had been raised during his 
 absence, and, with the winding-sheet wrapped 
 around the clothes in which it had been laid in the 
 earth, was just placed in the galleyman's cloak 
 when Holgrave came up. An involuntary cry 
 burst from the yeoman as he threw himself upon 
 the ground beside the corpse, and, removing the 
 cloth, passionately kissed the hands and the fore- 
 head. 
 
 " Stephen Holgrave," cried the monk, sternly, 
 '■ where is thy fortitude ? — you have broken your 
 word. Has thy manhood left thee ?" 
 
 " She was my mother !" said the mourner, rising. 
 
 When he had retired, the chasm was hastily 
 filled up ; and then Black Jack, the galleyman, 
 
THE B0NDMA17. 115 
 
 and two other jurors, took each a corner of the 
 cloak, and, preceded by the monk, reciting in a 
 low voice the prayers for the dead, and followed 
 by Holgrave and the remaining- jurors, leading the 
 horses, proceeded at a quick pace to the church- 
 yard of Hailes Abbey. 
 
 In little more than half an hour, they arrived at 
 the meadow in which stood the parish church and 
 the abbey of Hailes. The church, a small, plain 
 Gothic building, with a red tiled roof, stood in the 
 centre of a burial-ground, of dimensions adapted 
 to the paucity of inhabitants in the parish. A low 
 stone wall enclosed it, and some old beech-trees 
 threw their shadows upon the mounds and the 
 grave-stones that marked where " the rude fore- 
 fathers of the hamlet" slept. 
 
 Father John went forward, and, pushing open a 
 wooden gate, led the way to the osier-girt mound 
 and head-stone over the grave of Holgrave's father. 
 The body was deposited on the grass, and a space 
 cleared of sufficient depth to receive it. 
 
 In the mean time, Holgrave had conducted those 
 in charge of the horses to an old barn at a short 
 distance, and then returned to the church-yard ; 
 and when the deceased was lowered into the grave, 
 the yeoman knelt at the head, the galleyman and 
 Harvey at each side, and Father John, standing at 
 the foot, pronounced, in a low but audible voice, 
 the prayers usual on interment. The moonbeams 
 fell on the church, so as to cast a far shadow upon 
 the ground that lay towards the abbey ; the foot of 
 the grave was within the shadow, so that Father 
 John's figure was little revealed ; and the branches 
 of a tree (against whose broad trunk Black Jack 
 I 2 
 
116 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 leant) concealed Harvey, and cast a trembling sha- 
 dow upon that side ; but the light streamed full 
 upon Holgrave and upon the galleyman. who was 
 kneeling at his right hand. 
 
 At this instant, an arrow whizzed past Holgrave, 
 and struck fire from the opposite wall. The yeo- 
 man sprang upon his feet ; another shaft was sped, 
 but instead of the object for which it was intended, 
 pierced the hat of the foreman. 
 
 "■ By the green wax !" cried Oakley, as he lifted 
 the perforated hat from the grass, " we shall need 
 more graves, if we stand here for marks. Come 
 round, and stoop close to the wall, and the trees 
 and grave-stones may ward off the shafts. If they 
 will, let them come to close quarters." 
 
 " You counsel wisely, stranger," said the monk, 
 passing round, and standing in the shadow of the 
 tree on the left of Holgrave, whom he forced to 
 retire and crouch like the rest. 
 
 As this was accomplished, a third shaft tore the 
 bark from the tree ; and in an instant after, Cal- 
 verley, followed by some of his myrmidons, sprung 
 down from an aperture of the wall. 
 
 " Sacrileo-e !" shouted he — " sacrileo;e ! Take 
 them, dead or alive !" 
 
 Holgrave rushed on the steward, and the clash 
 of steel rang through the church-yard. 
 
 The assailants, however, were somewhat damped 
 by a loud blast from the foreman's horn, which 
 was instantly echoed by one of his men ; and the 
 tramping of horses in the direction of the gate in- 
 creased the panic. The retainers of Sudley at 
 length retreated more speedily than they had ap- 
 proached, pursued by the galleyman and Harvey, 
 
THE BONDMAN. 117 
 
 who had burst from their concealment on perceiv- 
 ing them enter. 
 
 Byles, who was of the party, but had hitherto 
 looked on as a spectator, (being determined to 
 allow the steward and the yeoman to fight it out,) 
 now glared fiercely around in search of an adver- 
 sary. A cry from Calverley, however, drew him 
 unwillingly to his assistance, and he sprang to the 
 spot ; but his uplifted arm was seized by a giant 
 grasp, the axe wrenched from his hands, and him- 
 self hurled violently to the earth. 
 
 A strange sensation thrilled through the heart of 
 the excited monk — an impulse to shed blood ! 
 The weapon of the prostrate Byles was snatched 
 from the earth — it waved fiercely round his head ; 
 nature and religion warred, for an instant, in his 
 bosom, but the latter triumphed : the weapon was 
 flung to a distance ; and Father John, crossing 
 himself, disappeared among the tombs. 
 
 The combatants were as yet little hurt, for each 
 was well skilled in the use of his weapon ; but the 
 steward, in endeavouring to ward off a blow that 
 might have cleft his head, only succeeded at the 
 sacrifice of his right ear, which was severed by the 
 descending blade ; and, ere he could recover this 
 shock, Holgrave sprang within his guard, and 
 wrenched the sword from his hand. A brief but 
 fierce struggle ensued, in which Holgrave, at 
 length, prevailed — the steward was thrown back- 
 ward to the ground, and the next moment his ene- 
 my's hand was on his throat. 
 
 " Mer-c-c-y ! mer-c-c-y ! oh ! mercy, Stephen 
 Holgrave !" gasped he, as, with a despairing effort, 
 he attempted to unloose the death-hold. 
 
118 THE BONDMAX. 
 
 " Yes ! mercy, Stephen — mercy to tlie coward !" 
 exclaimed the galleyman ; ''he is not worth your 
 vengeance." 
 
 " Mercy ! he had little mercy for her," muttered 
 Holgrave, bitterly, as he tightened his grasp. 
 
 At this moment, the voice of the monk was 
 heard, as he rang the abbey bell, shouting " Mur- 
 der ! sacrilege ! Ho ! porter ! murder !" 
 
 Holgrave, struck with awe, relinquished his hold, 
 and Black Jack and his jurors instantly fled. 
 
 " Fly, knaves !" cried the galleyman, addressing 
 Byles and Calverley, as he released the latter. 
 " And now, meddling steward, if you attempt to 
 interfere with her who is in that holy berth yonder, 
 or injure the honest yeoman, her son, for this night's 
 doings, the Lord have mercy upon you ! Here, 
 Stephen," (walking towards Holgrave, who had 
 thrown himself beside the grave,) "up, and jump 
 behind on my horse, for the cry of sacrilege will 
 edge their brands, and friend or foe w^ill have little 
 chance. There — the abbey-gate is thrown open, 
 and out they come with brand and torch." 
 
 " God speed you !" cried Holgrave, as the gal- 
 leyman turned away, and grasped his hand : " God 
 speed you ! and reward you for this night : and if 
 ever you or yours are in want of a friend, remem- 
 ber Stephen Holgrave." The galleyman hastily 
 pressed the extended hand, and, springing to the 
 gate, was in an instant on his horse, and galloping 
 in the track of his companions, pursued, but in 
 vain, by the arrows of the abbey retainers. 
 
 When Calverley saw his lord after this transac- 
 tion, the scene, much to the amazement of the for- 
 mer, partook more of comedy than tragedy, for De 
 
THE BONDMAN. 119 
 
 Boteler, when he saw the head of his esquire minus 
 the ear, could not refrain from laughter. 
 
 " Meddling knave !" said he, " why did you in- 
 terfere ? The woman was dead — what more would 
 you have ? Did you understand it to be the cus- 
 tom of the lord of Sudley to war with dead ene- 
 mies?" 
 
 This mortification only added fuel to the stew- 
 ard's wrath, and he determined to carry on, with 
 all the vigour of soul and purse, an action which 
 he had already commenced against his enemy. 
 
 Towards the end of June the sessions commenced 
 at Gloucester, and Holgrave once more stood in 
 the hall of justice — not as a looker on, but as an 
 actor. Although, at the present period, the charge 
 would have assumed a truly formidable shape, yet 
 the deed was not then accounted even as maihem 
 — for the simple reason, that the loss of an ear did 
 not prevent a man from performing military 
 duties. 
 
 But in this instance the offence was aggravated, 
 at least in the eye of the law, by the manner and 
 occasion. The law had not as yet contemplated 
 the evasion of its decisions, by the disinterment 
 of the bodies of criminals, and, consequently, there 
 was no provision for punishing the deed. It was, 
 however, taken into account in the verdict, and 
 the damages were proportionably heavy. Hol- 
 grarve, as may readily be imagined, had not a coin 
 to meet the demand, and his crops, which had 
 grown and flourished , as if by miracle — for they 
 had been little indebted to his attention — were 
 now condemned to be cut down, and put up for 
 sale to pay the damages. The yeoman had often 
 
120 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 looked upon his plentiful fields with a feeling of 
 pleasure : not that his mind had latterly been in a 
 mood to find pleasure in the prospect of gain ; but 
 his house and his land were mortgaged, (for his 
 mother,) and even in the darkest and most troubled 
 scene, there is a beauty, a redeeming brightness, 
 encircling the domestic hearth, — nay, perhaps, the 
 heart clings more closely to home, and treasures, 
 more fondly, the little nameless pleasures, and even 
 the cares and anxieties of domestic life, in propor- 
 tion to the bleakness of the prospect without. 
 
 His farm itself was at length forfeited, and Hol- 
 grave took shelter for the moment at old Hart- 
 well's. The hut his father had reared when he 
 married his mother, was still standing ; the roof 
 had fallen in, the ivy had grown over its walls ; 
 but even yet it sometimes sheltered the wandering 
 mendicant, and often would the blaze of a large 
 wood fire look cheerily through the shattered case- 
 ment and the broken door, and shed an air almost 
 of comfort over the bare walls. Holgrave remem- 
 bered the ruin, as he was considering where he 
 could abide until Margaret, who was far advanced 
 in the family way, should be enabled to travel 
 farther. His resolution was instantly formed ; and 
 refusing the assistance offered by Hartwell, and 
 some other neighbours, and as decidedly rejecting 
 the idea they proposed, of striving to regain pos- 
 session of his house, he requested Lucy Hartwell 
 to look to Margaret for a day or two, while he 
 sought out a place to shelter them ; and then, with- 
 out mentioning his purpose, quitted the house. 
 
 It was late in the afternoon ere Holgrave re- 
 solved to put the hut that had sheltered him when 
 
THE BONDMAN. 121 
 
 a boy, in a state to receive him now ; but there 
 were several hours of daylight before him, and 
 even when the day should close, the broad harvest 
 moon would afford him light to prolong his labour. 
 The rushes that grew by the Isborne, the clay from 
 the little spot of ground attached to the hut, and 
 the withered and broken branches that lay thickly 
 strewn over the adjoining forest, gave him ample 
 materials for his purpose. 
 
 Holgrave set about his task with that dogged- 
 ness of purpose which persons of his disposition 
 display when compelled to submit. His misfor- 
 tunes had in some measure subdued a pride that 
 could never be entirely extinguished ; — it might be 
 likened to a smothered fire, still burning, although 
 diffusing neither heat nor light, but ready upon the 
 slightest breath to burst forth in flame. Even here 
 he was interrupted by a visitor. 
 
 " Good even, Stephen," said Wat Turner, the 
 parish smith, in as kind a tone as his abrupt man- 
 ner could assume ; " you are hard at work, master 
 — are you going to set the old cot to rights ?" 
 
 Holgrave answered carelessly, and without look- 
 ing at the smith, continued his work. 
 
 " I think you are doing well, Stephen, not to 
 allow the idle vagabonds to house here any longer. 
 By St. Nicholas ! when these holes are stopped up, 
 and the thatch is put to rights, and the casement 
 whole, and a couple of hinges put to the door, it 
 will be a place fit for any man. When I go home 
 I will send my son Dick, and the knave Tom, to 
 help you." 
 
 " You need not trouble yourself," replied Hol- 
 grave : " what I want to do I can do myself." 
 
122 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 Turner looked at Holgrave, as if he meant to 
 resent the unsociable manner in which the reply 
 was uttered ; but speedily recollecting- himself — 
 
 '' I can't blame you, Stephen," said he, " you 
 have had enough to sour any man's temper; never- 
 theless, I shall send Dick if I can find him ; and 
 Tom is a famous hand at thatching, and I will step 
 over myself in the morning with the hinges and a 
 latch for the door. But harkee, Stephen, if you 
 wish to keep your own house, only say the word, 
 and myself, and one or two more, will beat the old 
 miser and his men to powder, if they don't give it 
 up again." 
 
 There was so much of o^ood feeling in this rude 
 speech, that Holgrave turned to the smith and 
 grasped his hard hand. 
 
 " Hush ! man," interrupted the smith, as his 
 friend attempted to thank him ; " say nothing for 
 the present ; only remember, if Wat Turner, or any 
 belonging to him, can lend you a hand, just say 
 the word, or come over to my forge and give me a 
 nod, and we'll be with you in a twinkling." 
 
 One morning, about a month after this, Margaret 
 had as usual prepared her husband's dinner. The 
 frugal meal was spread by eleven o'clock, but Hol- 
 grave came not : twelve arrived, and then one, and 
 two, and the dinner was still upon the table untasted. 
 Margaret was first surprised and then alarmed, but 
 when another hour had passed away, she started up 
 with the intention of going to seek her husband. At 
 this moment, Holgrave pushed open the door, and 
 entering, threw himself upon a seat. There was a 
 wildness in his eyes, and his face looked pale and 
 
THE BONDMAN. 123 
 
 haggard. It occurred to Margaret, that he had 
 probably partaken of some ale with a neighbour, 
 and having neglected his customary meal, that the 
 beverage had overcome him. However, he looked 
 so strangely, that she forbore to question him. He 
 bent forward, and resting his elbows on his knees, 
 buried his face in his upraised hands, and sat thus, 
 ruminating on something that Margaret's imagina- 
 tion arrayed in every guise that could torture or 
 distress. At length he raised his head, and looking 
 on his wife with more of sorrow than anger — 
 
 ^' I was right, Margaret," said he, " it was 
 Calverley that set the usurer upon taking the land. 
 He gave the miser something handsome, and John 
 Byles is to have it upon an easy rent !" 
 
 " John Byles, Stephen ?" 
 
 " Yes, Margaret," replied Holgrave, " John 
 Byles is to have it ; he told the smith so himself. 
 But," he continued, sitting upright in his chair, 
 and then starting upon his feet, — " does he think 
 he shall keep it ?" 
 
 Margaret shuddered, as she looked in his 
 eyes. 
 
 That night, the freemen and serfs that dwelt on 
 the estate of De Boteler, and even the inmates of 
 the castle itself, were alarmed by the sudden glare 
 of red flames rising in a bright column above the 
 tallest trees, and so fiercely burned the flame, that 
 in a few minutes the horizon was tinged with a 
 ruddy glow. There was an eager rush to discover 
 from whence the phenomenon arose, and many 
 were the exclamations, and many the whispered sur- 
 mises, when it was ascertained that the cottao:e was 
 
124 
 
 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 on fire from which Holgrave had been so recently 
 ejected. 
 
 Stephen stood at the door of his hut, looking 
 with an air of derision on the vain efforts of the 
 people to extinguish the flames ; and Margaret 
 wept as she saw the flames rising, and brightening, 
 and consuming the house, which she still loved to 
 look upon even now that it was for ever lost to her. 
 The roof at length fell in, and myriads of burning 
 particles sparkling like diamonds, showered for a 
 moment in glittering beauty. 
 
 Holgrave was still looking on the conflagration 
 that had in a great measure spent its fury, when 
 Wat Turner came up to him, and applying a hearty 
 smack on the shoulder — 
 
 " A famous house-warming for John Byles," 
 said he. "^ By Saint Nicholas! I wish his furniture 
 had been in to have made the fire burn brisker. 
 'Tis almost over now ; there it goes down, and then 
 it comes up again, by fits and starts : 'tis a pity, 
 too, to see the house which stood so snugly to-day, 
 a black and smoky ruin to-morrow ; but better a 
 ruin, than a false heart to enjoy it. By Saint 
 Nicholas ! 'twill give the old gossips talk for the 
 whole week. Aye, 'tis all over now ; there will 
 still be a spark and a puff now and then ; but 
 there's nothing to see worth keeping the karles any 
 longer from their beds, and I think it is time that 
 we be in our's — so good night. But a word with 
 you, Stephen; — you did the business yourself this 
 time without help ; but mind you, if ever Wat 
 Turner can lend you a hand, you have only to say 
 so — Good night." 
 
THE BONDMAN. 125 
 
 " Good night," replied Holgrave, though with- 
 out moving his eyes from the now darkly-smoking 
 ruin ; and there he stood with unchanging gaze 
 till the sky had entirely lost its ruddy hue, and the 
 smouldering embers of the cottage could no longer 
 be distinguished ; and then he entered his dwel- 
 ling, and, closing the door, threw himself upon his 
 bed — but not to sleep. 
 
126 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 CHAPTER VII . 
 
 An hour had not elapsed since Holgrave retired 
 to bed, before the cottage door was burst open, and 
 Calverley with a strong body of retainers entered, 
 and arrested him for the felony. 
 
 Tlie fourth day from his committal, happened to 
 be a Court day of the manor, and it was selected 
 for the trial, for the purpose of showing the tenantry 
 what they might expect from the commission of an 
 offence of such rare occurrence. The hall was 
 thronged to suffocation ; for many more were attrac- 
 ted by the expected trial, than by the familiar bu- 
 siness of a manorial court, and the people beguiled 
 the time till the entrance of De Boteler in comment- 
 ing on the transaction. 
 
 *' Silence !" was at length vociferated by a dozen 
 court keepers, and Calverley was asked if he was 
 ready to begin. The steward answered in the af- 
 firmative, and slowly read the indictment, during 
 which, a profound silence was maintained through- 
 out the hall. 
 
 " Are you guilty or not guilty?" asked Calverley 
 
THE BONDMAN. 127 
 
 in a tone, the emotion of which even his almost 
 perfect control of voice could not disguise. 
 
 *' Thomas Calverley," replied Holgrave, firmly, 
 " if you mean me to say whether I burned my cot- 
 tage or not, I will tell these honest men (looking at 
 the jury) that I did so. All here present, know 
 the rest." 
 
 A buzz of disapprobation at this confession was 
 heard, and the epithet " fool, fool," was faintly 
 whispered, and then another loud cry of silence was 
 shouted from the court keepers, as De Boteler ap- 
 peared about to speak. 
 
 " You have heard his confession," said the baron. 
 '' See, steward, that he is sent to Gloucester, to 
 receive sentence from the King's Judge when he 
 o-oes the next assize. Record the verdict, and let 
 the record be transmitted to the superior court." 
 
 Wat Turner, whose attention was anxiously fixed 
 on the proceedings, now stept forward, and forcing 
 his way till he stood opposite the Baron, demanded 
 in a voice of mingled anger and supplication, '■'■ May 
 I be heard, Baron De Boteler ?" 
 
 '* Be brief, Sir Blacksmith," replied the Baron, 
 surprised at the abrupt question, '' be brief with 
 whatever you have to say." 
 
 '' I was going to say, my Lord, that poor Stephen 
 here has called nobody to speak to his good cha- 
 racter, but may be it isn't wanting, for every man 
 here, except one would go a hundred miles to say 
 a good word for him — But my Lord, I was think- 
 ing how much money that house of Holgrave's cost 
 in building — Let me see — about twenty florences, 
 and then at a shilling a head from all of us here," 
 looking round upon the yeomen, " would just 
 
128 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 build it up again — I for one would not care about 
 doing the smith's work at half price, and there's 
 Denby the mason, and Cosgrave the carpenter, 
 say they would do their work at the same rate — By 
 St. Nicholas ! (using his favorite oath) twelve flo- 
 rences would be more than enough — Well then my 
 Lord, the business might be settled," — and he paused 
 as if debating whether he should go farther. 
 
 " And what then, impudent knave," asked the 
 Baron, — '' what is the drift of this long-winded 
 discourse ?" 
 
 " Why then, my Lord," replied Turner, " this 
 matter settled, I and these vassals of yours here, 
 would ask you to give this foolish man free warren 
 again. We (mind your Lordship) going bail for his 
 good bearing from this day forth, and — 
 
 The Baron reflecting that his dignity would be 
 in some measure compromised by thus countenan- 
 cing the Smith's rough eloquence, commanded him 
 in a harsh tone to be silent, although it was evi- 
 dent from his altered looks, that his heart had felt 
 the rude appeal. He beckoned Calverly to ap- 
 proach, and they remained for some moments in 
 earnest discourse. 
 
 " Neighbours," said Turner in a whisper, " my 
 Lord is softened. Let us cry out for pardon." And 
 the hint was not long lost upon the people ; in an 
 instant a deafening cry of " Pardon, pardon for 
 Stephen Holgrave !" resounded through the hall. 
 The unexpected supplication startled the astonished 
 De Boteler, and a loud threat marked his displeasure 
 at the interruption. Silence was again shouted by 
 the hall keepers. 
 
 " Prisoner," resumed De Boteler, assuming a 
 
THE BO^SDMAN. 129 
 
 tone of severity, " you are forgiven ; but upon this 
 condition, that you renounce your freedom, and 
 become my bondman." 
 
 " Become a bondman !" cried the smith, disap- 
 pointed and mortified at the alternative : '' Stephen, 
 I would sooner die." 
 
 '' Silence, knave !" said the baron ; " let the man 
 answer for himself." 
 
 " It was on this spot too," persisted the smith, 
 " where, but two years ago, he did homage for the land 
 you gave him : and by St. Nicholas, baron, boast- 
 ful and proud was he of the gift ; and if you heard 
 him as I did, that same day, praying for blessings 
 upon you, you could not now rive his bold heart so 
 cruelly for all the cottages in England." 
 
 Pale as death, and with downcast eyes, Holgrave, 
 in the meantime, stood trembling at the bar. His 
 resolution to brave the worst, had, with a heart- 
 wringing struggle, yielded to the yearnings of the 
 father and the love of the husband. The bondmen 
 pressed forward, and marked the change ; but that 
 scrutinizing gaze which he would so recently have 
 repelled with a haughty rebuke, was now unheeded, 
 and his eyes remained fixed on the ground to avoid 
 contact with that degraded class with whom he 
 was soon to be linked in brotherhood. 
 
 Just as the baron was about to put the dreaded 
 interrogatory, to the surprise of all, father John 
 entered the hall, and walked with a firm step to- 
 wards the justice-seat. The monk had not visited 
 the castle since his expulsion, and he had now no 
 desire to stand again where his profession as a 
 priest, and his pride as a man, had been subjected 
 
 VOL. v. K 
 
130 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 to contumely ; but tlie desire of aiding Holgrave in 
 Iiis defence, had overcome his resolution. 
 
 " What dost thou here, monk ?" asked De Bo- 
 teler, sternly, '' after my orders that you should 
 never more enter this hall." 
 
 " Baron de Boteler, I have not willingly ob- 
 truded myself. The duty of affording counsel to 
 this unfortunate man impelled me to enter thus 
 once again. Stephen Holgrave must choose the 
 bondage, because he would live for his wife and his 
 yet unborn child ; but, ere he resigns his feeedom, 
 he would stipulate for his offspring being exempt 
 from the bond of slavery." 
 
 He ceased, and fixed his eyes anxiously on De 
 Boteler, who seemed collecting a storm of anger to 
 overwhelm the unwelcome suitor. 
 
 " Audacious monk !" said he at length, " this is 
 thy own counsel — away, quit the hall, or — " 
 
 " Hold, Lord de Boteler," interrupted Father 
 John, calmly ; "the threat need not pass thy lips : 
 I go ; but before I depart 1 shall say, in spite of 
 mortal tongue or mortal hand, that honor and true 
 knighthood rio longer preside in this hall, where 
 four generations upheld them unsullied." 
 
 " Strike down the knave !" cried De Boteler, 
 rising fiercely from his seat. *' Drive him forth 
 like a dog," continued he, as the monk, without 
 quickening his pace, walked proudly away ; but 
 no hand responded to the baron's mandate. A 
 cry arose of " Touch not the Lord's anointed," and 
 the monk was permitted to depart as he came, 
 unharmed. 
 
 " Now, sirrah," said the baron, whose anger was 
 
THE BONDMAN. 131 
 
 aroused to the highest pitch ; "say the word — is 
 it death or bondage?" 
 
 Holgrave trembled ; he cast a longing eager 
 glance towards the door. Margaret was in the 
 pains of labour, brought on by the shock she re- 
 ceived on his arrest ; and this it was that caused 
 him to hesitate. His face brightened as he beheld 
 the animated ruddy face of a serving boy, who 
 breathlessly approached. He bent forward his 
 head to catch the whispered intelligence that told 
 him he was a father, and then, with a joy which 
 he strove not to conceal, announced his selection 
 in a single word — " bondage !" 
 
 " Then the child is born ?" asked De Boteler. 
 
 " Yes, my lord, he is free !" 
 
 Calverley's countenance displayed the mortifica- 
 tion with which he received the intelligence, but 
 presented the gospels to Holgrave in silence. 
 
 Notwithstanding the recent flush of pleasure 
 which warmed the heart of the yeoman, his resolu- 
 tion appeared again to forsake him — he endea- 
 voured to speak, but in vain — he appeared to be 
 overwhelmed by a variety of contending emotions ; 
 but the stern voice of De Boteler aroused him, and 
 in a choaked voice, he pronounced after Calverley 
 the fealty of a bondman, holding his right hand 
 over the book : — 
 
 " Hear you, my Lord de Boteler, that I, Stephen 
 Holgrave, from this day forth, unto you shall be 
 true and faithful, and shall owe you fealty for the 
 land which I may hold of you in villeinage, and 
 shall be justified by you both in body and 2:oods, 
 so " 
 
 A loud blast of a horn accompanied with the 
 K 2 
 
132 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 voices of men and the tramp of horses, interrupted 
 the ceremony ; and De Boteler, recollecting that 
 his cousin Ralph de Beaumont, with other guests, 
 were expected, turned to Calverley and ordered 
 him to receive and conduct them to the hall. 
 
 " Stephen Holgrave, my lord, has not yet finished 
 his fealty." 
 
 " What ! do you dream of such things when my 
 noble cousin and guests are waiting for our cour- 
 tesy ? Away ! I shall attend to the matter my- 
 self." 
 
 Calverley reluctantly departed on his mission, 
 cursing the interruption that prevented his enjoying 
 the degradation of his rival, and the baron now in- 
 quired whether Holgrave had confessed himself his 
 villein. 
 
 One of the retainers, who stood by, boldly an- 
 swered, " He has, my lord ; Master Calverley gave 
 him the words;" and the baron perceiving Hol- 
 grave's hand still resting on the book, took it for 
 granted ; and then ordering the yeoman to be set 
 at liberty, arose and advanced to meet his guests. 
 
 Holgrave too, retired ; and though secretly re- 
 joicing that, legally speaking, he was as free as 
 when he entered the court, he yet felt bitterly that 
 in the eye of the baron and the barony, he was as 
 much a villein as if he had pronounced every letter, 
 and sealed the declaration with the customary oath. 
 
 He returned home gloomy and discontented ; 
 and, as he stood by the bed of the pallid Mar- 
 garet, and inquired of her health, there was no- 
 thins; of the tender solicitude with which he used 
 to address her, in his manner or in his voice. 
 
 " Thank God !" said Margaret faintly, as she 
 
THE BONDMAN. 133 
 
 took his liand and pressed it to her lips ; " thank 
 God, that you have returned to me without hurt or 
 harm." 
 
 " Without hurt or harm !" repeated Holgrave : 
 " she would not have said so — oh ! no, no, she 
 would not have rejoiced to see me return thus ; — 
 but your soul is not like hers — if life is spared, 
 it matters little to you that the spirit be crushed 
 and broken : but Margaret, do not weep," he said, 
 bending down to kiss the pale cheek, over which 
 the tears his harsh language had called forth, were 
 streaming fast. " Do not weep, I cannot bear 
 your anguish now : I did not mean to speak un- 
 kindly — I love the gentleness of your spirit — you 
 are dearer to my heart, Margaret, than even the 
 freedom that was of higher price to me than the 
 breath I drew !" 
 
 " Will you not look at the little babe ?" said 
 Margaret, anxious to turn the current of her hus- 
 band's thoughts. 
 
 " Another time, Margaret — not now ; but — 
 the child was born before its father declared him- 
 self a wretch ! and I will look upon it — poor little 
 creature !" he continued, gazing at the babe as 
 Margaret raised it up, " what a strange colour 
 it is !" 
 
 " Yes," said Margaret, " and it is so cold ! 
 they think it will not live !" 
 
 " So much the better." 
 
 " Oh ! don't say so, Stephen," replied Mar- 
 garet, pressing the infant to her bosom ; "I 
 have prayed it might live, and I suppose it 
 was only the fright that makes it so cold and dis- 
 coloured." 
 
134 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 " May be so," answered Holgrave ; "■ but if 
 your prayers be not heard, and the child dies " 
 
 It seemed scarcely a human voice which had 
 uttered the last words, so deep and hoarse was the 
 sound, and there seemed more of threat, in the 
 sudden pause, than if he had thundered out the 
 wildest words. Margaret gave an involuntary 
 shudder ; and Holgrave, who was not so wrapped 
 up in his own feelings, as to be wholly regardless 
 of those of his wife, moved away from the bed, and 
 sat apart, brooding over the dark thoughts that 
 filled his breast. 
 
 On the second day after Holgrave had become 
 a bondman, he was summoned by an order from 
 Calverley to go to labour for his lord. His heart 
 swelled as he sullenly obeyed the mandate, and 
 Margaret trembled as she saw him depart. She 
 looked anxiously for the close of the day ; and, 
 when she saw her husband enter with some vege- 
 tables and grain that had been apportioned to him 
 for his day's toil, her heart was glad. It was true 
 that the gloom on his brow seemed increased, and 
 that he threw down his load, and sat for several 
 minutes without speaking, — but she cared not for 
 his silence as she saw him return in safety. 
 
 The next day he went to his task, and pursued 
 his labour with sullen industry, but no approaches 
 to familiarity would he permit in the companions 
 of his toils. He still regarded himself as a free 
 man ; he knew not how distant the day of his re- 
 lease might be ; but he resolved, if an opportunity 
 ever did occur, that he should not let it pass. 
 
 He disdained the villeins, and he felt that the 
 free men would disdain him. He would not as- 
 
THE BOXDMAN. 135 
 
 sociate with those now, whom, in his day of pros- 
 perity, he had sought to befriend, and whose de- 
 graded state he had wished to ameliorate ; nor 
 would he associate with those who had so lately 
 been his compeers, lest they should seek to be- 
 friend him or ameliorate his lot. 
 
 One evening, about the eighth day after the 
 birth of his infant, fatigued in body, and troubled 
 in spirit (for Calverley had that day exercised to 
 the full the commanding power with which he was 
 invested), he entered the cottage, and found Mar- 
 garet weeping over the little babe. 
 
 " Oh, Stephen," she said, " how I wished you 
 would return — for our child is dying !" 
 
 " Great God !" cried Holgrave, rushing forward 
 to look at the infant, — the feelings of the father 
 overcoming every selfish consideration. 
 
 " Oh, see !" said Margaret, her voice almost 
 choked with her sobs. " See how pale he looks ! 
 Look at his white lips ! His breathing becomes 
 faint ! Oh, my child, my child !" 
 
 Margaret ceased to speak, and her tears dropped 
 fast on the little innocent she was so anxiously 
 watching ; presently it gave a faint sigh, and the 
 mother's agonizing shriek, told her husband that 
 the breath was its last. Holgrave had beheld in 
 silence the death-pang of his child ; and now, 
 when the cry of the mother announced that it had 
 ceased to be, he turned from the bed and rushed to 
 the door without uttering a word . 
 
 "Oh, Stephen, do not leave me !" exclaimed 
 Margaret. " Oh ! for mercy's sake, leave me not 
 alone with my dead child !" 
 
 But Stephen heard her not ; — indeed, he was 
 
136 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 a few paces from the door ere she had finished the 
 exclamation. 
 
 All without the cottage, as well as within, was 
 darkness and gloom. Perhaps, if the beauty of 
 moonlight had met his view, he might have turned 
 sickening away to the sadness of his own abode ; 
 but as it was, the dreariness of the scene accorded 
 with the feelings, which seemed bursting his heart, 
 and he rushed on in the darkness heedless of the 
 path he took. As if led by some instinct, he found 
 himself upon the black ruins of his once happy 
 home. No hand had touched the scattered, half- 
 consumed materials, which had composed the dwel- 
 ling ; the black but substantial beams still lay as 
 they had fallen. Perhaps, his was the first foot 
 that pressed the spot since the night it blazed forth, 
 a brilliant beacon, to warn the base-hearted what 
 an injured man might dare. The fire had scath- 
 ed the tree that had sheltered the cottage, but 
 the seat he had raised beneath it yet remained 
 entire. He sat down on the bench, and raised his 
 eyes to the heavens ; the wind came in sudden 
 gusts, drifting the thick clouds across the sky ; for 
 a moment a solitary star would beam in the dark 
 concave, and then another cloud would pass on, 
 and the twinkling radiance would be lost. He 
 gazed a few minutes on the clouded sky, and 
 thought on all he had suffered and all he had lost : 
 his last fond hope was now snatched away ; and 
 he cursed De Boteler, as at once the degrader of 
 the father and destroyer of the child. But a 
 strange feeling arose in his mind as a long hollow- 
 sounding gust swept past him ; it came from the 
 ruin beside him — from the spot he had made deso- 
 
THE BONDMAN. 137 
 
 late ; and, as lie looked wistfully round, he felt a 
 sudden throbbing of his heart, and a quickened 
 respiration. In a few minutes his indefinite terror 
 became sufficiently powerful to neutralize every 
 other sensation. He arose — he could not remain 
 another instant ; he could scarcely have passed 
 the night there under the influence of his present 
 feelings, had it even been the price of his freedom. 
 He hurried down the path that led from the place 
 where he had stood, and at every step his heart 
 felt relieved ; and, as the distance increased, his 
 superstitious fears died away, and gradually gloom 
 and sorrow possessed him as before. 
 
 As he walked on, choosing the most unfrequent- 
 ed paths, a sudden gleam of light startled him, till 
 he recollected that Sudley castle stood before him ; 
 and, without bestowing a thought on the unusual 
 number of tapers that were seen burning in various 
 parts of the building, he pursued his way. But 
 the sound of steps approached, and he stooped to 
 conceal himself in the shade of a thicket, for he 
 was not in a mood to talk, and, besides, he might 
 now be subject to interrogatories as to his wander- 
 ing about in the dark : he had before been accused 
 as a deer-stealer, and why should he not be sus- 
 pected now ? The steps came from opposite direc- 
 tions ; they met just before the bush where Hol- 
 grave had crouched ; and a voice, that he recog- 
 nised as a neighbour's, said, 
 
 " Holla! who is that? man or maid? — for, by 
 the saints, there is no telling by this light." 
 
 " It is I, Phil Wingfield," replied one of the 
 castle servitors : *' my lady was took suddenly ill, 
 
138 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 and is delivered ; and I am going to Winchcombe 
 for a priest to baptize the child." 
 
 " My lady was in the right not to make much 
 stir about it : I suppose there's not one in the pa- 
 risli knows any thing of the matter. But what is 
 it, Dick?" 
 
 " A bouncing boy, the wenches say. But 1 
 wish, Phil, you would come with me — I don't 
 much like to be trudging this dark road by my- 
 self." 
 
 The man he addressed consented, and their steps 
 were soon lost in the distance. 
 
 Holgrave raised himself erect as the men de- 
 parted. Wild thoughts, such as he had never 
 known before, rushed through his heart. It is 
 dangerous to snatch from any man, even the lowest 
 of the species, that which he values above every 
 other thing. Be the thing what it may — be it 
 grand or mean, base or beautiful, still the soul has 
 clung to it, has treasured it up, has worshipped 
 before it ; and none but the bereaved can compre- 
 hend the desolation which the bereavement causes. 
 Holgrave's idol was his freedom ; it was the thing 
 he had prized above all things else ; it was the 
 thing he had been taught to revere, even as the 
 religion he professed. It must, therefore, have 
 had a strong hold upon his feelings ; it must have 
 grown with his growth, and strengthened with his 
 strength : and this it is necessary to understand 
 before a perfect idea can be formed of the hatred 
 which he now felt towards the man who had 
 wrested from him his treasure. It is true he might 
 have rejected his terms, at the sacrifice of a thing 
 
THE BONDMAN. 139 
 
 of less value — his life ; but there was then love 
 and hope to contend against him — the hope of a 
 man and a father. But he had now no longer 
 hope ; it had fled with the spirit of his little babe ; 
 its last faint breath had dissipated all the illusions 
 of far-off happiness ; and he now looked forward 
 to a lifie of degradation, and a death of dishonour. 
 
 " Can it be ?" said Holgrave, as he looked be- 
 fore him at the castle, which the tapers revealed — 
 '' Can it be, that the lord of this castle and I are 
 the sons of the same heavenly Father ? Can the 
 same God have created us ? — and is his child to 
 live and grow to manhood, that he may trample on 
 his fellow men, as his father has trampled on me? 
 Is this to go on from generation to generation, and 
 the sons to become even worse than the fathers ? — 
 No !" said he, pausing; '' I have no child — Mar- 
 garet must forgive me — I have only a worthless 
 life to forfeit." He paused again. " I will at- 
 tempt it!" he said, vehemently — "he can but 
 hang me ; and if I succeed, the noble blood they 
 
 think so much of may yet " Holgrave suffered 
 
 the sentence to remain unfinished, and he rushed 
 towards the castle. 
 
 There was a wicket in the northern gate, the 
 common outlet for the domestics, which, as 
 Holgrave had anticipated, the servitor had not 
 closed after him. He entered, and stood within 
 the court-yard ; he heard the sound of voices, and 
 the tread of feet, but no human being was near : 
 he paused an instant to consider, and then, with 
 the swiftness of a deer, he sprung towards the 
 stables, and entered the one appropriated to the 
 select stud of the baron. A lamp was burning, 
 
140 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 but the men who attended on the horses were now 
 away, quaffing ale to the long life of the heir. The 
 baroness's favourite palfrey was lying in a stall ; he 
 stept across the animal, and, after pressing his 
 hands on various parts of the wall, a concealed 
 door flew open, and a dark aperture was before 
 him. He stooped and passed through, and as- 
 cended a long, winding flight of steps, till a door 
 impeded his progress ; he opened it, and stood in 
 a closet hung round with dresses and mantles, and 
 displaying all the graceful trifles of a lady's ward- 
 robe. There was a door opposite the one at which 
 he had entered, which led into the baroness's 
 chamber, where there were lighted candles, and a 
 blazing fire on the hearth. The floor was thickly 
 strewn with rushes, and he could just perceive the 
 high back of a chair, with the arms of the family 
 wrought in the centre ; he paused and listened ; 
 he heard the faint cry of a babe, and discovered, 
 by the language of the nurse, that she was feeding 
 it ; then there was the hush-a-by, and the rocking 
 motion of the attendant. In a few minutes, the 
 sound of a foot on the rushes, and "^ the lovely 
 babe would sleep," now announced to Holgrave 
 that the child was deposited with its mother : then 
 he heard the curtains of the bed drawn, and the 
 nurse whisper some one to retire, as her ladyship 
 was inclined to sleep ; there was another step 
 across the rushes, and a door was softly closed, 
 and then for a few minutes an unbroken silence, 
 which the nurse at length interrupted by muttering 
 something about " whether the good father had 
 come yet." Again there was a tread across the 
 rushes, and the door again was gently closed ; and 
 
THE BONDMAN. 141 
 
 Holgrave, after a moment of intense listening, 
 stepped from the closet, and entered the chamber. 
 In an elevated alcove stood the bed of the baron- 
 ess ; the rich crimson hangings festooned with gold 
 cord, the drapery tastefully fringed with gold, even 
 to the summit, which was surmounted by a splen- 
 did coronet. Holgrave, unaccustomed to magnifi- 
 cence, was for a moment awed by the splendid 
 furniture of the apartment — but it was only for a 
 moment — and then the native strength of his soul 
 spurned the gaudy trappings ; he stepped lightly 
 across the spacious chamber ; he unloosed the rich 
 curtains — the heir of De Boteler was reposing in a 
 deep slumber on a downy pillow ; beyond him lay 
 the exhausted mother, her eyes closed, and the 
 noble contour of her face presenting the repose of 
 death. For an instant, Holgrave paused : remorse 
 for the deed that he was about to do sent a sudden 
 glow across his care-worn face — but had not the 
 baron destroyed his offspring ? whispered the 
 tempting spirit. He raised the babe from the 
 pillows without disturbing its slumber — he drew 
 the curtains, and — he reached the stable in safety, 
 closed the secret door, and arrived at the postern, 
 which was still unfastened, passed through, and 
 gained his own door without impediment. 
 
 " Margaret," said Holgrave, as he entered, put 
 away that babe, whom your tears cannot restore to 
 life. Here is one that will be wept for as much as 
 yours. — Do you hear me, Margaret ? lay your babe 
 under the cover-lid, and take this one and strip it 
 quickly, and clothe it in the dress of your own 
 infant." 
 
 " Stephen, what child is this?" her astonishment 
 
142 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 for a moment overcoming lier grief. " The saints 
 preserve us ! look at its dress — that mantle is as 
 ricli as the high priest's vestment on a festival. 
 Oh ! Steplien." 
 
 "Silence!" interrupted Holgrave, sternly; "take 
 the babe and strip it and attend to it as a mother 
 should attend to her own infant; and, mark me, it 
 is your own ! your child did not die ! As you value 
 v}y life, remember this." 
 
 There was a sternness in his tone that entirely 
 awed Margaret. She continued to weep, but she 
 took the strange infant and did as her husband de- 
 sired her. The changing of its apparel made the 
 little infant cry, but the change was soon effected, 
 and then Margaret put it to her breast and hushed 
 its cries. While this was doing, Holgrave had taken 
 a spade and commenced digging up the earthen 
 floor. The sight agonized the wretched Margaret, 
 and when the task was finished and he approached 
 the bed to consign the little corpse to its kindred 
 earth, it was long ere even his stern remonstrance 
 could prevail on the mother to relinquish her child. 
 She kissed its white cheek and strained it to her 
 convulsed bosom, and Holgrave had to struggle 
 violently with his own feelings, that he too might 
 not betray a similar emotion. But fortitude over- 
 came the yearnings of a father ; he forcibly took 
 the babe from its mother's arms and laid it in the 
 cavity he had prepared ; and then, as the glitter- 
 ing mantle of the stolen child caught his eyes, he 
 took a small iron box, in which Margaret kept the 
 silks and the needles she had formerly used in her 
 embroidery, and scattering the contents upon the 
 ground, he forced in, in their stead, the different 
 
THE BONDMAX. 143 
 
 articles the little stranger had worn, and fastening 
 down the lid, laid it beside his child ; and then, as 
 swiftly as apprehension could urge, jfilled up the 
 grave, and trod down the earth to give it the 
 appearance it had worn previous to the inter- 
 ment. A chest was then placed over it, and it 
 seemed to defy the scrutiny of man to detect the 
 deed. 
 
 Holgrave's heart might have been wrung at thus 
 interring his own child, but his face betrayed no 
 such feeling ; it wore only the same stern expres- 
 sion it had worn since the day of his bondage, and 
 it was only in Margaret's swoln eyes and heaving 
 breast that a stranger could have surmised that 
 aught of such agonizing interest had occurred. 
 The bondman then threw another faggot upon the 
 hearth, and, in the same stern voice of a master, 
 bidding his wife tend upon the babe as if it were 
 her own, without a kind look or word, he ascended 
 the ladder, and threw himself upon a few dried 
 rushes in the loft above ; where he lay broodino- 
 in sullen wretchedness over the wild and darino^ 
 
 o 
 
 deed he had committed. 
 
 His meditations were soon disturbed by a con- 
 fused distant ncise — then men's voices and the tread 
 of feet, and instantly the latch of the door was 
 raised, the slight fastening gave way, and the in- 
 truders rushed into the room beneath. 
 
 ^' Are ye drawlatches or murderers ?" asked Hol- 
 grave in a fierce voice, as he started up and sprung 
 to the ladder, " that you break open a man's house 
 at this hour ?" 
 
 '' If you attempt to come down that ladder, 
 this fellow's glaive will answer vou," said Calver- 
 
144 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 ley, in a voice and with a look which the torch- 
 light revealed, that told that his threat had mean- 
 ing. He then cast a hasty glance around the 
 apartment — for an instant, his eyes rested on the 
 bed where lay the terror-stricken Margaret, who, 
 at the first sound of his voice had concealed her 
 face in the pillow. His eyes scarcely rested upon 
 the bed ere he turned quickly to the men who at- 
 tended him, and, in something of a hurried voice, 
 desired them to examine the chest. What dark 
 suspicion crossed his mind can scarcely be con- 
 ceived, but Holgrave looked with a bitter smile 
 upon the search as the men tore open the chest 
 and scattered the contents in every direction. 
 There was nothing else that required more than 
 a cursory glance except the bed ; Calverley did 
 not look again towards it, and the men who w^ere 
 with him did only as they were ordered. At his 
 command three men ascended the ladder, but ere 
 they' had advanced midway, Holgrave had grasped 
 the end that rested on the entrance, and, in a voice 
 that caused tremor in the craven heart of the 
 steward, threatened to hurl them to the ground if 
 they advanced another step. 
 
 " Do you think, meddling steward, that I have 
 been in the chase again ? Do you expect to find 
 another buck ?" 
 
 " Proceed — heed not this bondman's raving!" 
 Holgrave, conceiving that further resistance 
 might awaken suspicion, folding his arms across his 
 breast, suffered the men to ascend, and looked on in 
 silence while they carefully examined the loft. But 
 here, after a minute search, was found nothing to re- 
 pay their trouble. They descended, and Calverley 
 
THE BONDMAN. 145 
 
 said, '' There is nothing here to confirm suspicion ; 
 but the son of Edith Holgrave is likely to be sus- 
 pected when evil is done. We depart," he said to 
 his followers, " but there shall be a watch kept on 
 this fellow." 
 
 Holgrave looked contempt, and spoke defiance ; 
 but Calverley retired without seeming to heed either 
 his looks or his words. 
 
 In the morning he went to his task at the usual 
 hour, not however without again cautioning Mar- 
 garet respecting the child. Soon after his depar- 
 ture Lucy Hartwell entered, to talk over the strange 
 news she had just heard, and to offer her services 
 to Margaret. 
 
 " How are you, Margaret? How is the babe?" 
 
 " The child is better," replied Margaret, '• but I 
 am very ill." 
 
 '' I am sorry to hear that — I hardly thought 
 that the child would live. Here, Margaret, take a 
 little of this broth, it will do you good. — Oh, 
 there are such strange doings at the castle ! Yes- 
 terday evening, my lady was suddenly put to bed 
 of a boy, and the child has been stolen away, no- 
 body can tell how. Roberts, one of the castle 
 guard men, told my father just now, that my lady 
 had accused Sir Robert Beaumont, my lord's 
 cousin, of stealing the child, and that Sir Robert 
 is making ready to depart, vowing never to en- 
 ter the castle again. But Martha, my lady's 
 maid, said, in his hearing, that nothing but an evil 
 spirit could have stolen it away. She declared that 
 she saw old Sukey, the nurse, put the child safely 
 beside my lady, and then, as her ladyship seemed 
 inclined to sleep, she went from the bed-chamber 
 
 VOL. V. k 
 
146 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 into the anti-room, and there she sat till the priest, 
 who had come from Winchcombe, was ready for 
 the baptism, and then she entered the chamber to 
 tell the nurse ; and when old Sukey went to the 
 bed to take up the child, behold it was gone ! 
 Whereupon old Sukey gave such a dreadful scream, 
 that the baroness started up, and discovering the 
 loss of the child, could scarcely be kept in bed, 
 and called the old nurse and every one who ap- 
 proached her, murderers ; and then the whole 
 castle was in an uproar, and my lady presently 
 hearing the sound of Sir Robert's voice in the anti- 
 room, shrieked that it was he who had stolen her 
 child ; and then she fell into such a fit of crying, 
 that her heart sickened and she swooned away. 
 But what ails you, Margaret, are you worse ?" 
 Margaret answered, faintly, that she wished to 
 sleep;" and Lucy's humanity, overcoming her 
 strong desire to speak of the strange event that 
 had happened, she left her, after doing the little 
 services the invalid required, to her repose. 
 
 Towards the close of the day, father John came 
 to see his sister. *' You are ill, my child," said 
 the monk, as he drew a chair to the side of the bed, 
 and gazed anxiously at her pallid cheek and swoln 
 eyes. Margaret answered incoherently. 
 
 "Your child," continued he, "is it — is it still 
 alive ?" 
 
 " My child is well now !" said Margaret in a 
 stifled voice. 
 
 " Well ! Magaret, can it be possible ! — Let me 
 look at the babe, for I fear you must be deceiving 
 yourself." 
 
 " It is sleeping," said Margaret ; but the next 
 
THE BONDMAN. y l47 
 
 moment the babe, who had slept with short inter- 
 mission during the day, awoke, and no soothing, 
 no attentions of its nurse, could hush its cries. 
 Margaret saw that the eyes of her brother were ri- 
 vetted on the child, and she strove anxiously to 
 conceal its face. 
 
