Forest Days: A Romance of Old Times
you are right, Alured, but still we had better spread out, and scour
the whole country across. You, with part of the men, take the banks of
the Trent--I, with others, will skirt the borders of the forest from
Nottingham to Lindwell--and our young friend here, with his own two
servants and two of ours, will, perhaps, examine the forest itself from
the second turning on the road to Southwell, as far as he may judge it
likely, from the time which has elapsed, that these gentry could have
advanced. I will send people to meet him when I reach Lindwell, who
will tell him what success we have had, and give him aid and
assistance."
Alured de Ashby seemed not over well pleased at the arrangement, for
his brows still continued heavy, his cheek flushed, and his proud lip
quivering; but he made no objection, and after a few words more, the
party separated upon the different tracks they proposed to follow,
having still three or four hours of daylight before them.
Alured rode on, with his fiery temper chafing at the insult which had
been offered to his family, and but the more irritable and impatient
because he had no one on whom to vent his anger.
His father pursued his course more slowly, and with very different
thoughts. Wrath in the bosom of the son swallowed up every sensation;
but the loss of a child, which he had treated but lightly in the case
of the innkeeper, now filled the Earl's breast with deep anxiety and
apprehension, though certainly poor Greenly had more cause for
agonizing fear and sorrow than the proud noble.
It is a curious fact, however, and one which gives a strange indication
of the lawless state of the times, that no one imagined the absence of
Lucy de Ashby could proceed from any ordinary accident.
CHAPTER VIII.
The sun had declined about two hours and a half from the meridian, but
the day was still warm and bright. The month of May, in the olden time,
indeed, was a warmer friend than at present, if we may believe the
ancient tales and chronicles; and, in good sooth, the seasons of the
year seem to have changed altogether, and the weather to have become
chilly, whimsical, and crotchetty, as the world has grown older. There
are no vineyards to be found now in Northumberland, and yet many a
place in the northern counties retains the name to the present day,
evidently showing to what purposes they were formerly applied. It is
rarely now in England, too, that we have any title to call it the
merry, merry month of May, for, very often, cold and piercing are the
winds, sad the sleet and rain; and, for one of the bright and glorious
days of summer, we have a multitude of the dark and shadowy ones of
winter. Perhaps one cause of this change may be that which has brought
about many another evil in the land,--namely, the cutting down of those
magnificent old forests which sheltered the breast of England like a
garment, and stopped the fierce winds in their career over the island,
Indeed we know that the destruction of the woods in other countries has
produced such effects; and there is every reason to believe that here
also the climate has greatly suffered, though other benefits may have
been obtained.
However that may be, the month of May at that time in England was
indeed a merry month, replete with sunshine, bountiful in flowers, with
every bird in song, and every tree in leaf, and the whole world full of
the warmth and the tenderness of youth. It is true, indeed, that in the
early part of the month, April would still look in with a tear in her
eye to bid the earth good bye; and such had been the case on the
morning of the fourth of May, in the year of which we have lately been
speaking. About nine o'clock, two or three showers had swept past,
though the blue eye of heaven had seldom been altogether withdrawn, but
looked through the rain as through a veil, and every now and then the
sun peeped out, even while the drops were coming down, and flung a
rainbow over the bosom of the forest. The clouds, however, cleared off
entirely before noon, and left the world but the fresher for the
sprinkling, the woods looking more green, and the flowers more bright
and full of perfume.
The road from Sheffield--not the high road--running through
Bloodsworth, and leaving Nurstead a little to the right, at the
distance of about a mile past the former place, entered the extensive
woody ground, which had ceased for a space in the neighbourhood of
Mansfield; but which at that time covered the whole of the rest of the
country. A little farther on again, the scene changed to one of those
small, open greens, common in the forest, where two or three acres of
grassy turf appeared free from trees, but surrounded on all sides by
the wood. Fine old oaks and beeches stood forward here and there,
stretching out their long and rugged arms, covered with the soft hue of
spring, and leaving the line of the little savannah wild and irregular,
While a break amongst the trees on the right showed the sunshine
streaming into another opening of the same kind, and gave the
imagination room to sport through other groves and dells beyond.
In the midst of this green, with his arms crossed upon his chest, his
eyes bent on the ground, and his brow somewhat gloomy, walked Robert of
the Lees by Ely, as he had called himself, while not far off, under the
shadow of a wide-spreading oak, stood a boy, holding a white horse and
a bow, Robin seemed to be whiling away a time of waiting, in communing
with himself of many things, with that sort of desultory meditation
which woodlands gender more than any other scenes; and, ever and anon,
his lips proved faithless guardians to his thoughts, muttering a word
of two of what was passing in his mind, without his knowing that they
did so.
