Forest Days: A Romance of Old Times
Montfort's officers, guarding closely, though with an appearance of
profound respect, the only entrance to the apartments of Prince Edward.
While he showed the pass which he had received, and mounted the long,
narrow staircase, we shall take leave to precede him, for a few
minutes, to the apartment of the Prince. It consisted of a suite of
several rooms, all reached by the same ascent, and was in itself as
convenient and comfortable as any abode can be from which free egress
is denied us. The principal chamber was a large and lofty one, with two
wide windows, situated in deep bays, looking over the fair scene
around.
The casement was open; and, seated in a large chair, with his feet
resting on a stool, sat the captive Prince, gazing down upon a
part of the town of Hereford and the meadows and orchards beyond. The
apple-trees were all in blossom, and every shrub in the manifold
gardens had put on the blush of vegetable youth, promising rich fruit
in the maturity of the year. Beyond the meadows and the orchards came
slopes and rising ground, and lines of deep wood, sheltering the
intervening space, and then high hills were seen, fading off into the
sky. On the left hand the scene was all open, but on the right, an
angle of the cathedral, as it then appeared, bounded the view, while
the tower of another church, of inferior dimensions, rose up under the
eye, and cut the long, straight lines of the houses and other
buildings.
Edward leaned his head upon his hand and gazed, while at a little
distance from him sat a gentleman, somewhat younger than himself,
looking upon him, from time to time, with a glance of deep interest,
but keeping silence out of respect for the Prince's musing mood.
The soft air of summer wafted to the window the scent of the blossoms
from the fields beyond; and Edward thought it spoke of liberty. Up rose
from the streets and houses of Hereford the manifold sounds of busy
life, the buzz of talking multitudes, the call, the shout, the merry
laugh of idle boyhood; and still, to the captive's ears, they spoke of
liberty. The bells from the cathedral joined in, and rang complines;
and turning his eyes thither, he thought how often he had heard those
sweet tones, at even-close, in the happy days of early youth, returning
from the chase or any other or the free sports of the time. His sight
wandered on, over tower and spire, round which the crows were winging
their airy flight, to the deep woods and blue hills, flooded with glory
from the declining sun. Still, still, it all spoke of liberty; and
Edward's heart felt oppressed, his very breathing laboured, as he
remembered the mighty blessing he had lost.
It was like the sight of a river to a man dying with thirst in the
sands of Africa, without the strength to reach it.
He gazed, and perhaps for a moment might forget himself and his hard
fate, in a dream of enjoyment; but if he did, it lasted not long--the
dark reality soon came between him and the light of fancy, and letting
his head droop, he turned away with a deep sigh, and gave up a brief
space to bitter meditation.
Then rising from his seat, taller by many an inch than the ordinary
race of men, he threw back his magnificent head and his wide shoulders
with a sorrowful smile, saying, "I will walk up and down my chamber, De
Clare, and fancy I am free!"
"I hope you feel better, my lord, to-night," said young Thomas de
Clare, the Earl of Gloucester's brother.
"Yes, good faith," replied the Prince, "I am better. The fever has left
me, but nothing will make me truly well but open air and strong
exercise. However, I am better, and I thank you much; for I believe you
love me, De Clare, although you make yourself a sort of willing gaoler
to me."
The young gentleman bent his head without reply, though there was a
faint smile upon his lip, which might have puzzled Edward had he seen
it; and after a moment or two De Clare said, somewhat abruptly, "Now I
could wager your Grace is strong enough to ride some twenty or thirty
miles, if you were at liberty to do so."
"A hundred!" answered Edward, quickly; and then added, more
slowly--"were I at liberty."
At that moment some one knocked at the door, and on being told to come
in, Hugh de Monthermer entered.
The face of the Prince instantly brightened--"Ah, Monthermer!" he
cried, "right glad am I to see you, my friend!--yes, my friend--for
these factious times shall never make us enemies, though we draw our
swords on different sides. This is my state apartment, Hugh, and that
staircase by which you came hither the extreme limit of my
principality. I wonder that De Montfort suffered you to see me."
"I almost wondered myself, my lord," said Hugh de Monthermer; "for my
request was coupled with a remonstrance against your imprisonment."
"And yet," added the Prince, "you will remonstrate, but not aid to free
me."
"My lord, I cannot, without treason," replied Hugh de Monthermer.
"Treason to whom?" demanded Edward, somewhat sharply. "Treason to the
land, my lord," answered Hugh de Monthermer, "and to those rights which
I know, when you are king, you will yourself willingly respect. I do
beseech you, my dear lord, press me not harshly on a matter where I can
make but one reply. You are here by the will of four-and-twenty noble
gentlemen, appointed lawfully----"
"And by the _mise_ of Lewes," added the Prince, bitterly--"but say no
more, Monthermer; I do believe that if your voice might prevail, I
should soon be at liberty."
"Upon my life, you would," replied the young nobleman; "indeed, you
never should have been otherwise, for I would have taken your
word--your plighted word--to maintain the rights of Englishmen, and to
aid in no act against them, and would have set you free at once."