 " It is strange !" said the monk, ''yesterday, the 
 low moaning sound it made, seemed to threaten im- 
 mediate dissolution ; and to-day, its lusty cries seem 
 those of a healthy child — it is quiet now — give 
 me the babe in my arms and let me look at it?" 
 
 Margaret did not immediately accede to his 
 wish, and the monk looked at her with a strange 
 inquisitiveness — something crossed his mind, but 
 what could he suspect ? He again asked Margaret, 
 but she still hesitated. He started from his seat, 
 and paced up and down the floor. He then stopped 
 suddenly before the bed. Margaret had laid down 
 the infant, and had covered it with the bed-clothes. 
 
 " Margaret," said the monk, fixing his eagle 
 glance upon his sister, " tbat is not your child !" 
 
 "Hush! Hush! Oh! for the life of my hus- 
 band, say not so !" The sternness of the monk's 
 countenance gradually softened as he gazed upon 
 his agonized sister, and, after the space of a minute 
 he said, in a calm voice : — 
 
 " Fear not me, Margaret — fear not that I would 
 add to the grief which has weighed on your heart, 
 and paled your cheek, and dimmed your eye. 
 Fear not that I would add one sorrow to the only 
 being who attaches me to my kind, and who 
 tells me I am not entirely alone! But, I ask 
 you, Margaret, not as a servant of the High God, 
 but as an only brother — as one who has loved 
 k 2 
 
148 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 you as a father, and has watched over you from 
 infancy even until now ; I ask you to tell me what 
 you know of that child ?" 
 
 Margaret bent her head forward and covered her 
 face with her hands, but made no reply. In vain 
 the monk reiterated his request. In vain he ex- 
 horted her — in vain he assured her that no evil 
 should befal her husband from whatever disclosure 
 she might make, Margaret still hid her face and 
 remained silent. Her silence discomposed the monk. 
 He continued to gaze upon her with a troubled 
 countenance. Anger for the cruelty that could pre- 
 meditatedly deprive a mother of her offspring, and 
 alarm for the consequences that might result to 
 Holgrave, could have been read in his contracted 
 brow and anxious glance. His sister's unwilling- 
 ness to speak confirmed his suspicions, and he felt 
 as fully convinced that the child that lay before 
 him was the baron's son as if he himself had wit- 
 nessed the theft. 
 
 " Margaret," said John, " your silence does but 
 confirm my suspicions. It is a cruel revenge — 
 but it is done — and Stephen's life shall never be 
 put in jeopardy by a breath of mine. He has suf- 
 fered, but till now he had not sinned ! But his 
 sin be between his conscience and his God : he 
 paused for a minute, and then looking tenderly upon 
 his sister, he said as gently as he could, " Fare- 
 well!" and being anxious to avoid an interview 
 with Holgrave, abruptly departed. 
 
THE BONDMAN. 
 
 BOOK II. 
 
 VOL. V. 
 
THE BONDMAN. 
 
 BOOK II. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 About a fortnight after the birth of the baron's son 
 was the feast of All-hallows, and from All-hallows 
 eve to the Purification of the Virgin, was little less 
 than a continued festival. Mummers and maskers 
 attired in fantastic habits, wearing garlands of 
 holly and ivy on their heads, and bearing branches 
 of the same in their hands, were to be met, danc- 
 ing and singing along the roads that led to the 
 castles of the barons, or to the broad beetling 
 houses of those of a lesser degree. The castles, 
 the manor-houses, and even the dwellings of those 
 whom, one would think, could have no earthly ob- 
 ject in view in their building but convenience, ac- 
 corded little with, or rather was in direct opposition 
 to, our present ideas of domestic comfort. The 
 spaciousness of the apartments, lighted, perhaps, 
 by a solitary window, whose small chequered 
 L 2 
 
152 THE bondma:n. 
 
 panes, encased in a heavy frame, and divided into 
 three compartments by two solid beams, curved, 
 and meeting at the top in a point, were rendered 
 still more gloomy by the projecting buttresses of 
 the windows above ; but still the very construction 
 of the buildings was favourable to hospitality. A 
 dozen, or twenty, or thirty, or fifty persons, ac 
 cording to the rank of the host, might be accom- 
 modated, and not the slightest inconvenience felt. 
 The more the merrier, was undoubtedly the adage 
 then : guests were greeted, especially on winter 
 nights, with a genuine hospitable welcome, be- 
 cause, although the capacious hearth looked snug 
 and cheerful, there was a dreariness in the void 
 beyond — in the undefined and distant shadows of 
 the apartment — that could alone be dispelled by 
 additional lights and smiling faces. It will conse- 
 quently be a natural conclusion, that in the castles 
 of the nobles, and in the houses of those imme- 
 diately or progressively beneath them, the arrival of 
 the merry mummers was hailed with almost childish 
 delight. 
 
 In addition to this annual exhibition of mirthful 
 mummery, the town of Winchcombe was enlivened 
 by a fair, periodically held, on the festival of All- 
 hallows. The fair-green lay just beyond the town, 
 enclosed on one side by the town walls, and on 
 the opposite by an abrupt, wooded hill. All 
 Winchcombe was in a bustle ; the ale-houses were 
 crowded w^ith visitors, and the streets filled with 
 strangers ; young artizans or yeomen were escort- 
 ing their favourite damsels to the fair, to shew their 
 gallantry by purchasing some of the various articles 
 so temptingly displayed, as presents for the maid- 
 
THE BONDMAX. 153 
 
 ens. Bodkins and fillets for the hair, and ribbons 
 of every colour, except scarlet or crimson ; and 
 furs, principally cat-skin ; and spices, and fine and 
 coarse cloths of medley, and russets, and hoods, 
 and mittens, and hose, were amongst the miscella- 
 neous wares exhibited for sale. 
 
 But there was one stall that particularly at- 
 tracted the eyes of the fair-folks, by the spices, 
 silks, damasks, fine cloth, gold and silver cords 
 and ornaments, furs, &c. it displayed. The owner 
 of this stall was evidently a pedling Genoese mer- 
 chant, or, as they were then called, galleymen. 
 These foreigners generally bore a bad character — 
 they were looked upon with suspicion ; but, al- 
 though suspected and disliked, they sold their 
 merchandize, passed their base coin, and returned 
 to Genoa to purchase, with English gold, fresh car- 
 goes for Britain. They somehow or other sold their 
 goods cheaper than the native dealers, and their 
 coin, if even bad, would generally circulate through 
 a few hands before it could be detected, and, 
 consequently, those who purchased were seldom 
 the losers. 
 
 The beauty and richness of the chief portions of 
 their cargoes ensured them a demand from the 
 superior classes ; and if a noble, or courtly dame, 
 or maiden, or knight, or even esquire, would not 
 be seen bargaining personally with the foreigners, 
 there were always officious agents who could trans- 
 act the business, and have some trifle as an ac- 
 knowledgment from the itinerant merchant. The 
 galleyman, who Avas displaying his merchandize on 
 the fair-green of Winchcombe, had, towards the 
 close of the short gloomy day, disposed of a consi- 
 
154 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 derable portion of his stock. The damsels of the 
 ladies, residing in the vicinity, bought even more 
 than they were ordered, so well were they pleased 
 with the animated glance of the foreign merchant's 
 black eyes, and with the pretty, almost intelligible, 
 compliments he paid them ; and, above all, with 
 the smiling liberality with which he rewarded every 
 purchase. 
 
 In the villages, the distinctions of dress created 
 by law were pretty generally observed, but in the 
 towns that law was as generally evaded : furs, and 
 colours, and embroidery were worn by those who 
 had no right to them, except the single one of pur- 
 chase. In some instances, the law would take 
 cognizance of the violation of its prohibitions ; a 
 fine would be imposed, but even this could not 
 check the vain assumption ; — there was no law to 
 prevent people buying, and those who could pur- 
 chase forbidden finery, would, in despite of pe- 
 nalties, contrive some means of wearing it. But 
 to return to our foreign merchant. 
 
 There was now scarcely light to distinguish ex- 
 ternal objects, when a sudden rush was heard from 
 the town, and, in an instant, a dozen persons sur- 
 rounded the pedling merchant, and seizing him 
 violently, while uttering threats and imprecations, 
 dragged the dusty-foot to the court of Pie-powder.* 
 As they were hauling him along, the crowd in- 
 
 * The court of Pie-powder (pie-poudri) was a court held at 
 fairs for the redress of all grievances happening there — so 
 called, because justice must be done before the dust goes off 
 the plaintiff's or defendant's feet. See statute 17 Edward IV. 
 chap. 2., confirming the common law usage of, and detailing 
 some new resrulations for, these courts. 
 
THE BONDMAX. 155 
 
 creased, the fair was forsaken, all pressing eagerly 
 forward to learn the fate of the unlucky pedlar. 
 The galleyman seemed perfectly to comprehend the 
 nature of his danger — not by the changing colour 
 of his cheek, for that exhibited still the same glow- 
 ing brown — but by the restless flash of his full 
 black eyes, glancing before and around, as if look- 
 ing for some chance of escape. 
 
 The court of Pie-powder was situated at the ex- 
 tremity of the fair-green, about twenty paces be- 
 yond the last stall : the court was a kind of tent, 
 with a large, high-backed chair in the centre for 
 the judge, a long table being placed before him, 
 on which were balances and weights of various de- 
 scriptions, to ascertain the truth of any charges 
 that might be preferred against the sellers at the 
 fair : there was also a smaller balance, a stone, 
 and a small phial of liquid, to prove the weight and 
 purity of any coin that might be doubted. At 
 each extremity of the table was a bench, on which 
 sat six men, to act as jurors. Although in a fair, 
 the court was conducted with some attention to 
 propriety; the clerk, who sat as judge, assumed as 
 much importance as a dignitary of a higher tri- 
 bunal ; and, as the crowd approached, hallooing 
 and vociferating, with the culprit, two men, who 
 stood at the door with maces in their hands, pre- 
 vented the rush of the people : and, by order 
 of the judge, the accuser, the offender, and two 
 witnesses were the only persons permitted to enter. 
 The charge was laid ; — the foreign dusty-foot was 
 accused of defrauding the accuser's wife, one 
 Martha Fuller, of the value of half a noble. 
 
 The lushburgs (as this base coin was called) 
 
156 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 were then produced. The judge took the money, 
 and was raising the phial to apply the test, when 
 tlie accused, whose hands had been left at liberty, 
 drew something from his breast, and threw it on 
 the lamp which was burning before him. The 
 lamp was extinguished ; — a sudden explosion took 
 place ; burning fragments were scattered in every 
 direction; a strange suffocating smell filled the 
 tent, and nearly stifled the astonished spectators. 
 Before they could recover from their surprize, 
 the galleyman had knocked down the two wit- 
 nesses, crept under the canvas of the tent, and, 
 with the bound of a deer, reached the wooded hill 
 that lay at a short distance behind. 
 
 The pause of astonishment w^as scarcely of a 
 moment's duration ; and then, like the hounds pur- 
 suing a hare that had broke cover, the whole mul- 
 titude, uttering a wild shout, sprung after the 
 flying stranger. The lightness of the galleyman's 
 foot had often befriended him, upon occasions si- 
 milar to the present, but now his bounding step 
 seemed but of little advantage — for the foremost 
 of the pursuers was as fleet as himself. There 
 were few spirits more bold, more constitutionally 
 brave, than this stranger's ; — he had struggled 
 with the world till he had learned to despise it ; 
 he had buffeted with the waves till he had deemed 
 them harmless ; and, up to the last five minutes, he 
 would have sworn that there was neither a man 
 nor a sea that he feared to meet. But the stranger 
 had, at that time, no law in England ; — the gal- 
 lows-tree by torchlight, the execrations, the tu- 
 mult, the sudden hurrying of the soul away with- 
 out even a moment to call for mercy ; — all this 
 
THE BONDMAN. 157 
 
 was distinctly before the eyes of the fugitive. He 
 had seen others act a part in such a scene, and 
 his turn seemed now at hand ; — and the galley- 
 man almost groaned at the thought of dying un- 
 shrieved. 
 
 A large thicket, at this moment, gave the dusty 
 foot an opportunity of doubling, and, for an in- 
 stant, diverging from the straightforward course, 
 though it availed him little, he seemed to feel the 
 breath of his pursuer on the back of his neck ; his 
 foot sounded as if at his heels ; he drew his garment 
 closely around him, turned suddenly to the right, 
 and, bounding from the ground, the next instant 
 a splash was heard in the little river, and the fu- 
 gitive was safe from his pursuer. 
 
 We before observed that Stephen Holgrave's 
 dwelling was situated at a short distance from the 
 little Eastbourne ; and, on the night of All-hallows 
 fair, a quick knocking was heard at the door just 
 after Holgrave had retired to rest. Holgrave, con- 
 cluding it was some mandate from the castle, 
 arose, and, in a surly voice, demanded who was 
 tliere ? 
 
 " A stranger who wants a shelter • — open the 
 door." 
 
 It was instantly opened ; and the galley man, 
 with his saturated garments, and his long black 
 hair hanging dripping over his shoulders, entered 
 the cottage. 
 
 " Why, what mishap has befallen you ?" in- 
 quired Holgrave, in surprise. 
 
 " Ask no questions," answered the dusty-foot, 
 " but give me a cup of malmsey." 
 
 " Malmsey ! and in a villein's cottage," replied 
 
158 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 Holgrave, bitterly. " No, no ; but here is a small 
 flask of sack which a neighbour brought to my 
 wife : she will little grudge it to a man in your 
 plight." 
 
 While Holgrave was speaking, he emptied the 
 flask into a horn, and, handing it to the galley- 
 man, the latter eagerly clutched it, and, with as- 
 tonishing rapidity, swallowed the contents. 
 
 " Is that all you have ?" inquired the dusty- 
 foot. 
 
 " Yes," replied Holgrave ; " and enough too, 
 I think, for any reasonable man at one time." 
 
 " Nonsense !" returned the stranger, " I would 
 drink ten times as much and be nothing the 
 worse. But hark you, Stephen Holgrave — I have 
 come to you for shelter, and I expect you will 
 give it." 
 
 " While I have a roof the way-faring man shall 
 never sleep " 
 
 " I do not talk of sleep," interrupted the stran- 
 ger ; " I would not trouble any man for the sake 
 of a night's rest : but to be plain with you, my 
 life is sought for — the hue and cry is even now 
 after me ; — so, if you mean to keep your word, 
 give me some dry clothing, and hide me — any- 
 where." 
 
 Holgrave turned from the galleyman in silence, 
 and, opening the large chest, took out his only 
 spare clothing — a suit of medley ; and, as he 
 offered it to the stranger, he looked at him with 
 an earnestness which attracted the attention of the 
 galleyman. 
 
 " You do not know me ?" asked the latter. 
 
 " No," replied Holgrave, " I cannot call your 
 
THE BONDMAN. 159 
 
 face to mind ; but surely I must have heard your 
 voice before." 
 
 '* May be you have ; but that matters little ; I 
 know you are an honest man, and were I even 
 your enemy, you would not betray me." 
 
 " No," said Holgrave, " I would betray no man; 
 but I should not like to harbour — a man that 
 had " 
 
 " Had what !" interrupted the galleyman, im- 
 patiently. " I wish I had never done worse than 
 I have done this day, Holgrave ; I have neither 
 hurt nor harmed ; I only gave a pretty little fair- 
 going dame a Genoese piece instead of an English 
 one." 
 
 *' Ah ! well," said Holgrave ; " if she was fool 
 enough to trust a dusty-foot, she must look to it. 
 I care not what you did so long as you kept your 
 hand from blood : so come up this way." He then 
 took one of the branches that were still blazing on 
 the hearth, and conducted the fugitive to the loft. 
 
 The stranger instantly divested himself of his 
 wet apparel, and attired himself in Holgrave 's 
 yeoman's garb ; and then, with the natural re- 
 gret of one accustomed to traffic, he drew from a 
 secret pocket of his wet doublet, a bag of coin, 
 the wreck of his merchandize, and with a sigh for 
 all he had lost, placed it in his bosom. His dagger 
 was also stuck in his doublet, so that if necessity 
 came, he might use it ; and then attentively listen- 
 ing to Holgrave's directions, he threw himself upon 
 a heap of rushes in a corner, and soon after his 
 host had withdrawn to throw the tell-tale garments 
 into the Isborne, he fell into the short, light slum- 
 bers of a seaman. 
 
160 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 The first sound of a far-ofF shout instantly dis- 
 pelled his sleep ; he started on his feet, and as lie 
 became convinced it was really the hue and cry, 
 he raised a small flap in the roof, as Holgrave had 
 directed, and forcing himself through, slid down 
 into a sort of rude garden at the back of the 
 dwelling ; then springing forward till he came to a 
 dry well, he leapt, with a dauntless heart and 
 sound limbs, ten feet below the surface of the 
 earth. 
 
 The hue and cry passed on its noisy course with- 
 out heeding the cottage ; and about an hour after, 
 Holgrave threw down a rope to the galleyman, 
 who, with the agility of one accustomed to climb, 
 sprung up the side of the well, and entered the 
 cottage with his host. 
 
 " You can now go to the loft, and lie down 
 again," said Holgrave ; '* but do not sleep too 
 soundly ; for if any one comes in to look for you, 
 you must go to your old hiding-place. You see, 
 stranger, that mine is not the best place you could 
 have chosen ; there is ill blood between me and 
 the castle folks, and they will not let any chance 
 slip to let me know that even this hut, poor as it 
 is, is not my own, but must be entered and search- 
 ed as they would the kennel of a dog. You know 
 me, stranger, though I know nothing of you, ex- 
 cept your voice. You called me by my name, and 
 you addressed me as a yeoman — think you that I 
 am a yeoman ?" 
 
 " Yes," said the galleyman ; '' I knew you were 
 a freeman, and I heard you were a yeoman." 
 
 " Yes, I was a freeman, and I was a yeoman ; 
 but I am now a — villein ! Av, stare — stare ! I 
 
THE BONDMAN. 161 
 
 live through it all. It was but the space of a 
 moment — the drawing of a breath, that changed 
 me from a man who dared look the heavens in the 
 face, and close his door, if he listed, on even the 
 baron himself, to a poor worm, that must crawl 
 upon the earth, and has not even this (taking up a 
 log of wood) that he can call his own. True, it 
 was not my birthright, but I earned it, in sweat, 
 in hunger, and cold, and I fought for it amidst 
 swords and lances — and I sold it, like a traitor, 
 for — her !" And he pointed, with a look of bitter 
 reproach, to his wife. 
 
 The galleyman, for the first time, fixed his eyes 
 upon Margaret, who was sitting, nursing her little 
 charge within the recess of the chimney. She had 
 latterly been accustomed to unkind language from 
 her husband ; but the bitterness with which he had 
 now alluded to her before a stranger, brightened 
 the delicacy of her complexion with a passing glow, 
 and caused a sudden tear to tremble in her eye. 
 
 " And, by the good cargo I lost even now at 
 Winchcombe," said the galleyman, after looking 
 at her for a moment, " you could not have sold it 
 to better advantage. Such a wife would make any 
 man think little of her price. If you have made 
 yourself a villein, is the world so small that there 
 is no place but the manor of Sudley to live in ? 
 Come, come, let us talk like friends — we are not 
 such strangers as you suppose." 
 
 " No," said Holgrave ; '' but I cannot think 
 where we have met." 
 
 " Never mind that. As for me, I am not quite 
 foundered, although I have left a cargo behind at 
 Winchcombe that would have bought a dozen 
 
 VOL. V. M 
 
162 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 bondmen's freedom. Come with me to London : 
 I have part of a galley of my own there, and you 
 may either stow away in some hole of the city, or 
 slip your cable, and be off for Genoa, where I'll 
 promise you as snug a birth as a man could wish 
 for. Besides, there is your child — is it a boy ?" 
 
 Margaret nodded assent. 
 
 " Yes, there is your boy — would you let him 
 grow up a bondman V 
 
 " No," said Holgrave. " Now you speak of 
 the boy, I will not leave this place. Let him live 
 and toil, and suffer, and " 
 
 " And if he was a headstrong boy, and felt one 
 stroke of the lash," interrupted the galleyman, 
 " would he not fly from the bondage, even to be- 
 come a thing like me ? Hark you, Holgrave," he 
 continued, starting upon his feet, extending his 
 right arm, and fixing his full black eyes on his 
 face — " hark you, Holgrave ! my father was as 
 honest a man as ever drew the breath of heaven ; 
 and yet I trade and traffic in cheatery. My father's 
 greatest oath was ' the saints defend us !' and he 
 would not drink a second cup at one sitting ; and 
 yet there is not a holy name that I have not blas- 
 phemed every day for these nine years, and scarcely 
 a day that I have not drunk more — more than my 
 head could well carry. My father could not have 
 slept if he had missed the shrovetide, and yet I 
 have passed years, aye, and am likely to pass my 
 life, without a single shrift. Yes, yes, he continued, 
 dropping his arm, and sinking down upon his seat, 
 I have done every thing but — murder" — (Margaret 
 crossed herself) — " and scarcely can I clear myself 
 even of that : and all because I was a bondman's 
 
THE BONDMAN. 163 
 
 son ! Yes, Holgrave, I know what bondage is ; I 
 know what it is to be bufFetted and railed at, and 
 threatened with the tumbrel. 1 never was lazy ; 
 but I hated to be driven. All men are not made 
 alike ; some are only fit to be slaves, while others 
 are endowed by nature with a high, proud spirit — 
 of such was your mother." 
 
 " My mother ! what know you of her V* 
 
 " Never mind that," replied the galleyman ; 
 '* but as for your mother, she was a good, and a 
 holy woman ; but I say she was proud ! You are 
 proud, or you would not think so much of being a 
 villein. And is it not likely that your boy will be 
 as proud as either?" 
 
 '< If that child takes after his father," said Hol- 
 grave, " he will have pride enough." 
 
 " And if he has," returned the dusty-foot, " he 
 cannot have a greater cause. It is all very well 
 for the great, — it looks well upon them ; and even 
 the decent chapman and yeomen get little harm by 
 it : but for the poor man to be proud ; to have the 
 swelling heart and the burning cheek — oh ! it is a 
 curse !" He raised his voice as he spoke, and then 
 sinking it to a whisper, added — " and if it is a 
 sin, surely it has its punishment." 
 
 As Holgrave looked at, and listened to the 
 stranger, his heart warmed, and he forgot for a time 
 his own selfish feelings ; but the picture the galley- 
 man had drawn, and which his own soul acknow- 
 ledged to be too true, determined him not to accept 
 his offer. The baron had earned for his son the 
 curse of ^' the swelling heart and the burning 
 cheek," and the lad should know the toils and 
 sufferings of a bondman. 
 
 M 2 
 
164 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 *' We shall talk further," said Holgrave : '' in 
 the mean time, we must consult for your own 
 safety. If your father was a villein of this ba- 
 rony, it is not likely that the old steward, or the 
 new one — the fiend Calverley — should forget 
 you ; and " 
 
 " Tush, tush !" interrupted the galleyman ; " if 
 Stephen Holgrave has forgotten Robin Wells, how 
 should Thomas Calverley remember him ?" 
 
 " Robin Wells !" repeated Holgrave, with a long 
 inquiring look. " No — you are safe! I hardly 
 think the foul fiend himself would detect you. 
 Now I call you to mind — your eyes and mouth 
 are little Robin's — but the brown skin and the 
 black hair " 
 
 " Aye," said the galleyman, " you marvel what 
 has become of the red and white, and the short, 
 thick, yellow curls. Oh, you landsmen know no- 
 thing of the wonders that sea-suns and sea-storms 
 can work. To be sure, it never would entirely 
 change yellow into black, — so, when I wanted to 
 turn Genoese, I used a certain drug that made my 
 eyes and hair look as if they belonged to the same 
 master." 
 
 " Well," said Holgrave, looking at his guest 
 with that kindly feeling that is ever called forth 
 by unexpectedly beholding an acquaintance of 
 earlier days — " well, how often my poor mother 
 used to talk of you, and wonder how it fared with 
 you. I remember well when you came to bid us 
 good-bye." 
 
 " Aye, aye, so do I," said the young man, evi- 
 dently agitated ; " but — let us talk no more 
 of it." 
 
THE BONDMAX. 165 
 
 Holgrave, thinking that Wells was averse to 
 being reminded of an unpleasant circumstance, 
 spoke no more of the day when the orphan boy 
 had gone forth into a strange world ; but, count- 
 ing upon the sympathy of the galleyman, he began 
 to recount his mother's fate. 
 
 '' Hold, hold," said Wells, starting up, and co- 
 vering his eyes with his hands ; "as you hope for 
 mercy, say no more — I cannot bear it." 
 
 He then sprung up the ladder, and threw him- 
 self upon the heap of rushes. 
 
 The extreme agitation of Wells, although it sur- 
 prized Holgrave, by no means displeased him ; — 
 be sympathy ever so extravagant, still, generally 
 speaking, it is gratifying ; and Holgrave, at that 
 moment, would have laid down his life in defence 
 of the man who could feel so keenly. 
 
 Nature had given the galleyman a good and a 
 kind heart, but evil associates had done much, and 
 dissipation still more, to demoralize his soul ; yet 
 his natural good qualities were not entirely up- 
 rooted : the good fruit would sometimes spring up, 
 but it sprung up only to shew what the soil might 
 have produced — it bloomed for an hour in beauty, 
 and then ^was trodden underfoot, and defiled in 
 the dust. 
 
 When Wells had sprung into the loft, accusing 
 himself of the part he had taken in Edith's trial, 
 and of the nefarious traffic which had placed him 
 in the power of Black Jack, he vowed that, in fu- 
 ture, his dealings should be strictly honest ; that 
 he would give a portion of his worldly goods to the 
 poor ; offer a certain sum to the Abbot of Glou- 
 cester for masses to be said for the soul of Edith, 
 
166 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 and endeavour to make what atonement he could 
 by befriending Holgrave. But in a few hours his 
 feelings became less acute ; and we believe all of 
 his vow that he fulfilled was that of striving to aid 
 Holgrave, and becoming, to a certain degree, ho- 
 nest in his dealings. The next day he began to 
 feel that depression of spirits usually experienced 
 by persons accustomed to stimulants. Several 
 times was he tempted to go out and brave detec- 
 tion, — -but a fear lest some of the fair-folks should 
 recognize him, made him pause. 
 
 In the afternoon Lucy Hartwell came in to see 
 Margaret, bringing some little gift, and asking 
 how she fared. Wells could distinctly hear all 
 that passed in the room below ; and soon col- 
 lected, from the conversation, that the visitor was 
 the daughter of old Hartwell the ale-seller. He 
 remembered her a pretty little girl when he had 
 left the village ' — with hazel eyes twinkling and 
 brightening like a star ; with a step as light, and a 
 form as delicate and graceful as the greenwood 
 fairy to whom she used to be likened. Her voice 
 had deepened a little, but it had still much of the 
 sprightly animation of her childhood. 
 
 She kissed and admired the infant, inquired of 
 Margaret's health, bade her hope for better days, 
 and then proceeded to talk of affairs at the castle; — 
 how the baroness still continued to weep and la- 
 ment; and how De Boteler, ever since he had 
 returned from London, had been almost distracted 
 — one minute crying and raving that there was 
 some traitor at the castle who had connived at the 
 abduction of his child, and that he would discover 
 him and hang him up without form of trial, — and 
 
THE BONDMAN. 167 
 
 the next offering large rewards and free pardon to 
 any one who could give the slightest information, 
 even though they should have aided in the theft; — 
 and once he even went so far as to promise par- 
 don to the actual offender. As, of course, this 
 strange occurrence had been a prolific source of 
 speculation to the gossips, Lucy proceeded to de- 
 tail a number of stories she had heard on the sub- 
 ject. 
 
 Although Wells took little interest in these de- 
 tails, yet he loved to listen to the sweet tones of a 
 remembered voice ; and, as the evening had begun 
 to close in, and Lucy talked of returning home, he 
 resolved to put faith in the good feelings and dis- 
 cretion of the maiden. In an instant he had leap- 
 ed down the ladder and stood at her side. 
 
 Lucy gave a faint scream, and cast a look of 
 astonishment at Margaret. 
 
 " It is only a stranger," said Margaret, answer- 
 ing to Lucy's glance, " whom Stephen has pro- 
 mised to shelter. — You need not fear." 
 
 " Fear!" repeated the galleyman, as he gazed 
 on the beautiful features of the abashed Lucy ; 
 '' what can such an angel have to fear ? — and yet, 
 by the saints ! such a prize would tempt the ho- 
 nestest captain that ever commanded a vessel. 
 Years have passed away since I last saw you ; — 
 you were then but a child. You have forgotten 
 me — but in storm or in sunshine, never have I 
 forgotten you : the first sound of your voice, when 
 I was aloft there, made my heart beat — and I 
 thought I would run all hazards and face you. 
 But — you don't know who is talking to you— - 
 Do you ?" 
 
168 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 '* No," replied Lucy, " I don't think I ever 
 saw you before." 
 
 " Oh yes, but you did ; — don't you remember 
 one Robin Wells, a stout rosy boy with curly hair, 
 that made you a wreath of holly and ivy — one 
 All-hallows day — and put it on your head, and 
 called you a little queen ? You were ten years old 
 that day, and it is just ten years and three days 
 since then. Don't you remember it ?" 
 
 " Yes," said Lucy, blushing deeply, and half 
 raising her bright eyes to see if she could identify 
 the stranger with the boy who used to pluck fruits 
 and flowers for her, and make garlands for her 
 hair ; but the fixed gaze of the galleyman com- 
 pelled her to withdraw her inquisitive glance, and 
 then there was a moment of silence, during which 
 Lucy's burning cheeks told she was conscious the 
 stranger's eyes were still regarding her. But her 
 embarrassment was far from very painful ; — there 
 was something so gratifying, especially to a warm- 
 hearted girl, to be remembered for so many years 
 by one whom she had herself forgotten — for poor 
 Lucy never once suspected the truth of what Wells 
 had asserted ! 
 
 " You are changed, Lucy ;" said the galleyman, 
 in a meditative tone, " and so am I ; but a quiet 
 home has reared you into loveliness ; while cold, 
 heat, and storms, have made me what I am. It 
 was that ivy wreath of yours that made me a wan- 
 derer — I spent a couple of hours gathering and 
 making it, and they promised me a flogging for 
 idling, and so, after putting the crown on your 
 head I set off, and here I am again after ten years, 
 looking old enough to be your father — but, hark 
 
THE BONDMAN. 169 
 
 you, maiden — sailors are thirsty souls, and here 
 have I been laid up these two days, without tasting 
 a drop of any thing stronger than — ha ! ha ! — 
 milk ! Your father has plenty of stout ale, and 
 I'm sure such a little angel as you will have the 
 charity to bring a flagon to a poor seaman 
 adrift." 
 
 Lucy, glad to escape from the gaze of the galley- 
 man, and also pleased at an opportunity of show- 
 ing kindness to an old acquaintance, instantly 
 arose, promising to return in a few minutes with 
 some ale. 
 
 " But, take care," said Margaret, " that you say 
 not whom it is for." 
 
 Lucy promised to be circumspect, and in less 
 than ten minutes placed a flagon of her father's 
 best ale before the galleyman, and then bounding 
 away with a light laugh, as Wells sprang forward 
 to pay for it with a kiss, her little form was in- 
 stantly lost in the darkness of the evening. 
 
 About an hour after nightfall the next evening, 
 the galleyman prepared to depart from Holgrave's 
 cottage : repeatedly did he urge his host to accept 
 his offer, and with his wife and the little babe re- 
 move for ever from a spot where his proud spirit 
 had suffered such wrong; but Holgrave steadily 
 refused ; and the galleyman, having forced Mar- 
 garet to accept two pieces of gold, went forth from 
 the roof that had sheltered him. Holgrave's 
 dwelling, as the reader already knows, stood upon 
 an eminence apart from the congregated dwellings 
 that were styled the village. The only object Wells 
 could discover as he looked around, was the glim- 
 mering of the lights in the adjoining habitations. 
 
170 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 He remained stationary for an instant, while he 
 looked across in the direction of Hartwell's house, 
 and then, smiling an imaginary farewell to the 
 pretty Lucy, with a quick step and a light heart, 
 he walked away in the opposite direction. 
 
 All was silence as the galleyman proceeded ; 
 labour had ceased, the evening repast was made, 
 and many of the inhabitants of the village had 
 already retired to rest. The evening was clear and 
 cold, and the firmament was radiant with stars, the 
 moon being only a few days old. By some strange 
 impulse, the man who had so often gazed upon the 
 far-spread beauty of an ocean sky, stood still for a 
 moment here; and, by as strange a conceit, the sil- 
 very semicircle above, as it seemed, even in the crowd 
 of lesser lights, brought to his mind the ever-smiling 
 beauty of Lucy Hartwell. The wanderer lingered 
 for a space — then hesitated — then turned sud- 
 denly — and, in less than five minutes, he had 
 pushed open the hatch of old Hartwell's door and 
 had entered boldly. 
 
 There were no guests ; a bright fire was blazing 
 on the hearth, and the galleyman, throwing him- 
 self upon a bench in the chimney-corner, re- 
 quested Hartwell, who was sitting on the opposite 
 bench, to give him a jug of his best ale. 
 
 " Here, Lucy," shouted the old man, " bring a 
 jug of the best." 
 
 Lucy obeyed the summons with alacrity, but, as 
 she presented the beverage, a slight start and a 
 sudden blush, told how much the appearance of 
 Wells surprized her. The galleyman drank off 
 tlie ale, and then, walking to the farther end of 
 the kitchen, where Lucy stood. " Here, pretty 
 
THE BOXDMAN. 171 
 
 maiden," said he, in his usual loud and joyous 
 tone, "fill it again;" and, as she turned to the 
 cask to replenish the jug, he added, in a voice that 
 met her ear alone : — 
 
 " Lucy, I must speak to you before I go." He 
 took the replenished jug from the little maiden, 
 and then resuming his seat, paid Hartwell for the 
 ale, and began chatting upon the weather and the 
 times ; and, when the old man's attention was 
 thoroughly engaged, Lucy took the opportunity of 
 throwing a large hood over her head and slipping 
 out unperceived by her father. The galleyman 
 took the hint, and draining the jug and starting on 
 his feet, declared he should enter Winchcombe in 
 better spirits after such excellent ale; and then 
 bidding good evening to the unsuspecting old man, 
 hastened after Lucy. 
 
 About thirty paces in the rear of her father's 
 house, was an old far-spreading oak, beneath 
 whose branches stood Lucy awaiting him, who was 
 even now, in her mind, to all intents and purposes 
 a lover. As the dusty-foot looked around in the 
 darkness, a whispered hist ! decided his course, 
 he sprung to the tree, and stooped to clasp the 
 little form in his arms, and to imprint on the 
 glowing cheek his first kiss ; but Lucy drew back, 
 and, with the dignity of a maiden, repelled the 
 freedom. 
 
 " Nay," said Wells, " you know I am slipping 
 my cable, and you shouldn't grudge a parting sa- 
 lute ; but, however, don't stand aloof — I give you 
 the word of a sailor — I cannot say of an honest one, 
 but that's nothing — one man's word is as good as 
 another's if he means to keep it, and so I give you 
 
172 THE BONDMA-N-. 
 
 my word that I will not offend again, and now give 
 me your hand, and I will trust my secret to a sin- 
 less maiden." 
 
 " Alas !" said Lucy, " I am not sinless." 
 
 " May be not so, entirely, yet I am sure you are 
 as sinless as woman can be — but listen to me, 
 Lucy — you know that I am a bondman's son — 
 that I fled from bondage — and that ten years of 
 roving freedom, had not made me free. All this 
 you know, but you do not know that I am the 
 Genoese galleyman who cheated the chapman's 
 dame at the fair of Winchcombe." 
 
 Lucy started, and made an involuntary effort to 
 withdraw the hand that Wells had taken ; but he 
 held it firmly, while he added, 
 
 " I need not have told you this, but I would not 
 deceive you — I have led a wild sort of a life, and 
 I used to laugh at it ; but somehow, since I have 
 beheld the place of my boyhood, I would give back 
 all the lawless freedom of the seas, and all the 
 money-making traffic of the land, to be what I was 
 when I left this spot — but this is all foolish talk- 
 ing ; what is past is gone and cannot be helped." 
 
 *' Aye," interrupted Lucy, " but you can help 
 what is to come." 
 
 '' Yes, and so I will ; but you knov/ I have nei- 
 ther home nor kin. Now one doesn't like to stand 
 alone in the world like a deserted wreck in the 
 midst of the ocean — nobody caring a straw whe- 
 ther it sinks or swims. I think I should not have 
 done as I have done if I had thought any heart 
 would have grieved to hear I was not steering 
 right." 
 
 Wells paused a moment, and then added — 
 
THE BONDMAN. 173 
 
 '* I have seen blue eyes and black eyes — fair 
 skins — and dark skins, but I never saw a she of 
 them I cared to look upon the second time ; but I 
 couldn't have sheered off this night without a part- 
 ing look at you, if the whole hue and cry of Winch- 
 combe had stood to meet me. You've never been 
 to sea, Lucy, and so you cannot tell how it cheers 
 a man to think of the port his vessel is steering to 
 — to look across the heaving billows and to see, 
 even in his fancy, the snug harbour where he is, at 
 length, to cast his anchor. Now, maiden," conti- 
 nued Wells, pressing within his own hard palms 
 the little hand he held, " now tell me, shall not 
 the wandering seaman look across the ocean to a 
 sure anchorage. May he not think of a haven 
 where he may at last moor his tossed-about 
 galley ?" 
 
 Lucy was little used to the figurative language 
 of a sailor, yet she easily interpreted his meaning ; 
 and, after much hesitation, a little blushing, many 
 promises of amendment — and many more protes- 
 tations of unchanging love, she plighted her troth, 
 and the galleyman departed on his journey. 
 
174 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 The next morning, any one ignorant of the inter- 
 est thrown around Holgrave, would have been 
 much surprised at the extraordinary sensation cre- 
 ated in the barony of Sudley, by a report which 
 went abroad of the flight of the bondman. The 
 sun had risen pretty high ere any suspicion arose 
 that Holgrave had broken his bonds. On the pre- 
 vious Saturday, Calverley had ordered him to com- 
 mence his next week's labor with plowing a cer- 
 tain field; and about two hours before noon, the 
 steward took occasion to pass the field, in order to 
 ascertain how Holgrave was getting on with his 
 task ; but to his surprise, however, the ground pre- 
 sented the same unbroken surface it had worn on 
 the previous week ; and after some fruitless en- 
 quiries after the contumacious serf, he at length 
 repaired to his hut, which he found secured. The 
 door was then forced with little ceremony, and the 
 hearth was found cold, and the cottage deserted. 
 The bed, the chest, the stools, &c. stood as here- 
 tofore ; and it was but the business of a moment 
 for the steward to glance around the apartment ; 
 
THE BOXDMAN. 175 
 
 to raise the lid of the chest ; to spring up into the 
 loft ; to descend, and leave the cottage, and close 
 the door as before. 
 
 Calverley had no sooner assured himself of the 
 flight of the bondman, than he dispatched a mes- 
 senger to assemble the vassals for the purpose of 
 carrying the hue and cry in different directions ; 
 and he then entered the castle to inform De Bote- 
 ler of the event. 
 
 Isabella grew pale as she listened ; for by some 
 strange instinct she had so connected Holgrave 
 with the abduction of her child, that his flight 
 seemed now to have wrested from her her last 
 hope. 
 
 " Send forth the hue and cry," said De Boteler. 
 " Scour the country till the knave be found, and 
 promise a noble to him who discovers the run- 
 away." 
 
 '' The vassals have been collected, my lord, and 
 John Byles is now sending them off by different 
 routes." 
 
 " It is well," replied De Boteler ; " but can you 
 learn no certain tidings of his course ?" Calverley 
 answered, that the only intelligence he had yet 
 obtained, was, that Holgrave had been seen at 
 dusk on the previous evening, standing at his door, 
 talking to his wife's brother. 
 
 '* What ! the audacious monk who thrice entered 
 this castle to insult its lord ?" 
 
 " Steward," said Isabella, turning quickly to 
 Calverley, " see that the vassals have obeyed your 
 orders. Remember, the varlet must be found !" 
 And, as Calverley withdrew, she said to De Bote- 
 ler with a thrill of apprehension, '' Roland, do you 
 
176 THE nONDMAN. 
 
 not remember the words of the monk when our 
 first darling was lying a corpse ? ' The blight has 
 fallen on the blossom — beware of the tree /' " De 
 Boteler's countenance changed while she spoke, 
 from anger to thoughtfulness. 
 
 '* It is strange, Isabella, that suspicion never fell 
 upon the monk ! He is more artful than the knave 
 Holgrave; and out of revenge for the church being 
 defeated, might have " 
 
 " No, no," interrupted the lady, " it was Hol- 
 grave who stole my child, although the monk, per- 
 haps, counselled the deed. At all events, he 
 knows of the bondman's flight." 
 
 " Yes, yes, there is little doubt of that : but 
 how can we come at the truth ? Sudbury still re- 
 tains his wrath against us, and would oppose an 
 arrest ; and even could he be waylaid, and brought 
 hither, he is stubborn, and might refuse to an- 
 swer." 
 
 *' I will write to the abbot," said Isabella. 
 
 *' Write to Simon Sudbury !" 
 
 *' Yes, De Boteler," continued the lady, " I 
 will write to him, and try to soothe his humour. 
 You think it a humiliation — I would humble my- 
 self to the meanest serf that tills your land, could 
 I learn the fate of my child. The abbot may have 
 power to draw from this monk what he would con- 
 ceal from us ; I will at least make the experiment." 
 The lady then, though much against De Boteler's 
 wish, penned an epistle to the abbot, in which con- 
 cession and apologies w^ere made, and a strong in- 
 vitation conveyed, that he would honour Sudley 
 castle by his presence. The parchment was then 
 folded, and dispatched to the abbot. 
 
THE BONDMAN. 177 
 
 Calverley, after seeing the last, lingering, vassal 
 fairly beyond the bounds of Sudley, proceeded 
 himself to search in the immediate vicinity of the 
 castle ; but at the close of the day returned v/ith- 
 out havino^ obtained the sliditest clue. The hue 
 and cry was equally unsuccessful ; and those en- 
 gaged in the pursuit also returned, cursing Hol- 
 grave and the steward for giving them so much 
 fruitless trouble. The idea now prevalent at the 
 castle was, that Holgrave had concealed himself 
 somewhere in the neighbourhood, till the vigilance 
 of pursuit should relax, when he would attempt to 
 effect his escape. Fresh orders were, therefore, 
 issued, to search every house, free or bond, on 
 the estate. Calverley himself superintended the 
 scrutiny ; questioned, menaced, nay, even entreat- 
 ed, but in vain ; nobody could tell, except the 
 smith, because nobody knew ; and he would have 
 preferred knocking Calverley on the head, and 
 abiding the consequences, to betraying a man 
 whom he had assisted thus effectually to elude de- 
 tection. 
 
 The lady Isabella's application to the abbot had 
 been attended with as little effect. Sudbury had 
 met with readiness the overtures of reconciliation, 
 and in accordance with her desire, had interrogated 
 the monk ; but Father John evaded his questions 
 with a firmness which gave offence to his superior, 
 and convinced De Boteler and his lady, that he 
 knew much more than he chose to reveal. Spies 
 were set about his path, but nothing was gained — 
 nothing discovered to prove that any communica- 
 tion existed between the fugitive, Holgrave, and the 
 obdurate ecclesiastic. 
 
 VOL. v. N 
 
178 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 It was about a month subsequent to this, that 
 one mornino:, as Turner was makino^ the anvil ringj 
 with the ponderous strokes of his hammer, two re- 
 tainers from the castle entered the shed, and deli- 
 vered an order from De Boteler for his immediate 
 attendance. Wat laid the hammer on the anvil, 
 and, passing the back of his right hand across his 
 forehead, to clear away the large drops that stood 
 there, looked with a kind of smile at the men as 
 he said, 
 
 '* My lord wants me at the castle, does he ?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " But does my lord remember the last time I was 
 there ? He didn't want me then — he told me he 
 shouldn't be counselled by such as /. There is no 
 rent due, and I have done no wrong — and there 
 can be no business for me at the castle." 
 
 " But, Turner," said the men, " we must not 
 take this answer to the baron." 
 
 *' Well, then," replied Wat, " tell him that Wat 
 Turner says he has made a vow never to enter the 
 hall of Sudley castle again ; and if you don't take 
 that answer, you get no other." 
 
 It was to no purpose that the retainers strove to 
 persuade him to send a reply more respectfully 
 worded. The smith, without heeding them, put 
 the iron that had lost its heat into the embers, and 
 ordered the man at the bellows to blow on : and 
 the messengers, after waiting a few minutes, left 
 the shed without obtaining another syllable. They, 
 however, shortly returned, and with so peremptory 
 a mandate, that the smith, not wishing, from pru- 
 dential motives, to provoke hostility, threw down 
 his hammer : and first making himself, as he said, 
 
THE BONDMAN. 179 
 
 a little decent, proceeded with the retainers to 
 Sudley castle. 
 
 Turner thus far complied with the baron's order 
 — but not a foot would he step beyond the court- 
 yard. He had vowed, he said, when Holgrave's free- 
 dom had been denied him, never to cross the threshold 
 of the hall again ; and without being absolved by a 
 priest, he would not break his vow, even at King 
 Edward's bidding. De Boteler, accustomed to 
 implicit obedience, was much provoked at this ob- 
 stinacy, and, as was natural, his first orders were 
 to use force ; but it instantly occurred, that no 
 force could compel the smith to speak, and it 
 would be to little purpose to have the man before 
 him, if he refused to answer his interrogatories. 
 The compulsory orders were therefore counter- 
 manded, and Calverley was desired to try what per- 
 suasion might effect; but De Boteler could not 
 have chosen one less likely to influence the smith. 
 The instant that Calverley strove to induce a com- 
 pliance. Turner might be compared to a man who 
 buttons up his pocket when some unprincipled ap- 
 plicant commences his petition for a loan — for not 
 only was his resolution strengthened not to enter 
 the hall, but he also determined not to answer any 
 question that might be put to him, even should De 
 Boteler condescend, like Edward to Llewellin, to 
 come over to him. But De Boteler was so incensed 
 that the stubborn artizan should presume to hold 
 out even against solicitation, that, in all probabi- 
 lity, he would not have troubled himself farther 
 with one from whom there was so little satisfaction 
 to be expected, had it not been for the remon- 
 strances of the lady, who was instigated by Cal- 
 n2 
 
ISO THE BONDMAN. 
 
 verley to have him interrogated respecting Hol- 
 grave's flight. In compliance, therefore, with her 
 earnest desire, he condescended so far to humour 
 the smith, as to retire into the adjoining apart- 
 ment ; and as Turner's vow had not extended be- 
 yond the hall, he had no longer a pretext for re- 
 fusing to attend. 
 
 The frown was still on the baron's brow when 
 Turner was introduced ; but Isabella, veiling her 
 displeasure under a smile of courtesy, said, with 
 gentle condescension, 
 
 " It would be well, my good friend, if all men 
 observed their vows as religiously as you do." 
 
 She paused. The smith bent his head in silence, 
 and the lady proceeded — 
 
 " My lord has heard from the steward that you 
 are an honest tenant, and has directed that any 
 alteration you may require in your tenement shall 
 be attended to, and that the field which lies at the 
 back of your dwelling be added to it without ad- 
 ditional rent ; and, as it gives me pleasure to en- 
 courage the industrious, in any request you may 
 make, my interest shall not be w^anting. And 
 now, honest man," added she, with even more 
 suavity, " my lord has a question to ask — it is but 
 a simple inquiry, and I feel assured that a person 
 of such strict probity will not evade it — know you 
 Stephen Holgrave's place of concealment ?" As 
 she put the interrogatory, she looked earnestly in 
 the smith's face. 
 
 Turner was prepared for direct and haughty 
 questions from the baron ; but the covert and 
 gentle manner of the lady rather disconcerted him : 
 however, though he paused with a momentary em- 
 
THE BONDMAN 181 
 
 barrassment, yet, contrary to Isabella's expectation, 
 he firmly, but with a kind of native propriety, 
 replied — 
 
 " Noble lady, I cannot tell you where Stephen 
 Holgrave is concealed." 
 
 ^' It is false, knave !" said De Boteler, who had 
 listened with impatience to the persuasive address 
 of his lady — 'Mt is false ! We are positively in- 
 formed that you aided and abetted the flight of 
 this bondman, and that you alone can give tidings 
 of him." 
 
 It was in vain that the baroness cast on him a 
 glance that said he had adopted a wrong course — 
 it was in vain that his own better judgment whis- 
 pered, that he ought to leave the management of 
 the affair in the hands of her who could smile and 
 sooth, when she had an object to attain, without 
 the least violence to her feelings : his anger was 
 set in motion, and it would have required an influ- 
 ence much stronger than the Lady Isabella's to 
 have calmed its ebullition. Although De Boteler 
 spoke so rudely, yet Turner was pleased that it was 
 he whom he had now to contend with ; and, look- 
 ing doggedly at the angry baron, he said, 
 
 " My Lord de Boteler, boy or man, Wat Turner 
 was never a knave, and — " 
 
 '' My good man," said the lady, preventing the 
 interruption she saw De Boteler was about to 
 make — "my good man, my lord was informed 
 that you were privy to the bondman's flight ; and 
 if you w^ere so far (as you considered) his friend, I 
 commend your prudent reserve — but I pledge my 
 word that no harm is intended him : and if he 
 clears his conduct to my lord's satisfaction, his 
 
182 THE BO>"DMA"N. 
 
 condition may be better than it has ever yet 
 been " 
 
 " Isabella, make no promises," interrupted De 
 Boteler — "parley not with such as he." And, 
 striving to calm himself so as to speak dispassion- 
 ately, he added, turning to the smith, " Walter 
 Turner, you are acquainted with the spot that 
 shelters Stephen Holgrave, and I insist that you 
 instantly reveal it." 
 