"Ha! Left Nottingham so soon with her paramour!" he said, "That was
hasty!" and again he was silent for a space. "They must have heard that
I had taken the chase in hand, or else the Earl has followed them
closer than they expected.--How this poor youth suffers! One would
think that he had lost the most precious thing on earth, instead of a
light-o'-love May-day flirt!--And after, all, perhaps, he has lost the
most precious thing on earth, for he has lost trust--confidence. That
can never come again when once it is gone.--Besides, a woman is to us
what we esteem her more than what she is. He held her to be all that is
good, and so in losing her he loses all that is good,--They are idle
things, these women; and yet there is good as well as bad in them. So
goes the old song--
"To whom does woman's love belong?
And who shall hold that fickle thing?
No iron chain was e'er so strong,
As long to bind its fluttering wing.
"Caught by the ear--caught by the eye--
The handsome face, the flattering tongue,
The pleasant smile, the well-told lie,
May win it, but not hold it long.
"The king has no command o'er love,
The peasant's sweetheart jilts the swain;
And those who stay, and these who rove,
Seek bands for woman's heart in vain.
"Rank, wealth, prosperity, and power,
Have all been tried, without avail;
Yet ne'er in dark misfortune's hour,
Has woman's love been known to fail."
So sung, or rather hummed, the bold forester, as he walked to and fro
along the sandy path; and, as is very often the case, the song seemed
the most convincing argument he could use, for it concluded the
discussion with himself concerning young Harland, and he turned his
thoughts to other things again.
"They will take him by surprise," he muttered to himself in the same
low tone as before; and then having uttered this vaticination, he
relapsed into silence, took another turn, and said--"The King
at Cambridge?--That cannot be for nothing: he has misled De
Montfort--Gloucester fortifying his castles too--that looks ill! He is
not to be trusted, Gloucester. He never was--he never will be.--Hark! a
horse's feet! Here come the Earls!"
Another moment, however, showed him that he was mistaken, for the horse
whose tramp he heard came from the side of Nottingham, and not from
that of Yorkshire. The animal itself was a good brown gelding, with a
short tail, which, in those days, was a rarity, for many of the
barbarous customs of the present time were then unknown. Indeed, though
it may seem a contradiction in terms, civilization in general has not a
little barbarism in it, and luxury is always sure to introduce
practices of which savages would be ashamed. The horse, however, as I
have said, was a good brown gelding with a short tail; the man that
bestrode it, a jolly, large-stomached personage, in the garb of a
tradesman; and the moment the forester saw him, he exclaimed, "Ha! our
good friend the sutler of Southwell! What makes you ride the forest,
Barnaby? You do not trouble Sherwood for nothing."
"Seeking you, Robin--seeking you," replied the sutler. "One that you
know of gave me this for you. It was to pass through no hands but mine
and yours. But look ye! Here comes a goodly train. Now will there be
rough work anon between the silken hoods and the men in Lincoln green.
I'll away, Robin--I'll away, for I love no blows but those of the
rolling pin!"
The man to whom he spoke took no notice either of his words or his
departure, so intent was he upon the contents of the letter which had
just been put into his hand. He read it over twice after the messenger
was gone, and seemed scarcely to remark the approach of a large party
on horseback, comprising, as the reader may have divined by this time,
the very personages for whom he was waiting. When he raised his eyes,
however, he beheld advancing towards him, at a slow pace, some twenty
mounted men, well armed, and headed by the old Earl of Monthermer. That
nobleman, however, was unaccompanied by one of those whom our friend in
the Lincoln green was the most anxious to see, the Earl of Ashby being,
as the reader is well aware, on the other side of Nottingham.
The party of old Monthermer, as he was called, consisted of himself and
his servants alone, having sent away all the other noblemen and
gentlemen who had met him in Yorkshire, to find their way, in separate
bodies to join their friends in London. His nephew, too, for reasons
that the old lord saw and well approved, had gone on with the Earl of
Ashby; and the only addition to his train since we last saw him, was a
stout old priest, his chaplain, who had been previously dispatched on a
mission to Northumberland.
At a distance of about twenty yards from the spot where the bold
forester stood, the Earl pulled up his horse and dismounted slowly,
giving the word to halt. He then advanced directly towards, him,
holding out his hand, which the other took with an air of respect and
deference, but without the least approach to fawning.
"Welcome to Sherwood, my good lord," said Robert of the Lees. "But why
come you alone? Would not the noble Earl of Ashby trust himself amidst
these shades?"
"He had left me, Robin," replied the Earl, "before I got your message,
with his son Alured and my nephew Hugh. He set out for Nottingham
yesterday, just after morning song."
"Ha!" exclaimed the forester, his brow growing dark. "'Tis strange I
heard not of it. Gone to Nottingham, just after morning song? He might
have been there by noon; and yet he was not."
"No, no," answered the Earl, "he could not arrive by noon. He had
matters of some moment to see to by the way. But were you so anxious to
have some speech with him?"
"I was," answered the forester, abruptly. "I was.--But it matters
not--I will send him a message; and now, my lord, will you mount your
horse again; and come with me? I have much to say to you, and many