"Well, it matters not," answered the Prince; "perhaps it is better as
it is. I know not what I might have promised to buy my liberty, if men
had asked me; but now, though fettered in body, I am at large in mind,
and events may yet come to open stronger doors than that.--How fares it
with your good uncle?" he continued. "He has been somewhat harsh and
sudden with his king, but still he is a noble gentleman, and one of
whom England may well be proud."
Hugh de Monthermer answered in general terms; and the conversation,
having then taken a turn away from painful subjects of discussion,
reverted pleasantly to brighter themes. Their boyish hours rose up
before their eyes--the sports, the pastimes--the gay thoughts and
heedless jests of youth were recollected--Edward's countenance unbent,
his eyes sparkled, his lips smiled, the prison and its cares were
forgotten; and for the time he seemed to live once more in the sweet
early days of which they spoke.
The conversation proceeded almost entirely between the Prince and Hugh
de Monthermer, for though Thomas de Clare added a word or two now and
then, they were but few, and only served to break through one of those
momentary pauses which would have given thought time to return from the
pleasant past to the sad present.
The sun was, as I have said, going down when Hugh de Monthermer entered
the Prince's chamber, and ere he had been there half an hour, the
bright orb had sunk beneath the horizon; but in these northern climes,
Heaven has vouchsafed to us a blessing which brighter lands do not
possess--the long, soft twilight of the summer evening--and the sky was
still full of light, so that one might have read with ease in the high
chamber of the Prince, nearly half an hour after the star of day had
disappeared. It was just at that moment that Hugh, who was sitting with
his face towards the door, saw it open slowly, and a beautiful girl,
dressed in somewhat gay and sparkling attire, even for those gaudy
times, entered with a noiseless step, bearing a small basket in her
hands.
An expression of some surprise on the young lord's countenance made
Edward himself turn round, and the sight suddenly produced signs of
greater amazement in his face than even in Hugh de Monthermer's. He
rose instantly, however, saying--"What would you, my fair lady?"
"Nothing, royal sir," replied the girl, "but to bring your Grace this
small basket of early strawberries. You will find the flavour good,"
she added, "_especially at the bottom_, where they have not been heated
by the sun."
As she spoke she put down the basket on the table, and was retreating
quickly, but Edward exclaimed--"Stay--stay; pretty one! tell me who you
are, that I may remember in my prayers one who has thought upon her
captive Prince, and striven to solace him in his imprisonment."
"It matters not," replied the girl, courtesying low and speaking
evidently with a country accent--"it matters not. I promised not to
stay a moment, but to give the strawberries and to come away. God send
your Grace a happy even, and a happy morning to boot!" and thus saying,
she retired, closing the door carefully behind her.
"This is strange," said the Prince, taking up the basket, and turning
towards Hugh de Monthermer.
But the young lord was buried in deep meditation.
"You seem surprised, Monthermer," said the Prince, "and, faith, so am
I, too. I never saw the girl in all my days. Did you, De Clare?"
"Never!" replied the young noble.
"Methinks, I have," observed Hugh de Monthermer, gravely, "and that,
many a mile hence. But I will now leave you, my lord; the gates will
soon be shut."
"Nay, stay, and take some of this sweet food," said Edward, "which has
been brought me, not by ravens but by doves."
"Not so, sir," replied Hugh, staying the Prince's hand, as he was about
to empty the basket on the table. "May the fruit prove propitious to
your Grace and to England!--Adieu, my lord!" and thus saying, he
quitted the room abruptly.
"He is right, he is right!" cried Thomas de Clare; "there is more than
fruit in that basket, or I am much mistaken."
Edward laid his hand upon it firmly, and fixed a keen and searching
glance upon the young nobleman, saying, "Whatever there be in it, is
mine, and for my eye alone, Thomas de Clare."
But his companion passed round the table, bent one knee before him,
and, kissing his hand respectfully, said, "My noble lord and future
King, you have mistaken me; but it is now time to tell you that I am no
gaoler. If I be not very wrong, there are in that basket tidings which
shall soon set you free as the wind. I have already gained from stern
De Montfort permission for you to ride forth, accompanied by six
gentlemen of his choosing, and followed by a train of spears. I said,
that it was the only means of restoring you to health.--I might have
added had I pleased, and to liberty. Now, my lord, see what that basket
does contain; and believe me, if it cost me my head to keep your
secret, I would not reveal it."
"Thanks, De Clare, thanks," replied Edward. "We often suspect the
honest of being guilty; but, this time, suspicion has taken a different
course, and I have long suspected thee of being honest.--Now suppose
all your hopes are false?" and he overturned the basket on the table.
Nothing fell from it except the fruit; but, fastened to the bottom by a
piece of wax, appeared, on closer inspection, a small billet, folded so
as to take the form of the basket.
It was speedily drawn forth and opened, as the reader may suppose; but
the first words which met the eye of the Prince puzzled him not a
little. The note was to the following effect:--
"MY LORD,"
"One of your horses has been stolen from your stable, namely, the
bright bay Norman charger; but, as some compensation, in its place has
been put a large-boned, long-legged grey. He is not beautiful to look
upon, though a skilful eye will see fine points in him; but he is
strong and enduring, and no horse in Europe can match him for speed.