 '' And think you, my lord," said Turner, firmly, 
 " that if Stephen Holgrave had told me of his hid- 
 ing-place, Wat Turner would be the man to bring 
 him back to his bondage ? No, no ! I never did 
 any thing yet to be ashamed of." 
 
 " Do you know, blacksmith," interrupted the 
 baron, still endeavouring to appear unruffled, 
 " that you are not talking to one of your own 
 class, but to one who has the will — aye, and the 
 power — to compel a satisfactory reply ? And I 
 insist," he added, raising his voice, '' that you tell 
 me where the bondman abides !" 
 
 Isabella saw, by the undaunted look with which 
 the smith regarded De Boteler, that no good would 
 result from this interview ; and as she could not, 
 with propriety, interfere any further, she arose, 
 and left the apartment. 
 
 " Do you hear me, varlet ?" asked De Boteler, 
 in a furious tone, as the smith delayed an answer. 
 
 " Why, my lord," answered Turner, with compo- 
 sure, " I told you before that if I knew where Hol- 
 grave was, I would not tell." 
 
 " Then you admit knowing .where he is hid- 
 den ?" 
 
 " It matters little, my lord, whether I do or 
 
THE BONDMAN". 183 
 
 not," replied the smith, in something of a sullen 
 tone ; " whatever I know, I shall keep to myself." 
 
 *' Say you so, knave ?" returned the enraged 
 baron ; and then, turning to an attendant, he or- 
 dered that a few retainers should instantly attend. 
 
 During the moments that elapsed between the 
 order and the appearance of the men, De Boteler 
 threw himself back in his chair, and was apparently 
 enofaofed in countins* the number of studs in his 
 glittering sword-hilt; and the smith (who, although 
 he felt himself a freeman, yet, from a natural prin- 
 ciple of deference, did not consider he was at li- 
 berty to depart until the baron had given him an 
 intimation to that effect,) stood, with something of 
 an embarrassed air, awaiting the permission, and 
 the idea every instant crossing his mind whether 
 this summoning of the retainers could have any 
 reference to him. But his suspense was not of 
 long duration — the retainers entered, and De Bo- 
 teler, raising himself in his chair, said, pointing to 
 Turner, 
 
 " Bear that man to the tumbrel — an hour or 
 two there may teach him better manners !" 
 
 " Bear me to the tumbrel ! ha, ha, ha," ex- 
 claimed the smith, with that indescribable kind of 
 laugh, combining derision and defiance. 
 
 The retainers approached to execute the order. 
 Turner glanced hastily around, but no weapon, or 
 any portable article that might serve the purpose 
 of one, was at hand : he, therefore, had only to 
 step back a few paces, and to place himself in the 
 best attitude of resistance he could. 
 
 " By saint Nicholas !" said he, pushing back 
 the sleeves of his jerkin, and extending his long 
 
184 THE BOXDMAN. 
 
 sinewy arms, " the first man of ye that lays a fin- 
 ger on Wat Turner, 1 id better have shrieved him- 
 self; for there is that in this hand (clenching his 
 fist in the face of the man who was nearest, and 
 speaking through his set teeth) — there is that in 
 this hand will make ye remember !" 
 
 The men paused ; — it could scarcely have been 
 through fear, when four or five were opposed to 
 one, even though that one looked at this moment 
 rather formidable ; but probably they waited for 
 further orders, before making the apartment a scene 
 of contention, and, perhaps, of mortal strife. 
 
 " Aye," resumed Wat, as he observed the hesi- 
 tation of the retainers ; " stand back, and I'll war- 
 rant ye I shall go quicker than the whole tribe of 
 ye could drag me. This is no place for me, where, 
 if a man doesn't tell what's in his mind, the halloo 
 is given to the pack to put him in the — tumbrel ! 
 ha, ha, ha !" Taking advantage of their inde- 
 cision, he had walked on to the door of the apart- 
 ment wliile speaking, and his bitter derisive laugh 
 was heard as he crossed the threshold. 
 
 " Follow him !" said De Boteler, in a voice that 
 was reverberated from the high-carved roof, '' and 
 place him instantly in the tumbrel, if the whole 
 force of the castle should be employed." But it 
 was easier, however, to command than to enforce ; 
 the whole strength of the castle could not attack 
 a single individual ; and Wat, on leaving the 
 apartment, had rushed through the doorway that 
 separated the two court-yards, and, seizing a large 
 splinter of wood that lay on the ground, now^ 
 stood with his back against the wall of the sta- 
 bles. 
 
THE BONDMAN. 185 
 
 Those to whom the command was addressed 
 now encompassed the smith, who, with astonishing 
 dexterity, warded off the blows that were aimed at 
 his hands and arms to compel him to relinquish 
 the stave. His hands were bleeding, and his arms 
 swollen ; but his heart was like the roused lion's, 
 and, if unable to conquer his opponents (for the 
 exertion of parrying prevented him from dealing 
 blows), he would undoubtedly have at least tired 
 their mettle, had not a stable boy, who saw the 
 fray from a window above, mischievously flung 
 down a quantity of chaff on his head. In the sur- 
 prize and annoyance this created, the weapon was 
 wrested from his relaxed grasp, and the retainers 
 fastened on him like wolves. In the manual 
 struggle which now succeeded, Turner was dragged 
 towards the tumbrel ; but, as it met his eyes, he 
 seemed suddenly endowed with more than human 
 strength. The retainers fell around him, either 
 from blows or kicks, and blood streamed copiously. 
 At length De Boteler (who would not permit steel 
 to be used against an unarmed man), ashamed 
 that so unequal a conflict should so long continue, 
 ordered that, instead of the tumbrel, Turner should 
 be conveyed to the keep. This, after much re- 
 sistance, was effected, and a prison-door was, for 
 the first time, locked on the intrepid smith. 
 
 The abbot of Winchcombe had now become a 
 frequent guest at Sudley. The feelings enkindled 
 by the detention of Edith, and the defiance of De 
 Boteler had passed away and were forgotten. 
 Expiatory presents had been made to the abbey, 
 and a promise given that a gift of land should be 
 added to its already ample endowments. Sud- 
 
186 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 bury, as we have already related, had questioned 
 the monk respecting Holgrave and the child, and, 
 from the evasive replies returned, was strongly in- 
 clined to favour the opinion of Isabella, who now, 
 that the application to the smith had failed, be- 
 came more urgent that some compulsory measure 
 should exact an unequivocal avowal from father 
 John. The wishes of one so powerfully connected 
 as the wife of the influential De Boteler, were, no 
 doubt, of some weight with the abbot ; but these 
 certainly would not have influenced him so far as 
 to induce him to adopt a conduct incompatible 
 with the dignity of his character, had not father 
 John been known of late to express strange opi- 
 nions ; and the monk, though poor and friendless, 
 was one of those whose opinions somehow (it can 
 scarcely be said why) appeared of consequence. 
 It was true that, although but an illiterate bond- 
 man when he gained admission to the cloister, he 
 was now, if not entirely, the most learned, un- 
 doubtedly the most talented and industrious within 
 its walls : no monk transcribed so much, none 
 was more devout, more strict in discipline, more 
 attentive to the numerous and fatiguing duties of 
 his situation as a secular monk in administering^ 
 the sacraments, attending the sick, &c. But, 
 though thus exemplary, strange things were said 
 of him. He had been heard to declare, for in- 
 stance, that villeinage was oppressive, and in every 
 sense unjust; and that every villein w^as justified, 
 whenever an opportunity offered, in escaping from 
 bondage. These opinions, although not sufficiently 
 heinous to have subjected him to ecclesiastical 
 punishment, were yet considered sinful ; — the 
 
THE BONDMAN 187 
 
 first as uncharitable, and the second as subversive 
 of good order : and they induced Sudbury to act 
 with more rigour than he would have been in- 
 clined to adopt had there been only the vague 
 suspicions of the lady to urge his interference. 
 Father John, therefore, was again questioned, and 
 commanded, by his vow of obedience, to disclose 
 the retreat of Holgrave, and reveal all he knew 
 respecting the lost child : but threats availed not. 
 In the midst of these adjurations, the abbot received 
 a paper from a messenger, who burst breathless 
 into the room, with the intelligence that the Lady 
 Isabella had fallen down in a swoon in her own 
 chamber. 
 
 While perusing this document, and more espe- 
 cially an enclosure it contained, he looked first 
 amazed and then enraged, casting ever and anon 
 a look of much meaning upon the monk, who 
 stood cold and calm by his side. 
 
 " Read !" thundered the abbot suddenly, as, 
 after a moment's hesitation, he thrust the parch- 
 ment into the monk's hand. " This paper was 
 found on the dressing-table of the baroness of 
 Sudley!" 
 
 Father John read aloud as follows : — 
 
 " Thy child is not dead, but sleepeth. At thy 
 bidding, he shall awaken, and make the desolate 
 heart rejoice. Let Roland de Boteler, Baron of 
 Sudley, swear, at the altar of Saint Peter's, that, 
 on the day on which his lost child shall be restored, 
 he will release for ever those whom, under the law 
 of villeinage, he can claim as his property. Let 
 him swear this, and, as the Lord liveth, the child 
 shall be restored !" 
 
188 THE BONDMAX. 
 
 " Now, what think you of this?" demanded the 
 abbot, when he had finished. 
 
 *' The sentiments," replied Father John, calmly, 
 " resemble, in part, those that I have publicly 
 avowed." 
 
 " And this is all ! — you refuse explanation ! you 
 do not even deny the authorship ! Are you not 
 aware, that he who could obtain access to the 
 chamber now must necessarily be considered the 
 robber of the child V 
 
 *' And what is that to me ?" coldly demanded 
 the monk. 
 
 " Hence, sir! away, unworthy son of the church! 
 away for the present — we shall soon find a means 
 of bending your stubborn heart !" 
 
 Father John's situation from this period became 
 every day more irksome. He was forbidden to ap- 
 proach the sacraments, and strictly interdicted from 
 administering them. His brethren passed without 
 noticing him, and he was not permitted to eat at 
 the board common to all. A small table was set 
 apart on which his bowl and platter stood, and 
 hints were given that if his obstinacy continued, he 
 would, ere long, be confined to his cell. 
 
 It was reported that the Lady Isabella had been 
 in a state of great excitement from the moment of 
 perusing the parchment — that she had urged De 
 Boteler to make the required vow, alleging that if the 
 contract was not fulfilled, the engagement w^ould, 
 of course, be void — and, it was added, that De 
 Boteler himself, had at first, appeared disposed to 
 comply ; but, on further consideration, had re- 
 solved to wait till something further should tran- 
 spire. 
 
THE BOXDMAN. 189 
 
 There lived, at this time, at the distance of 
 nearly a mile beyond the town, a man named Giles 
 Gray ; and about ten years previous to the time of 
 which we write, there were few round Winchcombe 
 of whom it might with more reason be imagined that 
 his days would pass amidst peace and plenty. Pos- 
 sessed of a farm, which, if not the most extensive 
 in the parish, was well cultivated and fruitful, and 
 sufficiently ample to place him among the class of 
 respectable yeoman ; with a little gentle wife, 
 two fine rosy children, and an exuberance of ani- 
 mal spirits, he seemed placed above the chances of 
 fortune. But his wife fell into a consumptive ill- 
 ness, which, rendering her incapable of attending 
 to the domestic affairs, her sister, a pretty, active, 
 young woman, kindly left her home, at Campden, 
 to take charge of the family. In less than a twelve- 
 month the wife died, and Jane, the sister, still con- 
 tinued to superintend, and much was she praised 
 for her management and for the attention she paid 
 the little orphans. However, many months had 
 not elapsed, ere strange whisperings went through 
 the neighbourhood ; — groups might be seen convers- 
 ing earnestly together ; — and, if it chanced that 
 Gray's sister-in-law passed, every eye was turned 
 up, and every head significantly shook, and Gray 
 was at length compelled, in vindication of Jane, to 
 produce a certificate, setting forth that they were 
 married at St. Crypt's Church, in the city of Glou- 
 cester, about six months previously. 
 
 But it would have been better for Giles to have 
 left his wife to the mercy of uncharitable whisperers 
 than have adopted this mode of justification. The 
 first intimation of his indiscretion was signified by 
 
190 THE BONDMA"N^. 
 
 an order from the parish priest instantly to sepa- 
 rate, and by . public penance to merit absolution 
 from the church. A month was allowed them. 
 The four weeks elapsed, and the incorrigible pair 
 were still living beneath the same roof; and, on 
 the fifth Sunday, at St. Peter's, the parish church 
 of Winchcombe, the congregation were assembled ; 
 the tapers lighted, and the missal opened. Some 
 words were then said, acquainting the people with 
 the crime of Giles and Jane, and cautioning them 
 against holding any communication with such ob- 
 durate sinners. The bell was next rung — the book 
 closed — the tapers were extinguished, and the inces- 
 tuous pair pronounced accursed of God and man. 
 This ceremony was performed thrice, and when the 
 unfortunate Jane was seized with the pangs of 
 child-birth. Gray, after having the doors of fifty 
 houses shut in his face, as he implored assistance 
 for his wife, was compelled to go to Campden, a 
 distance of thirteen miles, to try what the force of 
 nature might effect. There his application was not 
 rejected ; the aged mother, although her heart was 
 breaking at the lost and degraded state of her 
 youngest child, yet consented to accompany Gray; 
 and disguising herself, that none might recognize 
 her, hastened to Winchcombe. 
 
 Jane had been delivered of a dead child about 
 two hours previous to the arrival of her mother, 
 and lay, trembling and exhausted, in a January 
 evening, without light or fire. A fever, with vio- 
 lent periodical shiverings, was the consequence. 
 She slowly recovered ; but the two little children, 
 fondling over their sick mother, (as they called 
 the unfortunate woman), caught the fever, and 
 
THE BOXDMAN. 191 
 
 in a few days, probably through want of care, 
 expired. 
 
 Things had been getting worse and worse ever 
 since. No labourer would work for them — no 
 neighbour would purchase from, or sell them, any 
 necessaries, and all the produce of Gray's indivi- 
 dual industry was carried to Gloucester; for at 
 the populous market of that city, he sold and 
 bought without it being known that the ban of ex- 
 communication cut him off from all social inter- 
 course with his kind. 
 
 It would have been still worse if Gray had 
 rented his farm of one whose religious principles 
 were more defined than De Boteler's ; but even he, 
 though he would not drive them from the soil, re- 
 fused to take recompense for the small portion of 
 land that the man himself could attend to, and 
 even this portion, small as it was, presented little 
 of the healthy and cultivated appearance that his 
 broad fields had formerly exhibited. Sickness often 
 came ; and there was the enervating consciousness 
 of being a shunned and solitary man. Then, too, 
 there were domestic bitterness and mutual up- 
 braidings and reproaches ; and often did the once 
 industrious and light-hearted Giles, instead of 
 saving his hay or cutting down his slender crop, 
 lie the whole day beneath the shadow of a tree, 
 brooding in gloomy discontent over the dark pros- 
 pect before him. 
 
 Father John, who, for obvious reasons, had not 
 been forbidden to leave the abbey, was, one even- 
 ing, in the course of a solitary walk, accosted by 
 the wife of this man. 
 
 *' Holy Father," said she, sinking on her knees 
 
192 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 before him, and raising up a countenance which 
 exhibited the traces of deep, mental suffering : 
 " Holy Father, hear me ?" This entire day, have I 
 been watching for you. — Oh, do not leave me!" 
 she continued in agony, as the monk, disengaging 
 his habit from her grasp, with a shudder of disgust 
 would have hurried on. " Oh ! do not leave me ?" 
 she repeated, clinging to his dress. " Have I not 
 heard, when it was permitted me to enter the house 
 of prayer, that the Blessed Lord had suffered a 
 sinful woman to kneel at his feet and wash them 
 with her tears ! Alas ! she could not be as sinful as 
 I, but" — she bent down her face upon her hands — 
 
 " Unhappy woman !" said the monk, in a tone 
 that seemed to encourage her to proceed — " what 
 would you of me ?" 
 
 "Oh, father !" said she, raising up her eyes, 
 that were filled with tears ; " it is not for myself — 
 it is for him." 
 
 Again the monk looked stern, and strove to 
 loosen her hold, but she held with too firm a grasp 
 to be shaken off, and the trembling diffidence of 
 her speecli changed into the eager and fervent 
 supplication of one who would not be denied. 
 
 *' Oh, father! he is dying — the death-sweats 
 are upon him ! and can I, who brought him into 
 sin, see him die under the curse of God ? Oh, 
 mercy, holy father ! have pity upon him ! — his 
 soul is repentant — indeed it is ! We have vowed, 
 if he should recover, to part for ever — oh, come 
 to him !" 
 
 '* I dare not — let me go ! Is he not excom- 
 municated ? has he not lived on in sin ? Let 
 me 2:0." 
 
THE BONDMAN. 193 
 
 ''Never! never!" replied the woman, with a con- 
 vulsive scream. " No one but you dare I ask — 
 and I will not leave my hold, unless you force me ! 
 You know not what is in the heart : even in the 
 last hour there may be — there is mercy. Let him 
 not die with the curse upon him — and, by all 
 your hopes in this life, and by the blessedness that 
 will gladden you hereafter, do not deny the last 
 hope of the wretched !" The woman again bent 
 down her head, as if exhausted by the intensity of 
 her feelings. 
 
 Father John gazed upon her with a look of 
 compassion ; and, though aware of the danger he 
 should incur, he said, after a short struggle : 
 
 " I will go. Can we measure the mercy of the 
 Lord r 
 
 " Will you?" said the rejoiced creature, starting 
 on her feet, clasping her hands, and raising her 
 eyes to heaven — " may the Lord grant the prayer 
 that you pray !" 
 
 It so happened, that no one passed during this 
 interview ; and, as the monk followed the rapid 
 steps of the woman, he often looked anxiously 
 around, hoping he might not be observed. 
 
 As they entered the dwelling, a child came run- 
 ning forward to meet its mother : Father John 
 shrunk from the little one, as if its touch would 
 have been pollution, and approached the sick man. 
 His dim eyes brightened as they fell upon the 
 monk, and he strove to rise in his bed, but sank 
 back on the pillow. 
 
 " Do not disturb yourself," said the father, in a 
 soothing tone ; and, as the wretched wife left the 
 room, he prepared himself to listen to the dark 
 
 VOL. V. o 
 
194 THE BONDMAN^. 
 
 catalogue of long-grow ing crime. Father John 
 exhorted and encouraged, and with all the fervour 
 of his soul joined the dying man's prayer for mercy. 
 It seemed as if the spirit had lingered for the part- 
 ing consolations of religion ; for scarcely were the 
 last prayers said, ere a slight tremor was percep- 
 tible through the whole frame ; the eyes fixed, the 
 jaw fell, and the soul went forth to judgment. 
 
 Father John, rejoicing that he had listened to 
 the woman's prayer, knelt a few minutes in earnest 
 supplication for the departed, and then rose ; but 
 ere he left the cottage, he gently informed the un- 
 fortunate Jane of the event. 
 
 It would be a vain task to attempt a description 
 of what followed — of the agony with which she 
 threw herself by the bed, and kissed the cold hand 
 and cold cheek, and upbraided herself as the cause 
 of his sins, and sorrows, and early death ; of the 
 desolation that filled her heart as she looked on 
 the dead, and felt that there was no one now, ex- 
 cept the little child, with whom she dare claim af- 
 finity ; of the feeling with which, on the following 
 evening, assisted by a singularly charitable neigh- 
 bour, she deposited the body of him she had loved, 
 in an unhallowed grave, at the bottom of the gar- 
 den, and went forth in the darkness of that night, 
 with the child in her arms, to seek, as a wandering 
 mendicant, the charity of strangers. 
 
 It is said, that charity covers a multitude of sins; 
 but how often does an uncharitable spirit convert 
 that into sin which may in reality be an act of 
 benevolence; or, at worst, nothing more than the 
 weakness of humanity? Father John's attention 
 to the dying man was thus distorted. He was un- 
 
THE BOXDMAN. 195 
 
 fortunately perceived parleying with the woman, 
 and followed to Gray's cottage, by a person em- 
 ployed to watch his motions. The information was 
 instantly conveyed to Calverley ; and as Father 
 John left the cottage, he started at beholding two 
 officers from the abbey, standing at a sufficient 
 distance to avoid the contamination of the dwell- 
 ing, but near enough to prevent the egress of any 
 one without their observation. Concealment was 
 impossible ; so he stepped boldly forward, and with 
 the brothers one on each side, proceeded in silence 
 to the abbey, where he was instantly conducted to 
 his cell, and the door closed and bolted upon him. 
 
 His heart swelled for an instant as the brothers 
 retired ; but the indignant flash presently passed 
 from his eyes, and he rejoiced that no selfish con- 
 sideration had prevented him from, as far as in him 
 lay, saving the guilty soul of the deceased. 
 
 The next morning the monk was summoned be- 
 fore the abbot ; and with the same calm and dig- 
 nified demeanor that generally characterized him, 
 he obeyed the summons. The two brethren who 
 had conducted him from Gray's cottage, stood at 
 the table, and the abbot proceeded to say, that 
 upon the oath of a respectable witness, he had 
 been observed conversing with an excommunicated 
 woman, and accompanying her to her house, and 
 that those two brethren (pointing to the officers) 
 were ready to avow they had beheld him leave it. 
 '* Now," continued Sudbury, " what have you to 
 say ? Did you converse with the woman V 
 
 " My lord," replied the monk, '' I listened to 
 her earnest prayers." 
 
 " Did you accompany her home ?" 
 o2 
 
196 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 " I did, my lord." 
 
 " For what purpose ?" 
 
 " To calm the last moments of a sinner." 
 
 '*■ Did you not know that his crime had shut him 
 out from the aid of religion ?" 
 
 '' Yes, my lord ; but I was assured, that if he 
 survived, their sinful intercourse would cease, and 
 that by public penance they would strive to obtain 
 forgiveness." 
 
 " Have you never heard of the fallacy of death- 
 bed promises ?" The monk was silent. 
 
 " Did you administer the sacrament of penance 
 to the incestuous wretch ?" 
 
 " I did, my lord," returned the monk firmly. 
 
 " A most obedient son of the church, truly," 
 said the abbot (the calmness with which he had 
 before spoken, changing into a quicker and harsher 
 tone). You have read that obedience is better than 
 sacrifice ; and yet, though suspended from the ex- 
 ercise of the priestly functions, you have presumed 
 of your own will to absolve a sinner, who, setting 
 at nought the voice of the church, has lived in sin 
 — a scandal to his neighbours, and a dreadful ex- 
 ample of hardness of heart." 
 
 '' My lord, I was unwilling that a soul should be 
 lost " 
 
 " Rebellious son ! Do you dare to justify your 
 conduct ? But this comes of admitting base blood 
 to the privileges of the gentle. What better could 
 be expected of a man who held your principles ? 
 Now hear me ! You have sinned against the au- 
 thority of the holy church, and violated your vow 
 of obedience. You have also exhibited a most 
 contumacious spirit in refusing to recant those 
 
THE BONDMAN. 197 
 
 pernicious opinions you professed, and to answer 
 the questions I before put to you. Retire, now to 
 your cell, and there remain solitary for eight days, 
 that grace may have power to operate on your 
 soul ; and then, if you still remain incorrigible, 
 you shall be degraded from your order. Retire," 
 he added, waving his hand, and pointing to the 
 officers to lead him away. 
 
 Father John raised his eyes as Sudbury repeated 
 the threat of degradation. He had expected cen- 
 sure ; but he was not prepared for this extremity 
 of punishment ; and the wounded feelings of a 
 high spirit spoke in the silent glance he cast upon 
 the abbot, as he turned proudly away, and followed 
 his conductors to the cell. 
 
 In eight days he was again brought before Sud- 
 bury ; but solitude had effected no change in his 
 sentiments. Three days more were granted, and 
 on the fourth, all the members of the community 
 were assembled, and the monk was led from his cell 
 to the chapel. There, in the presence of the bre- 
 thren, he was once more asked whether he would 
 publicly confess his fault in administering a sacra- 
 ment to an excommunicated man, and profess his 
 desire to perform public penance for the scandal 
 he had given ; and when he made no reply, he was 
 asked if he would disclose the place of conceal- 
 ment of the bondman, Holgrave. To this, also, 
 no reply was given ; and finally he was promised, 
 that if he knew aught of the stolen child of the 
 Lord de Boteler, and would unreservedly declare 
 all he knew — if he had not actually assisted in the 
 abduction — all his past errors should be forgiven, 
 in consideration of this act of justice. But Father 
 
198 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 John knew, that although by a disclosure he might 
 avert his own fate, yet he would assuredly draw 
 down inevitable ruin on Holgrave, and that the 
 hopes he had himself cherished — for the reader 
 cannot be ignorant that it was he who was the 
 author of the mysterious document — would utterly 
 fall to the ground ; and with that noble-minded- 
 ness, that would rather sacrifice self than betray 
 the confidence of another, he still refused to an- 
 swer. 
 
 Sudbury scarcely expected such firmness ; and 
 there was a minute or two of breathless excitation 
 and profound silence through the chapel, as the 
 abbot ordered two brothers to approach the obdu- 
 rate monk, and strip oft' the habit he had rendered 
 himself unworthy longer to wear. 
 
 Father John's lips grew pale and quivered ; and 
 there was a slight tremor perceptible through his 
 whole frame, as the monks reluctantly proceeded 
 to obey the command of their superior. His eyes 
 were fixed upon the ground ; he dared not raise 
 them, for the chequers of the pavement seemed in- 
 distinct and trembling ; and yet for twelve days he 
 had been preparing himself to meet this catas- 
 trophe with firmness. The outer garments were 
 removed ; their place w^as supplied by a coarse 
 woollen jerkin and cloak, and then the monk, for 
 a moment resuming the energy that was more na- 
 tural to his character than the subdued spirit he 
 had as yet evinced, stood forth from the brothers 
 who had been the unwilling instruments in the act 
 of degradation, and fixing his eyes upon the abbot, 
 who stood upon the topmost step of the altar, with 
 his face turned towards the brotherhood, said in a 
 
THE BONDMAN. 199 
 
 tone that filled the whole chapel — " My lord 
 abbot, I shall appeal against this severity. It is 
 not because I administered a sacrament to a sinner 
 that I am thus degraded — it is because the Lord de 
 Boteler desires to humble me — because he foolishly 
 imagines, that a spirit conscious of its own strength 
 would bend beneath injustice and oppression, that 
 I am thus dealt with. But remember, my lord, 
 that ' with what measure you mete to others, the 
 same shall be meted to you again.'" So saying, 
 without waiting for the ceremony of being driven 
 from the gates, he turned, and with a quick step 
 left the abbey. 
 
 But here his firmness again forsook him ; — he 
 had stepped from his home — from the quiet seclu- 
 sion that was endeared to him by years of resi- 
 dence and holy recollections, into a strange world, 
 to struggle and contend — to sin, and be sinned 
 against ; and he leaned against the abbey wall 
 with such a feeling of desolation as a child may 
 be supposed to feel, as he bends over the grave of 
 his last surviving parent. A few bitter drops of 
 wounded pride, and deep regret, forced their way 
 down his cheeks, and it was not until he became 
 conscious that a group of persons of different ages 
 and sexes were silently and sympathizingly gazing 
 upon him, that it occurred to him he ought to re- 
 move to a less conspicuous situation. 
 
200 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 De Boteler and liis lady, had left Sudley to be 
 present at some festival in London, the day previous 
 to that on which father John was degraded ; but, 
 from the firmness he had hitherto sliown, the result 
 was anticipated, and Calverley had received orders 
 to arrest the monk on his being dismissed the abbey, 
 and to confine him in the castle, until the baron's 
 return. 
 
 The degraded priest proceeded slowly amidst 
 the sympathizing crowd that attended his steps. 
 Several times he stopped, with the intention 
 of requesting the people to return home and 
 leave him to pursue his journey as he might, 
 but he could not collect that firmness of de- 
 meanor which had been wont to distinguish him ; 
 and ashamed further to betray his w^eakness, he 
 each time passed on without uttering a word. 
 They had cleared the town, and were crossing the 
 bridge on the left, over the Isborn, when Calverley, 
 and about half a dozen retainers well mounted, 
 darted from the bridge into tlie high road. Four 
 of the men, springing from their horses, surrounded 
 
THE BONDMAN. 201 
 
 the monk and were about placing him on the back 
 of one of the steeds, when the faculties, which had 
 been for the moment chained by astonishment and 
 indignation, burst forth with unexpected energy, 
 and, with a form expanded to its full height, and 
 an eye flashing fire, he shook off their rude grasp, 
 and stepping back, demanded by what authority 
 he was thus molested. 
 
 " By the authority of the Baron de Boteler," re- 
 plied Calverley, as the monk fixed his eyes sternly 
 upon him. 
 
 " It is false !" he replied, " no human law have 
 I violated, and to no man's capricious tyranny will 
 I submit." 
 
 '' It becomes the bondman to speak thus of his 
 lord," said Calverley with a sneer. 
 
 '' I am not a bondman — nor is the Baron de 
 Boteler my lord," said father John, in a deep, col- 
 lected voice. 
 
 '' O, I crave your pardon, good father," returned 
 Calverley smiling ; "I mistook you for one John 
 Ball, the son of a bondman of this barony." 
 
 " My name is John Ball, and I have been the 
 son of a bondman, insulting craven," replied the 
 father, indignantly ; — but I owe the Baron de Bo- 
 teler no allegiance — you well know that the priest 
 can be servant to none save he who created the 
 bond and the free." 
 
 " And this is the habit of some new order, that 
 is to be honored by being adopted by the un- 
 priestly son of a bondman!" said Calverley, point- 
 ing, in derision, at the coarse woollen dress of the 
 monk. Something burst from the lips of the lat- 
 ter, but it was lost in Calverley's sudden com- 
 
202 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 mand to seize him. The men again approached, 
 but the first who caught the monk's arm fell to the 
 ground, stunned and bleeding. 
 
 Another succeeded, and met the same fate — 
 then another, and another ; — but at length, over- 
 powered by numbers, the gallant priest was bound, 
 and placed before one of the retainers on horse- 
 back. 
 
 There was now a simultaneous rush made to the 
 bridge by the crowd, who stood watching the 
 horsemen till they entered the castle ; when they 
 formed into groups, wondering at what they had just 
 beheld — at what might be the fate of the monk, 
 and at their own supineness in suffering half-a-do- 
 zen men, even though armed and mounted, to carry 
 him off without a blow. 
 
 That evening, Wat Turner, who had been libe- 
 rated from the keep, after a short confinement, 
 was leaning on his folded arms, which rested for 
 support on the sill of the aperture in his shed, that 
 served the purpose of a window. The forge-fire 
 had died away ; the servitor and the journeyman 
 had been dismissed ; but Wat still lingered, as if he 
 could there indulge his reflections more freely than 
 in his own house. His eyes were bent on the 
 ground, and so far was he lost in some waking 
 dream, that, until his name was repeated in rather 
 a loud tone, he was not conscious of any one's ap- 
 proach. 
 
 " Ah, Tom Merritt !" said the smith, raising his 
 head and recognizing, in the dusk, a stout, active, 
 young man, a mason, who resided at W^inchcombe. 
 
 " Have you heard the news, Wat ?" asked the 
 mason. 
 
THE BONDMA-N-. 203 
 
 *' No — I have enough to think of, without trou- 
 bling my head about news !" 
 
 " Aye, aye, true — but didn't you hear of father 
 John ?" 
 
 *^ Yes, I heard they dealt badly enough with 
 him, because he would not betray poor Stephen — 
 and for giving the sacrament to that unfortunate 
 scape-grace. They told me he was to be turned 
 from the abbey to-day, so I sent Dick with a few 
 groats to help him on a little — but I don't know 
 yet, whether the lad is come back, for I have not 
 seen him." 
 
 " O, he is among the group that stands looking 
 at the castle walls, I dare say," said Merritt. 
 " Did you not hear he was thrown into prison ?" 
 
 " What ! my Dick," asked the smith, eagerly, 
 starting up from his posture at the window, and 
 his listless countenance suddenly becoming ani- 
 mated. 
 
 '' No, no, not the boy," replied Merritt, rather 
 impatiently. 
 
 '' Oh," said the smith, again sinking upon the 
 window frame ; and then, as if perfectly compre- 
 hending what had been said, he added, as a bitter 
 smile passed across his lips, " in prison did you 
 say ? What had he done that he should be caged ? 
 Refused to say where Stephen is hid ?" 
 
 *' May be so ; but I can only tell you this — that 
 when the poor monk was turned out of the abbey, 
 Calverley seized upon him like a dog, or a thief." 
 
 " Calverley, the fiend !" interrupted the smith, 
 fiercely. " If I could only give that beggar's va- 
 gabond a sample of what this hand could do, I 
 think I should take a good night's rest — and 
 
204 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 that's what I have not done since the night they 
 gave me a lodging in the castle dungeon; and you 
 say that Calverley has put him in prison ? Now, 
 I tell you what, Tom Merritt," continued Turner, 
 " if there be a drop of man's blood in your body, 
 they shan't keep him there." 
 
 " Will you help ?" asked the young mason, 
 eagerly. 
 
 " Will I help, man ! Aye, that I will, with a 
 good stomach — Why, if they shut up a dog that I 
 cared for within those four stone walls, I would 
 help him out ! — But that monk is a holy man - — 
 and they think to frighten him as they thought to 
 frighten me. Tom," added Turner, leaning through 
 the aperture, and laying his hand upon the young 
 man's shoulder, " I have never held up my head 
 like a man since that night. To be set upon like a 
 fox ! To be dragged and hauled, and thrown into 
 a prison — Tom ! (grasping the arm of the other 
 with a force that made him shrink) when I think of 
 this in the day when I am at work, I throw down 
 the hammer, for my blood boils, and I could not 
 strike a sure blow for hours after, if a king's 
 ransom was offered me. But, by St. Nicholas ! 
 'tis little work that Wat Turner has done ever since 
 — all has gone wrong — but I shall soon leave the 
 parish altogether — and then, may be, things will 
 go on better. For, here, if a man looks at me, it 
 seems as if he would say, * Turner, you have been 
 in jail !' Tom Merritt, never boast or brag of any- 
 thing !" 
 
 " Indeed, master Turner, I have as little as any 
 man to brag of; for — if — it hadn't been for the 
 watching and the advice of poor father John, my 
 
THE BONDMAN. 205 
 
 old mother might have been this day hanging her 
 head with shame, instead of looking up as bold as 
 any of them, and saying, * my son,' or * my Tom,' 
 as well as the best." 
 
 '' That's all very well ; but, Tom, as I just said, 
 never boast. I used to brag that there never was 
 a woman dishonest, nor a man a rogue, in my fa- 
 mily ; and that none of the name of Turner ever 
 had a key turned upon them. And you see what 
 it's come to." 
 
 "Aye, aye, master Turner," replied Merritt (im- 
 patient of a long speech, yet knowing the smith's 
 irascible temper too well to interrupt him,) I don't 
 know what will come next ! Here were you, who 
 paid scot and lot, and cared for no one — see how 
 you were treated ! And now here is the holy fa- 
 ther (with whom, though he got into disgrace at the 
 Abbey, one would have thought, for the sake of their 
 own souls, they wouldn't meddle,) dragged off like 
 a common thief; and if we do not go to the rescue, 
 the saints preserve us ! who can tell if he will ever 
 come out again ? for there is none but poor Stephen 
 akin to him." 
 
 " Enough ! Tom Merritt, this is no place for an 
 honest man. I was to have gone in a few days, 
 but when this night's job is done, I shall just pack 
 up all I can get together into a cart, and let the 
 black fiend, or his imp, Calverley, take the rest. 
 Aye ! with my wife, the boy, and Will, I shall be out 
 of Gloucester before sun-rise — and the sooner the 
 better. But now let us talk of the rescue. Howmany 
 honest hands can you get among the town's folk ?" 
 
 " Why," replied Merritt, every mother's soul 
 who could grasp an axe ; but I have seen a dozen 
 
206 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 lads who have sworn to free father John, or lose 
 their lives. And knowing that you would give a 
 helping hand, 1 told them so, though without your 
 leave. We have provided paint for our faces. The 
 retainers in the castle are few ; and while myself 
 and the men keep guard over them, you, as a 
 smith, know best how to manage the lock of the 
 keep." 
 
 " Give me your hand, for a brave fellow," an- 
 swered Turner, grasping cordially the conceded 
 member. " There are yet a few bold spirits in this 
 manor. I shall seek them, and I'll warrant they 
 will not leave Wat Turner in the lurch for this bout 
 at least. And as for the lock, the foul fiend him- 
 self could not scheme or forge a spring that could 
 keep me out for five minutes. Have your friends 
 together in the field at the back of the town. The 
 nights are dark now ; and when I hear the clock 
 strike eight, I shall be with you with all the hands 
 I can gather." 
 
 ]Merritt presently departed ; and at eight the two 
 confederates again met. Soon a compact and reso- 
 lute body of more than twenty men slowly and 
 cautiously proceeded to the castle, and, in double 
 file, ensconced themselves close to the walls, and so 
 contiguous to the gate of usual egress as to be 
 ready to rush in at the first opening. They had 
 stood thus, scarcely drawing breath, for about half 
 an hour ; and Merritt, who, with the smith, was at 
 the head of the little band, was about to propose 
 that they should attempt to force an entrance, when 
 the gate opened, and John Byles, who had been 
 engaged upon some business with Calverley, un- 
 suspectingly issued forth. 
 
THE BONDMAX. 207 
 
 The smith caught him in his iron grasp ere he 
 closed the gate, and, placing his broad hand over 
 his mouth, held him till a bandage could be pro- 
 perly fastened ; then flinging him on the ground, 
 secured him hand and foot, bound him to a tree at 
 a few steps distant, and, with the two men who had 
 assisted, rushed after Merritt and the others, who 
 were by this time in the court-yard. 
 
 No sound escaped them, and it was only the 
 quick footsteps on the pavement that attracted at- 
 tention. But ere the alarm was given, the intruders 
 had reached the keep. The smith, with astonishing 
 celerity, picked the huge lock of the lower dun- 
 geon, in which, by virtue of former experience, he 
 imagined the father was confined ; and beheld, by 
 a torch, which they had now lighted, what fired 
 even the most sluggish soul among them. The 
 monk lay stretched on the groud, nearly divested of 
 covering, with his arms and legs drawn by cords at- 
 tached to iron rings in the four corners of the cell, 
 and with iron weights pressing upon his chest. 
 
 " By St. Nicholas !" said the smith, as he stooped 
 to remove the pressure, while the tears started to 
 his eyes, " this is too bad. Tis enough to make a 
 heathen sick to see a christian man served in this 
 manner. Here, father John, (assisting him to rise) 
 take my jerkin, and wrap this about you (snatching 
 a cloak from the shoulders of one of the men). And 
 now, good father, tell me who did this ?" 
 
 But the exhausting punishment he had endured 
 for above four hours, together with the cold that 
 penetrated his whole frame, from lying so long 
 exposed on the damp earth, so much impeded his 
 speech, that he could not utter an intelligible word. 
 
208 THE BOXDMAN. 
 
 " And thus they could serve the Lord's anointed !" 
 said Turner, compassionately, as he looked on the 
 livid and swollen face and trembling limbs of him, 
 whom he had ever, till now, seen with the beauty of 
 holiness giving dignity to his fine countenance, and 
 with the vigour of manhood exhibited in every mo- 
 tion of his muscular form. '' Hark!" added the 
 smith, starting — " there is a scuffle outside ! Tom 
 Merritt will have enough of them." For an instant 
 he paused, and then, snatching up one of the cords 
 that had tied the monk, he severed it with his axe 
 from the ring in the w^all, and passing one end round 
 the monk's arm, fastened the other round his own 
 waist. " Now you will have no trouble in holding 
 by me — keep close. Here, father, could you not 
 hold this ? it might keep off some scurvy knave," 
 drawing a sharp wood -knife from his belt, and 
 placing it in the monk's tremulous hand. Turner 
 then ordering the few who were with him to cover 
 the retreat, to keep compact as they followed, and 
 to strike at all within reach, with a keen-edged 
 battle-axe in his right hand, and a formidable club, 
 pointed with steel and firmly bound with iron, in 
 his left, he hurried from the dungeon. 
 
 Turner had not been above five minutes in re- 
 leasing the monk ; but, when he came to the en- 
 trance of the keep, Merritt and the remainder of 
 the band were sharply engaged with the domestics 
 and the few tenants who kept guard about the 
 castle. The smith pushed on w^ith the monk ; 
 passed Merritt and the others, who closed in his 
 rear ; and, with that boldness, which often effects 
 what more prudent courage would fail to accom- 
 plish, rushed into the midst of the assailants, 
 
THE BONDMAN. 209 
 
 brandishing his weapons, and shouting defiance 
 at the top of his stentorian lungs. 
 
 " Stand aside, ye graceless carles ! Shame to 
 ye, cursed cravens, to serve a christian priest like 
 an infidel ! Stand back, or, by St. Nicholas ! you 
 will never die on your beds !" dealing sturdy blows 
 as he spoke, and pressing forward to a postern be- 
 side the principal gate which was not many paces 
 from the keep. 
 
 " 'Tis the smith ! — 'tis Wat Turner," shouted 
 a dozen voices. 
 
 " Aye, it is Wat Turner," swinging round his 
 club, and levelling a couple of those who were 
 nearest ; '^ and tell the doomed Calverley, if ever 
 Wat Turner sets eyes upon him, we shall not part 
 so easily as I now do from you !" 
 
 The weapons wielded by the powerful arm of 
 the smith were not such as those, who had little 
 interest in the detention of the monk, would care 
 to encounter. The attacks of the castle people 
 relaxed, the energy of the rescuers increased ; 
 the smith, with the skill of a practised workman, 
 loosed the fastenings of the postern gate, and the 
 band, rushing through and forcibly closing it after 
 them, father John was again a free man. 
 
 '' Now, lads, to your homes," cried Turner, as 
 they hurried on, " every man of ye. Go by dif- 
 ferent roads, and you will not be suspected. There 
 is not a man they can swear to but myself. Now, 
 brave hearts, farewell ! We may not meet together 
 again : but all the harm I wish ye is, that Cal- 
 verley and I may soon meet ; and if ever he plagues 
 free man or bond among ye after that, say Wat 
 Turner is a coward — Away ! Tom Merritt," said 
 
 VOL. V p 
 
210 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 he, drawing the mason aside, " do you think of 
 leaving Winchcombe ? — you know there are al- 
 ways busy tongues." 
 
 " Thank ye, master Turner, but I think I shall 
 wait and see how matters go." 
 
 " As you like Tom — only mind they don't coop 
 you up. To my mind, there is not a man in the 
 parish safe ; — but things will not always go on so. 
 Now, good father, we must be gone." 
 
 Merritt bent his knee to the monk, who pro- 
 . nounced a tremulous, but fervent benediction, on 
 the brave fellow, who, bidding a friendly farewell 
 to Turner, and being assured that father John 
 should remain under his protection as long as he 
 desired, bounded, with the spring of a deer, in the 
 direction of his home. 
 
 On the fifteenth of July, 1377, about six months 
 after father John was liberated by the sturdy smith, 
 the city of London was arrayed with a costliness, 
 and adorned throughout with a radiance in which 
 it was befitting it should appear on the day when 
 the royal diadem was to be placed on the brow of 
 a young and blooming sovereign. Father John was 
 literally borne along in the current that streamed 
 from the adjacent villages to witness the reception 
 of the young king as he passed over the city-bridge 
 from his palace at Sheen. 
 
 The day was favourable for the pageant, and the' 
 houses seemed to vie with each other in the variety 
 of their silken colours and tinselled ornaments, 
 glowing and glittering in the morning sun. At 
 Cornhill, indeed, the meretricious adornments of 
 art were superseded for a brief space by the sim- 
 ple beauty of nature, and the eye felt a momentary 
 
THE BONDMAN. 
 
 211 
 
 relief in resting on the green grass, and the few 
 shaded trees that covered the open ground. But 
 this green spot was succeeded by a dense mass of 
 dwellings covered with hangings of a richness suit- 
 able to the reputed wealth of the city merchants ; 
 here the scene was animated in the extreme, — 
 the motions of the crowd became unsteady and 
 irregular, as they were actuated at once by eager- 
 ness to hurry on, and a desire to linger among 
 the rainbow diversity of hues around them, and 
 the glowing beauty which, arrayed with costly 
 elegance, and smiling with anticipated enjoyment, 
 graced every open window. 
 
 " Alas ! alas !" exclaimed a solitary wanderer 
 among the multitude, as he turned away sorrow- 
 fully from the gaudy display, " alas, for this great 
 city, which was clothed in fine linen, and purple, 
 and scarlet, and decked with gold and precious 
 stones and pearl — for in one hour will she be 
 made desolate : and, instead of a stomacher, have 
 only a girding of sackcloth, and burning instead 
 of beauty." But he had hardly repeated these 
 words, ere a full stream of music, swelling in the 
 air, overpowered the hum that arose from the mul- 
 titude, and John Ball — for it was the degraded 
 priest who had spoken — imagining this to be a pre- 
 lude to the appearance of the young king, mounted 
 'upon a door-step, and, from this slight elevation, 
 and favoured by his stature, he obtained a full 
 view of the procession, which almost immediately 
 
 First came the band of musicians, mounted on 
 gaily caparisoned horses, and clad in jacks of crim- 
 son-damasked satin, laced round with gold ; the arms 
 p2 
 
212 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 of the citv richly emblazoned on the back and 
 front, and the white velvet sleeves of their jerkins 
 so closely laced and interlaced with gold, as al- 
 most to conceal the material on which it was 
 wrought. Then two heralds in white-damasked 
 velvet tabards, worked with gold in a variety of 
 fanciful patterns, and with the city arms also em- 
 blazoned on the back. Then the sword-bearer of 
 the chief magistrate, in a suit of polished scale 
 armour, and on a steed accoutred in all the 
 panoply of war. Then the Lord Mayor him- 
 self, in a flowing mantle of rich crimson velvet 
 trimmed with ermine, and with a collar of fine gold 
 adorned with gems, and mounted on a stately 
 horse, whose velvet housing, fringed with gold, al- 
 most touched the ground. Two pages suitably 
 attired walked on either side. Next appeared the 
 two sheriffs in their scarlet mantles and gold chains. 
 Then rode the four-and- twenty aldermen, two 
 abreast, in loose gowns or robes of damasked- 
 velvet or brocaded silk ; and, finally, the members 
 of the common-council closed the train. 
 
 " And is this the apparel and the bravery of 
 merchants ?" said the wandering monk within him- 
 self, as the splendid cavalcade passed by ; "surely 
 tlie pomp of royalty cannot surpass this." And 
 John Ball did not draw a wrong conclusion — for 
 when, in about half an hour, the citizens repassed, 
 escorting their youthful sovereign, although there 
 certainly was more cost and elegance, there was 
 less of gorgeous display in the royal than in the 
 civic train. 
 
 Richard, then a well-grown boy of eleven, with 
 a countenance the early bloom of which was 
 
THE BONDMAN. 213 
 
 brightened by an eye of singular intelligence, sat 
 with the ease of a practised rider on a beautiful 
 white palfrey. A cap of purple velvet, trimmed 
 with vair, shaded his fair, open forehead and 
 thick bright curls, and a purple mantle, lined and 
 edged with the same costly fur, and confined at 
 the throat with a jewelled clasp, fell back from his 
 shoulders over the housings of the animal. His 
 tunic was of damasked satin, of a bright pink co- 
 lour, and round the waist was a purple belt, on 
 which a variety of fanciful devices were wrought 
 with pearls. The housings of the palfrey were of 
 velvet, as soft and rich as the royal mantle, and of 
 a similar hue, but enlivened with a profusion of 
 goldsmiths' work, and bordered round with a heavy 
 gold fringe. 
 
 Richard looked upon the pomp and circumstance 
 around him with all the pleasure and vanity of a 
 boy, turning every moment with some laughing 
 sally addressed to his uncle, the Duke of Glouces- 
 ter, who rode by his side, or, more frequently, to 
 the young Earl of Arundel, the newly-installed 
 marshal of England. These were followed by 
 Percy, Earl of Northumberland, who had so re- 
 cently resigned the office of lord marshal. Sir John 
 Burleigh, lord chamberlain, the Earls of Oxford, 
 Kent, Buckingham, &c. 
 
 The procession moved on, and the monk followed 
 amidst the mass ; but if he looked wistfully at the 
 pageant, it was only in the hope that some oppor- 
 tunity might offer of publicly addressing the young 
 king, or, rather, his uncle, and appealing for jus- 
 tice ; but no opportunity did offer. Indeed, at 
 such a moment, when the good citizens were dis- 
 
214 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 playing their taste and munificence, it seemed little 
 less than folly to expect it. 
 
 Next to the considerate hospitality (if it may be 
 so termed) of allowing the water-conduit in Cheap- 
 side to spout wine, nothing elicited more unquali- 
 fied approbation from the lower classes than a tem- 
 porary building erected at the extremity of the 
 before-mentioned place. This building, coloured 
 so as to give an idea of firmly-cemented stone, 
 presented the appearance of a castle, with four 
 circular towers and a spacious gateway midway 
 between. The arch stretched across nearly the 
 whole extent of the horse-road, so that the towers 
 terminating the four angles of the gateway stood 
 parallel with the verge of the footpath. In each 
 of the towers, at about five feet from the ground, 
 was an arched doorway, in which stood a young 
 maiden about sixteen, attired in a white flowing 
 robe, w^ith a chaplet of white roses encircling her 
 hair, and holding a gold cup in her right hand, 
 and a crystal vase in her left. On the castellated 
 summit of the arch, which was about four feet in 
 depth, and just in the centre between the towers, 
 was placed a figure of equal height with the maid- 
 ens, apparently of gold, representing an angel 
 holding a beautifully wrought crown in its right 
 hand, which, as the procession approached, the 
 angel bent down, and presented to the young king. 
 At the same instant, the two maidens, in the two 
 towers at the east side, filled their cups with wine 
 from a crystal fountain at their right hand, and 
 each, wqth a graceful smile, proffered the draught 
 to Richard. They then took, from the vase on 
 their left, a handful of golden leaves, which they 
 
THE BONDMAN. 215 
 
 wafted towards the young king, and concluded by 
 showering a number of counterfeit gold florences 
 on his head. 
 
 Richard, after tasting of the cups, presented the 
 first to his uncle, and the other to Arundel ; and 
 then each noble, as he passed, took the replenished 
 cup from the hands of the Hebes, and drank health 
 and prosperity to the youthful sovereign. 
 
 The monk mingled with the multitude, and saw 
 the merry citizens escort their sovereign to Temple- 
 bar ; and then the royal train proceeded, with 
 somewhat less applause than had as yet attended 
 their route. Indeed, after passing the few houses 
 in the suburbs, the solitary dwellings of the nobles 
 stood along the Strand, few and far between — 
 those on the left with their spacious gardens slop- 
 ing to the river, and the three or four on the right 
 occupying a space as extended as the wall which 
 enclosed the capacious garden attached to the con- 
 vent of the abbot of Westminster would permit. 
 So large, indeed, was this garden, as to cover the 
 whole space between the gardens of the Strand 
 houses and the site of what is now Long-acre, and 
 eastward and westward the space between Saint 
 Martin's and Drury-lane. When they had passed 
 the pretty village of Charing, with its cross, the 
 procession turned to the left, leaving behind an 
 ample extent of open country, intersected by the 
 Oxford and Reading roads on the west, and 
 bounded on the north by the bold and picturesque 
 range of the Hampstead and Highgate hills. 
 
 John Ball pressed on with the multitude ; but 
 the immediate proximity of the palace, where all 
 was splendour and motion, was not to the liking of 
 
216 THE BOXDMAN. 
 
 one who till that day had never even dreamed of 
 such things as had now met his sight. His nerves 
 were weak, and he felt irritated at the insolence 
 with which the royal guards, and the pages of the 
 nobles, drove back the populace. His body, too, 
 was weak, and he felt exhausted with his long and 
 fatiguing walk : slowly and sadly he at length re- 
 traced his steps to his humble dwelling in the 
 Minories. 
 
 The next morning he repaired again to West- 
 minster. The hall of the palace was open for all 
 who chose to enter, and in the midst, elevated on 
 three circular marble steps, was a hollow marble 
 pillar, surmounted by a large gilt eagle, from be- 
 neath whose talons flowed wine into four marble 
 basins, of which all who entered were permitted to 
 drink at pleasure. But the monk was no wine- 
 drinker ; and with the feelings of one unaccustomed 
 to behold extravagance, he turned away from the 
 pillar with an inward reproach to the donor, for 
 not applying the money to a better purpose. He 
 left the hall, and seeing that a path was found 
 from the gate of the palace to the north-west en- 
 trance of the abbey, by a slightly elevated plat- 
 form, covered with fine crimson cloth of tapestry, 
 he naturally concluded that the king would pass 
 that way to hear mass, and accordingly took his 
 stand as near as possible to the platform. Inex- 
 perienced as the monk was in the etiquette of 
 courts, he augured ill for his suit when he saw the 
 royal retainers, with all the insolence of office, 
 range themselves along the platform, and the no- 
 bles and their pages, and the officers of the royal 
 household in their splendid dresses issue from the 
 
THE BONDMATf. 217 
 
 palace. But when he beheld the young king him- 
 self, with Simon Sudbury, Archbishop of Canter- 
 bury, on his right hand, and the Bishop of London 
 on his left, he started back with an exclamation of 
 surprise (for wrapt up in himself, and heedless of 
 the passing gossip of the day, he had not heard 
 of Sudbury's elevation) ; and forcing a passage 
 through the assembled crowd, hopeless and de- 
 spondent, he pursued his journey eastward. 
 
 On the sixth morning from the coronation, 
 Richard, satisfied with shows and revelry, left 
 Westminster, and retired with his mother, the fair 
 Joan of Kent, to Kensington, to rest, as it were, 
 his young head upon the maternal bosom. But 
 even here the officious loyalty of his good subjects 
 intruded ; for a gorgeous mummery was to be 
 played that night by a hundred and thirty of the 
 wealthiest citizens of London. 
 
 A little after night-fall, the beautiful widow of 
 the Black Prince sat in the oriel window of the 
 hall, alternately looking with a mother's eyes upon 
 her son, who was sporting with some of the young 
 nobles, and then again turning to the window to 
 listen for the approach of the citizens. She wore 
 a small conical cap of gold tissue, terminated by a 
 narrow band of purple velvet, closely studded 
 with diamonds, beneath which her hair, soft and 
 glossy as in her girlhood, was parted on the fore- 
 head, and fell back on her shoulders in rather a 
 waving mass, than distinct curls. Her dress was 
 composed of a petticoat and boddice of saffron- 
 coloured damasked satin, with long hanging sleeves. 
 The boddice sat close to the bust, and was con- 
 fined up the front by twelve gold studs. A girdle 
 
218 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 of purple and gold, fastened by a buckle radiant 
 with gems, encircled her waist ; and the full long- 
 trained petticoat, beneath which the sharp points 
 of the poleyn, or gold-embroidered shoe, was just 
 visible, was clasped in the front at equal distances 
 by two rose-jewels. A mantle of purple velvet, 
 confined on each shoulder by a diamond brooch, 
 fell in rich folds at her back. 
 
 While she was listening and wondering at the 
 lateness of the hour, the hall door was suddenly 
 thrown open, and a blaze of light, and a strain of 
 melody, burst simultaneously upon her senses. 
 A dozen minstrels gaily attired with timbrels, cor- 
 nets, sackbuts, and other instruments, preceded by 
 as many youths, carrying large wax tapers or torch- 
 lights, formed into a double rank in the hall ; in 
 the middle of which passed the city pageant. 
 The lord mayor was at its head, habited as an em- 
 peror, in a tunic of cloth of gold, tEistefully em- 
 broidered with black eagles, and the sleeves, which 
 hung full, confined at the wrist and just below the 
 elbow, by bands of black velvet, on which eagles 
 were represented by small pearls. A mantle of 
 black velvet lined with minever, or powdered er- 
 mine, floated from his shoulder. On his right hand 
 was a citizen attired as the pope. Then followed 
 the twenty-four aldermen in the dress of cardinals ; 
 then forty-eight in the gowns of say and red 
 cloaks of esquires; — others in the purple robe, 
 lined with fur, peculiar to the knight : while some, 
 still more ambitious, wore the emblazoned surcoat 
 of a baron. 
 
 The lord mayor approached the table at which 
 Richard had seated himself, and presenting a box 
 
THE BONDMAN. 219 
 
 of dice, challenged the young monarch to play. 
 At the same instant, one esquire placed on the 
 table a bowl of gold, another a box containing 
 jewels, and a third a golden cup, as pledges for the 
 civic gambler. Richard accepted the challenge, 
 and of course was permitted to win ; and father 
 John, who stood among the group looking on,, 
 seized the favourable moment of royal exultation 
 to prefer his suit. He stepped forward, and kneel- 
 ing before the young king, to the surprise of all, 
 and to the particular annoyance of the ostentatious 
 citizens, exclaimed — 
 
 " Thou art set over the people, and to the Lord's 
 anointed I come to seek for justice." 
 
 '' Who are you, bold man ?" inquired the Duke 
 of Lancaster, impatiently, " who thus break in upon 
 his Grace's sport ?" 
 
 " I am one," replied the monk, rising, and turn- 
 ing calmly to Lancaster, " whom injustice has 
 thus forced " 
 
 "Hah!" interrupted Sudbury, advancing, and 
 who had hitherto sat apart looking on at the mum- 
 mery ; " is it thou who presumest to approach 
 the presence ? Please your Grace, and you, noble 
 duke," looking first at Richard and then addressing 
 Lancaster, "he is a monk of our late abbey at 
 Winchcombe, whom, for certain acts of rebellion 
 to our authority, we expelled." 
 
 " Why, monk," asked Richard quickly, " why 
 dost thou appeal to us ?" 
 
 " Pardon me, my liege," interposed Sudbury, 
 " but it becomes not your grace to parley with a 
 degraded monk — a bondman's son ! one who 
 would fain excite a spirit of insubordination among 
 
220 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 the class from which he sprung : who would sow 
 the seeds of disobedience and disorder, and incul- 
 cate the absurd doctrine that all should be free !" 
 
 " Does he indeed hold such opinions, my Lord 
 of Canterbury ?" asked Lancaster. 
 
 " He does, my Lord, and that was one of the 
 causes of his suspension." 
 
 " Indeed !" said Lancaster ; *' next then, I sup- 
 pose, we shall have the villeins of the soil dictating 
 to their lords, when they hear that a base-born 
 priest has had the audacity to enter the royal pre- 
 sence ! Ho ! attendants ! Away with this serf- 
 sprung shaveling! who holds that all should be 
 free !" 
 
 " Triumph not, John of Lancaster, for I say 
 unto you, all shall be free ! You, and it may be 
 that the proudest of you all, may yet quail before 
 the base-born !" and the monk fixed a glance first 
 upon the duke, and then upon Sudbury. The 
 archbishop turned away, while Lancaster, laugh- 
 ing scornfully at the threat, commanded the royal 
 attendants instantly to eject him : and, amidst the 
 jeers of the nobles and citizens, the monk was, 
 without further parley, hurried away from the 
 hall. 
 
 It was something more than a year from the flight 
 of Holgrave, when business called Calverley to 
 Gloucester ; and, on passing along Silver girdle- 
 street, his eye encountered Black Jack, whom he 
 had not before seen since Edith's trial. The fore- 
 man accosted him after his usual manner, and 
 whispered that he had something of moment to 
 
THE BONDMAN. 221 
 
 communicate, if he would accompany him to the 
 Mitre. After some hesitation Calverley, consented, 
 more especially as Black Jack hinted something 
 about news of Holgrave ; and, when seated in the 
 room, in which their former interview had taken 
 place, Oakley inquired if the Lord de Boteler, some 
 twelve months ago, did not offer a reward for the 
 apprehension of a certain bondman named — " 
 
 " Stephen Holgrave !" eagerly interrupted Cal- 
 verley. " Have you heard or seen any thing of 
 him ?" 
 
 " By the green wax ! steward, one would think 
 the man was your property, you seem so anxious — 
 but now tell me has any thing been ever heard of 
 him ?" 
 
 "No, not a syllable;" replied Calverley in al- 
 most a fever of excitement, "but be quick, and say 
 what you know ?" 
 
 " Not so fast. Master Calverley. Did you ever 
 send in the direction of Dean Forest ?" 
 
 " Yes, yes, many times," answered the impatient 
 steward ; " and we offered a large reward to any 
 one who would give information of his retreat V 
 
 " A very pretty method, truly ! You know not 
 the miners and forgers of Dean Forest ! — why I 
 would stake a noble to a silver- penny, that if you 
 had discovered he was hidden there, and legally 
 demanded him, he would be popped down in a 
 bucket, to the bottom of some mine, where, even 
 the art of Master Calverley could not have dragged 
 him to the light of day until the Forest was clear 
 of the pack: — but, however, to speak to the point," 
 perceiving that the steward's patience was well 
 
222 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 nigh exhausted — ''I saw Stephen Holgrave yes- 
 terday, in the Forest." 
 
 " And did you not arrest him ?" 
 
 " No, no, steward — Black Jack is not so sick of 
 his life as to throw himself into a furnace. There 
 were not less than one hundred smiths and miners 
 about him ; and wo be to the man who should 
 stir their ire." 
 
 " I shall back to Sudley," cried the steward, 
 hastily, '' and my lord will reclaim him." 
 
 " But, steward, surely it is more than a year and 
 a day since I heard the shouting of the hue and 
 cry ; and you know the Forest of Dean is privi- 
 leged. I'll warrant he knows too much of the 
 bondage of Sudley to venture beyond its pre- 
 cincts." 
 
 Calverley did not reply to the interrogatory or 
 allusion, but persisted in saying that the baron 
 would claim the bondman, and that the ranger of 
 the Forest durst not dispute the demand : and, 
 besides, should it be necessary, a royal mandate 
 could be procured. 
 
 Black Jack was for an instant vexed, that Cal- 
 verley did not require his assistance; but, shrewdly 
 guessing that the steward wished to have as little 
 to do with him as possible, and also conscious 
 how small chance there was of succeeding by the 
 direct mode, he laughed within himself at the 
 probability that, after failing to accomplish the ob- 
 ject he seemed so much to desire, Calverley would, 
 ultimately, be compelled to apply to him. Indeed, 
 had not the steward's mind been so entirely en- 
 grossed by the thoughts of Holgrave, he could not 
 have failed to remark how quickly the foreman, 
 
THE BONDMAN. 223 
 
 from offering the strongest objections to the plan 
 he proposed adopting, agreed with him that it was 
 the wisest and best. 
 
 " But, Master Calverley," said Black Jack, as 
 the former abruptly rose to depart, " is my intel- 
 ligence worth nothing, setting aside the actual 
 loss I have sustained by sitting for four hours 
 spending my money in this room, when I ought to 
 have been fishing about for jobs ?" 
 
 " O yes, I had forgotten," (drawing out his purse, 
 and presenting a mark to the foreman) ; — " I could 
 not expect you could have troubled yourself in this 
 affair without payment ; — are you satisfied ?" 
 
 " Yes, yes," he replied, grumblingly, as he 
 pocketed the coin, " Black Jack is easily satis- 
 fied." 
 
 ** And so is the cormorant," muttered Calverley, 
 as he closed the door after him, and hastened to 
 remount his horse. 
 
 Supper was served up in the hall ere Calverley 
 had returned to the castle, and he paused a few 
 moments to consider whether he should immediately 
 impart what he had heard, or defer the communi- 
 cation until the banquet were ended ; but this hesi- 
 tation did not arise from any delicacy he felt in 
 disturbing the social enjoyment of the hour, but 
 guests had arrived that morning, and Calverley, 
 ever since the loss of his ear, had been very reluc- 
 tant to appear before strangers. But the recollec- 
 tion of his mutilation, thus forced upon his mind, 
 instantly decided him. The delay of a single hour 
 might enable Holgrave to leave the forest ; for who 
 could say that it was his intention to make the 
 place a permanent residence ? He, therefore, in- 
 
224 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 stantly changed his riding dress for one more 
 adapted for the occasion, and placing a black vel- 
 vet cap on his head (for we have before observed 
 it was his peculiar privilege to remain always co- 
 vered), without a moment's delay he proceeded to 
 the hall, and entering it through the upper door, 
 stood at a little distance behind De Boteler's chair, 
 awaiting until the baron's eye should fall upon him. 
 De Boteler presently turning to give some order to 
 a page, Calverley took the opportunity to approach, 
 and, bowing, said softly, " My lord, I have heard 
 tidings of Stephen Holgrave." 
 
 De Boteler's colour deepened as he made some 
 hasty exclamation in reply, but the duties of hospi- 
 tality were paramount at that moment, and shortly 
 saying he would attend to him another time, Cal- 
 verley retired. 
 
 Isabella's quick eye had observed the action of 
 Calverley and the momentary embarrassment of 
 De Boteler ; and as the idea of her lost child was 
 connected with every thing strange or doubtful 
 that she saw, her mind was instantly filled with a 
 thousand surmises. — Had any trace of Holgrave 
 been discovered ? Had the obstinate monk made 
 any disclosure that Calverley, by some fortunate 
 chance might have become acquainted with ? These, 
 and a variety of other conjectures, possessing less 
 colour of reason, so much engrossed her thoughts, 
 that she could scarcely command her feelings suf- 
 ficiently to pay that graceful and courteous atten- 
 tion to her guests, for which she was in general so 
 much distinguished. No opportunity, however, 
 offered of satisfying her curiosity until the guests 
 had retired for the night ; and then, upon entering 
 
THE BONDMAN. 225 
 
 the ante-room of her chamber, De Boteler was sit- 
 ting listening to the steward's statement. 
 
 " Isabella," said the baron, as she entered, 
 " Calverley has ascertained the retreat of Stephen 
 Holgrave." She had anticipated something of the 
 kind ; but the effect it produced was singular. 
 An electrical thrill seemed to vibrate through her 
 frame, and a sudden coldness chilled her brow ; 
 but ere it could have been said that her cheek was 
 pale, the whole countenance was suffused with a 
 deepened glow, and rallying her energies, she 
 asked, with assumed composure, " where he was 
 hidden ?" 
 
 " In the Forest of Dean," replied De Boteler ; 
 " and Calverley has every reason to suppose he has 
 been concealed there since he left Sudley." 
 
 *' Did not the hue and cry pass through the 
 forest?" 
 
 " Yes, Isabella ; but, by my faith, it seems they 
 are such sturdy knaves in that forest, that even 
 the promise of reward has no effect upon them." 
 
 '' Then they must be compelled to surrender the 
 bondman. — Calverley," continued the lady, turn- 
 ing to the steward ; " can you rely on your infor- 
 mation ?" 
 
 Calverley replied in the affirmative : and then, 
 on a motion from Isabella, withdrew. 
 
 " My lord, you will give proper instructions," 
 resumed Isabella, in a tone that seemed to imply 
 she expected the most rigorous measures to be 
 adopted. 
 
 " I am afraid, Isabella," replied De Boteler, 
 that the knave has escaped us. Dean Forest is a 
 royal demesne, and a bondman, remaining un- 
 
 VOL. V. Q 
 
•226 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 claimed, in such a place, for a year and a day, can 
 claim the privilege of a king's villein." 
 " Roland de Boteler, do you intend to submit ? 
 
 — but you have not a mother's feelings !" 
 
 " There can be no reasons for the suspicions 
 you still entertain," replied the baron, with more 
 seriousness than he had spoken before. " The 
 knave has been punished enough. There was no 
 great matter of crime after all in burning the house 
 
 — it was his own — aye, as much as this castle 
 is mine. And do you think that any chance would 
 ever make me consider that another had a better 
 right to this building than I ? — If I could have got 
 hold of him at the time I would — but now, let it 
 pass — an obstinate spirit like his, is better away. 
 You see what we obtained by imprisoning the 
 monk — the whole barony up in arms in a rescue ! 
 and the bravest retainer in my castle killed by the 
 club of the audacious smith ! But that shall not 
 pass so easily — for, by my faith, if I light upon 
 that meddling varlet ten years hence, he shall 
 hang as high as gibbet can raise him. I repeat," 
 continued he, in a determined tone, " that 1 will 
 not interfere" and, rising hastily ; as if he meant 
 to escape from the argument, he left the room. 
 
 There might be one reason found for the more 
 merciful feelings De Boteler evinced on this occa- 
 sion, when it is said that he was on the eve of de- 
 parting for London to join the Duke of Gloucester, 
 who was preparing to make an incursion into 
 France. The idea, no doubt, of again treading the 
 French soil, recalled to his mind the service which 
 the fugitive Hoi grave, had performed. The baron- 
 ess, however, did not appear to heed the decisive 
 
THE BONDMAIN'. 227 
 
 tone of her lord ; for, with the wilfulness of her 
 sex, she determined that his departure should be 
 the signal for commencing operations. 
 
 Immediately upon De Boteler's departure, which 
 occurred in a few days, measures were taken to 
 procure a royal grant of the villein to his late lord ; 
 and upon the instant of its being obtained, Calver- 
 ley, attended by about a score of retainers, left the 
 castle, without the slightest apprehension for his 
 personal safety, or the most distant fear that his 
 application would fail. 
 
 On arrival, his errand was made known to Ne- 
 ville, the deputy constable of St. Briavel's, who 
 readily attended him with his men. As they rode 
 towards the foundry, which had been indicated as 
 the place of Holgrave's employment, a suppressed 
 murmur from the trees by the road side attracted 
 the constable's attention, and it was said by those 
 nearest, that he gave a significant smile as he 
 passed. The party dismounted at the foundry, 
 and on entering, Holgrave was observed standing 
 close to the forge, surrounded by about a dozen 
 smiths. Neville smiled as he addressed Holgrave. 
 
 ^' I am commanded," said he, " by King Ed- 
 ward, to deliver you to the Lord de Boteler's stew- 
 ard. Here is the royal mandate;" and he drew 
 from his pocket a parchment bearing the privy 
 signature. 
 
 " And here," said Calverley, unfolding the royal 
 grant, " is the deed that transfers the king's villein 
 to his late and rightful lord." 
 
 '* Master Neville," said Holgrave, " can the 
 king's grant make a freeman a slave ? or can the 
 king's order give you authority to molest a man 
 q2 
 
228 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 wlio has committed no crime ? I owe no fealty to 
 King Edward, except as a freeman, and as you 
 yourself are bound to do. I stand here as free as 
 any man of you, and no one shall compel me to 
 become a slave. — But it is to you, foul murderer!" 
 trlancing- fiercely on Calverley, who shrank from 
 his gaze — "it is to you I owe this! Were my 
 poor mother's death, my own ruin, and the loss of 
 my farm and my home, not enough, that you con- 
 tinue to hunt me down like a wild beast?" 
 
 " Honest man," said Neville, mildly, " you are 
 described in the king's writ as a bondman of his 
 grace ; and two men have this day deposed that 
 you acknowledged yourself as Lord de Boteler's 
 villein, and swore fealty to him in his own court." 
 
 "They lie. Master Neville! Bring them here, 
 and I will maintain, in combat against them both, 
 that they have sworn falsely." 
 
 " It was not to parley you came here. Sir Con- 
 stable," said Calverley, " but to fulfil the king's 
 command. This bondman, you must have been 
 aware before-hand, would attempt to deny his 
 bondage, like any other of his class who break 
 their bonds." 
 
 " The king's order shall be obeyed to the letter, 
 sir," replied Neville, as he looked somewhat con- 
 temptuously at Calverley, from whom he did not 
 expect so abrupt an address ; and then, gently 
 taking the unresisting hand of Holgrave, placed it 
 in that of the steward. A shout of pain from Cal- 
 verley declared the cordiality of the gripe with 
 which he was favoured by his enemy, and he with- 
 drew his crushed fingers, amidst the cheers and 
 shouts of the spectators. 
 
THE BONDMAN. 229 
 
 "Now, steward," resumed the constable, *'Mark 
 Neville has performed the king's commands as a 
 loyal subject, and it remains with you to do the 
 rest." 
 
 '• And do you not intend to give me safe con- 
 duct through the forest, Master Neville ?" asked 
 Calverley, with some alarm — "this is a part of 
 your duty. You are bound to convey this bond- 
 man to the verge of the forest, and you are also 
 bound to prevent any inhabitant of it from abetting 
 his cause." 
 
 " Read this warrant," replied Neville : " is there 
 a syllable there of safe conduct ? I am ordered to 
 deliver up the man — I have done so ; and now I 
 wish you good even, and a pleasant ride back." 
 
 A loud laugh from the smiths followed this 
 speech ; and Calverley, now overcome by personal 
 apprehensions, caught the constable's arm as he 
 was passing through the doorway, and inquired, if 
 he really imagined he was complying with the 
 royal mandate by such a mockery. 
 
 " It is no mockery, steward — I have done my 
 duty ; and if you cannot do yours, is it my fault ?" 
 And then, shaking off Calverley's grasp, he mounted 
 his horse, and with his attendants, amidst deafen- 
 ing cheers, took the road to the castle. 
 
 Calverley's eyes turned in the direction of the 
 shout, and a mass of living beings, variously armed, 
 were seen swarming from the adjacent wood, and 
 rushing on to the foundry. He remembered that 
 he had not more than twenty to oppose to this 
 multitude ; and his heart died within him as he 
 saw the glowing cheek and derisive smile of Hol- 
 grave, and thought that now was the moment for 
 
230 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 his revenge. In an instant, not only was the foun- 
 dry filled with the men, but the window and door- 
 way were darkened with their black heads without. 
 
 Calverley was now forced to assume a courage 
 which he did not feel ; and looking sternly around, 
 he asked, in as firm a voice as he could command, 
 why he was thus surrounded ? or whether they in- 
 tended to niake him a prisoner ? 
 
 *' No, steward," said the spokesman of the smiths, 
 " you are no prisoner — you are at liberty to go as 
 soon as you like ; and I would advise you, as a 
 friend, to go quickly, for we men of the forest are 
 not like your Sudley folk." Calverley, in some 
 measure, re-assured by the unexpected mildness of 
 this reply, quickly said, 
 
 *' I have no wish to remain longer — give me 
 free passage with this bondman, and I shall in- 
 stantly depart." 
 
 " Bondman !" exclaimed Holgrave, raising his 
 clenched hand, but he did not strike — *Mying 
 craven !" 
 
 " I tell you, steward," said the smith who had 
 before spoken, and stepping so near Calverley that 
 he involuntarily drew back, *' if you prize your 
 life, you will call no man here a bondman. I am 
 free — that man is free — " pointing to Holgrave, 
 " and we are all free — all sworn brothers ; and no 
 one shall dare," raising his voice, '' to brand, with 
 such a name, a mother's son among us ! You have 
 received fair warning, and leave to go : retire now 
 — instantly, if you are wise! Clear a passage 
 there for my Lord de Boteler's steward ! There is 
 now room for you to pass — your retainers are 
 waiting without — and now take the man you call 
 
THE BONDMAN. 231 
 
 a bondman, and away with you all. What! you 
 will not lay hold of him ? Take him, I say !" ele- 
 vating his voice — " seize the villein, and drag him 
 back to his bondage ! What ! not a finger, after 
 all the trouble you have taken? — then, away with 
 you alone ! — away !" And Calverley, from the mere 
 instinct of obedience to a superior power, moved 
 towards the door. '* And if ever," continued the 
 smith, " you are found hunting in this forest again 
 for bondmen, as you call them, we may chance to 
 give you a lodging where you will have little rea- 
 son to complain that the sun shines too brightly !" 
 Calverley made no reply ; but, without looking 
 either at Holgrave, or the man who had so fiercely 
 and tauntingly addressed him, took the advantage 
 offered — passed through the door of the foundry, 
 and through the yielding ranks of sneerers and 
 jibers outside; and mounting his horse, galloped 
 rapidly away from the scene of his defeat, with the 
 shout of a hue and cry following his track as far 
 as the foresters considered their legitimate domain. 
 
232 THE BONDMAX. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 The tenth evening after this exploit closed in 
 heavily, and the wind blew chill and gusty, loaded 
 with drizzling rain. Oakley felt little inconvenience 
 from the night as, wrapped in a large cloak, and 
 with an unusually broad-brimmed hat, he cau- 
 tiously approached the low-roofed dwelling of Hol- 
 grave, in the forest of Dean. He had little diffi- 
 culty in distinguishing it, Harvey having a few days 
 previously, though without the least intimation of the 
 reason, watched Holgrave from the foundry to his 
 home. The blaze of a bright wood fire was stream- 
 ing through the casement. Black Jack stept near 
 enough to obtain a view of the interior, in order to 
 assure himself that he was not mistaken, although, 
 from the description he had received, he had little 
 doubt ; and a single glance convinced him it was 
 the dwelling he sought. Holgrave was lying along 
 a bench in the opposite chimney corner, his right 
 elbow resting on the form, and his right cheek re- 
 posing on the upraised palm. He was looking 
 with a smile at Margaret, who was sitting with her 
 back to the window, and, by the motion of her 
 
THE BONDMAN. 233 
 
 right hand, was apparently engaged in sewing. 
 The gazer conjectured that Holgrave had been 
 asking her to sing, for, as he stood, she commenced 
 a strain of such sweet and touching melody, that 
 even Oakley (who, spite of his being so admirably 
 " fit for treason," had '^ music in his soul,") 
 listened with such breathless attention that one 
 would have been tem.pted to conclude he might 
 " be trusted." The ballad concluded, and Oakley 
 still looked on, until Holgrave, after a few moments 
 of apparently cheerful conversation, arose from the 
 bench, in all probability with the intention of pre- 
 paring for rest. 
 
 Oakley stepped back from the window, and stood 
 an instant apparently irresolute. " Plague on this 
 Holgrave!" he muttered — "I wish I had sent 
 Harvey ; he could have managed it as well as I ; 
 but one don't like giving these fellows half the 
 profit, besides making them as wise as one's self ; 
 — but what is the knave to me?" And then, as 
 if his slight scruples were dissipated by the consi- 
 deration of the little sympathy that ought to exist 
 between one circumstanced like Holgrave and him- 
 self, he drew his hat more over his brow, and fold- 
 ing his cloak closer around him, approached, al- 
 though, it must be admitted, with rather an 
 indecisive step, the door of the cottage, and gave 
 a slight tap. " I will go to the door, Stephen," he 
 heard Margaret say, with a quickness which seemed 
 to imply that the simple circumstance of a sum- 
 mons to the door at a somewhat late hour was 
 sufficient to awaken her fears. 
 
 No reply was given, but the door was instantly 
 unclosed by Holgrave. Black Jack stood in the 
 
234 THE BONDMAX. 
 
 shade, just beyond the light that streamed from 
 within, but so close that Holgrave, without crossing 
 the threshold, merely leant his head forward, and 
 heard him say, " Stephen Holgrave, do you re- 
 member the cross-roads and Hailes church-yard ?" 
 
 Holgrave started. " Hailes church-yard!" he 
 repeated, bending nearer to the speaker. 
 
 " Aye; and do you remember what you promised 
 the men in the vizors, when the craven fled, leaving 
 his ear where perhaps his carcase may not find a 
 resting place, and when the abbey folk were rush- 
 ing on w4th torch and cudgel ?" 
 
 '* Yes," replied Holgrave, in a voice which told 
 that the abrupt questions had called up all the 
 painful events of that night — "yes, I remember 
 v^^ell, I said that if any of those who helped me then 
 ever wanted a friend, they were not to forget Ste- 
 phen Holgrave." 
 
 " You did ; and do you not recognize me, as he 
 who gave the alarm when the fellows had peeped 
 above the wall at the cross-roads, and whose hat 
 was pierced by an arrow as he stood beneath the 
 tree that overshadowed the grave at Hailes ?" 
 
 "Yes, yes," said Holgrave, grasping his hand, 
 " I remember all " — convinced, not by the voice, 
 for on both occasions the voice had been disguised, 
 but by the presumptive proofs. 
 
 " Stephen Holgrave," continued the foreman, 
 still speaking in a low tone, but slowly and dis- 
 tinctly, " you can now return the service of that 
 night. I want your aid immediately ; — it is not 
 in a matter that will hazard your life. I have 
 given a promise, and you are the only man that 
 can aid me to keep it. Will you assist me ?" 
 
THE BONDMAN. 235 
 
 " I will," replied Holgrave, firmly — " Do you 
 want me now ?" 
 
 " Yes, instantly. You shall know the business 
 in less than half an hour." 
 
 " Stop one moment," returned Holgrave, and step- 
 ping into the cottage, he took a warm frieze cloak 
 from a peg in the wall, and throwing it over his 
 shoulders, was reaching for a kind of short-handled 
 spear that lay on a shelf above the fire-place, when 
 Margaret, clasping his left hand, looked up in his 
 face, and asked with a pale and trembling lip, 
 " Stephen, where are you going ? Who is that 
 man ?" 
 
 " Do not be alarmed, Margaret. I must go 
 with the man who spoke to me, but I shall not be 
 long." 
 
 " Go with him ! Who is he ? His purpose can- 
 not be a honest one, or he would not conceal him- 
 self. Who is he, Stephen?" she repeated in a 
 loud voice, and clinging more closely to the hand 
 he was striving to disengage. 
 
 " He is an honest man, Margaret," replied Hol- 
 grave, snatching away his hand, vexed that one 
 who had befriended him should hear his wife's sus- 
 picions. But, as he fastened his cloak, he added, 
 in a more soothing tone, " Do not fear. It is one 
 of those who helped to give my poor mother a 
 christian's grave, and he wants me to do some lit- 
 tle turn for him now." 
 
 '' Are you sure, Stephen ? — are you quite sure 
 it is the same man ?" " Yes, yes, Margaret, quite 
 sure," replied Holgrave in a tone that told her all 
 further remonstrance would be useless. " Did I 
 not return safe from Gloucester ?" asked he, linger- 
 
236 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 ing an instant, as he saw her heart was sinking 
 with dread. 
 
 '' But you did not go there in the dark night, 
 and witli only one man ; and even then, where 
 would you have been now only for our good friends 
 in the forest. Oh Stephen !" she continued, start- 
 ing up and throwing her arms round his neck, as 
 she imagined she saw something of irresolution in 
 his countenance, — " do not go this night." 
 
 " I must go," he said, as he disengaged himself, 
 and, without venturing another look or word, 
 rushed from the cottage, and joined Black Jack. 
 
 They walked on rapidly through the forest, but 
 neither spoke. Black Jack, hardened as he was, 
 was not altogether at ease in thus betraying a con- 
 fiding man ; and this feeling was not lessened by 
 the suspicions Margaret had expressed, and he en- 
 deavoured to deceive even himself into a belief 
 that he should have been better pleased if the 
 yeoman had taken the wife's advice. However, 
 he resolved, as he hurried on, that he would be 
 well paid for so troublesome an affair. Holgrave 
 was not more composed. In despite of what he 
 considered his better judgment, he could not help 
 being, in some measure, imbued with the fears of 
 his wife; and, as he followed his silent conductor, 
 a thousand indistinct apprehensions floated in his 
 mind. 
 
 Their route was a lonely one. Scarcely a light 
 was visible in the numerous dwellings they passed, 
 and they reached the verge of the forest without 
 encountering a single human being. They now 
 walked along the high road, which, with a tract of 
 uninclosed pasture-land stretching to the right, 
 
THE BONDMAN. 237 
 
 and a scanty neglected hedge skirting the left, had 
 a wild and dreary aspect, which however might, 
 perhaps, with more justice be attributed to the 
 darkness and gloom of the night, than to any thing 
 particularly cheerless in the road itself. They had 
 proceeded about a dozen paces beyond a narrow 
 lane, turning to the left, when Oakley, without 
 assigning a reason, stepped back ; and, as Hol- 
 grave turned to enquire the cause, he saw some 
 men close behind him ; and ere, in the surprize of 
 the moment, he could raise his weapon to defend 
 himself in case of need, a blow from a club felled 
 him to the ground. The blow did not deprive him 
 of consciousness, and now, convinced of treachery, 
 he sprang on his feet determined not to yield with 
 life. But it was not possible for one arm, even 
 though that arm was nerved by an indomitable 
 soul, to hold out long in so unequal a strife. It 
 was in vain that he strove to attack or grapple 
 with one — a host appeared to encompass him. 
 Incessant blows from staves and clubs, although 
 more annoying than really dangerous, wearied him 
 out, and one, descending on his already swollen 
 right hand, finally decided the contest. The arm 
 dropped, and the weapon, that had as yet, in some 
 measure, protected him, was easily wTCSted from 
 his relaxed grasp ; and the impotent fury of an 
 almost frantic resistance availed but for a short 
 space. He was gagged, bound hand and foot, 
 and thrown into a cart that drew up for tlie pur- 
 pose from the adjacent lane. 
 
 Black Jack and his retainers accompanied the 
 vehicle on foot, none choosing to trust himself 
 with one, who, though now to all appearance 
 
238 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 firmly secured, had shown such an untractable 
 spirit, and in this manner proceeded, without in- 
 terruption, to Sudley. 
 
 On the second morning after Holgrave's cap- 
 ture, the baroness, upon Calverley's entering the 
 room in which she sat, inquired if he had seen the 
 wife of Holgrave ? "I hear," continued she, 
 without noticing the surprise which the question 
 created, " that she is in the court-yard, and has 
 had the insolence to ask one of the varlets if she 
 might speak with me ! Go, Calverley, and desire 
 her to leave the castle instantly." 
 
 Calverley withdrew and repeated the order to a 
 domestic. 
 
 '' No," said Margaret, as the command was 
 delivered, '' I shall not leave this court-yard, ex- 
 cept by force, till I have seen my husband. 
 Surely the favour that is granted to the wife of a 
 common drawlatch, will not be denied to m.e !" 
 
 The steward, although vexed at what he con- 
 sidered her obstinacy, yet delayed to enforce her 
 removal until he had tried what his personal re- 
 monstrance might effect ; — but no man approaches 
 a woman, whom he has once, to the fullest extent 
 of the word, loved, with that calm and business- 
 like feeling with which he can discourse with ano- 
 ther. The colour deepened, too, on Margaret's 
 cheek, as she saw him advance, and when, in an 
 authoritative, though somewhat embarrassed tone, 
 he asked why she had not obeyed the order that 
 had been given, she raised her eyes, flashing v;ith a 
 spirit that perhaps had never before animated them, 
 and replied — 
 
 " Thomas Calverley, I told him who delivered 
 
THE BONDMAN. 239 
 
 the message, that I would not quit the castle till 
 I had seen Stephen ; and I tell you now, that I 
 shall not go till I know what you have done with 
 him." 
 
 " Nothing has been done to him but what he 
 merited," answered Calverley, haughtily, surprised 
 at her firmness, and by a singular feeling annoyed 
 that solicitude for her husband should have called 
 forth such an unusual demonstration. 
 
 Margaret felt the falsehood of his reply, but she 
 had not the spirit or language of Edith to re- 
 prove it. 
 
 " Then you must choose to submit voluntarily 
 to my lady's wishes," he added. 
 
 '' I do not," returned Margaret ; '' I shall sit 
 here till the Lady de Boteler thinks better of what 
 she has said, and suffers me to see my husband." 
 Calverley turned away with a frown, but, ere he 
 had retired a dozen steps, he turned again. *' Mar- 
 garet," said he, as he approached, " you are only 
 harming yourself by this obstinacy. The baroness 
 will not grant you permission to visit the dungeon, 
 and, if you persist, there are servitors enough about 
 to compel obedience. But if you go now, I pro- 
 mise to obtain what you ask. Rather than the 
 kernes should lay a rude hand upon you — I 
 would — gratify even him. Come at six," he 
 added, as he turned abruptly away, forgetful, at 
 this moment, of all the evil of which he had been 
 the author, and only remembering, with hate and 
 bitterness, that Holgrave possessed the love which 
 had been denied to him. 
 
 He had spoken with an earnestness that induced 
 Margaret to believe him sincere. At all events 
 
240 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 there seemed no better alternative than to trust 
 him ; so she rose and retired from the court-yard. 
 Punctually at six she appeared again at the castle, 
 and the confidence with which she crossed over to 
 tlie keep, shewed the reliance she had placed on 
 Calverley's word. The keeper had received the 
 order to admit her, and she ascended the spiral 
 steps and entered the prison that had been pre- 
 viously occupied by Edith, As Holgrave raised 
 his head when the door opened, Margaret saw that 
 his face was swollen and livid, and, when he kissed 
 her cheek as she threw herself upon his neck, his 
 lips were parched and burning. 
 
 " Do not look on me so wildly, Margaret," said 
 he ; " these bruises are nothing. Aye, even that," 
 as she was examining, with the apprehensions of a 
 tender wife, the black and almost shapeless ap- 
 pearance of his right hand and arm ; "■ even that 
 would be as well as ever in less than a month — 
 but it is their triumph and their treachery I feel : 
 it is this that gnaws my very soul — and all be- 
 cause I thought myself too wise to take a woman's 
 counsel, — and in the very prison, too, where they 
 thrust my poor mother ! I have not tasted meat 
 or drink since I entered. There stand the water 
 and the bread — though the burning in my throat 
 almost drives me mad : not a drop will I taste, 
 though the leech told me to drink as much as I 
 could — nor a morsel will I eat." 
 
 " No, not of theirs," eagerly interrupted Mar- 
 garet, drawing a bottle from beneath her cloak, 
 and pouring into a wooden cup, which she took 
 from her pocket, some diluted wine ; " but drink 
 this, Stephen : do drink it — it will cool your mouth." 
 
THE BONDMAN. 241 
 
 '' No, Margaret, I have sworn !" and no per- 
 suasion could induce him to alter his purpose. 
 
 " Steward," said the Lady Isabella on the fol- 
 lowing morning, '' Holgrave rejects his food — I 
 fear I must release him !" 
 
 " Pardon me, lady, it is only a stratagem to get 
 free." 
 
 " Do you think so, Calverley ? — but the varlet 
 has the obstinate spirit of his mother — and you 
 know I do not desire his death !" 
 
 '' Holgrave," resumed the steward, with an in- 
 credulous smile, " has no intention of shortening 
 his life :" and then he strove, with all his elo- 
 quence, to persuade her it was a mere feint. 
 
 '' However," returned Isabella, '' I will send 
 the leech to him." 
 
 The leech was sent, and reported that the pri- 
 soner was in a state of extreme exhaustion, arising, 
 it would seem, from inanition, as there was no evi- 
 dence of bodily illness sufficient to have reduced 
 him to so low a state. 
 
 Calverley's specious arguments availed no longer, 
 and, muttering curses upon the jailor, whose offi- 
 ciousness had prevented the possibility of that con- 
 summation he so devoutly wished, he received the 
 command to set Holgrave at liberty. 
 
 That evening Calverley summoned every bond- 
 man of the barony to assemble in the hall. In- 
 numerable were the conjectures respecting this 
 summons as the villeins hastened to obey the call , 
 and, when all were collected, a strong sensation of 
 
 VOL. V. R 
 
242 THE BOXDMA'N' 
 
 sympathy was excited when they beheld Stephen 
 Holofrave led into the midst; his countenance still 
 discoloured, and so pale and attenuated, that it 
 was difficult to recognize the hale, robust yeoman 
 of former days, in the subdued and exhausted 
 bondman who now took his stand among his 
 fellows. 
 
 When all were assembled, Calverley stated that 
 Stephen Holgrave, having refused to swear that 
 he would not again take advantage of his liberty 
 to flee from bondage, the baroness not wishing, 
 from a feeling of clemency, to punish his obstinacy 
 farther, had desired him to declare that she should 
 hold each bondman responsible for the appearance 
 of Holgrave, and should consider their moveables 
 and crops forfeited in the event of his absconding. 
 
 A murmur ran through the hall as the steward 
 spoke ; and Holgrave, exerting a momentary 
 energy, stept forward, and, looking scornfully at 
 his enemy — 
 
 " Lead me back to prison !" said he ; " no man 
 shall be answerable for me." 
 
 But Calverley, without appearing to heed his 
 address, resumed — 
 
 " You are all now publicly warned ; and it will 
 behove you, at your peril, to look to that bond- 
 man !" and then, without deigning farther parley, 
 he left the hall. 
 
 There was much discontent among the bond- 
 men as they withdrew from the castle, conversing 
 on the arbitrary decision just pronounced, and on 
 the probability that, before the expiration of three 
 months, that decision would be enforced in con- 
 sequence of Holgrave's flight ; for they could not 
 
THE BONDMAN. 243 
 
 conceive the idea of the self-sacrifice of a generous 
 spirit, which would rather endure, than that the 
 oppressed should suffer further oppression. Cer- 
 tainly, according to the letter of the law of vil- 
 leinage, the bondmen of Sudley had no just cause 
 for discontent ; but then, because it was unusual, 
 at least on that manor, to exercise the prerogative 
 to its fullest extent, they almost forgot that this 
 threatened appropriation of their effects was no- 
 thing more than the assertion of a right. But 
 there was one novel feature in the announcement 
 of which they had some colour for complaining ; — 
 their being considered responsible for one of their 
 own class. However, as in all similar cases where 
 power gives the law to weakness, though there 
 might be a little useless murmuring, there was no 
 alternative but to submit. 
 
 Holgrave, as his offer to continue a prisoner was 
 not accepted, left Sudley among the bondmen, 
 and walked slowly towards his old abode. Mar- 
 garet had returned, and been suffered to take pos- 
 session of the dwelling that had remained unoccu- 
 pied during their absence — which had stood just 
 as she left it on the night of her departure ; and 
 Holgrave, with all the bitterness and gloom of the 
 past, and with considerably more of physical weak- 
 ness than he had ever experienced, threw himself 
 again in his mother's chair in the chimney-corner, 
 and silently partook of the refreshment that the 
 rejoicing Margaret set before him. 
 
 r2 
 
244 
 
 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 We have as yet confined our observations to the 
 bondmen; but in 1381, an act of ill-judged policy 
 of the nine nobles and prelates who formed the 
 council of young Richard gave rise to a sort of co- 
 alition among the lower classes. This act was the 
 famous tax of three groats upon every individual 
 who had attained the age of fifteen. The hearth- 
 money, which had been enforced by the Black 
 Prince upon the inhabitants of Guienne, and which 
 had probably formed the precedent for this tax, 
 had not worked well, and there appeared little 
 chance that the present exaction, framed as it was 
 by those who directed the royal councils, would 
 work better. Certain wealthy individuals con- 
 tracted with the government for the collection of 
 the tax, and private rapacity thus rendered the 
 imposition more obnoxious than it otherwise might 
 have been. 
 
 It was on the evening of a feast day, and the day- 
 labourers and villeins around Saint Albans were 
 enjoying the repose, that even in that period of 
 dondage, was never infringed upon, and which, 
 
THE BONDMAN. - 245 
 
 from the frequent recurrence of the festivals af- 
 forded a sufficient relaxation from manual exertion 
 to recruit the strength ; when suddenly, amidst a 
 group in the market-place, who were discoursing 
 upon the severity of the poll tax, then collecting, 
 appeared John Ball. 
 
 *' Men and brethren, are ye bond or free ?" he 
 abruptly asked, in a deep, solemn voice. 
 
 " It matters little, good father," replied a gloomy 
 looking peasant, as he started from the earth where 
 he had been reclining ; " the freeman has little to 
 boast of now beyond the villein." 
 
 '' The freeman shall be righted, and the bond- 
 man freed — and then will the mission that has 
 made John Ball for thrice twelve months a home- 
 less wanderer, never resting under the same roof a 
 second nisrht — then will that mission be accom- 
 plished — and even if he lay his head upon the 
 block, he will have executed the task allotted to 
 him — will have finished the work he was inspired 
 to begin !" 
 
 " The bondman may be freed," replied the man 
 who had before spoken ; " but when shall the free- 
 man be righted ? I took little heed of these things 
 when I heard you preach freedom to the villeins 
 two years ago : but my children have been sick ; 
 my wife has been struck with a palsy ; and I, 
 who had not a penny to call my own, gave eleven 
 groats yesterday for myself, my wife, and the two 
 boys ; and to-morrow must I sell the last blanket 
 that covers her, to pay the twelfth." 
 
 The man turned away as he spoke, and John 
 Ball, whose mission was rather to the serf than the 
 freeman, commenced an harangue to the gathering 
 
246 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 crowd. His figure, as we have before observed, 
 was imposing ; and as his eyes, flashing with an 
 enthusiasm perhaps too ardent to be compatible 
 with sound reason, fell on the numbers who now 
 encompassed him, he looked like one fitted to 
 become the apostle of those who had none to help 
 them. 
 
 " The dew of heaven is not for you," he began ; 
 " nor is the fat of the land your portion : but I 
 am sent to pour a stream of light into the dark 
 chambers — even to enlighten the soul of the weary 
 bondman. I will sing to them of fearful heart, be 
 strong and fear not ; for the high ones of authority 
 shall be hewn down, and the haughty shall lick the 
 dust like serpents. The proud lords amongst us 
 buy up the dastard hirelings with gold and silver, 
 and they clothe them in their livery ! They wear 
 the badge of cruelty and oppression in their hats ; 
 but we shall tread them down like the mire in the 
 streets. Our king, too, is in bondage, and heareth 
 not the groans of them that are in fetters ! — for he 
 is encompassed by the cold and the cruel — but 
 the cold and the cruel shall be swept away. As 
 the gathering of locusts shall we run upon them. 
 Tithes shall cease; — the bondman shall be enfran- 
 chised ; and the lands apportioned at an easy rent. 
 The proud and rich prelates shall give up their 
 wealth to the sick and the poor, and we will have 
 no clergy henceforth but the order of mendicant 
 priests to administer the sacraments." Thus, and 
 with much more of the doctrine of general enfran- 
 chisement and equalization of property harangued 
 the monk ; and we need scarcely add, that his 
 words were listened to with breathless eagerness. 
 
THE BOXDMAN. 247 
 
 In fact, so much was he regarded as a prophet, 
 that more than one life had been sacrificed since 
 the commencement of his wanderings, in resisting 
 his capture by the civil authorities. 
 
 It was about a fortnight subsequent to this 
 harangue at St. Albans, that John Ball, who had 
 passed on through London, preaching and gaining 
 proselytes in his journey, inhaled, once again, the 
 air of his native valley. His heart bounded, and 
 then sank coldly in his breast, as, on ascending a 
 hill, WinchcomJ3e, with its church, its habitations, 
 and the abbey, that had once been his home, burst 
 upon his sight. It was rather singular, that though 
 the enfranchisement of the bondmen of Sudley 
 had been his darling wish, nay, that even the 
 thought of personal freedom beyond that barony 
 had never crossed his mind until the night of his 
 rude expulsion from Kennington, those very villeins 
 should be the last into whose sluggish veins he 
 should strive to enforce a portion of the warmth 
 that inflamed his own. And yet it was not that 
 the enfranchisement of Sudley was less dear to his 
 heart than it had been ; but it was because that 
 little spot of earth was dear to him, that he shrunk 
 from visiting it. He had been there respected and 
 beloved ; there, too, had he been degraded and in- 
 sulted ; and that degradation, and that insult, had 
 not been wiped away, and he cared not to appear 
 before his own people thus morally cast down. But 
 the hour had now come. Leycester, the dyer of 
 Norwich, had been appointed king of the commons 
 of Norfolk. Other leaders, too, had been named ; 
 and his own native barony must not slumber inert 
 while the rest were runnino- the race. 
 
248 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 The shadows of evening were deepening, and 
 the monk still stood gazing upon the town, and 
 living over again the past, when a female with an 
 infant in her arms, and leading a child by the 
 hand, passed by. But she again turned to look 
 upon him, first timidly, then more confidently, 
 till snatching her hand from the slight grasp of the 
 child, she sprung towards him, and sinking at his 
 feet, caught his right hand in both hers, and press- 
 ed it to her bosom. 
 
 " My sister !" said the monk, bending over her, 
 and blessing her ; and after a moment, during 
 which he calmed the ao^itation of his feelino;s, he 
 added — " How has it fared with you ? Where is 
 Stephen ?" 
 
 But Margaret was many minutes ere she could 
 do more than kiss his hand, and wet it with her 
 tears. At length, when her emotions of joy and 
 surprise had in some degree subsided, she replied, 
 that Holgrave was still living a villein at Sudley. 
 
 ''What!" exclaimed the monk — "the smith 
 was indeed told that treachery had betrayed him 
 into the baron's power ; but is he chained to the 
 spot — that for three long years he should bear the 
 oppressor's rod ?" 
 
 " No," replied Margaret : " he would have 
 found some means of getting to the forest ; but 
 they hold the villeins bound for him — if he flies, 
 all they possess of crops or cattle will be seized. 
 But here is Stephen. I was just going over the 
 hill to meet him, when I saw you." 
 
 Holgrave approached, and was scarcely less sur- 
 prised than Margaret had been ; and when he 
 spoke of the report current, that it was the monk 
 
THE BONDMAN. 249 
 
 who had gone about striving to burst the chains of 
 bondage, John Ball replied — 
 
 " Listen to me, Stephen Holgrave ! I went in 
 before the great ones of the land ; before him who 
 is appointed ruler of the people, to demand jus- 
 tice ; and because I was of the blood of the bond, 
 my prayer was rejected ! — because I was born in 
 bondage I was unworthy of the privilege of the 
 free. The finger pointed, the lip scorned, and 
 the tongue derided ; and I was driven, amidst the 
 jeers of the scoffer, from the palace of the king. 
 But as I went forth, the spirit came upon me, and 
 I vowed that I would not give rest to my feet until 
 the bondman's fetters should be broken ! And they 
 shall be broken ! A spirit has been roused that 
 they reck not of — a spirit that will neither slumber 
 nor sleep until he, whose first breath was drawn 
 beneath the thatch of the villein-hut, shall be as 
 free to come and to go as he whose first pillow was 
 of the cygnet's down ! — and no man shall say to 
 him, what dost thou ?" 
 
 But it was not merely Holgrave that the monk 
 was now addressing ; two or three passers-by had 
 been attracted. The monk was recognized, and 
 these were commissioned to whisper secretly in 
 the bondman's ear, that he who had baptized their 
 children, and breathed the prayer of faith over 
 their sick beds, and who had wandered through 
 the land, gladdening with the bright promises of 
 hope the soul of the weary and the oppressed, 
 had come once more amongst them to speak of 
 personal enfranchisement, and of rent, instead of 
 the accustomed service for the land they might 
 hold. Father John then withdrew with Holgrave 
 
250 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 by a private path, to avoid any furtlier interrup- 
 tion. 
 
 At an early hour the next morning, it was inti- 
 mated to Calverley that the barony was all in mo- 
 tion — that the bondmen, and, indeed, all of the 
 labouring class, were gathering, and whispering to 
 each other, and evincing any thing but a disposi- 
 tion to commence their customary toil. These 
 things certainly gave evidence of some extraordi- 
 nary sensation ; and Calverley's first inquiry was, 
 *' had any one seen the prophet?" — for such was 
 the appellation by which John Ball was distin- 
 guished. No positive information could be ob- 
 tained ; the fact could be merely inferred, and the 
 steward, who was not one to hesitate when an idea 
 struck him, ordering a few retainers to attend 
 him, proceeded to Holgrave's abode. But Hol- 
 grave was from home ; there was no trace of the 
 monk ; and Calverley, knowing that it would be 
 to little purpose to question Margaret, bethought 
 him that the inquisitive Mary Byles might probably 
 be the most proper person to apply to. From 
 those who had crossed his path, he had merely 
 been able to extract a sullen negative : but so 
 well had the secret been kept, that the steward's 
 interrogatory was the first intimation she had re- 
 ceived of the probability of John Ball's being in 
 the neighbourhood. However, Mary volunteered, 
 provided Calverley would remain a few minutes, to 
 collect some information. Presently, she returned 
 — John Ball was, indeed, at Sudley ! She had 
 herself seen him come out of a cottage ; she had 
 beheld him harangue some bondmen who were 
 awaiting his appearance, and after many impas- 
 
THE BONDMAN". 251 
 
 sioned words, he had gone on publicly through 
 Winchcombe, with the blessings of the enthusiastic 
 peasantry accompanying him. Calverley started 
 at this information. 
 
 " Did you see Holgrave V he asked, eagerly. 
 
 ''Yes," replied Mary; ''he was by the monk 
 when he stood at the door of the villein's hut, and 
 I dare say he is with him now." 
 
 Calverley paused an instant. De Boteler and 
 the baroness were in London — De Boteler, assist- 
 ing in the councils of Richard, and Isabella, by 
 reason of a vow, that, should there be again a pro- 
 bability of her becoming a mother, she would not 
 trust the life of her child within the walls of Sudley 
 castle ; — and he remembered the strict injunction 
 his lord had given him in the case of the disinter- 
 ment of Edith, not to presume to act again without 
 his authority. He remembered also that he had 
 been much dissatisfied with the result of father 
 John's imprisonment, and also with the mode 
 adopted for recovering Holgrave : but the present 
 was a moment that would warrant decisive mea- 
 sures — so he proceeded to the door, and desired 
 the retainers to follow on to Winchcombe, and 
 seize the monk. But there was an evident unwil- 
 lingness to obey : the name of John Ball had 
 spread through the land, and there was so much of 
 misty brightness encircling it — so many strange 
 stories were told of him — so mysterious were often 
 his appearings and disappearings — and so high 
 was the veneration his novel doctrines inspired — 
 that even the lawless retainer shrank from periling* 
 his soul by molesting so sanctified a being. Be- 
 sides, the former assault was not forgotten, with all 
 
252 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 the strange exaggerations which had seemed to 
 render miraculous the circumstance of a handful 
 of men liberating a prisoner. 
 
 " My lord has little to expect from the faith of 
 tliose who are fed and clothed at his hand," said 
 Calverley, indignantly, as he saw, by the hesitation 
 of the retainers, that the capture of the monk was 
 hopeless. 
 
 " I would fight for my lord any day," muttered 
 one ; " but I don't like meddling with a priest." 
 
 " And one, too, who prophesies," said ano- 
 ther. 
 
 " Peace, babblers !" interrupted Calverley: '*my 
 lord shall hear how his retainers act when a sedi- 
 tious shaveling is inciting the villeins to revolt. 
 Are you afraid of meddling with Stephen Hol- 
 grave?" he added, looking, with a sneer, at the 
 first speaker. 
 
 " I am afraid of no man !" he'replied, doggedly. 
 
 " Come on then ? Let us at least secure him," 
 cried Calverley, bounding forward and followed by 
 the retainers. They hastened on through Winch- 
 combe, and, a little beyond the town, descried the 
 prophet surrounded by a multitude consisting, 
 not only of the men of Winchcombe, who took an 
 interest in the subject, but of numbers residing far 
 beyond. 
 
 Calverley pressed forward towards the crowd, 
 and so powerful is the influence of habitual obedi- 
 ence, that he was actually in the midst of them be- 
 fore any disposition to arrest his progress was mani- 
 fested. But then arose the cry of " The holy father ! 
 — the prophet!" and the retainer, who had replied 
 to Calverley, perceiving from the popular move- 
 
THE BONDMAN. 253 
 
 ment, the error into which the people had fallen, 
 shouted out " Stand back, men ! we will not harm 
 a hair of the prophet's head ! — it is Stephen 
 Holgrave we want." 
 
 " And will you allow Stephen Holgrave, who 
 has tarried a willing prisoner — " 
 
 " No ! no ! no !" from a hundred voices, over- 
 powered the address of John Ball. 
 
 " Away ! Holgrave, away ! we hold you free !" 
 And Holgrave, taking advantage of the opportu- 
 nity, withdrew from the side of John Ball, and 
 springing on the back of an offered steed, was pre- 
 sently beyond reach of pursuit, even had pursuit 
 been attempted. 
 
 But Calverley was so mortified on being thus 
 baffled, and so thoroughly convinced of the inuti- 
 lity of opposing the popular feeling, that he made 
 no attempt to force a passage through the clubs 
 and staves that were marshalled before him ; he 
 turned away towards Sudley, vowing, however, 
 within himself, that the villeins generally, but more 
 particularly those whom his quick glance had 
 identified, should suffer for that morning's contu- 
 macy. 
 
 The excitement and enthusiasm, which had freed 
 Holgrave, was still glowing in the breasts of the 
 *owd, when a single horseman was observed on 
 the summit of the hill at a short distance, galloping 
 on with the fleetness of the wind. He was scarcely 
 heeded at first, but when another and another, fol- 
 lowing with the same headlong speed, successively 
 appeared, the attention of the people was arrested ; 
 and when the horse of the first rider, reeking with 
 foam and sweat, sunk down," within a few yards 
 
254 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 of the mass, and the man, after struggling an 
 instant, disengaged his legs and leaped in amongst 
 tliem, exclaiming in a voice scarcely audible from 
 agitation, " Save me ! save me! save a poor debtor 
 from prison ! — from selling himself to pay his 
 debts ! — save me to work as a free man and pay 
 all!" — the fever of excitement seemed to have 
 reached its climax. Without considering an in- 
 stant what manner of man he might be, they closed 
 around him, and pressing the exhausted wretch to- 
 wards the monk, vowed to resist to the death any 
 attempts to arrest him. It was in vain that the 
 pursuers, who had now come up, stated that the 
 fugitive was not a debtor, but a notorious perjurer 
 who had fled from Gloucester to avoid his trial : 
 their assertions were not attended to. The popu- 
 lace felt, that in their united strength, they could 
 protect as well as free ; and it is almost a question 
 if they would at the moment, have given up the 
 man had his guilt been proved to a demonstration. 
 However, as it was merely a matter of opinion 
 which to believe, — the pursuers or the pursued, the 
 result need scarcely be told ; the fugitive was 
 hedged round with men and weapons, and the 
 horsemen, after uttering many an idle threat, rode 
 on to Sudley Castle to call upon the steward to 
 assist in his recapture. The accused marked their 
 course ; and, after breathing out the most fervent 
 gratitude to his preservers, he approached John 
 Ball, and, bending his head, said, in a subdued 
 tone, 
 
 " How have I desired to behold the prophet — 
 who hath risen up to be the champion of the op- 
 pressed. My breast burned within me when I saw 
 
THE EONDMAff. 255 
 
 the poor man trampled on. I sheltered a bond- 
 man — I was vexed with the law — stripped of my- 
 all — beggared, and nothing left me but bondage 
 or a jail ! — I am weary of the hard hand that 
 presses down the poor ! Holy father, let me join 
 the good cause." 
 
 John Ball saw at a glance that the man was 
 above the vulgar, and rejoicing that he could add 
 one intelligent being to the illiterate mass who had 
 become converts to his doctrines, he gladly ac- 
 cepted the offer of an ally who promised to be so 
 serviceable ; and, apprehensive that as the hour for 
 a simultaneous rising had not yet come, a further 
 display might rather injure than benefit the cause, 
 pronounced a benediction over the multitude, and 
 promising to appear soon among them again, de- 
 sired each man to go to his regular business, and 
 remain quiet till the appointed hour. He then took 
 the arm of his new colleague, and hurried him to a 
 secret opening in an adjacent quarry. 
 
 In the individual thus opportunely rescued, the 
 reader will probably recognize Black Jack. He 
 had been detected in a conspiracy, from which, 
 had his character been already taintless, there 
 would have been but little chance of escape. But 
 as matters really stood, the slightest shadow of 
 guilt would have been made to assume a form suffi- 
 ciently tangible to convict him. 
 
 On the second evening after, when Calverley 
 was in his private sitting room, the door was thrown 
 suddenly open. 
 
 "Hist! master Calverley," said Black Jack, 
 entering abruptly, yet noiselessly. " Don't be 
 frightened, it is only Jack Oakley ; — nay, nay, we 
 
256 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 don't part so" (springing between Calverley and the 
 door, as the steward, upon recognizing the intruder, 
 had made an effort to pass from the room) ; — 
 *' nay, nay, steward, w^e don't part company so 
 soon ;" and drawing a dagger from his bosom, and 
 seizing Calverley in his muscular grasp, he forced 
 him back to his seat. " You had more relish," 
 continued he, "for an interview yesterday morning, 
 when you led on the pack to hunt for poor Black 
 Jack ! but he had escaped you • — yes, he had 
 escaped you," (speaking between his set teeth, and 
 looking as if it would do his heart good to plunge 
 the weapon he was fingering in Calverley's bosom.) 
 " Did you think," he added, after a moment's 
 pause, during which he had replaced the dagger 
 within his vest — " did you think Black Jack knew 
 so little of you as to trust his life in your hands, 
 when he saw the blood-hounds making for Sudley ? 
 No, no — I knew too well that Thomas Calverley, 
 instead of whispering to the retainers that I was a 
 hireling of the Lord of Sudley, would give the as- 
 sistance my enemies asked — and you did ! — yes, 
 you did ;" and his hand, as if instinctively, was 
 again upon the hilt of his dagger, as he looked for 
 a moment at Calverley with the glaring eye, set 
 teeth, and suppressed breath of one who has re- 
 solved upon some bloody deed. But the tempta- 
 tion passed away ; — the rigid features relaxed, and 
 withdrawing his hand from his bosom, and hum- 
 ming a snatch from some popular air, he walked 
 up to the window. 
 
 The reader will readily imagine that this was a 
 relief to Calverley. Even a dagger in the hands 
 of a man possessing the physical strength of Black 
 
THE BONDMAN. 257 
 
 Jack, was not a weapon to be looked upon with 
 indifference, especially by an unarmed and sur- 
 prised man. But Calverley, adroitly availing him- 
 self of the evident change of purpose in Black Jack, 
 said, in as stern a voice as he could command, 
 "This is strange conduct, master Oakley \" 
 
 " 'Tis so, steward," returned Black Jack, speaking 
 in his usually self-confident tone ; — " I dare say you 
 do think it strange that a man should steal into 
 this castle, and hide himself for two or three hours, 
 on purpose to scare you out of your wits ; but it was 
 not to threaten, or frighten you either, I have come." 
 
 " For what purpose, then ?" 
 
 " For money ; and for what money will buy — 
 drink. Have you any wine in the room?" 
 
 " No, but I will fetch you some directly." 
 
 " Thank you, steward," replied Oakley, smiling, 
 " but I would rather wait a few minutes. To be 
 sure, it is a hard thing to be fasting from drink for 
 two whole days ! but then it is better than being a 
 prisoner. We will be good friends, master Calver- 
 ley, but we will not put too much faith in one ano- 
 ther. And, as for taking your life — an idea which 
 did occur to me just now — by the green wax! I 
 don't think I could do it. To be sure, sometimes 
 an odd fit comes upon me, but I believe, after all, 
 the pen suits my hand better than the sword ; ne- 
 vertheless, to come to the point, steward, I must 
 have money. I am going to turn an honest man ; 
 to gain the bondman his freedom, and the free man 
 justice. You need not smile, for I have sworn to 
 be a leader of the people." 
 
 " And I suppose Holgrave has sworn, too," 
 sneered Calverley. 
 
 VOL. V. s 
 
258 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 ^' I believe not; I have heard nothing as yet of 
 his being a leader ; but I left the monk this morn- 
 ing under pretence of rousing the villeins about 
 Cotswold hills, and so managed to get here." 
 
 '* Do you know any thing of Holgrave's route ?" 
 
 " He is gone to London." 
 
 " To London !" 
 
 *' Yes — will you let his wife follow him ?" 
 
 " Let his wife follow him !" repeated Calverley, 
 looking at Oakley with unaffected astonishment ; 
 but instantly recollecting himself, he added — " I 
 don't know ;" and again, after pausing a moment, 
 continued — " You, of course, do not mean to keep 
 faith with that seditious monk ?" looking with a 
 scrutinizing glance at Oakley. 
 
 " By the green wax, but I do ! I can never 
 practise my own calling again ; and, at any rate, 
 have tried cheating, and lying, and so on, long 
 enough — and what have I got by them ? — the ho- 
 nestest blockhead in England cannot be worse off 
 than John Oakley ! So, as I have said, I shall 
 e'en try what honesty will do ! Besides, I owe 
 them something for saving me from the gallows. 
 But I cannot do without drink ! — and drink, ex- 
 cept a beggarly cup of ale or so, is not to be had 
 among them — and so, steward, you must give me 
 money." 
 
 " Yes, yes, you shall have money, Oakley, and I 
 tell you, that if you could manage to send me in- 
 timation, from time to time, of the plots they are 
 forming, you shall have as much as you desire." 
 
 Oakley, as Calverley ceased speaking, looked at 
 him for a moment very earnestly, and an intelli- 
 gence passed across his face, as if some new light 
 
THE BONDMAN. 259 
 
 had broken in upon him ; but suddenly, with a sort 
 of smile, — 
 
 *' By the green wax!" said he, '' you seem to 
 think lightly of Black Jack's promises ! What ! 
 you would bribe me to betray their secrets, would 
 you ? One never thinks of doing well, but some 
 temptation is sure to come across. — Come, come, 
 give me the money — I shall think of what you 
 have said another time. — Come, come, I can hardly 
 speak for very drought !" 
 
 Calverley had no alternative but compliance : 
 but it was provoking almost beyond endurance to 
 have a creature who annoyed him so much, com- 
 pletely, as it were, in his power, and yet be unable 
 to avail himself of the circumstance. There was 
 no alternative, however ; for, as we have said be- 
 fore, he was unarmed, and, withal, no fighting man. 
 His chamber was retired, and the extortioner a 
 desperate, unprincipled being, and so Calverley 
 doled out a few pieces of silver, and a piece of 
 gold, which Black Jack snatching up, departed ; 
 but as he closed the door, a chuckling laugh, and 
 a drawn bolt, told Calverley that he was overreach- 
 ed by his wily confederate. 
 
 The signs of strong excitement became every 
 day more general and more evident, especially in 
 the counties of Kent, Essex, Hertford, and Norfolk. 
 The furbishing of weapons ; the whetting and 
 sharpening of hand-bills, wood-knives, and other 
 offensive implements of husbandry ; and the gene- 
 ral relaxation, and in many places total suspension 
 of labour, were like the heavings and tlie trem- 
 blings which betokened an approaching shock. 
 Indeed, in many places partial risings had already 
 s 2 
 
260 THE BONDMAX. 
 
 commenced ; but these had originated rather with 
 the free than the bond : rather in resisting the ob- 
 noxious tax than in asserting a right to freedom ; 
 and the more timid and least influential of the 
 gentry, unable to control the popular movement, 
 had already shut themselves up in their mansions 
 or castles, leaving to the government the task of 
 stemming the storm. Even Richard and his coun- 
 cil became alarmed ; and after issuing a few pro- 
 clamations, and a commission of trail baron to try 
 the rioters, awaited the event, trusting to the want 
 of organization among the people for a sucoegsful 
 termination of the outbreak. 
 
 Affairs had put on this gloomy aspect, the frown 
 of contemptuous suspicion being met by the glance 
 of sullen defiance, and each man of the common- 
 alty either in league with his neighbour or regard- 
 ing him with distrust, when a meeting of those, 
 who, under the powerful influence of John Ball, 
 had fomented all this disorder, took place at Maid- 
 stone. It was on a June evening, and just as the 
 twilight had thrown a kind of indistinctness over 
 every object, that Wat Turner, who had been 
 lying for the last hour along a bench in the chim- 
 ney-corner, to all outward appearance soundly 
 asleep, suddenly started up — 
 
 " Is the room ready, Bridget?" he abruptly asked 
 his wife. 
 
 "To be sure it is," replied Bridget, w^ho w^as 
 sitting at the open casement of the large apartment, 
 decked out in all her Sunday finery; "but see, 
 Wat, I declare you have upset my beautiful flowers," 
 as Turner, without heeding the variegated sweets 
 
THE BONDMAN. 261 
 
 that graced the fireless hearth, brushed past them, 
 and stood upon the earthen floor. 
 
 " Confound you, and your flowers ! — you are 
 sure every thing is in order ?" 
 
 " Yes — didn't I tell you so this moment ?" an- 
 swered Bridget, rising somewhat indignantly, and 
 replacing the flower-pot in its original position. 
 " And trouble enough I have had," she continued, 
 " to get in the table and the chairs, and the 
 benches, and stools, and put the place so that it 
 might be fit to be seen, all by myself. A fine 
 holiday the wench has got ! — but she shall work 
 for this next week ! — How many are coming ?" 
 
 '' Question me not, Bridget," replied Turner, in 
 a very serious tone ; " but for once in your life try 
 if you can hold your tongue ; or, at any rate, say 
 only what is wanted. Do you remember what I told 
 you ? Keep the door bolted ; and when you hear 
 a knock, say, ' With whom hold you ;' and if they 
 answer, ' With king Richard and the true com- 
 mons,' open the door ; but mind you open it to 
 none else." 
 
 " Yes, yes, I will mind : but I verily believe you 
 think me a fool, or a woman who don't know when 
 to hold her tongue ! — you tell me one thing so 
 many times over ! Wat — is that John Leicester 
 coming ?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 "How I hate the sight of that man ! he is so 
 full of consequence, and has so many airs, and 
 talks so much about what he will do when he is 
 king of Norfolk ; — just as if an honest blacksmith 
 was not as good as a dyer any day ! Or, as if Wat 
 Turner (Wat Tyler, I mean) — I declare I often 
 
262 
 
 THE BONDMA^r. 
 
 catch myself going to call you Turner in the shop, 
 — aye, as if Wat Tyler wasn't as good a name as 
 John Leicester ! And then he talks about his 
 wife, too. I'll let him see when you are king of 
 Kent." 
 
 " Silence ! there is a knock." Turner went to 
 the door : '' With whom hold you ?" he asked. 
 
 " With King Richard and the true Commons," 
 was the reply ; and the door was instantly un- 
 closed, and John Leicester, a tall, pale complexion- 
 ed man, with an aquiline visage and sharp black 
 eyes, accompanied by Ralph Rugge, John Kirkby, 
 and Allan Theoder, entered the apartment. 
 
 " Ye are the first, my friends," said Turner, cor- 
 dially grasping the extended hand of Leicester, 
 " and, by St. Nicholas ! it is is now getting fast 
 on for ten o'clock." 
 
 He then strode across the room, and, throwing 
 open a door, ushered his colleagues into a place 
 probably used by Bridget as a sort of store-room, 
 of moderate size, with clay walls, and an earthen 
 floor. A large iron lamp was burning on an ob- 
 long table of considerable dimensions that stood in 
 the centre. At the upper end of the table was a 
 chair and stools, and benches were arranged round 
 in proper order. 
 
 " Bridget," said Turner, stepping back, " where 
 is the Mune ?" 
 
 " Oh ! here — I forgot the wine," said Bridget, 
 handing in a large jug, and then again returning 
 with a number of drinking cups and another mea- 
 sure of wine. Turner placed the liquor on the 
 table, and was just filling some of the cups, when 
 Stephen Holgrave, Thomas Sack, and three others, 
 
THE BONDMAN. 263 
 
 pushed open the door, and, after a brief salutation, 
 took their seats at the table. 
 
 '^ Here is a health to King Richard and the true 
 commons !" said Holgrave, taking up his cup. 
 
 " We have had enough of kings," said Kirkby, 
 " and lords too — I will drink to none but the true 
 
 commons 
 
 " Why, as for kings," said Turner, " I am not 
 sure ; Richard is but a boy yet, and his father 
 was a " 
 
 " I say we will have no Richard, and no king 
 but King of the Commons, and these we will have 
 in every shire in England !" interrupted John Lei- 
 cester. 
 
 Turner looked as if he thought that he had as 
 much right to deliver his sentiments as the dyer of 
 Norwich, and was about to vindicate his opinions, 
 probably in no very qualified terms, when Black 
 Jack entering, accompanied by a few others, di- 
 verted the smith's attention. 
 
 ^'Hah! Jack Straw — welcome!" said Turner; 
 " you see you are not the last. The night is wan- 
 ing, and our friends are not all here yet." 
 
 A horn of wine being handed to Oakley, he took 
 his seat at the table ; and when about a dozen men 
 had joined them, 
 
 " Jack Straw," inquired Turner, " have you 
 made out the conditions ?" 
 
 *' Yes," replied Black Jack, " here they are," 
 drawing a parchment from his pocket. 
 
 "Read them! read them! let us hear!" burst 
 from the party ; and Oakley began — 
 
 " First. — The king shall be required to free all 
 bondmen." 
 
264 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 " Aye, aye !" shouted the confederates, " that 
 will do — that is the first thing that must be done." 
 
 '' Secondly," resumed Oakley, " to pardon all 
 the risings." 
 
 "Pardon!" interrupted Turner — "there is no 
 pardon wanted : let them do as they ought to do, 
 and there will be no rising." 
 
 " Thirdly. — That all men may buy and sell in 
 any city or town in England." 
 
 " Aye," said Rugge, " that is as it should be — 
 I know where I could carry all the hats I could 
 make, and sell them for a good price, if I were but 
 free of the place." 
 
 "Fourthly. — That all lands should be rented 
 ?^t fourpence an acre." 
 
 "Aye, and enough too!" said Turner ; "and, 
 mind ye, nothing but rent — ^no service. Let every 
 man be free to work, and get money for his work, 
 and give money for his land, and know what he 
 has to pay : I don't like your services — so many 
 days' labour, or so much corn, or so many head of 
 cattle, and so on : and then, if any thing happens 
 that he fails to the very day, though the land 
 should have been held by his great-grandfather, 
 why he has no claim to it ! 'Tis time all this 
 should be done away with. — But now go on with 
 the rest." 
 
 " That was all we agreed upon to ask for," re- 
 plied Black Jack, looking round upon his asso- 
 ciates. 
 
 " What !" said the overbearing Leicester, looking 
 fiercely at the ex-foreman — "didn't I tell you 
 that / was to be the King of Norfolk, and Wat 
 Tyler " 
 
THE BONDMAN. 265 
 
 " Tush, man ! — nonsense !" interrupted Turner, 
 reddening with mingled shame and anger. " Let 
 the bondman be freed, and the land properly par- 
 celled out, and then we can talk about what kings 
 there are to be besides Richard. But I'll tell you, 
 Master Jack Straw, or whatever your name is, that 
 if I cannot read and write like you, I will have a 
 word in the matter as well as yourself — I will have 
 all the lawyers hanged, for one thing : there is so 
 much trickery in the law, that we shall never be 
 sure of whatever is granted, while the men of law 
 can have a crook in it." 
 
 " And since we talk of hanging," said Turner, 
 " there is one — " and he looked significantly at 
 Holgrave — '^ but, never mind ; his time will come, 
 Stephen !" 
 
 " It will !" answered Holgrave, emphatically ; 
 and, as he acquiesced in Turner's implied threat, a 
 smile might be detected on Oakley's lips. 
 
 '' Friends," said Allan Theoder, speaking for the 
 first time, " I do not hear you say any thing about 
 this tax." 
 
 " If we had no king," said Kirkby, " we should 
 have no tax grinding down the poor. If that tax 
 had not made a beggar of me. Jack Kirkby would 
 not have been here amongst you this night." 
 
 " But what is it," asked Black Jack, " that I 
 shall add to the parchment ?" 
 
 " That we shall have no taxes !" said the taci- 
 turn Theoder. 
 
 " And no king !" added Kirkby. 
 
 " And that the lords shall give up their castles, 
 and keep no retainers, and that all the lawyers 
 shall be hanged !" said Turner. 
 
266 
 
 THE BOXDMAX 
 
 " I tell you," said Leicester, " that when we are 
 all kings, we can do what we like with the lords 
 and the lawyers, and " 
 
 " And I will tell you, John Leicester, that if it 
 is my will which is to decide, we will have no king 
 but one ; and that one shall be Richard. And 
 that all lawyers and escheators, shall lose their 
 heads — aye, by St. Nicholas ! and that before 
 four days are gone, the laws shall proceed from 
 my mouth !" interrupted the smith, rising from his 
 stool and striking the table violently with his 
 clenched fist." 
 
 While Turner was thus declaiming, a singular 
 looking being, who sat directly opposite to him, had 
 risen, and, evidently quite unmoved by the vehe- 
 mence of the smith's manner, and equally regardless 
 of the matter of his speech, only awaited until a 
 pause should enable him to commence his own. 
 The man was about five feet two in height, with 
 thick lips and a short turned-up nose, black, bushy 
 brows, overhanging a pair of twinkling grey eyes, 
 and a bald head, receding abruptly from the eye- 
 brows, like those of the lower animals. The mo- 
 ment Turner ceased speaking, the man began, in a 
 deep guttural voice — 
 
 " I was brought up there, Wat Tyler, and I can 
 tell you of two places where it can be fired." 
 
 "What! Gloucester?" 
 
 ''What! Sudley Castle?" asked Black Jack 
 and Turner, at once. 
 
 " No — the city of London !" 
 
 "The city of London!" repeated Turner in a 
 tone that implied little approval of the suggestion. 
 
 "Yes — the city of London, friend Tyler," said 
 
THE BONDMAN. 267 
 
 Thomas Sack, in that peculiar tone of confidence 
 which says, I know what I say is the best that 
 can be said. — '' Yes, the City of London, friend 
 Tyler ; and when the city is fired, and the Lon- 
 doners are running here and there, to save their 
 houses and goods, what will hinder us from taking 
 the Tower, and forcing the king to grant what we 
 ask ?" 
 
 There seemed reason in this — and Black Jack's 
 imagination instantly picturing the facility which 
 such a thing would afford for the appropriation of 
 the good citizen's treasures, seizing the idea, said 
 quickly — 
 
 " By the green wax ! our friend counsels well." 
 
 '' He does counsel well," rejoined one at the 
 bottom of the table. Would it not be a fine op- 
 portunity to pay ourselves for all they have taken 
 from us?" he added, in a lower key, and looking 
 cunningly round upon his companions as he put 
 the interrogatory. 
 
 "What!" said Turner, sternly, "would you 
 make us robbers !" 
 
 "Robbers! Master Tyler, no — no — it is one 
 thing to rob, and another to repay yourself, if the 
 chance- comes in your way, if you have been 
 cheated." 
 
 " I do not understand your one thing or your 
 other thing;" answered Turner — "but I know 
 this, that we have paid the tax, and that we will 
 pay it no more — but as for touching what belongs 
 to the London folks — I '11 tell you what, if we do 
 set fire to London, by St. Nicholas ! if I see my 
 own son Tom taking a penny's worth, I will fling him 
 into the flames !" 
 
268 
 
 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 " You are right," said Holgrave, ^' we want to be 
 free men, not plunderers." 
 
 The man did not reply, and Black Jack, congra- 
 tulating himself that he had prudently kept his 
 own counsel, endeavoured to turn the attention of 
 the leaders from the consequences to the cause. 
 Holgrave positively refused to sanction the contem- 
 plated firing : '' No man," said he, " has a right to 
 burn what does not belong to him." But he was 
 only one man, and the sense of abstract justice 
 was not sufficiently strong in those about him, to 
 overbalance the advantages that might result from 
 the deed. Certainly, to speak the truth. Turner 
 hesitated some time before he assented, but the 
 pithy language of Thomas Sack, and the covert 
 insinuations of the lettered Oakley, overpowered 
 his better judgment, and the thing was decided 
 upon. 
 
 " Hallo — confederates ! you have forgotten one 
 thing, which, after all, may do us more good than 
 all the conditions put together. What think ye of 
 burning all the deeds and court-rolls of manors 
 we can lay our hands on ? The knaves will find it 
 lio easy matter to prove their title to the land, or 
 to the rent or to the bondman either." 
 
 Twenty brawny hands grasped successively that 
 of the spokesman, and an applauding murmur ran 
 through the meeting. 
 
 "Aye, aye, burn the court-rolls — burn the 
 court-rolls !" ran from mouth to mouth. " We 
 defy the lords to claim rent or service then." 
 
 " Yes," cried Holgrave, starting up eagerly, " if 
 the court-rolls are burned, who can claim the bond- 
 man ?" 
 
THE BONDMAN. 269 
 
 " Aye, or, as you said just now, Jack Straw, 
 who can say to his vassal ' You owe me this service 
 or that service,' " added the smith. 
 
 This proposition was then eagerly adopted and 
 decided upon without a dissentient voice. 
 
 The reader may, perhaps, be surprised that all 
 this should pass without eliciting either opposition 
 or remark from the king of Norfolk ; but the fact 
 was, that Leicester, although in general a very tem- 
 perate man, had been so much pleased with the 
 flavour of Wat Turner's wine, and had so often 
 replenished his cup that he had not been, for the 
 last half hour, precisely in a situation either to 
 combat or agree to any proposition. Indeed, had 
 any of the members been bold enough to submit 
 a motion, depriving him of his kingship elect, it is 
 a question if he would have resisted, so much was 
 the natural arrogance and asperity of his temper 
 softened by the genial beverage. 
 
 The wine, too, began to exhibit many other of 
 the confederates in colours very different from 
 such as they had at first shewn, but the change 
 generally was not such as was wTought in Lei- 
 cester ; — for vindictive cruelty and selfish rapa- 
 city might now be detected in many of those who, 
 at the outset, had spoken only of justice and right. 
 Then, too, were put forth the claims which each 
 fancied he possessed of ranking above his fellows. 
 " Did not I provide so many clubs or spears — 
 or, did not I or my father, or uncle," as the case 
 might be, " give so much corn to make bread — or 
 so much silk to make a banner — or so much lea- 
 ther to make jacks," &c. 
 
 " And have not I," said Turner, whom an extra 
 
270 THE BOMDMAN. 
 
 cup had made more than usually a braggart ; 
 *' Have not I forged as many spear-heads as ye 
 can find handles for ? and has not John Tickle, 
 the London doublet-maker, made me sixty as 
 stout leathern doublets as man could wish to wear ? 
 and can I not bring the tough sinews of the brave 
 Kentish men to strike down the hirelings of that 
 foul council which has brought all this misery on 
 the people ? — and will ye talk of your pitiful 
 gifts ? Am not I the right hand of the pro- 
 phet ? " 
 
 " The prophet disdains the aid of the boaster !" 
 said John Ball, walking up to the chair which had 
 stood so long empty, and looking sternly round 
 upon the confederates. "Is it thus that ye talk 
 when ye assemble ? Are wine-bibbers, and railers, 
 and boasters, to lead the people to justice ? Is 
 the bondman to put off his yoke by means of 
 those who contend for the highest places ? Shame ! 
 — shame to ye !" and his eye rested upon Turner. 
 For an instant, as the monk spoke, the smith's 
 cheek glowed, and he thought it was not kindly 
 done to reprove, in so marked a manner, one who, 
 through rescuing him, had been compelled to fly 
 like a felon, and assume a name that did not be- 
 long to his father. However, he had been accus- 
 tomed to pay implicit obedience to the monk. 
 
 " Father John," said he, "' it was not for the 
 sake of boasting I spoke : what Wat Turner does, 
 he does because he thinks it is right. I ought to 
 have said Wat Tyler," he added, recollecting him- 
 self and looking round ; " but the truth will out, 
 and there's no use in making a secret. Some of 
 ye do know the truth already, and some do not : 
 
THE BON DM AX. 271 
 
 but, however, I '11 now tell ye, that because in a 
 quarrel I happened to kill one of Lord de Bo- 
 teler's retainers, I came here to Maidstone and 
 took the name of poor old Wat Tyler, my mo- 
 ther's brother — peace to his soul ! and made the 
 folks believe that I was a sort of a runaway son." 
 
 '' And if you had never known me," said Hol- 
 grave, starting- up and grasping Turner's hand, 
 " you need not have changed your name : but 
 you are an honest man, let you be called what 
 you may — and Stephen Holgrave will never forget 
 what you have done for him and his." 
 
 John Ball, whatever he may have felt, had too 
 much good sense to weaken his ascendancy by 
 making any acknowledgment. If he was the soul 
 of the confederacy — Wat Turner, or Tyler, as we 
 shall henceforward call him, was the body ; — he 
 might inspire the thought, but Tyler must direct 
 the physical movement : and, therefore, it was ab- 
 solutely requisite that the smith should in himself 
 set the wholesome example of being amenable to 
 discipline. The monk, therefore, without further 
 comment, began to ask of their capabilities, their 
 resources, and arrangements ; and it was finally 
 agreed upon, after much deliberation, that Tyler 
 should command the Kentish division, and Jack 
 Oakley, or, as he now chose to style himself. Jack 
 Straw (probably from the then custom of bailiffs 
 wearing straws in their hats), the bodies that were 
 to march upon London from Essex. 
 
 " But — remember!" added John Ball, impres- 
 sively, and, rising from his seat, as did all who 
 were assembled ; " remember that ye do not slay 
 except in self-defence ; and that, above all things, 
 
272 THE BONDMAX. 
 
 ye hold sacred the Lord's anointed. And may 
 i/e," elevating his eyes and hands, " who inspired 
 the thought — bless the deed ! The first hour of 
 the sabbath-morn has just struck, — let us not 
 trespass farther on the holy day. — Depart in 
 peace." 
 
 The monk then left the apartment, and the con- 
 federates presently retired. 
 
THE BONDMAN. 273 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 But, despite the prophet's injunction, the tumul- 
 tuary rising commenced with blood. The courts 
 of trail baron were dispersed, and at Stamford 
 the jurors beheaded, and their heads borne on 
 lances to overawe those who might be inclined to 
 arrest the progress of the insurgents ; every build- 
 ing suspected of containing court-rolls was search- 
 ed ; all the documents found were destroyed, and the 
 villeins met with, in the line of march, pronounced 
 free and incited to join the popular insurrection. 
 Their numbers were thus increased every mile of 
 ground they passed over, till, at length, the whole 
 mass amounted to one hundred thousand able-bo- 
 died men. It is impossible to say what such a force 
 might not have effected, had there been a proper 
 degree of subordination kept up among the led, 
 or a proper degree of confidence and understand- 
 ing among the leaders : but, as is usual in popular 
 commotions, the reverse of this was the case. No 
 one chose to occupy the lowest place, and each 
 thought he could direct movements and affairs 
 much better than the actual leader. Hence arose 
 
 VOL. v T 
 
274 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 endless contentions and secessions, till at length 
 from want of the grand principle of adhesion — 
 unanimity, the vast body threatened to fall asun- 
 der, as if crushed by its own weight. 
 
 These things, however, gave little concern to the 
 worthy who commanded the Kentish division. 
 Tyler, though an excellent blacksmith, possessed 
 few of the qualities requisite for forming a good 
 general. Provided there was no very sensible di- 
 minution in the number of his followers, he cared 
 not a straw for the score or two who, after quar- 
 relling, or perhaps fighting, withdrew in such dis- 
 gust that they vowed rather to pay the full tax for 
 ever than submit to the insolence of the rebels. 
 One man could fight as well as another, reasoned 
 he ; and, provided he was obeyed, what mattered 
 it by whom. Dick went and Tom came — it was 
 sure to be all one in the end. 
 
 Oakley, on the other hand, although, perhaps, 
 equally arrogant when invested with this novel 
 and temporary power, was more plausible, and 
 managed to keep up a better understanding among 
 his followers than Tyler. This sort of conciliatory 
 conduct was, in a great measure, forced upon him 
 by the circumstance of Leicester being immediately 
 next him in command, and by the wish he had 
 that no ill feelings against himself might weaken 
 his authority when any favourable opportunity 
 offered of reaping a golden harvest. 
 
 He knew that he had little co-operation to ex- 
 pect from Leicester, for independently of the per- 
 sonal enmity of the latter, which would rather in- 
 duce opposition than support, the chief of Norfolk 
 had not a particle of rapacity in his composition. 
 
THE BONDMAN. 275 
 
 Indeed, it is not often that he whose gaze is fixed 
 upon some bold elevation, will stoop to rake in 
 mire, even when sure of discovering gold. Leices- 
 ter, was very indignant at thus becoming a subor- 
 dinate, but the election of the prophet was decisive, 
 and he was compelled to submit : for John Ball, 
 seeing that one so rash and haughty, was not 
 adapted to possess the unlimited control to which 
 his influence, and the sacrifices he had made, 
 seemed to entitle him ; resolved that his indis- 
 cretion should be kept in check by the prudence 
 and intelligence of Oakley. 
 
 The Essex division had marched on until within 
 about three miles of the city of London, and here 
 they halted, partly through fatigue and partly to 
 interchange communications witli the Kentish men ; 
 it having been determined, that while the latter 
 where forcing a passage over London-bridge, the 
 men of Essex should, at the same moment, effect 
 an entrance by the east gate, and thus distract the 
 attention of the citizens. 
 
 In the motley crowd, of nearly sixty thousand 
 men, the most conspicuous figure was, perhaps, 
 John Leicester himself, cased in a complete suit of 
 steel armour, (taken as lawful spoil from some 
 castle in the route) waving in the sun a bright 
 Damascus scimitar, while he gave directions, in an 
 authoritative tone, to a peasant who was unloosing 
 the trappings of a large black horse, from which 
 Leicester had just alighted. Standing at a short 
 distance from him, John Oakley, otherwise Jack 
 Straw, formed an adjunct little less important in 
 the picturesque of the scene. Unwilling to incum- 
 ber himself with armour, his portly person was de- 
 T 2 
 
276 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 fended by a leathern jack, covered over with a 
 thick quilting' of crimson silk, dagger proof; and 
 in this guise, he contrasted well with the monk 
 clad in dark woollen, with whom he was engaged 
 in conversation — although turning every now and 
 then, his large blue eyes towards a tempting dis- 
 play of eatables and wine profusely spread under 
 the shade of a tree. A cluster of formidable-look- 
 ing men in tough leathern jacks, were laying aside 
 their hand-bills and swords and dividing the con- 
 tents of a large satchel. There was a group vari- 
 ously armed and accoutred, some wearing the shirt 
 of mail with the yew-tree bow in their hands and 
 quivers of arrows at their backs ; and others in 
 doublets of leather or freize, with swords, some 
 rusty and some bright, or staves, or sharp-pointed 
 clubs, or reaping hooks, or wood-knives. 
 
 The arrival of such a body as the Essex men, so 
 near the city, and the approach of the Kentish 
 men, was, of course, no secret to those who in- 
 habited the Tower, but there was no standing army 
 ready, at a moment's notice, to march out and op- 
 pose their progress. They had, indeed, six hun- 
 dred archers within the Tower, but it was consi- 
 dered the most prudent course not to send them 
 forth, lest, while they were attacking one division, 
 another might come on and make themselves mas- 
 ters of the strong hold. Many of the nobles who 
 resided beyond the city walls fled from their dwell- 
 ings to seek a refuge in the Tower, and among 
 these Roland de Boteler, at his lady's earnest en- 
 treaty, withdrew with her, from his mansion just 
 beyond Bishopgate, and sought a temporary shel- 
 ter within the fortress. 
 
THE BONDMAN. 277 
 
 Isabella was sitting in an an apartment with the 
 fair Joan of Kent, expatiating upon the insolence 
 of the common people, and detailing a solitary in- 
 stance of the evil that the family of a bondman 
 might work to his lord, when the door was thrown 
 open and Richard, with his beautiful countenance 
 flushed with excitement, and followed by the arch- 
 bishop of Canterbury, abruptly entered. 
 
 *' We are resolved, my lord bishop," said Richard, 
 as he threw himself on a seat by his mother ; and, 
 turning to an attendant, commanded that the royal 
 barge should be instantly in readiness. 
 
 " You surely do not intend leaving the Tower," 
 asked the queen-mother apprehensively. 
 
 " Madam," said Sudbury, with some heat, " his 
 grace has so determined ; and, moreover, contrary 
 to the advice of his noble cousins and councillors, 
 he will go down the river and parley with the vil- 
 leins !" 
 
 The impetuosity of sixteeen was not to be turned 
 aside from its purpose by the remonstrances of the 
 archbishop, or even the entreaties of a mother. 
 Isabella, too, ventured to expostulate, but without 
 effect ; and, accompanied by Thomas of Wood- 
 stock, his uncle. Sir Robert Hales, the treasurer, 
 the Earl of Oxford, De Boteler, and Simon Sud- 
 bury ; who, though reprobating his majesty's con- 
 duct, generously resolved to share its consequences. 
 Richard stepped into the royal barge with the most 
 sanguine hopes of quelling the insurrection. 
 
 The order had been so suddenly given that there 
 was no intimation of the sovereign's excursion until 
 the royal barge met the eye, consequently there 
 was none of that excitement usual upon the most 
 
278 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 simple movements of royalty. Indeed, at any rate, 
 the attention of all classes was, at this moment, so 
 occupied by the Commons, that the king was 
 scarcely thought of. 
 
 They had rowed about a mile down the river, 
 when the chancellor, who was gazing with vacant 
 eyes, but an occupied mind, upon the water, had 
 his attentions suddenly fixed. 
 
 " Does your grace see that little boat just before 
 us?" 
 
 " Yes," replied Richard. 
 
 " I am much mistaken," resumed Sudbury, 
 quickly, " if that figure in the dark cloak is not he 
 whose evil counsel has spread like a pestilence 
 through the land." 
 
 " What ! the audacious monk who intruded 
 upon us at Kennington ?" 
 
 " The same, your grace, if my judgment be cor- 
 rect." 
 
 " Let him be instantly seized !" replied the im- 
 petuous Richard. The boat was, accordingly, 
 hailed, and John Ball dragged into the barge, and 
 at once identified by Sudley and De Boteler. The 
 monk did not resist either the capture or the bands 
 that were bound around him ; neither did he reply 
 to the reproaches that w^ere showered upon him ; 
 but silently and unresistingly suffered himself to 
 be thrown into the bottom of the barge. 
 
 In a few minutes after this was effected, Rich- 
 ard's quick eye was suddenly attracted by an ap- 
 pearance on the beach. 
 
 " By my faith, cousin," said he, addressing 
 Thomas of Woodstock, " yonder are the varlets ! 
 Do you see how bravely their pennons are waving, 
 
THE BONDMA57. 279 
 
 and how, here and there, among their black heads, 
 something bright glitters in the sun ?" 
 
 " That is their weapons, my liege," said Wood- 
 stock. 
 
 " Stolen from the castles and houses they have 
 plundered," added Sudbury. 
 
 " Put to shore quickly," said Richard ; " and 
 let us see if those rebels will dare to appear in 
 harness before their king !" 
 
 " You would not venture your sacred person 
 among them, my liege !" cried Sir Robert Hales 
 the treasurer, in alarm. 
 
 '' What ! think you, sir treasurer," asked De 
 Boteler, " that the knaves, vile as they are, would 
 harm his grace ?" 
 
 " My lord baron," said Sudbury, sternly, " it is 
 not well that a man of your experience should 
 speak thus. Give not your countenance to an act 
 that may yet lie heavy upon your soul !" Rich- 
 ard's cheek kindled as the baron stood rebuked ; 
 and with the generous indignation of youth, he 
 said, in a tone of evident displeasure — 
 
 " My Lord Bishop, the Baron de Boteler did 
 not counsel us to land : he was only doubting how 
 far the impudence of those commons might go." 
 Sudbury, knowing that soft words might turn away 
 wrath, and perceiving that little good would be 
 effected in the present case by pursuing a different 
 course, suffered Sir Robert Hales to intreat, even 
 as a father would entreat his only son, that the 
 young king should not peril his life by venturing 
 his royal person among those who were up in arm« 
 against his authority. But when he saw that Rich- 
 ard's ingenuous mind was touched by the earnest 
 
280 THE BONDMAX. 
 
 manner of the treasurer, he then prudently put his 
 own weight into the balance, and the scale turned 
 as he desired. 
 
 " Go you, then, my lord of Oxford," said Rich- 
 ard, " since it does not appear wise that we, our- 
 selves, should land, and ask those men why they 
 thus disturb the peace of their sovereign lord the 
 king." 
 
 Robert de Vere accordingly, accompanied only 
 by three men at arms, one to act as herald, and 
 two as a sort of body guard, quitted the barge to 
 hold parlance with the rebels. 
 
 " Why we are thus up in arms?" said Leicester, 
 without circumlocution, as the herald proclaimed 
 the king's interrogatory, — "why, because those 
 who should command are thought nothing of, and 
 those who do command ought to have their heads 
 struck off." 
 
 " This is no meet answer. Sir Knight," said Ox- 
 ford, glancing ironically at Leicester's armour. 
 " You must consider of something more to the mat- 
 ter of his grace's demand, or Robert de Vere can 
 be no messenger." 
 
 " Yes, yes, we will consider of some more fitting 
 answer," said Leicester fiercely ; — and after con- 
 sulting earnestly for a few minutes with Jack 
 Straw, Thomas Sack, and other leaders, he re- 
 turned to De Vere, and said — 
 
 " Hear you, Robert deVere, we demand that all 
 whose names are in that parchment shall be be- 
 headed, because they are enemies to the true Com- 
 mons, and evil councillors to the king. And when 
 this is done we will let his grace know what else 
 we demand." 
 
THE BONDMAN". 281 
 
 Robert de Vere took the scroll from Leicester 
 with a haughty air, and glancing over the contents, 
 without vouchsafing a word, turned away and re- 
 joined the king. 
 
 " These knaves wish to carry things with a strong 
 hand, my liege," said the Earl of Oxford, bending 
 his knee as he presented the scroll. 
 
 " What !" said Richard, as his eye ran over the 
 characters, "John, duke of Lancaster; Simon Sud- 
 bury, lord chancellor ; John Fordham, clerk of the 
 privy seal ; Sir Robert Hales, treasurer ; the bishop 
 of London ; Sir Robert Belknap, the chief justice ; 
 Sir Ralph Ferrers, and Sir Robert Blessinton. 
 What ! is this all the noble blood they wish to 
 spill? By my faith!" he added, trampling the 
 parchment under his foot, " we will listen to no- 
 thing more the knaves have to say ; and ye may 
 tell them that as they are bondmen so shall they 
 remain ; and that as my fathers ruled them with a 
 rod of iron, so shall I rule them with a rod of 
 scorpions." 
 
 But this burst of indignation soon passed away, 
 and upon the suggestion of the prudent Sir Robert 
 Hailes, he sent an evasive answer, with a command 
 that the Commons should attend him at Windsor 
 on the Sunday following. 
 
 The royal barge then returned to the Tower, and 
 John Ball was again the tenant of a dungeon. 
 
 Tyler and his Kentish men were at this time 
 upon Blackheath, awaiting the monk impatiently, 
 who had strictly enjoined that no attack should be 
 made upon London till the word was received from 
 him. The day, however, wore away, and John 
 Ball did not appear. The men grew impatient, but 
 
282 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 Tyler, though brooking the delay as ill as the most 
 ardent among them, hesitated to take any decided 
 step until the sanction of the prophet should war- 
 rant the deed. 
 
 '' By St. Nicholas !" cried he at last, " some- 
 thing ill has befallen the holy man, or he would 
 have been here before now. We will march on 
 directly, and find him, or the London folks shall 
 look to it." 
 
 This resolution was received wath acclamation, 
 and the whole mass moved forward with a quick 
 step. Their direct way would have been to keep 
 as far as was possible the banks of the Thames in 
 view, until they arrived at London Bridge, but 
 Sudbury's palace was at Lambeth, and Tyler, sus- 
 pecting that the archbishop had some hand in the 
 detention of the monk, vowed that his residence 
 should be burned to the ground if some tidings 
 were not gained of him. On they went, therefore, 
 to Southwark; and with shouts and execrations, 
 and torches flaming in their hands, approached the 
 walls of the episcopal edifice. The gates were 
 forced ; the affright d domestics and retainers 
 fled ; and it was well that Tyler, as he rushed on 
 through room and corridor, did not encounter Sud- 
 bury ; but the prelate being fortunately in the 
 Tower, escaped the rage of the vindictive smith. 
 
 " He has been an ill friend to him," said Tyler, 
 " even if he should not have harmed him now," 
 (as a trembling domestic assured him that no pri- 
 soner had entered the palace) '' and he deserves 
 that his head should be carried on a pole before us 
 to London Bridge." 
 
 And when, at length, the intruders were satisfied 
 
THE BONDMAN. 283 
 
 that the palace contained neither bishop nor monk, 
 the search commenced for the documents and re- 
 cords. Cabinets were broken open, drawers and 
 boxes forced, and the contents thrown carelessly 
 about ; jewels, silk damasks, and gold embroidery, 
 were trampled under foot with as much loss of 
 value through wantonness as if the spoilers had 
 enriched themselves — a thing which, if done at 
 all, was done to so small an extent, that he only 
 who snatched up a gem or a piece of gold could 
 have said that a theft had been committed. 
 
 In each apartment the writings found were 
 thrown in a heap, and blazing torches flung upon 
 them. These igniting the flooring and furniture, 
 the building was presently in a blaze in a dozen 
 different directions, and the Kentish men, with as 
 rapid a step as they had approached, marched 
 away, vowing vengeance to all the enemies of their 
 prophet. 
 
 It was midnight when they arrived within view 
 of London, but the red tinge in the southern hori- 
 zon, and the glare of their thousand torches, had 
 warned the citizens of their approach ; the gates 
 were shut, and the bridge itself crowded with 
 aroused citizens. Tyler's first command was that 
 they should rush on and set fire to the gates ; but 
 Holgrave had seen more of warfare than he, and he 
 knew that, even though they might succeed in pass- 
 ing the bridge, if the citizens were thoroughly pro- 
 voked, they might, in their narrow streets, occasion 
 much annoyance ; he, therefore, counselled Tyler 
 to remain with the men marshalled before the 
 bridge, while three or four, who had some know- 
 ledge of the city, and whom he would himself ac- 
 
284 THE BONDMA"N". 
 
 company, should pass stealthily over the river, and 
 ascertain if their friends on the other side were 
 ready to assist them. Tyler reluctantly agreed to 
 this proposal. 
 
 Holgrave and two others then departed from the 
 main body, unloosed a small boat from its moor- 
 ings, and, in less than five minutes, they were 
 walking, in the twilight of a starry midsummer's 
 night, down the rough stone pathway of Thames- 
 street. 
 
 While the guide paused for a moment to recol- 
 lect the way to the head-quarters of the insurgents, 
 some one who passed was heard speaking in a tone 
 which fell upon Stephen's ear like a sound he 
 ought to remember ; he sprang from the side of his 
 comrades, and, standing before the strangers, de- 
 manded, " With whom hold you ?" 
 
 " With King Richard and the true commons !" 
 was the reply. ''Is it not Stephen Holgrave ?" 
 continued the galleyman, holding out his hand. 
 
 " Yes," replied Holgrave, giving it a friendly 
 pressure ; " I thought I knew your voice." 
 
 '' Do you know 7ny voice?" asked one of Wells's 
 companions. 
 
 "Ah! Merritt, you are the man I wanted — 
 " when did you see father John ? can you tell any 
 thing of him ?" 
 
 '' Is not the father with Tyler ?" asked Merritt. 
 Holgrave then knew that some mishap must have 
 befallen the monk ; and the possibility of his being 
 in the Tower occurred to all. 
 
 " Hollo !" cried the galleyman, as, at this mo- 
 ment, a party of men approached — '' with whom 
 hold ye, mates ?" 
 
* THE BONDMAN. 285 
 
 " With whom should we hold," said the fore- 
 most, " but with King Richard and the true com- 
 mons ?" 
 
 " Well met, then," said Wells ; " for the true 
 commons are up — no time is to be lost — the pro- 
 phet is in prison. Let each man steer his own 
 course, muster all the hands he can, and meet on 
 Tower-hill. Hark! that stroke tells one — re- 
 member we meet at two, and we will see if the 
 Londoners and men of Kent cannot shake hands 
 before the clock has tolled three." 
 
 The galleyman then hurried Holgrave up a nar- 
 row dark street, where, tapping gently at a door, 
 it was instantly opened, to Stephen's great surprise, 
 by old Hartwell. 
 
 ^' Is that you, Robin ?" said a soft voice ; and a 
 female face was seen peeping half way down the 
 stairs. 
 
 '' Yes, yes ; but go, Lucy, and tell that Stephen 
 Holgrave is here." 
 
 " What ! Stephen Holgrave !" said the warm- 
 hearted Lucy, springing down the stairs ; but, 
 light and quick as was her step, another reached 
 the bottom before her, and, with a faint shriek, 
 Margaret Holgrave fell on her husband's neck. 
 
 " Father," resumed Welh, " take up that lamp, 
 and we'll get a flask of the best, to drink a health 
 to the rising ; and do you, Holgrave, go up and 
 just take a look at your children, and then we 
 must be gone." 
 
 " And the strife will begin this night !" said 
 Margaret, fearfully, as Holgrave, bending over the 
 bed, where lay two sleeping children, glanced for 
 an instant at a dark-haired boy of five or six, and 
 
286 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 then, taking a little rosy infant of about a twelve- 
 month in his arms, kissed it, and gazed upon its 
 face with all the delight of a father. 
 
 " There will be no strife, Margaret, to-night, or 
 to-morrow. The commons of London are rising to 
 help us, and the king will not hold out when he 
 
 sees but no matter. Tell me how you have 
 
 fared. When I left Sudley, to join the commons, 
 you were taken charge of by your brother, who, 
 no doubt, placed you here with your friend Lucy, 
 on her marriage with Wells " 
 
 '* Stephen !" said the galleyman, from below. 
 
 " Good heavens ! I must go. Bless you, Mar- 
 garet ! — bless you ! I will see you again soon ! 
 May God keep ye both !" Gently laying down 
 the still sleeping babe, he tore himself from the 
 arms of his weeping wife, and rushed down the 
 stairs. 
 
 Holgrave had never much reason to boast of the 
 gift of speech, more especially when his feelings 
 were in any wise affected. Even the galleyman 
 was not as eloquent now as upon former occasions, 
 and the tw^o issued forth, and walked on for about 
 five minutes, without exchanging a word. Wells, 
 at length, stopped at a house in the vicinity of St. 
 Bartholomew's Priory, with a heavy, gothic, stone 
 arch, inclosing an iron studded door, and the win- 
 dows of the first, and still more the second, story 
 projecting so as to cast a strong shadow over the 
 casement of the ground-floor. Wells tapped twice 
 with the hilt of his dagger at the oaken door, which 
 was softly opened, and he and Holgrave entered. 
 
 A low, stone passage conducted them into a spa- 
 cious wainscotted room well lighted, and so full 
 
THE BONDMA'N". 287 
 
 of company that it was not possible, at a glance, 
 to guess at their number ; and here, at the head of 
 a long, narrow table, was Black Jack standing 
 erect on the seat which he should have occupied 
 in a different manner, and, with his eyes dancing, 
 and his nose and cheeks glowing, haranguing the 
 crowd in style of familiar eloquence. 
 
 '' What, my old friend ! what do you do here ?" 
 said the galleyman aloud, but evidently speaking 
 to himself. 
 
 "■ Why," replied Holgrave, imagining the ex- 
 clamation addressed to him, " I suppose he has 
 left the Essex men to try what can be done among 
 the bondmen !" 
 
 "■ But what has he to do with the Essex men 
 or the bondmen ?" asked the galleyman. 
 
 " Why, do you not know that that is Jack 
 Straw, the Essex captain ?" 
 
 " He Jack Straw !" cried Wells, with such a 
 look as if his eyes rested on a spectre. '' Have I 
 not heard John Ball say that he wished Wat Tyler 
 were like Jack Straw ?" 
 
 " Yes ; father John thinks better of him than 
 of any who leads : but to tell you the truth," 
 added Holgrave, in a whisper, '' though he can 
 read and write, and is as father John says, a pru- 
 dent man — I don't like him." 
 
 " Do you know him ?" emphatically asked the 
 galley«ian. 
 
 " To be sure I do !" 
 
 " But I mean," impatiently resumed Wells, 
 "■ did you ever sec him before he was with those 
 Essex men ?" 
 
 '' No." 
 
288 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 " Then, Stephen Holgrave, a word in your 
 ear : — / know him ; and let that man hoist what 
 colours he may, steer clear of him — you under- 
 stand me !" 
 
 Holgrave had not time to reply, when Wells 
 suddenly, in a gay careless tone, accosted a man 
 who was approaching the spot where they stood. 
 *' Hah ! Harvey ! who thought of seeing you among 
 the true commons V 
 
 Harvey looked at the speaker an instant, and 
 then, recognizing him as poor Beauchamp's suc- 
 cessor in the jury, was about to joke him upon his 
 long fast, when his eyes, gleaming upon Holgrave, 
 he thought it the most prudent course to make no 
 allusion to the matter, but directly to reply to 
 Wells's salutation. 
 
 " Why my business in the country," said he, 
 " fell off a little ; and so I was trying to make 
 out a living here, and Tom Merritt coming across 
 me, it took little to pursuade me to hold with the 
 commons." 
 
 ,, In hopes of being well paid," thought the 
 galleyman, though he said nothing ; he merely 
 smiled an answer, and then, drawing Harvey a 
 little aside, whispered him — 
 
 " But what gale drove our worthy foreman 
 here ?" 
 
 '' Oh ! you know, I suppose, that he is a sworn 
 brother among the leaders, though I didn't know 
 it till this very evening, when it happened that I 
 was sent to the Essex men to know when they 
 thought of marching. You know Black Jack gets 
 on badly without a drop, and, as he could hardly 
 obtain enough among them to wet his lips, he took 
 
THE BONDMAN. 289 
 
 the opportunity, as he said, of my coming to raise 
 a good spirit among the bondmen — but in truth 
 
 to " and he put an empty wine-cup, that he 
 
 held in his hands, to his mouth. 
 
 The apartment was so densely filled, that the 
 door had opened, while this conversation passed 
 without attracting the least attention ; but Wells, 
 who bethought him that the minutes were flitting, 
 found a passage for himself, and, approaching the 
 table, placed a stool that he took from behind one 
 who had relinquished it, in order that not a word 
 that fell from Jack Straw should escape him, and, 
 mounting upon it, shouted out at the top of his 
 voice — 
 
 '' With whom hold ye, friends ?" 
 
 There was a sudden hush at this abrupt inter- 
 rogatory, and Jack Straw was about to answer in 
 no very gentle manner, when, fixing his pene- 
 trating eyes upon Wells, a significant glance in- 
 formed the galleyman that he was recognized, and, 
 suppressing the epithet he was about to use, Oak- 
 ley merely replied — 
 
 " We hold, as all honest men ought — with 
 King Richard and the true commons !" 
 
 " It is of little use holding with them," returned 
 Wells, " if you stand talking there all night; — 
 the time is now come for action, not speech — at 
 two the commons of London meet on Tower-hill — 
 that is my message." He then turned away, and 
 was hurrying with Holgfave from the room, when 
 Jack Straw, stepping round from his post of ora- 
 tor, intercepted him, and, seizing him by the 
 arm, whispered in his ear — 
 
 " Are you leaders too ? By the green wax ! I 
 
 VOL. v. u 
 
290 THE BONDMA^^. 
 
 suppose I shall see the ghost of the ferret among 
 the good commons next ! But mind ye, galley- 
 man — not a syllable that we ever met !" glancing 
 his eyes at Holgrave. 
 
 " Not a word," replied Wells, breaking from the 
 foreman's hold, and effecting a precipitate retreat. 
 
 At the appointed hour the commons of London 
 mustered in strong force on Tower-hill ; and, 
 headed by Wells, passed on to London-bridge. 
 Here they halted, and, upon a blazing brand being 
 affixed to a long spear, and elevated in the air, a 
 sudden shout from the thousands occupying the 
 southern bank, was re-echoed by the Londoners, and 
 caused, as might be expected, a strong sensation 
 among the citizens, inducing a disposition rather 
 to concede than to provoke. The elevation of a 
 second torch was the signal that a parley had been 
 demanded by the loyalists ; and then the sudden 
 silence was almost as startling as had been the 
 previous tumult. The horn of the Lord Mayor's 
 herald again sounded the parley : those who styled 
 themselves the commons, demanded that the gates 
 should be opened, and their brethren of Kent 
 permitted to pass. There was some scruple as to 
 the propriety of acceding to this demand, which, 
 however, was soon got over by the unequivocal 
 assurance that the commons would pass at any 
 rate ; and that, if further opposition was offered, 
 their first act, upon entering the city, would be to 
 tear down the houses and demolish the bridge. 
 This argument was forcible ; and, as there ap- 
 peared no alternative, the mayor, first stipulating 
 that the houses and stalls on the bridge should 
 remain unharmed, and that free passage should be 
 
THE BONDMAN. 291 
 
 granted to the citizens to return to their dwellings, 
 passed, with the civic force, between the opening 
 ranks of the dictating commonalty. Those of 
 the latter, who had arrows rested meanwhile 
 on their bows, and those who were armed with 
 swords and spears on their cross-hilts and han- 
 dles ; — and thus, in the attitude of submission, 
 and in the silence of peace, stood the confederates 
 until the last citizen had gone by. Then the close 
 and the rush, and the simultaneous shout, came 
 upon the eye and ear like the gathering of mighty 
 waters ; and, ere five minutes elapsed from the 
 departure of the mayor, the bridge groaned with 
 the hurried tread of the insurgents, and Tyler 
 planted midway the banner of St. George on the 
 highest house-top. 
 
 Shouting for the prophet, Tyler and the galley- 
 man led on the multitude to Tower-hill ; but when 
 here, it was to little purpose that the former and 
 Holgrave went rapidly along the verge of the moat, 
 from one extremity to the other, and to as little 
 purpose did the smith's practised eye run over 
 every bar and fastening that came within his ken — 
 he could detect nothing in the massive walls but 
 the strong work of a skilful artizan. 
 
 *' The ditch is deep," said Holgrave; "but a 
 part could easily be filled up ; and if we had lad- 
 ders, the wall is not high." 
 
 " Aye, or if you had a score or two of hempen 
 ropes, with good grappling irons, it would be but 
 boy's play to get aloft," said the galleyman. 
 
 Unfortunately, however, they were provided nei- 
 ther with ladders nor ropes ; but even had they 
 been so, it is doubtful whether they would have 
 u2 
 
292 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 been put in requisition — for now arose tlie ques- 
 tion as to what part of the building- they ought to 
 attack, and where lay the prison of the prophet, 
 admitting that he was a prisoner. A thousand 
 suppositions and conjectures were afloat, but no 
 one was sufficiently well acquainted with the build- 
 ing to give a decisive answer. Indeed, it appeared 
 that scarcely a single individual among them had 
 ever crossed the drawbridge. 
 
 An angry debate now ensued among the leaders. 
 Some, confiding in their numerical force, and zea- 
 lous for the liberation of the prophet, were for 
 storming the fortress at any point, and for effecting 
 their object more speedily, proposed razing to the 
 foundation some of the neighbouring houses, and 
 filling up the ditch with the materials. Others 
 thought such an attack might rather militate 
 against themselves than turn to any account in 
 redress of grievances, and after all might fail to 
 advantage the monk : these proposed that a parley 
 should be demanded, and their resolutions submit- 
 ted to the king, with a requisition for the prophet's 
 release. 
 
 "Men of Kent!" shouted Tyler, indignant at 
 this pacific proposal, " what, do you suppose King 
 Richard and his council, who are cooped up yon- 
 der, will think of us while we stand talking and 
 gaping here ? Think ye they will take off the 
 poll-tax, or free the bondman ? or open the prison 
 door of our holy prophet, while they see us waiting 
 like so many beggars, for them to read what is 
 written on the sheepskins ? I hold, that leaving 
 half our brave fellows here, to let them know that 
 if we do not mount their walls, we have an eye 
 
THE BONDMAX. 293 
 
 upon them, the rest should go on and see what is 
 to be done in other parts of London. Who knows 
 but we might get hold of that mortal fiend, John 
 of Gaunt ; if we once had him, by St. Nicholas ! 
 we might ask for what we liked. Stephen Hol- 
 grave, do you keep watch here, and let no one 
 come or go : should there be any thing to be said, 
 you know what to say — that is enough." And 
 then, marshalling off a strong and picked body 
 from among his followers, the smith hurried for- 
 ward, accompanied by the galleyman and Kirkby, 
 through the city, injuring neither person nor pro- 
 perty, but only exacting from every one they en- 
 countered in their progress, a shout and a God- 
 speed for the true commons. 
 
 The barred gates of the Fleet prison flew open 
 before the assailants, and the wretched inmates felt 
 their feverish temples once more cooled by the pure 
 breath of liberty. At about a hundred paces from 
 the Fleet, they passed a house, having the bush 
 suspended in front, indicating its possessor to be a 
 vintner ; and the host himself, with singular fool- 
 hardiness, stood looking out from the open case- 
 ment of the first story. 
 
 '' With whom hold ye, friend ?" said Tyler, as 
 he passed, imagining, from the dauntless manner 
 of the man, that he was a friend. 
 
 " Not with such traitors and rebels as ye, with 
 whomever else I may hold !" returned the man. 
 
 At the instant, a bow was drawn, an arrow 
 whizzed, and the imprudent vintner fell back from 
 the casement. 
 
 " Break in the door !" said Tyler, " and let us 
 see if the cellars of this unmannerly knave have 
 
294 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 any thing more to our liking than their master's 
 speech." 
 
 There was no need to repeat the order — the 
 door was smashed to splinters, and, in the rush to 
 get at the cellars, several were thrown down, and 
 trampled on. A large can, filled with wine, was 
 handed to Tyler, and another to the galleyman, 
 who, each quaffing a long draught, permitted the 
 like indulgence to their followers ; and then the 
 word to march on was shouted by the chief. But 
 now the smith perceived evidence of the folly he 
 had been guilty of: the wine was too tempting to 
 be left so soon — the vintner's house rang with 
 execrations and tumult — and even among those 
 who kept their station in the street, the dangerous 
 liquid continued to circulate. 
 
 " This comes," said Tyler, enraged at such sud- 
 den disorder, " of letting folks taste of what 
 they're not used to ; but let them tipple on. By 
 St. Nicholas ! they may: I will wait for no man ;" 
 and snatching the banner of St. George from its 
 half-stupified bearer, and waving it in the air, he 
 applied a small bugle to his lips, and at the blast, 
 all whose reason was not entirely lost in their thirst, 
 followed the smith from the scene of inebriety. 
 
 Their next halt was at the beginning of the 
 Strand, opposite the princely mansion of the bishop 
 of Chester. The gates were forced in, and the 
 garden encircling the building filled with the com- 
 mons, who, hissing and shouting, bade John Ford- 
 ham come forth. When it was discovered that the 
 bishop was not within its walls, the house was pre- 
 sently glowing in one bright sheet of flame. It 
 was told to Tyler, while this was going on, that a 
 
THE BONDMAN. 295 
 
 body of the Essex men had marched on from Mile- 
 end, and taking a northerly direction, had pillaged 
 and destroyed many dwellings, and among others, 
 that of the prior of Saint John of Jerusalem, at 
 Highbury ; while another division was rapidly ad- 
 vancing by the way of Holborn, to attack the 
 palace of John of Gaunt at the Savoy. 
 
 " By St. Nicholas !" said Tyler, '^ they shan't 
 have it all their own way there ;" and the Kentish 
 men made all haste to be first to commence the 
 work of destruction ; but ere they had left the 
 burning house, the dark body of the division of 
 the Essex men was seen pouring into the Strand 
 by the wall of the Convent garden. 
 
 Tyler and the other leaders, followed by hun- 
 dreds, now rushed on to the palace ; — the massive 
 gates yielded to their blows, and the assailants, 
 pouring in through the arched passages, ran along 
 gallery and window, and through seemingly count- 
 less apartments. Yet, even amidst their eager- 
 ness to capture Lancaster, they paused a moment, 
 casting glances of astonishment and pleasure at 
 the beautifully inlaid cabinets, rich tapestries, and 
 embroidered cushions, which every where met their 
 gaze. The galleyman, however, was perhaps the 
 only one among all the gazers who knew the value 
 of the things he looked upon ; and he could not 
 repress a feeling of regret, as he glanced at the 
 damask hangings, and the gold cords and fringes, 
 and remembered that all these would be speedily 
 feeding the flames. As he was thus occupied, and 
 thinking what a fortune these articles would be to 
 a pedling merchant, he saw Jack Straw in the act 
 of whispering in Harvey's ear (who, by some strange 
 
296 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 sort of moral attraction, was standing by his side), 
 and he noticed them linger until the group they had 
 accompanied passed on to the inspection of other 
 apartments. Oakley then opened a door in a re- 
 cess in the corridor, which, when they entered, 
 they closed hastily after them. 
 
 *' Master Tyler," said Wells, springing up to 
 the chief, *' they are boarding a prize yonder ;" 
 and he pointed to the half-concealed door. 
 
 " Have they got John of Gaunt ?" vociferated 
 the smith ; but as he turned his eyes from the spot 
 to which his attention had been directed, to his in- 
 formant, the galleyman could not be distinguished 
 among the group — for, in truth, he was rather so- 
 licitous to avoid any kind of contact with his old 
 associates. 
 
 " Confound the unmannerly carl," muttered 
 Tyler, as he rushed forward with his men to seek an 
 explanation in the room itself. The door, however, 
 resisted all their efforts ; and this only strengthening 
 their hasty suspicions respecting Lancaster, the 
 stout polished oak was presently split asunder by 
 their axes, and they forced an entrance into a small 
 light apartment, furnished in a style of eastern 
 luxury. From the carved ceiling were hanging the 
 broken links of a gold chain ; and on the soft crim- 
 son cushions of an ebony couch, and on the floor, 
 were scattered the miscellaneous contents of an 
 exquisite ivory cabinet. 
 
 " He has escaped us !" shouted Tyler and the 
 others, as, after casting a rapid glance around the 
 empty apartment, they darted through an open 
 door on the other side. This led into a luxurious 
 dressing room, and this again into a sumptuous 
 
THE BONDMAN. 297 
 
 dormitory. If there were any outlet from this 
 room, it was concealed by the splendid hangings, 
 and the pursuers, after assuring themselves that no 
 human being was within, returned to the dressing- 
 room. The door of egress from this apartment 
 was secured on the outside, and so, without a mo- 
 ment's delay, they had recourse to their former ex- 
 pedient, and the door was instantly hewn to splin- 
 ters. On creeping through the aperture, and pass- 
 ing through a short passage, they found themselves 
 in the gallery that ran round the hall. Here, 
 chafing with disappointment, the pursuers had only 
 to hope that they might, by chance, take the right 
 scent, and were rushing along the gallery, when 
 Tyler, casting his eyes below, and observing the 
 galleyman cross the hall, hallooed to him ; and 
 then springing along the gallery, and down the 
 spiral stairs, seized Wells rather unceremoniously, 
 and upbraided him with conniving at the escape of 
 Lancaster. 
 
 " Avast there ! Master Tyler," said Wells, 
 shaking off the gripe of the smith ; " I know no 
 more of Lancaster than yourself : I told you this 
 morning he was on the borders — and so, how, 
 in the name of all the saints, could he be here ? — 
 but I tell ye, there are some here who would ra- 
 ther lay hand upon John of Gaunt's gold than 
 upon John of Gaunt's body !" 
 
 '• They have better not come across me," re- 
 plied the smith, comprehending the galleyman's 
 hint ; but still persisting in his scepticism, he re- 
 sumed his search. But even the smith was, at 
 length, compelled to admit that, whether Lan- 
 caster had escaped or not, it did not appear likely 
 
298 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 that lie would be found ; — and the order was 
 given for firing the palace. At the same instant 
 a leathern jack, covered all over with a thick 
 quilting of blue satin, was held upon the point of 
 a lance, and as many arrows shot at it as they 
 would more willingly have aimed at the breast of 
 its owner. The building was already smoking in 
 fifty different places, and at some points the flames 
 were already rising. Tyler, who had determined 
 not to believe in Lancaster's absence, after lin- 
 gering about the palace with the hope that the 
 devouring element might force him from some 
 hiding-place, accidentally found himself in the 
 chapel close to the sanctuary, and just at the op- 
 portune moment to detect a sacrilegious hand re- 
 moving a massive gold candlestick from the 
 altar. 
 
 " Infidel ! devil !" shouted Tyler, springing over 
 the railing of the sanctuary, and raising his 
 clenched fist : the candlestick fell from the grasp 
 of the delinquent, and he reeled against the altar 
 with the force of the blow. " What !" continued 
 Tyler, aghast, " can it be Jack Straw ?" 
 
 " Yes, it is," replied Oakley, fiercely, in some 
 measure recovering from his confusion, and from 
 the effects of the blow, " and, by the green wax ! a 
 strange way you have of claiming acquaintance — 
 what did you think, Tyler, I was going to do with 
 the candlestick ? Will not the Commons have 
 churches of their own, when they obtain their 
 rights, and would it not be a triumph over Lan- 
 caster, to have these brave candlesticks gracing 
 our altars." 
 
 Tyler had turned away while Black Jack was 
 
THE BONDMAN. 299 
 
 speaking, but suddenly stopping, turned abruptly 
 round, and looking full at him — 
 
 " I'll tell you. Jack Straw, said he, ''were it not 
 for my respect for father John, 'I would have every 
 door of this chapel fastened up, and then the flames 
 that are already crackling the painted windows 
 yonder, would just give you time to say a pater- 
 noster and an ave, before they cheated the gibbet 
 of its due ! but, as it is, let him who put you over the 
 Essex men look to you, but, by my faith," he add- 
 ed, stamping his foot against the pavement, and 
 speaking quicker, " if you do not instantly leave 
 this place, all the monks that ever told a bead shall 
 not save you !" 
 
 It was yet possible for Oakley to feel shame, and 
 it was not entirely with rage, that his whole body 
 at this moment trembled. He looked at the smith 
 as he spoke, and half drew a dagger from his bo- 
 som, and, an indifferent spectator, regarding the 
 two — Oakley still standing on the upper step of 
 the altar, and Tyler, at a dozen paces down the 
 centre aisle — would have thought that there could 
 have existed but little odds between the physical 
 power of the men ; but Oakley, although he 
 ground his teeth, and felt almost suffocated, had 
 too much prudence to expose his gross enervated 
 body to the muscular arm of the vigorous smith. 
 Therefore, assuming an indignation of a very diffe- 
 rent character from his real feelings, he said, as he 
 stepped from the altar into the nave of the chapel, 
 
 '' I don't understand your language. Master 
 Tyler — am not I a leader ? — Does not the prophet 
 know me, and trust me ?" 
 
 " By St. Nicholas ! the prophet does not know 
 
300 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 you ! Do you think he would have trusted you, if 
 he had thought you would have skulked into a 
 chapel to steal the very candlesticks from the holy 
 altar I" 
 
 An execration passed between Oakley's teeth — 
 he sprang upon Tyler, and had not the smith dex- 
 terously raised his left arm and arrested the blow, 
 Black Jack's dagger would have been buried in 
 his bosom. 
 
 " That for ye, coward," said Tyler, striking him 
 with the flat side of his bared weapon. Oakley 
 aimed another thrust which was again turned aside, 
 and the smith, now flinging down his sword, seized 
 upon his right hand and wrenched the dagger from 
 its grasp. After a short struggle, Oakley fell heavily 
 on the pavement with the blood streaming from his 
 mouth and nostrils. 
 
 ^' Lie there, for a dog — to strike at a man with 
 a dagger !" said Tyler, as he took up his sword, 
 and muttering something about " if it was not for 
 the sake of the prophet," strode hastily away. And 
 there was little time for delay ; the atmosphere of 
 the place was becoming quite insupportable, and 
 tlie flames were spreading with such rapidity, that 
 the smith, half stupified and scorching, had enough 
 to do to escape from the mischief he had 
 kindled. 
 
 That afternoon, Richard was standing on a tur- 
 ret of the fortress, looking at the column of flame 
 which still rose brightly from Lancaster palace, 
 even above the heavy smoke and occasional spark- 
 lings which told elsewhere of the whereabout of the 
 incendiaries. 
 
 '' Our cousin will have to crave hospitality, when 
 
THE BONDMA-N^. 301 
 
 he returns home," said Richard, addressing the 
 Earl of Oxford, who stood beside him. 
 
 ^' The knaves have been merry on their march," 
 replied Oxford. " Does your grace see the bon- 
 fires they have lit yonder ?" and he pointed to- 
 wards the north. 
 
 "By my faith, it is more than provoking to see 
 the audacity of the kerns. Think you not," added 
 Richard, after pausing a moment, " that if that 
 monk was brought forth, and his head laid on a 
 block, some terms might be made with the rebels. 
 Do you see," continued the king, as they descended 
 to the battlements, " they are bringing huge beams 
 towards the drawbridge." 
 
 It indeed seemed evident that some bold measure 
 was contemplated, and Richard's suggestion re- 
 specting the monk was about to be acted upon, 
 with only a prudent hint from Sir Robert Hales not 
 to provoke the Commons to desperation, when De 
 Boteler's page approached his master. 
 
 The baron was standing apart from the other 
 nobles, scanning, with a gloomy countenance, the 
 dark undulating mass below. Once he could have 
 sworn that Stephen Holgrave stood upon the verge 
 of the ditch before him, but if it was he, he stood 
 but an instant, and then was lost amidst the multi- 
 tude. This circumstance gave a new turn to De 
 Boteler's meditations ; he thought too of the monk 
 of Winchcombe Abbey — this John Ball, who was 
 styled the prophet ; and it seemed to be no less true 
 than strange, that the germ of all this wide-spread- 
 ing disorder had sprung from his own soil. So 
 mucli, in fact, was he absorbed in these ideas, that 
 he actually started when his page, who had been 
 
302 THE BONDMAl!f. 
 
 for the space of a minute endeavouring to draw his 
 attention by repeated obeisances, ventured to pro- 
 nounce his name in rather a high key, as he pre- 
 sented to him an arrow which had been found 
 sticking in the door-post of the building in which 
 father John was confined. " And this was shot 
 from the river V asked De Boteler, as he received 
 the arrow and unrolled a parchment wrapped 
 round it. 
 
 " Yes, my lord." 
 
 '' Tell Calverley to come hither directly." 
 
 The page withdrew, and De Boteler, after pe- 
 rusing the parchment, presented it to Richard. It 
 ran thus : " A retainer of the Lord de Boteler, will 
 come, unarmed and alone, beneath the southern 
 battlements, at ten o'clock. He is a leader of the 
 commons, but, being touched with remorse, he 
 will, if admitted before the king in council, dis- 
 close all the secrets of the rebels." 
 
 " Know you any retainer of yours who could 
 have written this ?" 
 
 *' My steward, who approaches, can better an- 
 swer the question, your highness," returned the 
 baron. 
 
 The parchment being handed to Calverley, he 
 instantly recognized the hand, and, in answer to 
 De Boteler's question, replied — 
 
 " This is the hand-writing of a retainer called 
 Oakley." 
 
 " Do you know the man ?" 
 
 " Yes, my lord." 
 
 Calverley then retired, and those whom the mat- 
 ter concerned, withdrew to an apartment, and gave 
 
THE BONDMAX. 303 
 
 their opinions according to the view in which the 
 thing appeared to them. 
 
 That it was a strataorem to s^ain entrance to the 
 Tower, was the opinion of several, but, after much 
 discussion, it was decided that the man should be 
 admitted, and that the monk should be exhibited 
 merely to intimidate the rebels, until the result of 
 this promised communication should be known. 
 
 About ten, a small boat was observed to ap- 
 proach the southern walls of the fortress. A man 
 stepped from it and was permitted to ascend the 
 terrace, and Calverley, who was standing there, 
 challeno^ed the strano-er. 
 
 The steward clapped his hands, and immediately 
 the bows of a hundred archers stationed around, 
 were unbent, and he addressed Oakley as follows : 
 
 " It was you who shot the arrow ?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 '• Are you a leader, Oakley ?" 
 
 " I was a leader," returned Oakley, gloomily. 
 
 " It was well that I was here to recognize your 
 writing." 
 
 " Where there is a will there is a way, steward, 
 and I should have found means of getting revenge 
 even if you had kept safe at Sudley." 
 
 " Is it for revenge, Oakley, or for gold ?" 
 
 " I tell you Master Calverley, it is revenge," said 
 Black Jack, stopping short, as they were crossing 
 the court-yard, " It is revenge! When I joined the 
 commons I swore I would not betray them, and I 
 would not — betray them for gold did you say? — 
 listen — I had gold — aye gold enough, to have 
 kept me an honest man all the days of my life, after 
 
"304 THE BONDMAX. 
 
 this rising, and that — that blacksmith, who killed 
 the baron's retainer — 
 
 " Turner ! what of him ?" 
 
 But Oakley went on witliout heeding the inter- 
 ruption. " What was it to the knave whether I or 
 the flames had them — and to be cuffed and 
 threatened ! — but the gibbet shall not be cheated 
 of Idrn. Do you know they threw Harvey into 
 the flames — I heard the shrieks of the wretch, but I 
 could not help him, though I knew my treasure was 
 burning with him ! for I was crawling, all but suf- 
 focated, and seeking for an outlet towards the river. 
 I heard the cry, but for an instant, and then no- 
 thing, through the long passage but the rush and 
 the roar of the flames." 
 
 " Then the gold you speak of was lost ?" 
 
 '* Yes, by the green wax ! it was. If I had only 
 been wise enough to have kept the bag myself, 
 poor Harvey might have been alive, and I should 
 not have done what I am going to do this night. 
 No ; — I should only have cursed the smith and 
 forsworn the Commons, and made the best of my 
 way to where I could have turned the gold and the 
 gems into hard coin. Is my lord De Boteler here ?" 
 
 '' Yes." 
 
 '' Then, master Calverley, although, as I have 
 said before, it is to revenge myself, you must tell 
 the baron that the king must not expect to have 
 my assistance in betraying the Commons without 
 paying for it." 
 
 " My lord will not see you but in the presence 
 of the council." 
 
 " Not see me ! then, by the green wax ! I may 
 
THE BONDMAN. 305 
 
 be cheated ; for one can hardly ask the king for 
 money to his face." 
 
 " The baron has pledged himself that, if your 
 intelligence and services are such as you hinted at, 
 you may claim your own reward." 
 
 " May I ? — then John Oakley will be no nig- 
 gard," his countenance losing much of the gloomy 
 ferocity it had been marked with. " But, steward," 
 he added, as they walked through the building, 
 " the smoke and the flame are even now in my 
 throat ; — you must give me wine, or I shall not 
 be able to speak a word." 
 
 De Boteler was instantly acquainted with Oak- 
 ley's arrival, and the council assembled, impressed 
 with the importance of detaching so influential a 
 leader from the Commons. Indeed, energy had 
 given place to indecision, at a moment that re- 
 quired prompt measures. Tyler had, but an hour 
 before, sent an intimation, that, if the prophet was 
 not released in twenty-four hours, the city would 
 be fired, and the Tower assaulted : and, even at 
 the moment when the members of the council were 
 entering the chamber, the air was rent with the 
 shouts of the Commons on Tower-hill and Smith- 
 field, as some skilful artizans among their body had 
 nearly matured some machines for facilitating the 
 attack. Symptoms of panic or indiflference had 
 been also manifested among those who guarded 
 the Tower. The strange stories whispered of Ball, 
 his prophecies, and his calm bearing while confined 
 in his dungeon, with his oft repeated assertions of 
 being liberated by the Commons, were calculated, 
 in such an age, to fill their minds with the belief 
 
 VOL. V. X 
 
306 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 that he was, in truth, a prophet, and one whom it 
 would be impiety to meddle with. 
 
 After Richard, surrounded by the lords, had 
 taken his seat at the table. Black Jack was in- 
 troduced by De Boteler as the writer of the scroll. 
 
 " You are a leader of the rebels ?" interrogated 
 Sudbury. 
 
 '^ I am, your grace," replied Oakley. 
 
 ' Which division of the kerns do you command ?" 
 
 " The commons of Essex." 
 
 " What ! all ?" interrupted Richard. 
 
 " My liege, I am leader of fifty thousand men." 
 
 " Then what is the design of this rising ?" again 
 asked Sudbury. 
 
 "To free the bond — to acquire land at a low 
 rent — to be at liberty to buy and sell in all cities 
 and towns, without toll or interruption ; — and 
 lastly, to obtain a pardon for this insurrection." 
 
 " By my faith ! " said Sir Robert Hales, " these 
 are bold demands, which the sword alone must 
 decide." 
 
 " Peace ! Sir Robert, said Sudbury. — " What 
 have you to suggest which may benefit the realm, 
 sir leader ?" he continued. 
 
 '^ Ere I say more," said Oakley, falling on his 
 knees before Richard, " I crave a general pardon, 
 not only for myself, as leader in this rising, but for 
 all other trespasses by me committed." 
 
 " Ha, ha, ha," laughed Richard, " the knave is 
 wisely valiant ! He has an especial care of his own 
 neck. Rise — thou art pardoned." 
 
 " But, my liege," continued Oakley, still kneel- 
 ing, " there is one confined in this fortress for whom 
 I would solicit freedom." 
 
THE BONDMAN. 307 
 
 " To whom do you allude, knave ?" asked Sud- 
 bury, with some surprise. 
 
 '' To father John Ball." 
 
 *' To father John Ball ! to that son of satan — 
 that vile author of all this confusion. Be content 
 with saving your own head." 
 
 "Then, my lord archbishop," said Oakley, 
 rising, " if a hair of that monk's head is touched, 
 I will not answer for the result. Wat Tyler, my 
 lords, is a man of desperate purpose. He has 
 sworn before the multitude, that, if the prophet is 
 not freed before the twenty-four hours, the heads 
 of all these noble peers around me shall answer for 
 it. — Nay more " 
 
 "Hold, kern," interrupted Richard fiercely; 
 " we despise the threat." 
 
 " But, my liege," persisted Jack Straw, " let 
 the council consider the danger of the delay. I 
 have reason to know, that those you reckon upon 
 to oppose an entrance here are not to be trusted : 
 the prophet has worked wonders, even within the 
 fortress." 
 
 " How know you that ?" asked Richard, with 
 surprise. 
 
 " My liege, there are disciples of John Ball in 
 the Tower — aye, even among the royal house- 
 hold !" 
 
 " Tis false!" returned Richard, angrily — "who 
 are they ? — confess I confess !" 
 
 " No, my liege — though I have renounced the 
 confederates, 1 cannot betray them ; but if the 
 monk is freed, I will, at the risk of my head, quell 
 the rising, without blood." 
 
 " How ? — speak !" said Sudbury. 
 x2 
 
308 THE BONDMAID. 
 
 *' My lord, you have heard the conditions, which 
 have been drawn up by John Ball himself. I would 
 humbly suggest, that charters of freedom should be 
 granted under the royal hand and seal : if it so 
 please you — they can be revoked at leisure. The 
 Essex men will be content with these charters and 
 a general pardon — but the prophet must be first 
 set at liberty : he abhors bloodshed, will curb this 
 Tyler, and thus this formidable array may be dis- 
 persed. I would further suggest, that your high- 
 ness, attended by a slight retinue, and unarmed, 
 should repair to-morrow to Mile-end, where I shall 
 have assembled the leaders, and will sound them 
 on these points. The charters may then be read, 
 and, my lords, you are aware, that even the royal 
 franchise cannot destroy your right over the bond- 
 men, without an act of parliament." 
 
 While Oakley was speaking, all eyes were fixed 
 upon him with something of astonishment at ad- 
 vice that would not come amiss from the sagest 
 among them. 
 
 " Retire," said Sudbury ; " we shall consider 
 the matter." 
 
 " My lords," said the wily prelate, in a solemn 
 tone, " this man has anticipated my counsel. It 
 may not be safe to meddle with this Ball for the 
 present. The charters may be made out, and, of 
 course revoked hereafter ; but I like not your 
 grace perilling your person, alone and unguarded, 
 among the kerns." 
 
 '' My lord," said Richard, " we are resolved to 
 meet these bold men, and hear what they have to 
 say. Shall you attend us, my lord of Canter- 
 bury ?" 
 
THE BONDMAN. 309 
 
 ^' I would fain be excused, with your highness's 
 leave. A dignitary of holy church should not de- 
 grade his calling by communing with the scum of 
 the land !" 
 
 " Then, my lord bishop, let who will stay, we 
 go. My lords, will you attend your king ?" 
 
 '* To death, my liege," said De Boteler and the 
 rest. 
 
 " 'Tis well — let this man be recalled." 
 
 " Tell the commons, that King Richard will see 
 them to-morrow," said De Boteler. 
 
 " Then, my lord, the monk is to be freed ?" asked 
 Oakley. 
 
 " His life is spared till after the conference," 
 said the treasurer ; his freedom depends upon the 
 disbanding of the Essex men." 
 
 Oakley was then led forth from the council by 
 De Boteler, who pledged himself that the monk 
 should not be harmed ; and, after receiving, from 
 Calverley, a part of the stipulated reward, he re- 
 tired from the fortress by the way he had entered. 
 
310 THE BONDMAX. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 The Tower clock liad just struck ten, and father 
 John was reading a Latin manuscript by the light 
 of a small lamp, when the door of his prison 
 opened, and the glare of a large wax-light, pre- 
 ceding a lady, almost dazzled his eyes. The torch- 
 bearer, placing the torch in a convenient position 
 against the wall, retired, leaving the monk and the 
 lady alone. 
 
 There was but one seat in the dungeon, so John 
 Ball arose, and presenting his stool to his visitor, 
 seated himself on the bundle of straw which com- 
 posed his bed. 
 
 Isabella de Boteler placed the stool so that her 
 own face might be in the shade, at the same time 
 that the light played full upon that of the monk. 
 They sat an instant silent ; and as the baroness 
 bent her eyes upon the father, she saw, in the deep 
 marks on the forehead, and in the changed hue of 
 his circling hair, that he had paid the price of 
 strong excitement ; but yet she almost marvelled 
 if the placid countenance she now gazed upon 
 
THE BONDMAN 311 
 
 could belong to one who had dared and done so 
 much. At length she spoke. 
 
 " You know me, father John ?" 
 
 ^' Yes, lady." 
 
 " Know you why I have visited this cell ?" 
 
 ^' It is not for me to speak of what is passing in 
 the heart of another." 
 
 " Tell me, monk," asked Isabella, " did you 
 see the multitude who filled the open space when 
 you were led upon the battlements this after- 
 noon ?" 
 
 " I did, lady, and my heart rejoiced — even as 
 a father at sight of his children !" a slight tinge 
 passing over his cheek. 
 
 " You speak too boldly," said Isabella, with 
 some impatience ; " but if your eyes were glad- 
 dened with what they saw on Tower-hill to day, 
 they will not be gladdened at the things that will 
 meet their glance to-morrow !" She hesitated, 
 and then went on rather hurriedly : '* When you 
 are led forth again, the rebellious commons will 
 be dispersed, and the block will be standing ready 
 for your own head !" 
 
 " Man is but dust, and a breath may blow him 
 away. I was born. Lady de Boteler, but to die ; 
 and there is not a morning, since I have abided in 
 this dungeon, but, as I have watched the first rays 
 of light stream through yonder grating, I have 
 thought, shall my eyes behold the departing day ! 
 and, as well as a sinner may do, I prepared for 
 my end. But, lady, are the thousands but as one 
 man ? — and think you that the spirit which has 
 
 gone forth " 
 
 " I tell you, father John, interrupted Isabella, 
 
312 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 ^' that even at this moment a leader of the rebels 
 is before the council — and ere to-morrow's sun 
 shall set, the turbulent villeins will be either 
 hanged or driven back — and you will be be- 
 headed !" 
 
 " Is the betrayer a captive ?" asked the monk ; 
 and he fixed an anxious searching glance on the 
 baroness. 
 
 " No, the man came voluntarily " 
 
 Isabella paused. The monk, however, did not 
 reply ; but she inferred, from a sort of quivering 
 of the upper lip, that her information affected him 
 more deeply than he chose to tell. She passed 
 one hand across her forehead, and then, clasping 
 them both, and resting them upon her knees, 
 looked earnestly at John Ball, and said, impres- 
 sively — 
 
 " The rebels are betrayed, and you are con- 
 demned ; but, if you will hearken to my request, 
 this hour shall free you from prison : — Will you, 
 will you tell me of my lost child ?" 
 
 " Lady," said the monk in a stern voice, " think 
 you so meanly of John Ball that he would do for a 
 bribe what he would not do for justice sake ? The 
 time was when ye might have known, but ye took 
 not counsel " 
 
 " Then he lives !" said Isabella, in a suppressed 
 shriek ; and she bent her head on her bosom, and 
 covered her face with her hands. 
 
 For a minute she sat thus, and then slowly re- 
 moving her hands, and raising up her pale and tear- 
 ful face, said tremulously, and in so low a tone 
 as to be scarcely audible, *' My child then does 
 live ?" 
 
THE BONDMAN. 313 
 
 " Baroness de Boteler, I said not that your child 
 lives." 
 
 " Oh, father John, torture me not so," said she, 
 with hysterical eagerness. '' Oh, tell me not that 
 I have a living son, and then bid me look upon the 
 grave. Oh, lead me to my child, or even give as- 
 surance that he lives, and you shall be freed ; and 
 if he v^^hom I suspect did the deed, he shall be 
 pardoned and enriched." 
 
 " The Baroness of Sudley," replied father John, 
 " does not know the poor Cistercian monk. Were 
 the bolts withdrawn, and that door left swinging 
 upon its hinges, I would not leave my prison until 
 the voice of the people bade me come forth. And 
 know ye not, lady, that with what measure ye mete 
 to others, the same shall be meted to you again. 
 Did ye deal out mercy to Edith Holgrave ? Did 
 ye deal mercifully by Stephen, when ye gave him 
 bondage as a reward for true faith — and then 
 stripes and a prison ? And, as for me, — can ye 
 expect that the bondman's son is to set a pattern 
 of mercy and forgiveness to the noble and the 
 free ?" 
 
 " I was right, then," said the baroness, in a more 
 composed tone — "it was Stephen Holgrave who 
 did the deed ; but father, if you spurn my offers, 
 at least answer me yes or no to one question — Am 
 I the mother of a living son ?" 
 
 It was in vain, however, that Isabella promised, 
 implored, and even threatened ; John Ball would 
 not vouchsafe another reply, and the baroness, at 
 length, wearied and indignant, arose, turned ab- 
 ruptly from the monk, and summoning her attend- 
 ants, hastened forth to her own apartment, and 
 
314 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 there, throwing herself in a chair, wept and sobbed 
 until her heart was in a measure relieved. 
 
 That night was a period of strong excitement 
 within and without the Tower. Without, the moon- 
 light displayed an immense mass of dark bodies 
 stretched on the ground, and slumbering in the 
 open air; while others, of more active minds, moved 
 to and fro, like evil spirits in the night. Beyond, 
 in the adjacent streets, occasionally rose the drunk- 
 en shouts of rioters, or the shrieks of some unhappy 
 foreigner, who was slaughtered by the ignorant and 
 ferocious multitude for the crime of being unable 
 to speak English. Within the Tower there was as 
 little of repose ; there were the fears of many noble 
 hearts, lest the renegade leader might not be as in- 
 fluential as he vaunted, concealed beneath the sem- 
 blance of contemptuous pride or affected defiance ; 
 
 — then there were the sanguine hopes of the youth- 
 ful Ptichard ; — the maternal fears of his mother ; 
 
 — the anxious feelings of the baroness ; — the 
 troubled thoughts and misgivings of John Ball ; — 
 and the strange whisperings among the men at 
 arms and archers, who all " did quail in stomach," 
 we may suppose, at the novel combination of a 
 prophet in prison, and an armed populace besieg- 
 ing the fortress. 
 
 The next morning Richard, without breastplate 
 or helmet, but simply attired in a saffron-coloured 
 tunic and an azure mantle lined with ermine (on 
 which opened pea-shells were wrought in their na- 
 tural green, but with the peas represented by large 
 pearls), a cap of azure velvet, edged also with er- 
 mine, and with no other weapon but a sm.all dagger 
 in the girdle of his tunic, prepared himself to meet 
 
THE BOXDMAJf. 315 
 
 his rebellious subjects. The idea of letting down 
 the drawbridge, and passing by it from the Tower, 
 was too imprudent a thing to be thought of, and 
 Richard, therefore, attended by De Boteler, Ox- 
 ford, Warwick, Sir Aubrey de Vere, and a few 
 others, were just about taking water, in order to 
 pass a little way down the river, and then proceed 
 to Mile-end on horseback, when the Princess Joan, 
 attended by the Lady Warwick, joined the party, 
 and intimated her intention of accompanying her 
 son. 
 
 It was to little purpose that Richard expostu- 
 lated ; the fair Joan was resolved to share in what- 
 ever perils might befal her son. As they ap- 
 proached Mile-end, the princess started at the 
 deafening clamour which arose from the multitude ; 
 some shouting for Richard as they saw him advance, 
 and others vociferating as loudly that all should 
 hold their peace until they knew what the king 
 would grant. When the tumult had in some de- 
 gree subsided. Sir Aubrey de Vere and Sir Robert 
 Knowles rode forward in advance of the king, and 
 approaching Jack Straw, who was also on horse- 
 back : — 
 
 '' Sir leader," said De Vere, '' we have come at 
 the king's command to make known to these as- 
 sembled Commons his grace's pleasure. Are ye 
 willing to listen to the royal clemency ?" 
 
 Leicester was not among the leaders, for, dis- 
 gusted with Oakley's tardiness, he had about an 
 hour before passed the city gates with a large body, 
 to join Tyler. Jack Straw, therefore, had not him 
 to contend with, and a flattering plausible speech 
 in a few minutes procured attention to the following 
 charter : — 
 
316 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 " Richard, king of England and of France, doth 
 greatly thank his good Commons, because they so 
 greatly desire to see and hold him for their king ; 
 and doth pardon them all manner of trespasses, 
 misprisions, and felonies done before this time, and 
 willeth and commandeth, from henceforth, that 
 every one hasten to his own dwelling, and set down 
 all his grievances in writing, and send it unto him, 
 and he will, by advice of his lawful lords and good 
 council, provide such remedy as shall be profitable 
 to him, to them, and to the whole realm." 
 
 " Ye may tell his grace," cried Ru gge, " that I 
 for one will never return to my dwelling until a 
 charter is granted to make all cities free to buy and 
 sell in." 
 
 " And shall we go back to our homes to be bond- 
 men again ?" burst in a wild cry from thousands. 
 
 At this moment a messenger rode up to Oakley, 
 and, putting a letter into his hands, instantly re- 
 tired. 
 
 "A message from the prophet!" cried Black 
 Jack, as he glanced over the writing, and then 
 read aloud, '' John Ball greeteth Jack Straw, John 
 Leicester, Ralph Rugge, and the other leaders, and 
 also all the true commons assembled at Mile-end, 
 and commandeth them that they listen to the voice 
 of their anointed king, and hasten back to their 
 own homes ; and John Ball, who is now freed, will 
 obtain from the royal hand, the charter of freedom, 
 for the bond, and the redress of all the grievances 
 that weigh down the free." 
 
 There was much murmuring and discontent at 
 the tenor of this epistle ; and but little disposition 
 manifested to obey the mandate : but the example 
 
THE BONDMAN. 317 
 
 of their principal leader, Jack Straw, who instantly, 
 as in obedience to the prophet's command, divested 
 himself of his sword, and presented it to Sir Aubrey 
 de Vere, intimating his submission to the king, oc- 
 casioned a sort of general panic, or rather, a distrust 
 of their own powers. This, added to the specious 
 and equivocal promises of Richard, who now ap- 
 proached ; and the persuasive eloquence of Oak- 
 ley, operated so far on the credulous multitude, 
 that the king, amidst a universal shout of '' Long 
 live the king of the Commons," turned his horse's 
 head towards London, rejoicing in his heart that 
 so far the rebels were dispersed. 
 
 But in this instance his exultation was of short 
 duration, for one, who had leaped from the battle- 
 ments of the Tower unheeded, and had swam along 
 the river unharmed, approached Sir Robert 
 Knowles, who was riding something in advance of 
 the party, and with his saturated apparel bearing 
 testimony to his assertions, announced the stunning 
 intelligence that the Tower was at that moment 
 in the possession of the commons. This brave de- 
 fender of the fortress was Calverley. 
 
 There was a sudden halt at this intelligence, 
 and many an exclamation at the presumption of 
 the insolent commons. However, after some con- 
 sultation, it was deemed most prudent to come as 
 little as possible in collision with the rebels, but, 
 under countenance of the mayor, to pass through 
 the city, and then, as the most probable security, 
 claim the hospitality of the worthy abbot of West- 
 minster. 
 
 We shall leave King Richard with the fair Joan 
 of Kent and the nobles, to pursue their journey to 
 
3'18 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 Westminster, while we give some idea of tlie means 
 by which the commons, so soon after the departure 
 of the king", became masters of the tower. The 
 galleyman had been a resident in London for some 
 years ; and it will of course be inferred, that during 
 this time he must have formed many acquaintances, 
 which circumstance, indeed, had been of much 
 avail in gaining admittance into the city, and now 
 turned to as good account in effecting an entrance 
 into the Tower. 
 
 It was about midnight that Wells, who had been 
 thinking a great deal of the probability of gaining 
 access to the fortress, went to the smith's quarters, 
 and proposed to attempt an entrance. Tyler com- 
 mended his devotion ; and the galleyman, pro- 
 vided with a rope, to which an iron hook was affix- 
 ed, and a flask or two of wine, dropped unobserved 
 into the water. He swam on as softly as possible 
 beneath the wall, and in the shadow cast by the 
 moonlight. There was one part where he observed 
 that an angle of the building cast a broad shade 
 on the parapet ; and here, without a moment's 
 hesitation, he stopped, and throwing up the rope, 
 the hook caught. Though encumbered by his wet 
 apparel, he climbed up with the agility of a boy ; 
 but the instant his figure appeared above the wall, 
 two men with drawn swords sprung forward. 
 
 " Hold there! I have brought ye a drop of 
 wine." 
 
 At the first sound of his voice the weapons were 
 lowered. '^ It was well that ye spoke, master vint- 
 ner," said the men, taking each a flask of wine 
 and draining its contents. 
 
 It so happened, that these men had a strong 
 
THE BOXDMAX. 319 
 
 sympathy for the commons, and besides this, they 
 had been much wrought upon by the stories, whe- 
 ther true or false, circulated through the Tower 
 respecting Ball ; and it did not require much per- 
 suasion to gain them over in assisting Wells's pro- 
 ject. A female domestic belonging to the lieu- 
 tenant, a sweetheart of one of those men, secreted 
 Wells in an apartment in her master's house, and 
 contrived to purloin the keys of the gates after 
 Richard's departure. The galleyman, aided by a 
 few daring disciples of the prophet, with whom he 
 found means to communicate through the same 
 female instrumentality, surprised the few who 
 guarded the gate, and drawbridge ; and the blast 
 of a horn was the signal for the smith to ad- 
 vance. So suddenly was this feat accomplished, 
 that the men at arms, who were scattered up and 
 down the fortress, had not time to seize their wea- 
 pons or oppose the thousands who, headed by 
 Tyler and Holgrave, rushed forward, and entered 
 the Tower. With exulting shouts the conquerors 
 took possession of the building. Some made strict 
 search for the members of the council ; others, with 
 blows and taunts, employed themselves in divest- 
 ing the panic-struck soldiers of their arms ; and 
 others, the more numerous of the intruders, were 
 intent only on forcing the wine-cellars, regardless 
 of the threats and buffets of their leaders. But 
 above all this wild clamour, arose the voice of 
 Tyler, who strode rapidly on, like some demon of 
 power, striking and reviling friend or foe who was 
 unable to point out where the prophet was confined. 
 At length one of the keepers was seized, who 
 conducted Tvler and Holsrrave to his cell. 
 
320 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 *' Father John, you are free — the Tower is 
 ours !" exclaimed Holgrave, flinging wide the 
 massive door. 
 
 " And I am freed ? and by the bond !" ex- 
 claimed the monk. 
 
 '* Aye, father John, you are free," said Tyler. 
 '* We have found you at last ; but, by St. Ni- 
 cholas ! we have had a long search. Hah !" as he 
 glanced on the monk, " have the knaves chained 
 you. Bear him forth, men of Kent — Wat Tyler 
 himself will strike off those irons." 
 
 The monk was then conducted to the outer door 
 of the prison. It would be in vain to paint the 
 frantic joy of those without. Deafening shouts 
 of " The prophet is free !" passed from mouth to 
 mouth, and then came the rush to obtain a prayer 
 or benediction. 
 
 " Back, men of Kent — back," vociferated 
 Tyler ; — and then arose the long wild shout as 
 Tyler freed the monk from the last link of his 
 bonds. 
 
 Just then a movement among the people was 
 observed, and a man, hastily forcing his way 
 through the yielding ranks, announced to the as- 
 tonished smitli, and yet more astonished monk, 
 that Oakley had, by command of the prophet, 
 made terms with the king, and that even now the 
 Essex men had broke up their camp, and were 
 marching homewards. 
 
 " And is this thy counsel, father John ?" said 
 Tyler, reproachfully : " but, by St. Nicholas ! this 
 robber of the high altar shall not depart scathe- 
 less. Kentish men ! — my horse, my horse !" and 
 he stamped his armed heels upon the pavement. 
 
THE BONDMAN. 321 
 
 *' Wat Tyler," returned the monk, sternly, " this 
 is not my counsel — this, then, is the traitor ! 
 — but perhaps he has obtained the charters!" 
 
 " The charters, father John," responded Tyler, 
 with a sneer : " aye, by St. Nicholas ! he has got 
 his charters in good broad pieces, I'll warrant ! — 
 My horse, Kentish men, I say !" 
 
 " Confound the whole rising, if he escapes me ! 
 Stephen Holgrave ! as the father does n't like me to 
 go, tell Leicester to take a chosen body of the 
 Kentish men ; and, mark ye, he must catch that 
 fiend, and bring him to the Tower, dead or alive !" 
 
 " Stephen Holgrave," said the monk, " let not 
 one hair of his head be meddled with ! And now, 
 Wat Tyler, I enjoin thee to clear the fortress of 
 those who have forgotten their duty — but slay not. 
 I now go to the chapel, where I shall remain a 
 short time in prayer." The monk then waved his 
 hand, and drew his cowl closely over his brow, to 
 hide from his gaze the evidences of debauchery he 
 encountered at every step in his way to the chapel. 
 The gutters and kennels ran with wine, and some, 
 for want of vessels, were lying prostrate, lapping 
 up the flowing beverage — some, entirely overpow- 
 ered, were stretched across the doorways, and in 
 the court-yards, serving as seats to others, who 
 were, with wild oaths, passing round the goblet. 
 
 " And this is the first fruits of liberty," muttered 
 the monk — " but no good can be had unalloyed 
 with evil." 
 
 The chapel, during all the tumult, was unnoticed, 
 probably less through respect for the place, than 
 from neglect ; and thither those who had most to 
 fear from the people had hastened, expecting safety 
 
 VOL. V. Y 
 
322 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 from the sacredness of the spot. Among the rest, 
 or rather leading the way, went Sudbury, who was 
 shortly afterwards joined by the constable and 
 treasurer, on perceiving the commons in possession 
 of the Tower. 
 
 In order to impress the place with a still greater 
 degree of awe, Sudbury, with his attendant priests, 
 had robed themselves, and commenced vespers. 
 
 Father John entered the chapel, and prostrating 
 himself thrice at the door, arose, and silently ad- 
 vanced to the foot of the altar. Here he recog- 
 nised the archbishop, and, checking his emotions, 
 knelt in prayer, unnoticed till the service had con- 
 cluded. In the midst of the sacred song, terror 
 was depicted, more strongly than piety, in the 
 faces of all the worshippers, save Sudbury ; he 
 seemed calm, except, indeed, when a shout from 
 without caused an indignant frown to darken his 
 brow. 
 
 The monk was at length perceived, for the trea- 
 surer, on raising his eyes, met the glance of father 
 John. " My lord bishop," said he, "yonder stands 
 the monk, John Ball !" 
 
 " And why not, my lord treasurer ?" said father 
 John, in a clear, full voice, his face, before so 
 pale, glowing, and his frame trembling so much 
 that he grasped a pillar for support; " this temple 
 is open to all — the just as well as the unjust." 
 
 '' Barest thou, rash man, to defile the holy 
 place? — why art thou not in thy prison?" said 
 Sudbury, whose glance fell proudly and scornfully 
 on the monk. 
 
 " Simon Sudbury," answered Ball, with a look 
 of equal defiance, and still deeper scorn — "my 
 
THE EON DM A^-. 323 
 
 dungeon doors obeyed the spirit of the free ; and 
 God alone can judge who is defiled, or who is 
 pure " 
 
 " Away, degraded priest !" answered Sudbury, 
 fiercely, and he raised his arm, and pointed to- 
 wards the door. 
 
 *' Simon Sudbury," retorted the monk, " if, as 
 thou say est, I am degraded, to thee no authority 
 is due — if I am still a chosen one of the Lord, 
 methinks I am free to enter and worship in his 
 temple : but," he continued, elevating his tones to 
 their fullest compass, " whether I am a priest or 
 no priest, yet here I am powerful, and, proud pre- 
 late, /, in my turn, command thee hence !" 
 
 " And is this the way, misguided zealot ?" cried 
 Sudbury — " is this the way that you preach peace? 
 What hast thou done with the royal Richard ?" 
 
 ''The royal Richard," returned father John, ex- 
 ultingly, "is but king of the commons; but the 
 royal Richard is well served," he added, sarcas- 
 tically, '' by Simon Sudbury and the nobles, who 
 leave their prince, in his peril, to hide them in 
 holes and sanctuaries !" 
 
 The treasurer turned pale, and hung his head. 
 
 " Aye, Sir Treasurer, thou hast reason to sink 
 thy head ! Thy odious poll-tax has mingled ven- 
 geance — nay, blood — with the cry of the bond." 
 
 " It is thou, foul spirit !" cried Sudbury, de- 
 scending a step from the altar — " it is thou who 
 hast stimulated the thirst for blood, and hast 
 brought the royal prerogative and holy church 
 into contempt — away ! ere, with my own hands, I 
 drive thee hence !" 
 
 '' And away, ill-starred prelate ! — away (as I 
 y2 
 
324 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 prophesy) to thy doom !" returned the monk, ad- 
 vancing a step towards Sudbury ; "aye — aye — 
 away ! and " 
 
 The monk did not finish the sentence, for tlie 
 door of the chapel was for a moment darkened 
 with the shadows of two men, who were just en- 
 tering; and father John, wTapping his cloak around 
 him, walked rapidly tow^ards them, and, wnth a 
 single adjuration of " Friend Tyler, spare !" issued 
 forth from the chapel. 
 
 Tyler, in his haste to seize the archbishop, stum- 
 bled over a lance which one of those wiio had fled 
 with the prelate had dropped. 
 
 " Confound the hand that dropped thee !" mut- 
 tered the smith, as he sprang on his feet. " John 
 Kirkby, is not that Sudbury yonder ? It is he, by 
 St. Nicholas ! Seize that babbling old man ! — he 
 with the mitre !" They had now arrived at the 
 altar. 
 
 "Not one step further, kern!" cried the trea- 
 surer, seizing his sword, and placing himself in 
 front of Sudbury. 
 
 A shriek from the women who had clustered 
 around the treasurer, made matters worse ; for, 
 attracted by the noise, the chapel was instantly 
 filled with armed men. 
 
 " Sir Treasurer, think you to scare him w-ho 
 leads the Kentish men ? Kirkby, drag the anti- 
 christ from the altar !" 
 
 Kirkby advanced a few paces, but a glance from 
 Sudbury seemed to unnerve him, and he stood for 
 a moment irresolute. 
 
 " There, chicken-hearted carle!" cried the smith, 
 felling Kirkby to the ground with his mailed hand 
 
THE BONDMAN". 325 
 
 ~]'^ there, dog ! — Wat Tyler must be obeyed ! 
 And now, Simon Sudbury, take off that blessed 
 mitre, which ill befits thee, and come forth ; for, by 
 my faith and the blessed St. Nicholas ! in one hour 
 hence, thy head shall be stuck on London bridge, 
 wrapped up in the hood of thy own mantle !" And 
 with this, Tyler placed his foot on the first step of 
 the altar. 
 
 Another shriek from the terrified females but 
 seemed to augment his fury ; and the treasurer, 
 after a few vain parries, fell stunned and bleeding 
 by a powerful blow of the smith's axe. 
 
 " Lie there, dog ! — there goes one of the ac- 
 cursed council !" and, springing up the step with 
 a giant grasp, he seized the mitred chancellor by 
 the neck, and dragged him forth into the centre 
 of the church. 
 
 " Hold, impious man !" said the undaunted 
 prelate ; " the noblest and gentlest heart in Eng- 
 land lies bleeding and gasping on the high altar 
 in defence of the Lord's anointed ; but even the 
 blood of the anointed shall stain the sanctuary 
 ere He quail before man in his master's tem- 
 ple !" 
 
 " By St. Nicholas ! then you shall be cheated 
 of dying here," said Tyler ; and, snatching the 
 mitre from the grey locks it covered, he threw it 
 to Holgrave. " There, Stephen, that shall soon 
 sit upon a worthier head : and now, sir priest, or 
 sir prelate, be quick with an ave — for the block 
 is ready and the axe sharp. And you, Kirkby, 
 (who sullenly stood by), mind and lift up that 
 knave yonder," pointing to the treasurer; " for, 
 by St. Nicholas ! he, too, shall die 1" and the trea- 
 
326 THE BONDMAX. 
 
 surer, faint and almost lifeless, was, with Sud- 
 bury, borne away to Tower-hill. 
 
 John Ball, in the meantime, had passed on from 
 the chapel, heedless of the greetings that met him 
 at every step, and of the riot and confusion that 
 would, at another time, have called forth his re- 
 buke. At length, as he passed the royal apart- 
 ments, he heard sounds that seemed to recal him 
 to himself — they were the shrieks of woman ! 
 Throwing back his cowl, and casting an indignant 
 glance at Kirkby, who had just emerged from the 
 building, he said — • 
 
 '' What dost thou here, John Kirkby, and why 
 these screams ?" 
 
 Kirkby muttered something of the council. 
 
 " And darest thou, John Kirkby, a leader of the 
 people — darest thou be the foremost to set at 
 nought my commands ? I repent me of my en- 
 deavours to right the oppressed, for, alas ! they 
 have been like stray sheep without the care of the 
 shepherd ! — and now, that the shepherd has 
 sought and is among them, they heed not his 
 voice." 
 
 But the shrieks were again repeated, and father 
 John commanding Kirkby to follow, passed ra- 
 pidly through the apartments, where every thing 
 presented the trace of the spoiler. In many of 
 them were stretched, or rather huddled together, 
 peasants in the last stage of inebriety, some on 
 the beds, and others on the carpets ; and the shat- 
 tered garniture of this abode of Richard and his 
 fair mother, served but to mark its recent costli- 
 ness and splendour. 
 
 The monk groaned deeply as he observed four 
 
THE BONDMAN. 327 
 
 or five men hewing with axes at a door which had 
 resisted their first efi'orts to burst open ; while two 
 others were struo-o-lincr with a man who seemed to 
 be disputing their entrance ; and a few paces from 
 these lay, on a richly-worked counterpane, an in- 
 fant, whose shrill cries mingled with the strife. 
 
 The flashing eye and indignant rebuke of the 
 monk, on beholding this scene, unnerved the 
 fear-stricken peasants. 
 
 '^ It is the prophet himself!" burst from the 
 lips of the men, dropping their weapons and look- 
 ing abashed. 
 
 " Aye, it is he whom you say is the prophet," 
 cried father John, "■ and accurst, say I, be the 
 house-breakers !" his eye fell on Ralph Rugge. 
 " What, another of the chosen !" he added, with 
 a withering glance. ''All, all are unworthy — 
 my heart is sick !" and he turned away and co- 
 vered his face with his hands. 
 
 " Father John, you have come in good time," 
 said the galleyman, who now approached the 
 monk, and who was he that had been contesting 
 with the two men; "■ for, good father, if my ears 
 serve me rightly, within that berth is the Lady de 
 Boteler !" 
 
 The monk started. 
 
 " And where is her lord ?" 
 
 " I know not, unless he be with the king at 
 Mile-end." 
 
 " Lady de Boteler," cried the monk, " if thou 
 art within come forth !" and Isabella, at his voice, 
 at once threw open the door. 
 
 " Lady," said Ball, who, in a low voice, had 
 exchanged a few words with Wells, " here thou 
 
328 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 art no longer safe. Conduct this lady, my friend, 
 to the abbey of Westminster," addressing Wells, 
 " and encounter not those who might, unchecked 
 by me, commit further outrage. Take a boat from 
 the water-side — that way is yet open. Farewell, 
 lady, I must hence; — for even Simon Sudbury, 
 who made John Ball what he is now, may be in 
 peril, and it is for the Lord alone to smite. — / 
 seek not the brand to right me !" 
 
 The idea of Sudbury's danger had been con- 
 firmed by the behaviour of those whom his presence 
 had arrested in guilt ; and the monk, whose sym- 
 pathies were thus awakened, hastened away, and 
 gained the court-yard. Here his ears were as- 
 sailed by a loud shout, which was repeated thrice, 
 and which, he conjectured, proceeded from Tower- 
 hill. 
 
 The monk hurried to the northern battlements, 
 and stood, for an instant, gazing intently on the 
 confusion which filled the vast area before him. 
 At one point, and towards the centre, he observed 
 a circle formed of some mounted commons, and he 
 perceived a man in the midst in a kneeling pos- 
 ture. His voice now arose deep and startling as 
 he exclaimed, " Wat Tyler, I adjure thee, touch 
 not the prelate — touch not the Lord's anointed ! 
 Forbear ! forbear !" and then, with an agility 
 which, since his boyhood, he had not probably 
 before exerted, he descended the platform, hurried 
 through the fortress, crossed the moat, and then 
 striding rapidly through the people, who made 
 way as he approached, stood in the centre of that 
 circle towards which his fears had impelled him. 
 
 A glance informed father John that vengeance 
 
THE BONDMAN-. 329 
 
 was swifter in the race than mercy, and his eye 
 now fiercely sought for the guilty author of the 
 drama. He stood a few paces to the right, lean- 
 ing on the instrument of crime, and his eyes ri- 
 vetted on the prophet. Upon his dark counte- 
 nance was marked triumph and agitation, for he 
 feared the storm which he expected was now to 
 burst upon him. But whether it was the spec- 
 tacle which the monk's first gaze encountered, or 
 that indignation, too deep for utterance, over- 
 powered his energies, cannot be said ; but, after 
 regarding Tyler with a look which seemed to com- 
 bine every thing of horror and disgust, father John 
 turned away, and was quickly lost in the mul- 
 titude. 
 
 Those who witnessed this brief interview saw 
 enough to indicate, in that glance cast on their 
 leader, the monk's displeasure at the deed ; and 
 Tyler himself well understood the silent rebuke, 
 for, turning to Kirkby, he said, in a bitter, though 
 subdued tone, — 
 
 " John Kirkby, the father is angry, and this is 
 all one gets for one's pains. Now that the mitre 
 waits for his head, he will not put it on ; — and 
 did not that traitor Jack Straw often say the fa- 
 ther wished for Sudbury's place ; and though I 
 hate bishops, I would not mind seeing him one. 
 But, by St. Nicholas ! he added fiercely, no more 
 bishops for Wat Tyler — and " 
 
 The smith was here interrupted by a messenger 
 from Richard, with a proclamation for the Com- 
 mons to meet him the next morning in Smithfield, 
 when they should have every thing they required. 
 
 '' Ye may tell King Richard that the Commons 
 
330 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 will meet liim ; but mind ye, and tell liim to have 
 no lords, nor men of law, nor any of that brood of 
 bishops with him, if he wishes them to wear their 
 heads ; — mind ye that, sir pursuivant." 
 
 Tyler then retired, but first strictly enjoining, on 
 pain of death, that the bodies of the archbishop 
 and treasurer should not be removed nor interred. 
 
 When night came, and father John did not re- 
 turn, the feeling became general that, disgusted 
 with the spectacle of the morning, he had aban- 
 doned the cause ; and it became apparent, even to 
 Tyler himself, that some decisive step must at once 
 be taken, before those whom the monk's eloquence 
 had aroused and united, and his promises inspired 
 with a confidence of success, should, deprived of 
 his guidance, return home in despair. 
 
 The smith was as great an enthusiast for the 
 freedom of the bond as the monk himself ; but his 
 mode of obtaining it did not coincide with the 
 peaceful bent of the father. Tyler's plan was bold 
 and sanguinary, — the monk's, intimidation with- 
 out violence ; and energetic and accustomed as was 
 tJie smith to act on his own impulses, yet, even in 
 his fiercest moods, he willingly yielded obedience 
 to the monk's suggestions. Indeed, he had long 
 been accustomed to pay that deference which fa- 
 ther John's mildness had, as it were, extorted; and 
 the circumstance of their first connection, from the 
 liberation of Ball from the dungeon of Sudley to 
 the present period, had so increased his affection 
 and veneration, that now, deprived of this pillar 
 of support, he felt a loneliness and dejection which 
 nothing around could dispel. 
 
 The morning was just breaking ; and the moon 
 
THE BONDMAT^. 331 
 
 shone full and bright on the surrounding buildings, 
 on the trees, on the tents that marked the lodge- 
 ment of the leaders, and on the groups that lay 
 tentless on the ground, buried in profound sleep. 
 All within the boundary of the rude encampment 
 were reposing in the confidence of power, without 
 guard or centinel, save one, whose eye-lids closed 
 not. Alone, in the corner of a tent, which stood 
 in the centre of the encampment, sat Tyler, whom 
 the moonbeams revealed, as they streamed through 
 a rent in the canvass. His right hand clenched, and 
 his elbow resting against the side of the tent, sup- 
 ported his head ; and in his left he held a small gold 
 crucifix, on which he was gazing, not with a coun- 
 tenance on which pity might be traced , but rather 
 a look in which sorrow and despair seemed blended. 
 " Aye, it was his gift," said he. '' However bad, 
 father John, you may think Wat Turner, he cares 
 for this holy relic more than the life his mother 
 gave him. And was it not because he thought to 
 place you above them all that Sudbury lies on 
 Tower-hill ? And did he not take off that mitre 
 with his own hands ? — and did not his heart beat 
 joyfully when he saw you come, that he might put 
 it on your head ? And now you leave him with 
 the work half done. And the poor commons, too, 
 must go back again to be kicked and cuffed, and 
 to bear the load heavier than before. Aye, father 
 John — and did he not snatch you from the stripes 
 and the bolt ? — and were not his hands red with 
 blood that blessed night ? — and was he not forced 
 to fly like a felon, and take this accursed name of 
 Tyler?" Here his agitation increased, and his ar- 
 ticulation became indistinct and husky ; he started 
 
332 THE BONDMAX. 
 
 up, tlirust the crucifix into his bosom, and paced 
 the tent for a few minutes in silence ; then looked 
 upon the sleeping mass, and resumed, as he re-en- 
 tered the tent — 
 
 '* Aye, ye may soon sleep your last sleep. They 
 will have at ye in the morning ; for the proud ba- 
 rons are gathering their might ; but, by St. Nicho- 
 las ! I may do something yet. Yes, there will be 
 more blood — I see it ; — I must have an order to 
 behead the lords ; and then, if Richard will be 
 king of the commons, and no more lords or bond- 
 age, father John himself could not wish for more." 
 
 He, at length, became somewhat composed, and 
 threw himself upon the floor, to get a few hours' 
 rest. 
 
 At an early hour, he prepared to redeem his 
 pledge of meeting the king ; and the Commons, as 
 they arrived, commenced forming in order of battle 
 along the west side of Smithfield. When marshalled, 
 they presented the appearance of a wedge, broad be- 
 hind and gradually diminishing to the front; the 
 banner of St. George was in the centre of the line, 
 supported by the men at arms ; while on either side 
 were disposed the slingers and archers. 
 
 In this order, they awaited the king ; and, in the 
 interim, Tyler employed himself in riding up and 
 down the ranks, exhorting the people to be firm, 
 and to take care that they should not be cheated 
 out of their rights by king or priest. Indeed, his 
 whole demeanour supported the night's resolve, and 
 vindicated a determination of purpose which im- 
 parted itself to the thousands who cheered him at 
 every step in his progress. 
 
 We must premise, before describing the coming 
 
THE BONDMA'N". 333 
 
 interview, that the Tower was again occupied by 
 Richard. A sudden attack during the night sur- 
 prised those left in possession ; and here the assi- 
 duity of the lords had collected a strong force, by 
 means of the communication from the river ; and 
 they determined on giving battle to the commons, 
 should they refuse to return home on obtaining the 
 charters. A large body of the citizens had, by 
 previous concert, thrown themselves unobserved 
 into the priory of Bartholomew, in order to operate, 
 under William Walworth, with those in the Tower. 
 
 Precisely at ten o'clock, Richard, without pomp 
 or circumstance, issued from the Tower, attended 
 only by De Boteler, Warwick, and a few others, 
 Sir John Newton bearing the sword of state. He 
 was apparelled in the same manner as when he ap- 
 peared at Mile-end, when he went forth to meet 
 the Essex men, and with that unsuspecting confi- 
 dence that marked his early years, entered Smith- 
 field with as much gaiety as if he were going to 
 a banquet. Sir Robert Knowles and his men at 
 arms had orders to follow at some distance, but on 
 no account to show themselves until there might be 
 occasion. After surveying the formidable array, 
 which stretched far away into the fields, and lis- 
 tening to De Boteler's remarks on their clever ar- 
 rangement, either for attack or defence, — 
 
 " By my faith ! my lord," said Richard eagerly, 
 " these knaves will not be trifled with ; but lo ! 
 who have we here ?" as he perceived a single horse- 
 man gallop forward from the centre. 
 
 " My liege," said Newton, as the horseman 
 neared the royal train, " that man is Wat Tyler." 
 
 " And if my eyes do not mislead me," said De 
 
334 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 Boteler, looking searchingly on Tyler, " I know 
 the graceless kerne." 
 
 Newton then pushed forward to open the con- 
 ference, and said, as he joined the smith — 
 
 " My lord, the king, wishes to hear you on the 
 alleged grievances." 
 
 "And who are you, knave, that dare ride in pre- 
 sence of Wat Tyler ?" 
 
 "I am, Sir John Newton, the king's sword- 
 bearer," returned Newton, proudly. 
 
 '* Then, by St. Nicholas ! none shall ride here 
 but Richard and myself. Come down, braggart," 
 and he seized the bridle of Newton's horse. 
 
 Richard now rode up, perceiving the peril of his 
 attendant. 
 
 " And what would ye have, Wat Tyler ?" asked 
 Richard, in a conciliatory tone. 
 
 " Sir King, I would first have this knave well 
 whipped for riding in my presence." 
 
 " But what would ye have put in your own 
 charter, Wat?" again asked Richard, endeavouring 
 to draw the smith's attention from Newton. 
 
 Tyler, however, was more intent on unhorsing 
 the sword-bearer, than listening to the king, for he 
 now grasped Newton by the shoulder, and endea- 
 voured to drag him from his horse. 
 
 During this altercation, a small body of archers 
 had advanced from the lines to within bow-shot of 
 the disputants. 
 
 Richard observed the movement, and beckoned 
 t0 Sir John to dismount, who, choking with morti- 
 fication, surrendered the animal to a man whom 
 Tyler had beckoned to approach. 
 
 " And that dagger too, surly knave," said the 
 
THE BONDMAN. 335 
 
 smith. " How dare ye come here armed. Go to, 
 thou art a knave !" 
 
 Richard could contain himself no longer. " Thou 
 liest! sir leader," said he, reining back his charger, 
 whose bridle had come in contact with the head of 
 the smith's horse. 
 
 " The dagger, knave," muttered Tyler, still in- 
 tent on humbling the proud sword-bearer, and 
 raising his axe in a menacing attitude. 
 
 The dagger, like the horse, was then relin- 
 quished, and Tyler, with a glance of triumph, 
 turned to Richard, and continued — 
 
 " King Richard, I'll now tell you what the com- 
 mons want : first, I want a commission to behead 
 all the lords, and those who began the poll-tax — I 
 would have no more lords nor bishops, nor lawyers, 
 nor bondage ; and I would have you king of the 
 commons — and now sir king, be quick with the 
 charter, for, by St. Nicholas ! I shall not eat or 
 drink till every mother's son of those yonder, can 
 go and come, when and where they will ; aye, and 
 be as proud as the proudest of ye." 
 
 " These are bold demands, Wat Tyler," returned 
 Richard, his cheek glowing with indignation, " and 
 more, by my faith, than we shall listen to." 
 
 Tyler, during the colloquy, had seized his axe, 
 and though it was not raised above his saddle-bow, 
 yet the convulsive motion of the hand as it grasped 
 the weapon, might seem to indicate danger to the 
 young king. Richard was now surrounded by his 
 retinue, among whom was William Walworth, the 
 Lord Mayor, who had crossed over from the priory 
 on perceiving his peril. 
 
 " Sir leader," cried the mayor, boiling with rage, 
 
336 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 and approaching Tyler, " ride not so close to his 
 grace, it ill becomes such as you to ride or speak 
 so in the king's presence." 
 
 " Ha ! and do ye say so ?" returned Tyler, ele- 
 vating his arm, " take ye that for your insolence :" 
 but the blow, which would have deprived the wor- 
 thy citizens of their sturdy chief, was arrested, ere 
 it descended, by Warwick, who seized the uplifted 
 weapon from behind, and the next moment the 
 smith received a stunning blow from William Wal- 
 worth's mace ; then, as the reins dropped from his 
 hands, a thrust from De Boteler's sword, ended 
 the cares of one who, doubtless, had he lived at a 
 later period, might, in the cause for which he bled, 
 have been a Tell or a Hofer. 
 
 A thousand spears, and as many shafts, prepared 
 to avenge his fall, and an instant more of indeci- 
 sion, and Richard would have been spared the hu- 
 miliation of after years ; but a bold inspiration at 
 this critical m.oment, hurried him fearlessly forward 
 into the midst of the commons. 
 
 '' What, my lieges !" he exclaimed, with a smile 
 of confidence, " are ye angry that your leader is 
 slain ? Richard of England shall supply his place 
 — follow me to the field and ye shall have what 
 ye desire!" 
 
 And, incredible as it may seem, the lances were 
 lowered, the bows relaxed, and those who so lately 
 had vowed to live or die with Tyler, followed the 
 king to St. George's fields, rending the air with cries 
 of " Long live King Richard !" 
 
 The men-at-arms, headed by Sir Robert Knowles, 
 and the citizens, under Walworth, hurried after the 
 commons, and when the charter had been granted, 
 
THE BONDMAN. 337 
 
 and the people were dispersing, suddenly, and trea- 
 cherously, fell upon them. 
 
 Unprepared for such an attack, and now no lon- 
 ger formidable, the insurgents, panic struck, fled 
 on all sides ; and, after a brief struggle, many of 
 the leaders were cut down or secured. Numbers 
 of the people perished, and Richard once more en- 
 tered the Tower in triumph. 
 
 It is almost useless to add, that the charters 
 were soon after revoked, and thus failed the first 
 struggle of the British helots. 
 
 VOL. V. 
 
338 THE BONDMAN, 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Whex the commons, trusting to a deceitful pro- 
 mise, had lost that unity which could alone ren- 
 der them formidable, it was no matter of difficulty 
 to secure Holgrave, as he rushed forward to re- 
 venge Tyler's death. Besides his being a leader, 
 a reward from the baron was offered for his cap- 
 ture ; and it was to little purpose that he fought 
 and struggled against a body which attacked him 
 on every side ; he was overpowered, and thrown 
 into a cell in St. Bartholomew's priory, from which, 
 when the tumult had ceased, he was removed, and, 
 at the baron's request, delivered over to him for 
 punishment. 
 
 This unexpected consummation wrought upon 
 Holgrave so much, that, with the sullen determina- 
 tion which had marked his character on previous 
 occasions, he resolved not to answer any questions 
 whatever. We should have premised, that the 
 galleyman had given Holgrave a solemn promise, 
 that if any ill befel him, Margaret should be cared 
 for like his own wife. This was a solace to him, as 
 he thought over his mother's death, and his own 
 
THE BONDMAN. 339 
 
 evil destiny. But there was another solace, that, 
 strange as it may appear to some minds, arose from 
 the thought, that whatever might befall him, the 
 baron's heir would share in it. At first, when he 
 had been removed to Sudley, mild measures were 
 resorted to. He was lodged in a comfortable apart- 
 ment, fed plentifully, and promised his freedom 
 with whatever reward he might claim, if he would 
 but speak satisfactorily as to the lost child. When 
 this failed, he was sent to the keep, and for a week 
 black bread and cold water were the only articles 
 of aliment supplied ; and then the peine forte et 
 dure was resorted to. But though his face was 
 swollen, and of a livid, purple hue, and the eyes 
 seemed starting from their sockets at the pressure 
 on his chest, as he lay with his limbs extended on 
 the earth, yet would he not speak the word which 
 would have released him from all this suffering. 
 The extreme punishment, however, of adding 
 weights until nature could sustain no more, was 
 delayed from day to day. The baroness had 
 twice given birth to children who had survived but 
 a few hours ; the third had lived, but it was a 
 daughter ; and as she dwelt upon the approaching 
 extinction of their noble line, she dared not permit 
 the order to be given that might deprive her of all 
 hope. Day after day were the weights pressing 
 and stifling, and forcing the blood that still crept 
 through his veins to his extremities, and distending 
 the hands and feet with a feeling of agx)ny. But 
 though the pressure was at each time removed when 
 the leech pronounced the prisoner exhausted, yet it 
 appeared repetition, though slow, would effect the 
 
340 THE BONDMAID. 
 
 work as surely as if the punishment had been in 
 the first instance applied in all its legal rigour. 
 
 Calverley, although he feigned to exert himself, 
 would not in reality seek for Margaret while Hol- 
 grave lived ; but Black Jack, who, after eluding 
 the pursuit of Leicester, returned to Sudley, and 
 domesticated himself in the castle under the hope 
 of supplanting Calverley, had, of course, no mo- 
 tive for deception ; and the baron's offer of gold 
 was too tempting not to call forth all his ingenuity. 
 But neither he, nor fifty other mercenaries who 
 were out upon the scent, could discover the track. 
 
 Holgrave had been about a month a prisoner, 
 when Sir Robert Knowles came to Sudley, to an- 
 nounce that Richard would honour the castle with 
 his presence on the following day, and on the next 
 proceed on to Gloucester to hold a parliament. 
 As they were sitting at the evening banquet — 
 
 " My Lord de Boteler," said Sir Robert Knowles, 
 " do you remember the circumstance of a certain 
 vassal of yours being accused of shooting a buck ?" 
 
 " Yes, perfectly." 
 
 '' His name, I think, was Stephen Holgrave — 
 the same Holgrave that was among the rebels, is it 
 not? 
 
 " The same man, Sir Robert." 
 
 " So I thought," returned the knight ; " but, 
 however, that must not weigh now. Have you a 
 vassal named John Byles ?" 
 
 Calverley, who was handing a replenished goblet 
 to Sir Robert's page, started so much at this in- 
 terrogatory, that the wine-cup dropped from his 
 hands. 
 
 " Yes," replied De Boteler. 
 
THE BONDMAN. 341 
 
 *' Has that man a wife named Mary ?" 
 
 " He has," quickly replied Isabella, unable to 
 divine the cause of such singular enquiries. 
 
 '' Then, my lord, I request that John Byles and 
 his wife be instantly brought before us ; and with 
 your leave, no one passes from this hall except my 
 page, till they appear," continued Sir Robert, as 
 he observed a movement in the steward, indicating 
 an intention to retire. 
 
 *' Martin," he added to his page, '^ go you to 
 one of the servitors in the court-yard, and tell him 
 to accompany you to this John Byles ; you know 
 how to keep your counsel, and remember, that the 
 Baron de Boteler commands John Byles and his 
 wife to come instantly to the castle. Do you not, 
 my lord ?" 
 
 " Yes, if it is your pleasure," said the baron, 
 with a smile. 
 
 " I perceive," resumed Sir Robert, as the page 
 withdrew, " that my conduct surprises you ; but I 
 cannot yet explain." 
 
 The surprise, indeed, was not confined to the in- 
 dividuals who sat at the upper table ; gradually, as 
 the purport of Sir Robert's words was whispered 
 about, did the hall become hushed, and the eyes of 
 those who sat below, and of those who were in attend- 
 ance, were fixed with a kind of painful expectation 
 upon the baron's guest. The domestics, however, 
 were not so entirely engrossed by Sir Robert as to 
 be wholly unmindful of Calverley ; and significant 
 nods and smiles were exchanged, as they saw, or 
 fancied they saw, evidences of extreme agitation 
 in the steward. After a few minutes' expectation, 
 ^ohn Byles and his wife were ushered in by the page. 
 
342 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 Sir Robert looked inquisitively at the yeoman 
 and his wife, but more particularly at Mary ; and, 
 as if he read her character in her countenance, 
 said something in a low voice to De Boteler, who 
 instantly ordered Byles to retire into the anti-room 
 till called for. The door being closed, the baron, 
 at Sir Robert's request, bade Mary Byles approach. 
 Mary, upon entering the hall, had looked a very 
 comely sort of personage ; but as misgivings gave 
 place to the flattered confidence which had given 
 firmness to her step as she entered, she now pre- 
 sented a totally diflPerent aspect. 
 
 " Come closer to the table, Mary Byles," said 
 Sir Robert, addressing her in an authoritative, but 
 yet in a familiar tone — " come nearer ; and with 
 my Lord de Boteler's leave, I shall ask you a few 
 questions." Mary curtsied, and rather hesitatingly 
 approached the foot of the table. 
 
 " Now, Mary Byles, I wish you to tell me what 
 kind of a night it was when John Byles and your 
 servitor, Sam, went into my Lord de Boteler's chase 
 to kill a buck ?" 
 
 Mary was of a florid complexion ; but at this 
 unexpected question, she stood before the searching 
 look of the baron with her cheeks as colourless as 
 if she had been struck by the angel of death. 
 
 " Are you striving to recollect ?" asked Sir 
 Robert, without any symptoms of anger. 
 
 " I don't understand your lordship," at length 
 tremblingly articulated Mary. 
 
 " Do you not ? — I think I speak plain language 
 — however, if you forget the appear an( of the 
 night when the buck was shot, perhaps you can 
 tell me on what day of the week your man, Sam, 
 
THE BONDMAN. 343 
 
 managed to get into Holgrave's cottage, and steal 
 the shafts from the quiver over the fire-place ?" 
 
 Up to this period the hall had been as still as if 
 Sir Robert and Mary were its only occupants ; but 
 at this point a murmur arose, as if by the power 
 of magic, each was in a moment convinced of 
 Holgrave's innocence. 
 
 " Peace !" vociferated De Boteler — " Answer, 
 woman !" he continued, stamping his foot. 
 
 Mary saw that she had nothing to do but deny, 
 and this she did most stoutly. 
 
 " Wretch !" said De Boteler, "Why do you not 
 tell the truth ?" 
 
 But Mary was not to be intimidated, and Sir 
 Robert, perceiving he could gain nothing from her 
 in this way, arose, and approaching the baroness, 
 who had been looking on with much interest, said, 
 softly, ''My Lady de Boteler, I wish to put a ques- 
 tion or two to this woman, but as what I shall ask 
 must be distressing to you, perhaps you had better 
 retire." 
 
 "No — no," replied Isabella, " do not fear for 
 me ? — This is so strange, I must hear what you 
 have to say." 
 
 " Prepare yourself then, lady," said Sir Robert, 
 and he resumed his seat. 
 
 " Mary Byles," he began, " I have one more 
 question to ask you. How many drops of that fatal 
 potion was it that Edith Holgrave told you to give 
 my lord's infant ?" 
 
 A smothered sob from Isabella, now added to 
 Mary's perplexity, her cheeks and temples became 
 flushed, and, with a bewildered look, she said — 
 
344 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 " I don't know — I don't remember any thing 
 about it!" 
 
 " Now, Mary Byles," resumed Sir Robert, speak- 
 ing more decisively than he had yet spoken, *^ I 
 insist upon your giving me a true answer to this — 
 Did you not say to your husband, on the evening 
 you returned from Gloucester, after Edith's trial, 
 ' Edith's death lies like murder on my conscience ; 
 oh, I wish I hadn't taken Calverley's advice, but 
 had told my lady of the mistake V " 
 
 " Calverley !" repeated De Boteler, " What did 
 you say of Calverley ? What, did Calverley ad- 
 vise you to ?" 
 
 Mary had sustained herself wonderfully well, 
 considering how unprepared she had been, but this 
 last interrogatory of Sir Robert, conjuring up, as it 
 were, Edith's ghost, was too much ; she struggled 
 against nature for an instant, and then, giving an 
 hysterical shriek, fell back in strong convulsions. 
 
 Two of the domestics were ordered to bear her 
 from the hall ; and, when there was again silence. 
 Sir Robert said, " That woman is too artful to be- 
 tray herself ! Let Byles be called in ?" 
 
 The yeoman re-entered, and Sir Robert began, 
 in a voice so familiar, that Byles was thrown off 
 his guard. '' John Byles, how came you to be so 
 foolish as to fall in the ravine the night you and 
 Sam went to shoot the buck ?" 
 
 " It wasn't I who fell in, my lord — it was — " 
 
 " — Sam — who fell in," said Sir Robert, as he saw 
 Byles hesitate to proceed farther. " You are right, 
 yeoman, it was Sam, and you helped him out — 
 but I desire you to tell me, if you had succeeded 
 in conveying the buck to Holgrave's shed, how 
 
THE BONDMAN. 345 
 
 many nobles Master Calverley was to have -given 
 you? 
 
 Byles looked at his interrogator as if he had 
 been the evil one himself ; but he had committed 
 himself, so he thought it the wiser way to say 
 nothing. 
 
 " Why do you not answer, man?" continued Sir 
 Robert, at the same time giving De Boteler a glance, 
 intimating that he wished not to be interrupted. '* I 
 know how many the steward promised you, but I 
 desire to know how much you received." 
 
 " I neither gave nor promised him any thing," 
 said Calverley, approaching the table under the 
 impression of giving a tone to what Byles should 
 say. 
 
 *'Thou liest, kern!" said Sir Robert, rising sud- 
 denly, and in a voice which made Calverley start 
 back. " My Lord de Boteler, I accuse your steward 
 of bribing yonder caitiff to slay a buck with shafts 
 stolen from Stephen Holgrave, and then to lay the 
 slaughtered animal in Holgrave's barn. I also ac- 
 cuse him of prevailing upon that man's wife to lay 
 the crime of murder upon an innocent woman ! 
 And, my lord, if you will hold a court to-morrow 
 morning, one whom I found in the Tower, will 
 prove my charges, and the wronged shall be 
 righted." 
 
 " Calverley done all this !" said the baron in a 
 tone of incredulity ; but then, as the steward's 
 persevering hostility to Holgrave flashed across his 
 mind, it seemed to bring conviction. 
 
 The hall at this moment presented a strange 
 spectacle. Every individual except Isabella and 
 Oakley, were on their feet. The domestics, though 
 
346 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 not venturing to proceed beyond their own table, 
 were bending their heads eagerly forward, to look 
 more particularly at Calverley than at Byles, as if 
 this charge of crime had developed some new fea- 
 ture in the man. Byles, with his hale complexion, 
 cJianged to the paleness of a corpse, stood trem- 
 bling at the foot of the table, at the head of which 
 was standing De Boteler, with a flushed counte- 
 nance and his eyes fixed upon Calverley, with such 
 a look, that if the glance of an eye could have 
 killed, the steward would have been consumed on 
 the spot. There w^as an instant of silence, or at 
 least there was nothing but an indistinct murmur 
 from the lower end of the hall ; and Calverley, w^ho 
 seemed strangely composed, took advantage of 
 the moment to say, though without raising his 
 eyes — 
 
 '*My lord, whatever charges Sir Robert Knowles 
 may have against me, I am ready to meet them." 
 
 *' Peace, wretch !" said De Boteler, choking 
 with passion. "Here, let these plotters be confined 
 separately till the morrow — and, Luke," he added, 
 to the old steward, " let you and John Oakley go 
 instantly to Holgrave, and see him removed from 
 the keep, and put him into a warm bed — and 
 take ye a flask of wine and pour some down his 
 throat — and see that the leech attend him. 
 He now turned to Isabella and strove to dis- 
 pel from her mind the sad thoughts that the last 
 half hour had called up, but it was not, as the 
 baron imagined, the remembrance of her murdered 
 child alone, which had sent a paleness to her cheek, 
 and a tremor through her frame ; it was rather the 
 thought that through judging rashly she had been 
 
THE BONDMAX. 347 
 
 an accessary to the death of one who perhaps de- 
 served reward rather than punishment. 
 
 The next morning the hall was again converted 
 into a court of justice. De Botelertook his seat, and 
 the eager vassals crowded in to hear the expected 
 justification of Stephen Holgrave. Calverley, as 
 being a party accused, was of course incapacitated 
 from filling the accustomed situation in the court ; 
 and as old Luke was too infirm, Oakley was selected. 
 Black Jack had begun to be very calculating — a 
 portion of the money he had received in London 
 had already disappeared in his secret debauchery. 
 The bribe was not so large as he had been led to 
 expect, and he had sense enough to know^ that his 
 habits were not adapted for turning what remained 
 to any account. The stewardship of Sudley was so 
 easy and profitable ! The very thought of it was 
 delightful — and as nothing had as yet transpired to 
 criminate him, he accepted of the temporary dig- 
 nity with the most sanguine hopes that Calverley's 
 delinquencies might fix him in it permanently. 
 
 But lo ! when Calverley's prison door was 
 opened, for the purpose of conducting him to the 
 hall, he was not to be found ! It was to no pur- 
 pose that the baron stormed and threatened, no 
 trace of Calverley could be discovered; but John 
 Byles was brought forward, and, upon being con- 
 fronted with his own servitor, and promised that 
 if he made a full disclosure, the punishment of the 
 crime should be remitted, he confessed all with 
 which the reader was made acquainted in the early 
 part of the tale. The question of poisoning was 
 then put, but Byles had cunning enough to remem- 
 ber that no one was privy to this but Calverley, 
 
348 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 and as it might peril Mary's life, he stoutly denied 
 all knowledge of the matter. Mary Byles, who 
 had also been kept in durance, was then intro- 
 duced, but she was more collected than on the pre- 
 ceding evening, and would admit nothing. She 
 knew not any thing of the buck — and she could 
 say nothing more respecting the poisoning than 
 she had already said at Gloucester, and the sup- 
 position of Edith's innocence, was compelled to 
 rest upon the servitor's oath, who swore that he 
 had heard Mary say, on the evening she returned 
 from Gloucester, what Sir Robert had repeated. 
 This, coupled with the circumstance that, together 
 with the poisoning, Mary had denied what her hus- 
 band had admitted, and what could not have hap- 
 pened without her knowledge, brought sufficiently 
 conclusive evidence to convince every one that 
 Edith had died a martyr to Mary's cruelty or care- 
 lessness. 
 
 As the baron had promised not to punish, Byles 
 and his wife were dismissed unharmed ; but from 
 that hour forward, they were regarded by all as 
 under ban, and therefore shunned as much as pos- 
 sible. We should premise, however, that before 
 Byles was permitted to leave the hall, Stephen 
 Holgrave was led in, that he might receive a public 
 acquittal. When Holgrave entered, supported by 
 one of the servitors, and, appearing unable to 
 stand, was seated on a stool. Sir Robert Knowles, 
 who had more than once taken a strong interest in 
 him, started up, and was about to make some ob- 
 servation ; but recollecting himself, he resumed his 
 seat, and remained silent. De Boteler himself felt 
 a glow of shame and a qualm of conscience, as he 
 
THE BONDMAN. 349 
 
 looked upon the white, swollen face, and bent and 
 shrunken form of one who had, in the moment of 
 peril, sprung, with the vigour and ferocity of the tiger, 
 between him and death. Holgrave had not been in- 
 formed why the agonizing punishment had been re- 
 mitted, nor why he had been placed in a comfortable 
 bed, and every attention paid him ; and he only sus- 
 pected that, perceiving severity could effect nothing, 
 they were unwilling to lose their victim, and wished 
 again to try the effect of a milder treatment. His 
 suspicions seemed confirmed, when, upon an order 
 from De Boteler, a page approached, and presented 
 him with a cup of wine. Although, as we have 
 said, suspecting the motive of so much indulgence, 
 he drank the wine, and then, looking round the 
 hall, wondered why there had been such a gather- 
 ing of the vassals, and why their looks were bent 
 upon him with such friendly interest, and why 
 words of pity and triumph were murmured amongst 
 them ; then he wondered why Jack Straw was sit- 
 ting in Calverley's place, and what fault John 
 Byles and his wife had committed, that they stood 
 there like criminals. These thoughts, however, 
 had scarcely passed through his mind, when the 
 baron addressed him in a gentle tone. 
 
 " Stephen Holgrave," said he, " you remember, 
 some seven years since, being accused of shooting 
 a buck in my chase. It is not to repeat the charge 
 that I sent for you, but, before this noble sir and 
 these vassals, publicly to acquit you of the base 
 deed. He who stole your arrows, and shot the 
 animal, stands there !" and he pointed towards 
 Byles. — '' And he who bribed him to be a thief 
 
350 THE BOKDMAN. 
 
 and a liar, aware of his guilt, has fled, and has for 
 the present escaped my vengeance. And now, 
 Holgrave, it repents me that I dealt so hardly by 
 your mother, for, as I hope to die a Christian's 
 death, I believe she died innocent." 
 
 Sir Robert had remarked the sudden flush, and 
 then the death-like paleness, which had passed 
 over Holgrave's face, as his glance fixed upon 
 Byles ; and perceiving that, as his dead mother 
 was spoken of, he became excessively agitated, he 
 ordered his page to carry him another cup of wine ; 
 and the two criminals being removed, De Boteler 
 continued, 
 
 " Approach, Stephen Holgrave." 
 
 Holgrave arose, and though he trembled, excite- 
 ment had lent him such strength, that he walked 
 up to the baron without assistance. De Boteler 
 then, taking Holgrave's right hand, pushed him, 
 with a gentle violence, away, at the same instant 
 repeating, in a loud voice, " Away! thou art free!" 
 and then added, " Hear, all ye assembled, that I, 
 Roland de Boteler, release Stephen Holgrave from 
 his bondage, and that from henceforth he oweth 
 me no allegiance, except what is due as a vassal in 
 chivalry." 
 
 And now the vassals, who had hitherto kept in 
 tolerable order, upon seeing Holgrave again a free 
 man, set up such a joyful shout, that the approach 
 of the royal guest was not known until the portals 
 were thrown open, and Richard, leaning familiarly 
 upon the arm of the Earl of Oxford, entered the 
 hall. 
 
 '' You hold a court to-day, my Lord de Boteler," 
 
THE BONDMAN. 351 
 
 said Richard, as the baron hurried forward between 
 the ranks of the shrinking vassals to welcome the 
 monarch. 
 
 Words of courteous gratulation were uttered by 
 De Boteler, as he led his visitor to a splendid chair 
 which had been prepared for him, and presented, 
 on his knee, a cup of spiced wine. During this, 
 Isabella and Lady Ann Knowles had entered the 
 hall, and, after being presented to the king, Lady 
 Ann whispered to Sir Robert, who requested that 
 Holgrave, who was about to depart, although no 
 longer a prisoner, should remain in the castle, at 
 least for that day. Holgrave promised acquiescence, 
 and the hall being cleared of the tenantry, Richard 
 and the attendant lords, whom he and his favourite 
 had by half an hour outstripped, presently sat 
 down to a splendid banquet. 
 
 During their ride, Robert de Vere had acquainted 
 Richard with the singular disappearance of his sis- 
 ter's infant son, and with the suspicions she enter- 
 tained respecting Holgrave. That love of the mar- 
 vellous, which seems inherent in youth, was awak- 
 ened in all its vigour in the young king ; and, as 
 the repast concluded, he heard, with a feeling of 
 pleasure, De Boteler ask permission to interrogate 
 a vassal in his presence. 
 
 " Please your highness," continued the baron, 
 " the man is exceedingly stubborn. We suspect 
 him of havino^ stolen our child, but nothino; has as 
 yet been able to extract a confession, though, per- 
 haps, your highness's presence may have some 
 effect." 
 
 The domestics at the lower table had withdrawn, 
 and Oakley, who was continued in his functions as 
 
352 THE BOIiDMAN. 
 
 Steward, was ordered to see that Holgrave at- 
 tended. 
 
 " Stephen Holgrave," said De Boteler, as the 
 former approached, " I have sent for you, to cer- 
 tify, in this presence, that I restore to you the land 
 you were once possessed of, with its stock and 
 crops ; and whatever you may need besides shall 
 be given you from the stores of the castle : — it is 
 only giving you back your own, Stephen. But it 
 is his grace's pleasure, that now, as your late of- 
 fences are forgiven, you make a full disclosure of 
 whatever you know respecting my stolen child." 
 
 All eyes were now riveted upon Holgrave ; 
 and a mind, less firm, would have trembled and 
 hesitated until the whole truth was either revealed 
 or suspected : but Holgrave, although prepared 
 for such interrogatories, did not appear disposed 
 to give an immediate reply. He had lost the con- 
 fidence in fair speeches he once possessed. His 
 freedom had been torn from him, and, though now 
 pronounced free, what surety had he that the 
 morrow might not again behold him a bond-slave ? 
 Thoughts like these could easily be detected in 
 the contraction of the brow, and compression of 
 the lips ; and there might also have been detected, 
 together with a resentment for the suspicions 
 which had been cast upon his mother, a deter- 
 mination not to subject himself to the chances of 
 further persecution by acknowledging the wrong 
 he had done. At this moment, when the colour 
 was receding from De Boteler's cheek, and when 
 every respiration which Isabella drew was dis- 
 tinctly audible, a figure, which had stood unnoticed 
 behind one of the statues, moved on, and, ascend- 
 
THE BONDMAN. 353 
 
 ing one step of the elevation, threw back a cloak 
 from his shoulders and a cowl from his head, re- 
 vealing the strongly marked countenance and im- 
 posing figure of John Ball ! Several of the at- 
 tendants sprung forward to secure him ; but a 
 motion from De Boteler restrained their zeal, and, 
 without noticing the action of the menials, the 
 monk, regarding those only who sat round the 
 table, addressed them in that deep, solemn tone 
 peculiar to him. 
 
 " Start not," said he, " John Ball is not come 
 to harm you ; — he never harmed any to whom God 
 gave the breath of life, — neither did he counsel 
 the blood which has been spilt. A price is set 
 upon his head — but think ye the homeless wan- 
 derer fears to die ? Baron of Sudley, I have come 
 thus far to tell you what I told you once before — 
 that if ye will swear to set free the bondmen of 
 Sudley, the child you mourn as dead shall be 
 restored to you !" 
 
 *' O ! swear, Roland ! swear !" said Isabella, 
 starting from her seat, and, forgetful of all save her 
 own intense feelings, she clasped her hands on her 
 husband's shoulder. 
 
 " I do swear," said De Boteler, taking a cru- 
 cifix from the monk, who extended one towards 
 him, and kneeling before Richard ; '' I do swear, 
 upon this blessed cross, and before my liege lord, 
 that if my child is restored to me, so that I can 
 claim him as my own, I will release every bond- 
 man within this manor, and that, from thence- 
 forth, there shall be no more bondage in the ba- 
 rony of Sudley." 
 
 " Stephen, will ye restore the child ?" 
 
 VOL. V. A A 
 
354 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 " I will," replied Holgrave, with softened feel- 
 ings and a brightening countenance, " the child, 
 my lord, shall be given up to you." 
 
 " He shall be given up," repeated the monk ; 
 and then, clasping his hands upon his bosom, he 
 descended the steps, strode through the hall, and, 
 in less than a minute, re-appeared, leading in 
 Margaret and the child, and followed by the gal- 
 ley man. 
 
 Although, from the growth of the boy thus in- 
 troduced, it might be judged he was about eight 
 years, yet there was that sparkling vivacity, and 
 that lightness of lip and eye which belong to an 
 earlier age ; and, as the wandering glance of the 
 dark eye, and the smile of the red lip, met De 
 Boteler's gaze, a tumultuous throbbing in his bo- 
 som told him that the child was indeed his own. 
 
 Isabella rose, and attempted to approach the 
 boy — but the body was not able to bear the fer- 
 vour of the spirit. Her heart sickened, the light 
 faded from her eyes, and she sank back in the 
 arms of the sympathizing Lady Knowles. 
 
 " That boy is yours, my lord," said Sir Robert 
 Knowles, " let who will be the mother !" 
 
 " Peace, profane jester !" said the monk. 
 " Baron of Sudley, do you believe that this is the 
 son thy lady mourned ?" 
 
 " I do believe," returned the baron, in a more 
 subdued voice than mortal had ever heard from 
 him before ; and he approached the child, w^ho 
 was nestling close to Margaret, and looking around 
 with an abashed but inquisitive countenance. 
 
 '* My Lord de Boteler," said Holgrave, draw- 
 ing the child almost forcibly from Margaret, " as 
 
THE BONDMAN. 355 
 
 I hope that my mother is a saint in heaven, the 
 child is yours. I was a bondman — was mother- 
 less — childless — and I thought it would be no 
 crime to make you, too, desolate !" 
 
 De Boteler looked at Holgrave as he spoke, but 
 did not reply ; but, placing his hand upon the full 
 shoulder that rose above the boy's tunic, he bent 
 his head down and kissed the child's forehead. 
 
 " The child is exceedingly like you !" remarked 
 Richard. 
 
 " There is a resemblance, my lord," said Ox- 
 ford : '' but it is not likenesses nor assertions that 
 will satisfy me — I require proof!" 
 
 '' And proof you shall have," replied the monk. 
 '' Holgrave, declare how you obtained the child !" 
 
 Isabella, who had recovered her consciousness, 
 and who now, with almost convulsive extacy, was 
 embracing the child, cast an angry glance at her 
 brother, as if she feared that some discrepancy in 
 the proof might bring her right to claim him in 
 question. De Boteler, however, did not appear 
 displeased, but merely said, " Holgrave, you have 
 not declared how you obtained the child." 
 
 *' If it please you, my lord, when I was a boy, 
 I was one morning rubbing down one of the late 
 lord's horses for the servitor, whose duty it was to 
 do it, when, all on a sudden, as I was stooping 
 down to wipe the horse's feet, I saw the wall at 
 the back of one of the stalls open, and out came 
 the old baron. He looked round, but fortunately, 
 or it may be unfortunately for him who is now 
 lord, he did not see me." 
 
 " And you discovered where the secret opening 
 led ?" 
 
 A A 2 
 
356 THE BON DM AX. 
 
 " Yes — with all the curiosity of a boy, I after- 
 wards found that the secret door led by some long 
 dark steps to the bed-chamber of the old lord !" 
 
 " Did you mention your discovery to any one ?" 
 
 " To no one, until after I had stolen the child — 
 and then I told all to father John." 
 
 " This story," remarked the Earl of Oxford, 
 " requires proof as much as any thing else." 
 
 " You shall receive that of your own eyes," said 
 Holgrave, "■ if it please you to accompany me ;" and 
 Richard, expressing a wish to witness every thing 
 connected with the strange discovery, arose, and, 
 with De Boteler, Oxford, and Sir Robert Knowles, 
 proceeded as w^e have before described, to the 
 bed-chamber. " From that bed, my lord," said 
 Holgrave to De Boteler, "I took the child — 
 it slept soundly — I crept down these steps — it 
 was a dark night — and I got home without being 
 seen !" 
 
 " This is not satisfactory proof," said Oxford. 
 
 " My lord, I have more to shew you," resumed 
 Holgrave. 
 
 They then descended to the stabling, and, fol- 
 lowed by many inquisitive eyes, went on to Hol- 
 grave's cottage. 
 
 It w^as uninhabited, but the door w^as fastened, 
 and Holgrave forcing it open, led the way into the 
 deserted abode. A chill came over him as he re- 
 moved the chest ; but taking up a shovel from a 
 corner, where he himself had thrown it, he prepared 
 to remove the clay. He hesitated for a moment, 
 and then began his task ; — he had dug about a 
 foot deep, when, raising up a slip of wood about one 
 foot broad and two in length, the perfect form of 
 
THE BONDMAN. 357 
 
 an infant, lying beneath, caused those who were 
 looking silently on to utter an exclamation. 
 
 " Poor babe ! it was a sad night I laid ye there," 
 said Holgrave, bending over the grave, and looking 
 earnestly at the little corpse ; and then kneeling 
 down, he attempted to raise one of the hands, but 
 it dropped crumbling from his touch. 
 
 Holgrave, although he had exerted himself much 
 during the last hour, was extremely weak ; and 
 this little circumstance affected him so deeply that 
 he started on his feet, and, to hide the w^eakness 
 of tears, turned away his head from those who were 
 gazing upon him. 
 
 " I was a man, and I felt as a father," said Hol- 
 grave, turning again and looking at De Boteler, 
 *' and yet I stole your child, and dug that grave, 
 and with my own hands laid in my little one ; — 
 and why did I do it ? Because I had determined 
 that your child should wear the bondage you had 
 !n to me." 
 
 This seems strange language from a bondman," 
 said Richard, aside to Oxford. 
 
 " The man has an obstinate spirit, your grace," 
 returned the earl. 
 
 " De Boteler," said Sir Robert Knowles, " this 
 bondage should never have been." 
 
 " Was I more than man, that I could tell the 
 traitor Calverley deceived me ?" impatiently re- 
 turned the baron, as he felt, though not choosing to 
 acknowledge it, that he had done wrong when he 
 insisted on the bondage. 
 
 During this brief colloquy, Holgrave had again 
 bent over the grave, and had taken up the box in 
 which were deposited the articles that had been on 
 
358 THE BOXDMAN. 
 
 the young De Boteler. Sir Robert, mistaking liis 
 motive, observed, " You must not think of removing 
 the babe, Holgrave. This hut is but of little worth 
 — you can throw it down, and bring a priest to 
 say a prayer over the spot ; and then the grave 
 will be as good as if it were in a churchyard." 
 
 Holgrave bent his head in acknowledgment to 
 the knight; and, placing the box under his arm, 
 observed, " I hid these, lest they should be witness 
 against me ; and now, if it please ye, noble sirs, to 
 come back to the hall, I will restore them to my 
 lady." 
 
 When the yeoman had returned to the castle, 
 and presented the box to Isabella, the evidences it 
 contained, in the dress and crucifix, were so con- 
 clusive, that the Earl of Oxford gave a kiss of wel- 
 come to the little Ralph. 
 
 '* Baron of Sudley," said John Ball, " do ye ac- 
 knowledge that child as your son ?" 
 
 " I do, monk, and I will fulfil my vow. Stephen 
 Holgrave, to you I give the charge of collecting all 
 my bondmen ; — see that they are assembled here 
 to-morrow morning. They shall be freed ; and 
 from henceforth, as I vowed, there shall be no more 
 bondage in Sudley ; and, by my faith ! I believe I 
 shall be better served by freemen than serfs." 
 
 " And, my Lord de Boteler, we feel much in- 
 clined to follow your example," said Richard. 
 " The shire of Hereford is our royal patrimony — 
 have ye a scribe here who can draw up a charter?" 
 
 Oakley was called upon, and desired to prepare 
 an instrument, to the effect of freeing the bondmen 
 of Hereford. 
 
 John Ball, who had looked on and listened with 
 
THE BONDMAN. 359 
 
 a deep interest, now approached the king, and 
 knelt before him. 
 
 " The work that I strove for has begun, and 
 it will finish ; but mine eyes will not live to see 
 that day. From the hour that blood was shed I 
 forsook the cause ; but I hid myself from the snares 
 that were laid for me ; — for I said, surely the light 
 shall yet rise up in darkness ! and it has risen ; 
 and it will grow brighter and brighter ; — but John 
 Ball's task is done, and he gives himself up to the 
 death that awaits him." 
 
 De Boteler said something in a low tone to 
 Richard, who turned to the monk. 
 
 " Retire !" said he, " we shall consider of your 
 punishment." 
 
 As the monk withdrew, Oakley, who had retired, 
 for the purpose of transcribing the charter, re-en- 
 tered ; and the instrument being presented to 
 Richard, received the royal signature. While this 
 was being done, Oakley, under the impression that 
 the affording a proof of Calverley's guilt, more tan- 
 gible in its nature than mere assertions, could not 
 possibly injure himself, and might turn to his per- 
 manent advantage, approached De Boteler, and, 
 producing the prohibitory writ, — 
 
 " Please you, my lord," said he, " while search- 
 ing among Thomas Calverley's writings for parch- 
 ment, I discovered this." 
 
 " Discovered this among my steward's writings !" 
 said the baron as, biting his lip with vexation, he 
 spread open the parchment on the table. 
 
 " Why, my Lord de Boteler," said Richard, 
 taking up the writ, and glancing over the charac- 
 
360 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 ters, " this is a prohibitory writ from the chancery ! 
 Where was this found ?" 
 
 " My liege, in a private box in the steward's 
 room, which, it seems, he had forgotten to lock," 
 replied Oakley, with that propriety which he knew 
 how to assume. 
 
 •' The galleyman had stood in the hall, a silent, 
 but delighted, spectator of all we have detailed. 
 His heart yearned to grasp Holgrave's hand, and 
 tell him how much he rejoiced in his freedom ; 
 but he dared not presume so far until the yeoman 
 should have been dismissed. Besides, his thoughts 
 were bent upon another object: as Richard raised 
 the parchment for perusal, the seals attracted his at- 
 tention, and he instantly recognized it as one he had 
 observed Calverley drop in Gloucester, at the time 
 of Edith's trial ; but as he saw the ungracious look 
 the baron cast on Black Jack, he thought he would 
 not irritate him further by mentioning it : yet, 
 stepping forward as Oakley ceased, he said — • 
 
 " Please your noble grace, that man lies. / 
 found that parchment in an hostelry-yard at Glou- 
 cester, six years ago — I know it by the seals ; and 
 that John Oakley told me it was an old lease of no 
 use, and so I gave it to him." 
 
 " And who are you, varlet ?" said Richard, evi- 
 dently more amused than offended, as he expected 
 some fresh incident to grow out of this affair. 
 
 " Please your grace," replied Wells, encouraged 
 by the king's manner, " I am a vintner in the city 
 of London, and I came down to Sudley with Ste- 
 phen Holgrave's wife, to see what could be done 
 for her husband." 
 
 " By my faith !" my Lord de Boteler, " your 
 
THE BONDMAX. 361 
 
 hall seems a fitting place to act miracles in," said 
 Richard, laughing, 
 
 " There have, indeed, been strange things done 
 here to-day, my liege," replied De Boteler, smiling, 
 but at heart annoyed at the thoughtless observa- 
 tion. 
 
 '' Oxford," said Richard, '' ask the knave if he 
 have any more disclosures to make." 
 
 " Please you, my lord," said Wells, " I have 
 only to say again, that John Oakley did not find 
 this writing in the castle, and that he is a traitor- 
 ous liar, and that I here challenge him to mortal 
 combat." 
 
 " Retire, kerns !" said De Boteler, glancing 
 with anger at Oakley and the galleyman, '' and 
 settle your vile feuds as ye may. Disturb not this 
 noble presence longer." 
 
 " Be not angry, my Lord of Sudley : we request 
 you to ask yonder varlet why he calls his fellow 
 such hard names ?" 
 
 " Please you, my lord," said Wells, nothing 
 daunted, " did not John Oakley get Stephen Hol- 
 grave from the forest of Dean?" 
 
 " He did," answered De Boteler, who now re- 
 membered Wells as he who had assisted Isabella. 
 
 '' Then, my lord, I call that man a liar, because 
 he said he found the parchment in the steward's 
 room ; and I call him a traitor and a liar, because 
 he got Stephen Holgrave out of the forest of Dean, 
 by saying, that of his own good will, he helped to 
 lay his mother in a church-yard, when he was paid 
 in good broad pieces for doing the work." 
 
 Holgrave, weak as he was, and forgetful, even, 
 of the royal presence, sprung upon Oakley. The 
 
362 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 sight of the writ tliat would have saved his mother, 
 almost maddened him. He did not exactly com- 
 prehend what had been said about the writ ; but it 
 seemed, that Oakley was in some measure connect- 
 ed with this, and the sudden conviction, that he 
 was, indeed, the betrayer, gave him such a frantic 
 energy, that Black Jack's face grew still blacker 
 beneath his grasp, and he would have dashed him 
 to the ground, had not the baron risen and com- 
 manded Holgrave to loose his hold. 
 
 " I think," said Sir Robert Knowles, who saw 
 that it was only under the influence of strong feel- 
 ing that Holgrave could at present be a match for 
 Oakley — " I think it would be better that this re- 
 tainer accept the vintner's challenge ; and should 
 he worst him, then he and Holgrave can settle their 
 quarrel, when a few days shall have given him more 
 strength. This, despite of Holgrave's assurances 
 that his strength was undiminished, was decided 
 upon, and the galleyman and Oakley were directed 
 to hold themselves in readiness to try the strength 
 of their weapons on the morrow. They were then 
 ordered to withdraw — Oakley and the galleyman to 
 be lodged that night in the retainers' court, and 
 Holgrave to tell over all he felt to the affectionate 
 Margaret, who, for the present, at Isabella's re- 
 quest, was to occupy an apartment in the castle. 
 
 The more Oakley thought of the challenge he 
 had been compelled to accept, the less relish he 
 felt to engage in it. Even should he conquer his 
 strong-knit antagonist, he must have to fight over 
 again with the vindictive Holgrave ; and he cursed 
 the folly which had induced him to produce the 
 writ. However, he had found a golden treasure 
 
THE BOXDMAN. 363 
 
 in Calverley's room : and as he lay tossing on his 
 sleepless bed, he resolved to take an opportunity, 
 during the bustle of the next morning, to leave the 
 castle. And, indeed, during the bustle of the 
 next morning, an individual of much more con- 
 sequence than Black Jack might have escaped un- 
 heeded. 
 
 The incidents of the previous day had caused a 
 strong sensation, not only at Sudley and Winch- 
 combe, but in all the immediate neighbourhood. 
 The presence of a king ; the recovery of an heir ; 
 and the unheard-of circnmstance of giving free- 
 dom to the serfs of a whole county, were things well 
 calculated to attract crowds to the castle : and 
 then then there were the feastings, and the re- 
 joicings which were to gladden the hearts of all 
 who chose to partake. 
 
 The gentle class, and the most respectable por- 
 tion of the tenantry, prognosticated only evil 
 from this all -advised proceeding. As they looked 
 on, and saw the bondman and nief, with animated 
 countenances, pouring into the hall, and beheld 
 De Boteler, in the presence of the king and the 
 nobles, give freedom to all who approached him, 
 and order that from henceforth they should hold 
 what land they possessed by copy of court-roll, 
 they wondered how far this unprecedented innova- 
 tion would extend, and how people were to get 
 their land cultivated, if the peasant was allowed to 
 go where he liked, and work as he pleased. 
 
 When the last bondman was freed, John Ball, 
 who had stood looking on with devouring eyes, 
 knelt down, and raising up a cheek suffused with 
 the crimson of high-wrought feeling, and eyes glis- 
 
364 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 tening and radiant, ejaculated, in a scarcely au- 
 dible voice, 
 
 " Now will my soul depart in peace, since mine 
 eyes have beheld this day ! — now will my spirit 
 rejoice, since thou hast had compassion on them 
 that were in fetters, and hast released the children 
 of the bond !" Then rising, and extending his 
 elapsed hands towards De Boteler, he said, in a 
 louder tone, " May the Lord add blessings upon 
 thee and thy children ! May length of days be 
 thy portion, and mayest thou dwell for ever in the 
 house of the Lord." Then approaching Holgrave, 
 he continued — "Farewell, Stephen! The cle- 
 mency of the King has saved my life, and the 
 voice of the anointed priest hath proved me 
 cleansed of the leper spot — but I must now be a 
 dw^eller in a strange land. Tell Margaret that we 
 may not meet again ; but surely, if the prayers of 
 a brother can aught avail, mine shall be offered at 
 the footstool of the Highest for her. I could not 
 bid her adieu. Bless thee, Stephen, and bless her, 
 and fare thee well !" He then pressed Holgrave's 
 hand. 
 
 " Nay, father John," said Holgrave, with emo- 
 tion, " we must not part so." 
 
 It was to no purpose that the monk requested, 
 and then commanded, that he should be permitted 
 to pursue his journey alone. Stephen insisted 
 upon accompanying him out of Gloucestershire, 
 and father John, to avoid contention, feigned to 
 defer his departure ; but when the tables were 
 spread, and the domestics and vassals had sat 
 down to the feast, Margaret, who had been seek- 
 ing the monk about the castle, looked and looked 
 
THE BONDMA'N'. 365 
 
 again among them all, and at length had to weep 
 over the certainty that she should never more be- 
 hold her brother. Nor did she ; for John Ball did 
 not long survive his exile. On the second anni- 
 versary of the bondman's freedom, his own spirit 
 was freed, and his body rested in the cemetery of 
 the monastery of Cistercium, in Burgundy. 
 
 Butto return. When the ceremony of enfranchise- 
 ment was fairly over, there arose the cry for the 
 combat, and great was the general disappointment 
 when, upon the galleyman's standing forth pre- 
 pared for the encounter, no Oakley could be found. 
 " He has skulked off to the craven Calverley, I'll 
 warrant," said one. " Aye, aye, as sure as the sun 
 shines, they are sworn brothers," said another : 
 *' they think more of saving their heads than spar- 
 ing their heels. " Did ye ever know one who could 
 read and write, who didn't know how to take care 
 of his carcase," said another, with a sagacious nod ; 
 but though these good folks were all very shrewd, 
 they did not happen to fall upon the truth, which 
 was simply this, that as Black Jack was watching 
 an opportunity to escape, without observation, he 
 happened to see the cloak and cowl the monk had 
 thrown off when first appearing in the hall, lying 
 in a corner of the court-yard, where it had been 
 carelessly placed by one of those whose business it 
 was to keep the hall in order. It instantly oc- 
 curred to him that this might be of use, and con- 
 triving to remove the cloak, he put it on, and, 
 thus disguised, succeeded in leaving Sudley ; but 
 though disguises had so often befriended him, it 
 proved fatal in this instance, for, upon taking a 
 northerly direction, as one where he was least 
 
366 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 likely to be known, he was recognized as a leader 
 of the commons, and his monkish dress inducing- 
 a suspicion of his being John Ball, (the monk's 
 pardon not being known), Oakley, although swear- 
 ing by every thing sacred that he was no monk, 
 was hanged without form of trial, at St. Albans, as 
 one who had stirred up the bondmen to insurrec- 
 tion. 
 
 Little more remains to be said. De Boteler, 
 upon discovering that Byles held Holgrave's land 
 by virtue of the mortgage transferred by the usurer 
 to Calverley, pronounced, in the most summary 
 way, the whole thing illegal. Byles was dispos- 
 sessed, and the farm, now the largest in the ma- 
 nor, returned to Holgrave, who thus, like old Job, 
 became the possessor of greater wealth after his 
 misfortunes than he had enjoyed before. 
 
 When Holgrave's strength was re-established, 
 he waged battle with Byles to prove the yeoman's 
 guilt and his mother's innocence. Byles was no 
 craven, but he was vanquished and mortally 
 wounded, and, when death was upon him, con- 
 fessed the whole transaction. Mary, with her 
 children, fled on the instant ; and, some few years 
 after, was seen by Merritt, who had again become 
 a peaceful artizan, begging alms in London. 
 
 Isabella, although, of course, never acknow- 
 ledging her share in the writ, yet, as some atone- 
 ment, gave a large benefaction to Hailes Abbey, 
 on condition that a certain number of masses 
 should be offered up for Edith. 
 
 The little Ralph grew up with a strong predi- 
 lection for the sea, contracted, it was often sus- 
 pected, by the strange stories he had heard the 
 
THE BONDMAN. 367 
 
 galleyman repeat ; and it is upon record, that 
 Ralph de Boteler, Baron of Sudley, was the first 
 high admiral of England. The young heir always 
 evinced a strong affection for Margaret ; so much 
 so, indeed, as sometimes to raise a suspicion in the 
 baroness that her son loved his foster-mother better 
 than herself. 
 
 We must not forget Bridget Turner, who was 
 so affected at the death of her husband, and per- 
 haps, too, at the failure of the rising, that she took 
 a journey on foot from Maidstone to Sudley, on 
 purpose to reproach Holgrave with having been 
 the cause of her husband's death. Margaret strove 
 to tranquillize her unhappy feelings, and Hol- 
 grave endeavoured to convince her that, although 
 Turner's removal from Sudley might be attributed 
 to him, his connexion with the rising was his own 
 act. And at length Bridget, finding that she was 
 paid more attention by Margaret and Holgrave 
 than she had received even from her own son, 
 took up her permanent abode with them : and 
 sometimes, when she could get the ear of an old 
 neighbour, and talk of former times, and tell what 
 her poor husband had done for Holgrave, when he 
 was a bondman, she felt almost as happy as she 
 had ever been. 
 
 About twenty years after this, Margaret, who had 
 become a fidl, comely dame, and was by many 
 thought better-looking now than in her youth, was 
 one day bustling about her kitchen, for on the 
 morrow her eldest son, who had accompanied the 
 Lord Ralph on a naval expedition, was expected 
 to bring home, from the galleyman's, in London, a 
 counterpart of the pretty little Lucy. She was 
 
368 THE BONDMAN. 
 
 busy preparing the ingredients for some sweet 
 dish, when one of Holgrave's labourers came in, 
 and requested her to go to his hut directly, for an 
 old man, who seemed dying, desired much to see 
 her. Providing herself w4th a little wine, Margaret 
 hastened to the cottage; and here, on a straw bed, 
 lay a man with grey hairs hanging about his shoul- 
 ders, and with a face so emaciated, and a hand so 
 skeleton-like, that she almost shuddered as she 
 looked. The invalid motioned the man to with- 
 draw, and then, fixing his black eyes, that ap- 
 peared gifted with an intense — an unnatural bril- 
 liance, upon Margaret, who seemed fascinated by 
 the gaze, he said in a tremulous voice, — 
 
 " Margaret, do you know me ?" 
 
 " Know you ! — know you ! " she repeated, start- 
 ing from the seat she had taken beside him, and 
 retreating a few steps. 
 
 " Do not fly me, Margaret. I cannot harm 
 you — I never could have harmed you. — Do you 
 not know me ? " 
 
 *' Surely," said Margaret, trembling from head 
 to foot — '^ surely it cannot be " 
 
 " I see you have a misgiving that it is Thomas 
 Calverley — it is he! But be seated, Margaret, 
 and listen to the last w^ords I shall ever more 
 breathe in mortal ear." 
 
 Margaret was so shocked and overpowered, that 
 she obeyed. 
 
 " Margaret," said the dying man, as he raised 
 himself a little from his bed, " I know not why I 
 sent for you, or why I dragged my weary limbs 
 from beyond the sea to this place ; but as I felt 
 my hour was coming, I longed to look upon you 
 
THE EO:^fDMAN. 369 
 
 again. You are and have been happy — your looks 
 bespeak it: but, Margaret, what do mine tell of? 
 — Of weary days and sleepless nights — of sick- 
 ness of heart, and agony of soul — of crime — of 
 pain — of sorrow, and deep, destroying love!" 
 His strength was exhausted with the feeling with 
 which he uttered this, and he sunk back on the 
 bed. 
 
 Margaret was exceedingly agitated, and was 
 rising to call for assistance, but he caught her 
 hand in his cold grasp. '' Do not go yet," he 
 said, in a low voice — *' I came far to see you !" 
 His grasp relaxed, and Margaret, drawing away 
 her hand, poured some wine in a cup, and held it 
 to his lips ; he swallowed a little, and, looking up 
 in her face, she saw that his eyes were filled with 
 tears. " You are going to leave me, Margaret ?" 
 
 " Yes," she replied, " I must go now, but I will 
 see you again." 
 
 "Never! — you will never see me again!" he 
 said, with fresh energy : " but, before you go, tell 
 me that you forgive me all that is passed." 
 
 " I do forgive you, indeed, as truly as I hope to 
 be forgiven !" said Margaret, affected — and turning 
 away, she left the cottage. 
 
 On the third day from this, Calverley, bearing 
 the felon's brand, unwept and unknown, was laid 
 in the stranger's grave. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 VOL. V. B B 
 
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 " The very graceful volume before us must sell by tbousaads to repay the enterprising 
 publishers for the cost of its production. i\Ir. Banim has put forth all the vigour that be- 
 longed to the old O'Hara Tales, and avoided the weaknesses that sullied his subsequent 
 efforts. He has gone back to Nature, and she has welcomed the return of her favourite child 
 with more than a mother's fondness. * * * The Tale is the best that has appeared this 
 season." — Athenaum. 
 
 000 
 
 The Second Volume, published on the 1st of February, contains 
 SCHINDERHANNES, 
 THE ROBBER OF THE RHINE. 
 By the Editor, Leitch Ritchie. 
 "This volume calls for unqualified praise. It is elegantly written, abounds in strikin? in- 
 cident, and is, througbont, replete with highly-wrought and well sustained interest. In snort, 
 this is decidedl}' oue of the best romances we have ever read, whether we judge by incident, 
 character, or plot." — Court Journal. 
 
 The Third Volume, published on the 1st of March, contains 
 " WALTHAM," A Novel. 
 
 " We sincerely recommend " Waltham" to the perusal of our readers ; and most heartily 
 do we wish success to the " Library of Romance." Many a flower, otherwise " born to blush 
 nuseen,-" will, we trust, be drawn from its obscurity by the spirited undertaking of Mr. 
 Ritchie." — Brighton Herald." 
 
 000 
 
 The Fourth Volume, published on the 1st of April, contaijis 
 THE STOLEN CHILD, A TALE OF THE TOWN, 
 
 FOUNDED ON A CERTAIN INTERESTING FACT. 
 
 By John Galt, Esq., author of the " Ayrshire Legatees," " Annals of the 
 
 Parish,'' " Lawrie Todd," &c. 
 
 " The Stolen Child is a most cleverly managed story, with consequences and contrivances 
 
 worthy a lawyer's brief — we do not think any one ever exceeded Mr. Gait in sketching 
 
 national portraits — they are preserved as if for a museum of natural curiosities." 
 
 Literary Gazette. 
 " The Autobiography in this volume is equal to Mr. Gait's best days, and even his subor- 
 dinate characters are worthy to be recorded in the Annals of the Parish." — Athenaum. 
 
 SMITH, ELDER, AND CO., CORNHILL. 
 
WORKS 
 
 IN THE PRESS, OR RECENTLY PUBLISHED, 
 
 BY SMITH, ELDER AND CO., 
 
 Corn!) ill, EontTon. 
 
 Preparing for the press, and to be speedily published, 
 DEDICATED, BY PERMISSION, TO LORD GODERICH, 
 
 THE NARRATIVE OF TWO 
 
 EXPEDITIONS INTO THE INTERIOR OF AUSTRALIA, 
 
 Undertaken by Captain Charles Sturt, of the 39th Regiment, 
 by order of the Colonial Government to ascertain the nature of 
 the Country to the west and north-west of the Colony of New 
 South Wales. This work will contain a correct Chart of the Rivers 
 that were discovered ; a Minute Description of the Country, its Geo- 
 logy, Productions, the Character of its Rivers, Plains and Inhabitants, 
 together with much useful information. It will give a distinct account 
 of Captain Barker's Survey of St. Vincent's Gulf, the nature of the 
 Soil in the Promontory of Cape Jervis, its Streams, Anchorage, &c. : 
 and will be illustrated by numerous Drawings of the Scenery, Orni- 
 thology, and Fossil Formation of the Country traversed, interspersed 
 with numerous Anecdotes of the Natives, their Manners, Weapons, 
 and other Peculiarities. The whole, throwing a new light on the 
 Country that was explored. 
 
 Preparing for publication, in Demy Svo. Illustrated. 
 
 Narrative of a Journey to the 
 
 FALLS OF THE CAVERY ; 
 
 With an Historical and Descriptive Account of 
 
 THE NEILGHERRY HILLS: 
 
 Illustrated by correct Views of the veiy splendid and striking Scenery 
 met with in these Regions, and on the Route there from Madras. 
 By Lieutenant H. Jervis, H. M. 62d Regt. 
 
 The work now proposed will form a complete Guide both to the 
 invalid atid others visiting this romantic country : the names of 
 Subscribers will be inserted in the Volume, which wiU be put to 
 press as soon as a sufficient number has been receivedi 
 
 Price Fifteen Shillings, neatly bound in cloth. 
 
Just published, beautifully illustrated, price Ts.Gd. cloth extra, or \0s.6d. 
 elegantly bound in Morocco, 
 
 PICTURES OF PRIVATE LIFE, 
 
 BY SARAH STICKNEY. 
 
 " Sarah Stickney is an honour to her sex, and an ornament to literature. We would place 
 her volume in an exquisite small library, sacred to sabbath feelings and the heart's best 
 moods, when love and charity and hope combine to throw over the mind that soft and tranquil 
 glow only to be compared to the later glories of the day." — Spectator. 
 
 " A very charming volume, full of graceful and feminine feeling, and an enthusiastic sense 
 of religious faith."— Liferary Gazette. 
 
 " It is altogether such a work as every mother of a family would place in the hands of her 
 children, and from whi<-H even that mother might herself learn a profitable lesson. — For our 
 own part, we do not hesitate to affirm that few, very few works indeed, have of late years, 
 more affected or interested our feelings than that we now most unleignedly recommend.to the 
 attention of our readers." — Cheltenham Journal. 
 
 " We predict that this interesting volume will become an universal favourite. — We have in 
 fact never met with a book, besides the Sacred Oracles, which might be more advantageously 
 put into the hands of young persons."— Bristol Journal. 
 
 " This beautiful little volume cannot be perused without affecting and improving the head 
 «nd the heart, and to young ladies particularly, would we most earnestly rocommend it." 
 
 Scots Times. 
 
 Just completed, in Demy 8vo. with Portrait, Price lOs. 6d. 
 
 THE LIFE OF THE POET, WILLIAM COWPER. 
 
 Compiled from his correspondence, and other authentic sources of informa- 
 tion. Containing a full Development of his Religious Character — Obser- 
 vations on his Depressive Malady — Interesting Details on the peculiarity 
 of his Case — with Critical Remarks on his Productions ; — forming a complete 
 and connected Record of the Poet's extraordinary Life, and intended to 
 remove the Obscurities which have hitherto hung over his Singular Personal 
 History. By Thomas Taylor. 
 
 •' There was room for another biography of Cowper ; and Mr. Taylor has proved himself 
 a worthy compiler of the materials which, subsequent to Hayley's Life, have been flowing 
 into the stock of public information. He has taken a fair and intelligent view of the exceed- 
 ingly interesting character of this most aflflicted and yet most gifted Poet — whose name is 
 destined to go down to posterity as the brightest poetical moralist that has ever fathomed the 
 depths of the English language." — Spectator. 
 
 000 
 
 Now ready, the Second Edition, price 2s. 6d. boxind, cloth. 
 
 THE VILLAGE POOR-HOUSE. 
 
 138 a Countrg ©urate. 
 
 "The design of this Poem is admirable, and the execution of it spirited and vigorous. 
 We have read the little volume with great delight at seeing such good powers put forth for 
 so excellent a purpose."— jBiaminer. 
 
 " The author has drawn from Nature ; his feelings are enlisted in the cause of the poor ; 
 hence, the fidelity of his descriptions and the earnestness of his manners." — Morning Chronicle. 
 
 " We recommend this little volume to our readers. It is full of interest, and will richly 
 repay the perusal." — Scots Times. 
 
 " There is real poetry in this little volume, and many home truths are told in a terse and 
 pointed manner : it is well worthy of perusal." — Tait's Masazine. 
 
 " This little volume claims our attention by the high poetical talent it displays." 
 
 ,, , . „ ^ Penny Magazine. 
 
 It IS really refreshing to meet mth a little volume such as the one before us. The author 
 is a poet of very high order, and his unassuming volume is a rich treasure, from which the 
 reader may gather much that is valuable." — New Monthly Magazine. 
 
 "This is a poem of extraordinary power. It is one of those deep-striking, rivetting com- 
 positions, no one can take up without reading to the end." — Court Magazine. 
 
 See also the Times, Monthly Repository, Metropolitan, 8cc. &c. for high characters of this 
 work. 
 
Just completed, in Post^vo. illustrated by Parris, price 10s. 6d. elegantly 
 hound in morocco extra. 
 
 LONDON NIGHTS' ENTERTAINMENTS ; 
 
 A new Edition, with additions, of TALES AND CONFESSIONS. 
 
 By Leitch Ritchie. 
 
 This work is supposed l)y eminent critics to be his chef d'auvre. The ori- 
 ginal edition, it will be recollected, (although not containing, like the pre- 
 sent, any of the later efibrts of his pen), was pronounced by the London 
 Reviewers to be " the most extraordinary work of fiction that has for many 
 years issued from the press." 
 
 " Mr. Ritchie is by far our best writer of romantic and imaginary Tales," was the dictum 
 of the Literary Gazette on another occasion ; and the Atlas pronounces him to be " the Scott 
 of the short, picturesque, bold, and dramatic story." 
 
 " The power of fascinating the reader, of chaining him down, as it were, while his fancy is 
 torme.ited by teriible imaginings, is the principal characteristic of Mr. Ritchie's fiction." 
 
 London Weekly Review. 
 
 " This Scott of Tale-writers."— A'aftonaJ Standard. 
 
 THE BENGALEE ; 
 
 Or, SKETCHES OF SOCIETY AND MANNERS IN THE EAST; in- 
 cluding Satires in India, &c. &c. By an Officer in the Bengal Army. 
 Post 8vo. Price 10.y. 6d. boards. 
 
 *' It is impossible to speak too highly of this elegant and unpretending publication. The 
 object of the Author is to present a picture of society and manners in the East Indies; 
 and we do not remember to have met with any book of which the plan is more ably ex- 
 ecuted, or in which instruction and entertainment are more agreeably combined." — 
 
 Oriental Herald. 
 " The work before us, we hesitate not to affirm, is one of the best — if not the very best — 
 of the kind we have met with for many years. It is most pleasantly written, and contains a 
 felicitous admixture of the serious with the humorous. It is one of the very few books of 
 modern production which the general reader will go through from beginning to end without 
 feeling himself thereby subjected to a species of mental drudgery. It will be read with delight 
 by all acquainted with the English language ; but as most of the articles have a reference to 
 circumstances connected with India, it vvill possess peculiar attraction to those who have 
 been in the East."— London fVeekly Review. 
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF NAUFRAGUS, 
 
 Written by Himself; giving a faithful Account of his Voyages, Ship^vreck, 
 and Travels, from his first outset as a Midshipman in the East India Com- 
 pany's Service, till he became a Commander in the Indian Seas ; in- 
 cluding a general description of India, of the Hindoo Superstitions, Idolatry, 
 and Sacrifices of the Suttee, or Immolation of Hindoo Widows, &c. &c. 
 Second edition, 8vo. Price 9s. boards. 
 
 "From the extraordinary nature of the adventures described in the volume under this 
 name, and the extreme youth of the author, we formed an opinion that the work was a col- 
 lection of facts and observations which had occurred to various persons, and were strung 
 together, for the sake of uniformity, as having happened to a single individual. In this, 
 however, we learn that we have been mistaken ; for we have received a letter from Naufragus 
 himself, affording us not only most satisfactory evidence of his identity, but such convincing 
 reasons to rely upon the authenticity of his narrative, that we can no lon°er entertain a doubt 
 upon the subject, and we have only to say, that the certainty of its reality adds greatly to 
 the interest of his eventful story." — Literary Gazette. 
 
 " If you wish for a pleasant travelling companion, or a friend to beguile a lonely or a 
 tedious hour — if you have any desire to view an interesting, we might truly say, a wonderful 
 picture of real life, read the Adventures of Naufragus." — Scotsman. 
 
 THE LAST OF THE PLANTAGENETS. 
 
 An Historical NaiTative, illustrating some of the Public Events and the 
 Ecclesiastical and Domestic Manners of the Fifteenth and Sixteenth Cen- 
 turies. Second Edition, Demy 8vo. 12s. boards. 
 
 " One of the most faithful and delicate narratives that the whole library of English Ro- 
 mance can furnish. The plaintiveness, purity, and simplicity of the diction, and the 
 monastic quietness, the unaffected tenderness, and repose of the incidents, must render 
 this Volume a permanent favourite with all readers of taste and feeliDg.""^(2<is. 
 
V 
 
imiiimmummimmi 
 
 14 DAY USE 
 
 RETURN TO DESK FROM WHICH BORROWED 
 LOAN DEPT. 
 
 TT>« book is due on the las. date stamped below or 
 on the date to which renewed ' 
 
 Renewed books are subject to immediate recall 
 
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 RETURNED TO 
 
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 ^?o^lA-50m-9,'58 
 (6889sl0)476B 
 
 .General Library 
 
 University of California 
 
 Berkeley 
 
C0S5a57753